#SHE KEPT REPEATING 'HE SHIELDED /ME/'

[rafecameronssl4t]

Cart girl || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: you meet Rafe during one of your shifts as a beverage cart girl.

Warnings: swearing idk what else

Word count: 797

A/n: beverage cart girls kept popping up on my fyp and I thought I might aswell 😂

MASTERLIST

Divider by @yoonitos

“She new?” Rafe cocks his head towards your direction before swinging his club. Kelce and Topper both look to where Rafe was referring to, spotting you surrounded by a few other golfers.

“The beverage cart girl?” Topper questions as Rafe hums. “Can’t say I’ve seen her around before,” Topper says as the three boys watch you from afar. “Shit, she’s coming our way,” Kelce comments turning around to hide the fact the fact that he was watching as Topper looks away briefly.

“Hey, you guys want anything to drink or snack on?” you ask with a bright smile, lifting your hand to shield your eyes from the glaring afternoon sun. The three boys look up from their conversation, momentarily taken aback by your friendly demeanor.

“Yeah—uh, you guys want anything?” Rafe repeats the question to Kelce and Topper, who both nod enthusiastically. “Three Westbrooks, thanks,” Rafe says, his voice casual but with a hint of curiosity as his eyes linger on you.

“Sure,” you reply, stepping out of your cart. Rafe’s gaze follows your movements intently, his eyes raking over you in a way that doesn’t go unnoticed. He exchanges a smirk with Kelce and Topper, who try to conceal their grins, clearly amused by Rafe’s reaction.

“How’s your guys’ day been?” you ask sweetly, your voice filled with genuine interest as you reach for the three cans of Westbrook. “Yeah, yeah, good,” Rafe responds quickly, almost too quickly. “You new around here?” he adds, scratching the back of his neck, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“Uh, not really. I usually do morning shifts, but I’ve switched to afternoons,” you explain, handing them each a can, your fingers brushing Rafe’s briefly. “Cool,” Rafe nods, his eyes never leaving yours, the smirk still playing on his lips.

“Cash or card?” you ask, holding a small notepad ready to jot down their payment details. “Just put it on my tab. It’s Cameron,” Rafe replies confidently, his smirk widening as he notices the moment of recognition in your eyes. “Cameron?” you repeat, locking eyes with him, the name ringing a bell.

Your eyes rake over his features, taking in his confident smirk and the way he holds himself. Tilting your head the tiniest bit, you say, “Well, have a good rest of your day, guys.” You offer a warm smile before turning around and climbing back into your cart.

As you start the engine and drive away, you hear Kelce exclaim, “Fuck, she’s hot, dude,” while slapping Rafe’s chest. Rafe chuckles, his eyes fixed on your cart as it disappears into the distance.

“Yeah, she definitely is,” Rafe murmurs, a satisfied grin spreading across his face as he watches you leave. Topper shakes his head, laughing softly, trying to hide his amusement. “Think she’ll be around for the afternoon shifts more often?” Topper asks, glancing at Rafe. “Hope so,” Rafe replies, eyes still lingering on you.

~

“Y’know, the craziest thing happened to me yesterday afternoon,” you say absentmindedly, sipping on your fruity drink as you watch him line up his shot. His focus on the golf ball is intense, but he pauses for a moment, intrigued by your comment.

“Hmm? What happened, baby?” he replies, turning to make his way towards you. He presses a quick kiss on your lips before reaching over you to grab another club from the bag.

“I met your son,” you say, swirling the straw in your drink with your finger. Ward looks at you, his expression curious. “You saw Rafe?” he repeats, his tone carrying a mix of surprise and interest. “Yeah,” you hum in confirmation. “He’s quite good-looking, takes after his father,” you add with a smirk, watching as Ward chuckles and throws his head back in laughter.

“He’s a coke addict, baby. Best you don’t involve yourself with him, he’s trouble,” Ward warns, his thumb rubbing gently against your bottom lip. His touch is tender, but his words are firm. You stare up at him, undeterred. “He was nice to me,” you shrug, recalling the encounter.

“That’s because you’re a good-looking girl,” Ward says, his eyes twinkling with a mix of amusement and admiration “You think so?” you ask, your smirk growing. Ward chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss on your cheek. “I know so.”

As Ward returns to his game, you can’t help but let your mind wander back to Rafe. There was something about him that intrigued you and you couldn’t help but purposely run into him around the course.

[imtryingbuck]

Old As A Dinosaur

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: reader learns something about her boyfriend

Word count: 842

Warnings: fluff. short and sweet.

A/N: this idea came from the wonderful @buckys-wintersoldier❤️

Masterlist

The giggles coming from the living room greeted you the moment you stepped foot into the house, as you walked in to the room you saw your son Sebastian sitting on the couch tucked in to the side of your boyfriend Bucky.

Bucky didn’t bat an eye when you told him that you had a three year old son. When he met Seb for the first time it seemed that both your son and boyfriend forgot that you were even there. The first night Bucky stayed over Seb asked if Bucky could put him to bed, then when a nightmare involving monkeys that were trying to eat his toes woke him up he begged for Bucky to come and save him.

Six months after Bucky had met Sebastian the rest of the Avengers met him too. His squeals of pure joy had everyone laughing other than Bucky as Sam had Seb in his arms and flew the two around. Your boyfriend actually threatened Sam that he would end him if he dropped the three year old. Said three year old who tried to lift up Thor’s hammer, then was using Captain Americas shield as a sled.

You had actually been pulled aside by Seb’s teacher and was told that Seb had been lying all day by telling everyone he knew the Avengers, you just raised your eyebrow and laughed informing her that he was not lying at all.

“Hi pretty mama” Bucky greeted when he noticed you standing there.

“Hi pwetty mama” Seb repeated making the pair of you laugh.

“Hi my handsome men, what are you two doing?”

“Dinos” pointing at the tv Sebastian sighed happily at seeing his favourite movie for what felt like the thousandth time.

“How was work babe?”

“It was alright, nothing exciting today. I’m going to get dinner started”

“No need pretty girl, me and little man here did it we was just waiting on you. Go and get changed and then we can eat” Bucky says before telling Seb that it was dinner time and promising the three year old that they could carry on watching as soon as they had finished eating. Doing as he says you head upstairs changing into comfier clothes.

“Follow me pwetty mama, dinner time” laughing you take your sons waiting hand letting him lead you into the dinning room as Bucky served the food.

Halfway through the meal Sebastian was trying to whisper to Bucky who kept responding with “I told you it’s a secret”

“But pwease it’s mama”

“Do you think we can trust her?” Bucky’s eyes squinted looking at you suspiciously.

“Yes! Its mama she not tell”

“Okay, but she has to do the secret pinky swear before we tell her” Your eyes moved between the pair with your eyebrow pinched together. “Pretty mama what we’re about to tell you is top secret, you have to pinky swear that you can never tell anyone what you’re about to hear”

“Pwomise mama”

“I promise” both of them hold up their pinky fingers up waiting for you to wrap yours around theirs you waited patiently to hear this top secret news.

“Okay little man, you-you can tell her” Bucky says with a nervous tone lacing his voice.

“Mama… Buck met dinos” Sebastian tells you in the most serious voice the three year old could muster.

“Ex-what?”

“Yep. He was fwends with them and-and had pet T-Rex’s”

Looking at Bucky with your eyebrow raised he nodded solemnly keeping his face void of emotion.

“I-I didn’t know that”

“Top secret mama uncle Stevie don’t know so no telling no one!”

“Buck your secret is safe with me, don’t worry” you tell him earnestly.

“Thank you pretty girl, it honestly feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders now that I’ve been able to tell my family the truth” he takes yours and Sebs hands in his and squeezes.

Honestly he deserves an Oscar for his performance.

Seb giggles and promises that he will never ever tell anyone then carries on eating his dinner as if he hadn’t just told you some life changing news about your partner. Bucky looks at you and smiles before doing the same as Seb.

Finishing your dinner, you tell Bucky that you’ll wash up - he did try and argue that he would do it but Seb begged him to watch the dinos. Walking into the living room once again, your eyebrow rosed for the umpteenth time that night as you watch Bucky with his arms pulled close to his chest, Seb coping him and both bouncing around.

“Look mama we’re dinos!” Seb giggled before roaring like a dinosaur.

“Come on pretty mama, be dinos with us” Bucky winked then roaring and chirping like Sebastian was doing.

If anyone had looked in your front windows that night they would have thought there was something wrong with all three of you.

The three of you were roaring and acting as dinosaurs. And honestly, it was the best way to end a stressful day at work.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

[lilimalia]

MOURNFUL // zhongli

SYNOPSIS... how can a god with such a stain on her hand survive the eyes of her beloved. looking away from his own adoring gaze on a woman you could never be brings back the disdain you had tried so very hard to bury in your core. nothing you had ever done was good enough, right zhongli?

CHARACTERS... traveller/aether,, zhongli/morax,, streetward rambler,, guizhong,, cloud retainer/xianyun,,

DISCLAIMERS... angst ,hurt/comfort , sort of desperate love blinded reader, unrequited love female reader , series part III

BARISTA'S INTEL... This persons art style is too die for. Oh my goodness.

TAG LIST... @nightrayseishina , @hiqhkey , @aethscend , @kgogoma , @patchi-chi , @ittosoneandoniwife , @neverlandlostchild , @milkiemei , @seyboo , @lumpywolf , @simpcreator , @rjreins , @chuusposts , @thelonelyarchon , @iiyumiii , @gellitu @almighty-raiden-shogunate , @plusea , @swivi , @juminsamore , @hekkappo , @tanspostsblog , @mysteriouslydelightfulchaos , @binar-es , @loyal-mad-dog , @heeseung-lover686 , @anniejourn , @yelshin , @floffytofu , @yuminako

CAFE TUNE... Where Is My Love // SYML

Your heart aches overwhelmingly, its beat sending out signals that tear you down an inch for inch. The longer you stay in the warmth of embracement from Cloud Retainer the more you fear to turn even your head towards him.

Zhongli whose voice breaks into as he calls for you.

"[Name]..."

"Won't you look at me, old friend?..."

The sound of his melodramatic voice rings across the blooming city. You see the flickers of lights and lanterns, floating into the air as prayers are set and blessings are wished for in the corner of your eye. The world around is stilling to a pause as you nuzzle deeper into Cloud Retainer's chest. Her arms tightened in, wrapping in a way that almost made you break in half. Her own heart is beating rapidly, thumping in pace with yours as you feel her protection rule over your own emotions. It's daunting to sit still, waiting for whatever would snap you out of it.

"[Name]? Where have you been all these years? This, Ms. Xianyun, had this been arranged before? This gathering, had you known? Duànzào?... why." he's whimpering it almost feels like. The closest you've ever seen the great Rex Lapis stumble. His words broke and shifted under the weight of the thick air.

It almost tore your heart how he called your name. Like a beckon, a beg, a sob for you. But the use of a name for the very woman you had confided in for so long, that you hadn't recognized, resounded in your head. The space between your past and their present.

The present you had missed out on for so long.

A sob you'd had hoped to hear from his lips for so very long. The way he kept repeating over his own words unceremoniously, in a mantra.

You.

You had broken him like this.

If you turned around now, could you face him as the man he was to you? The man he was, but now is?... Could you look him in the eye and take in the way your heart shattered in your own mind. The way its pieces couldn't hold together, not even with the strongest binding made by immortals?

Was he even still a god?

His footsteps are nighing, every clink of his boots drawing your racing heart to a deafening stop. It feels like no shield could halt his nearing presence. Your eyes watering in small candescent drips, your cheeks burn and ache as you desperately try to lodge yourself back into the comforting cradle of your friend- no, Xianyun. A name newly bitter on your tongue.

Yet another thing that has changed. While you remain stagnant in your fickle emotions that tore your body down like a potter’s reclaimed porcelain clay.

Over and over your feelings run through you, recycling what could’ve, would’ve, should've, happened.

“Turn around Morax. There is no... There is no Duànzào here, she’s long died in the aftermath of war all those centuries ago."

“And yet I see her ghost haunt me right as I breathe and stand.”

He’s muttering again, his stupid melodic voice sniveling as his cold, so very cold hand, pulls you away gently from your tight hold on Xianyun’s waist.

When had you even found it in you to grapple around her like that? It was as if you were unconscious of even what your own body sought out to seek.

Cloud Retainer’s eyes are darting towards your feeble state, watching ever so reluctantly as she withholds herself from you. Glancing up as your eyes pathetically glance away from her gaze. For you to come so far in your tantrum only to feel the shame crawling up your legs now. The irony was comedic. Almost.

"One hopes that you are able to find the peace you've barren yourself from [Name]"

In a small scoff, she steps back into the shadows cast by Liyue’s ever-glistening moonlight watching keenly as Zhongli’s outstretched hand that’s been placed on your shoulder breathlessly withdraws. In the back of your mind, your fears are endless, but as you turn to face the man you once knew, they silence.

Every gnawing apprehension you had held tied itself down in chains. His marble eyes watching over you in such agony it almost took you back.

The way his lips thinned into each other, pressed firmly as his face hardened and connected with your own eyes. The swaying light that loomed above and cascaded down onto the ground from the lanterns made his eyes almost shine like jewels cast out from ore…

But try as you might, no bewitching sight could take away the scene that laid itself in front of you, Zhongli’s stern look as his eyes, oh his eyes, melted. Pure unadulterated throbbing pain flashing through his milky sunsettia colored eyes. Not a single word spoken and yet, staring into his face for the first time in centuries conveyed words you could never dream of speaking out loud.

It burned to even glance over him, he looked so… Disgusting. Disappointed, disappointed in you. The longer you watched his face flicker in all sorts of turmoils, the harder it became to even face him with a single word. He was angry in a way you had never seen before, anger that flashed in his eyes and yet washed over with want and defeat. His eyes, they told so much and yet so little, what would he say? When he found out you had killed the very beloved woman he trusted by his side?

What would he say, when he learned about you?

The whole of you that you could never share to any god nor man. The disgusting part of you that you had so miserably prayed would have frozen and stoned away in the amber penitentiary you had locked yourself away in.

“Ms. Xianyun, I believe it would only be right if you left us to our duties. It seems there are many things I have left to settle with this dear acquaintance of mine.” If a man as graceful as Zhongli were to ever feel wrath, you supposed this would be it.

His voice is sharp and toned, in a way that was uncharacteristically seething. As he sharply turns away your only barrier from his fury. Adeptal strength carrying Xianyun's body elsewhere from what you could feel.

You need not even look, as you feel the presence of your savior nod and blend skillfully away from the alley.

Sucking in a breath, you’ve steeled your eyes sharply against Zhongli’s.

It’s time you’ve faced your greatest enemy.

…

His boots are sharply stepping towards you. Agonizingly clicking,

One

Two

Three

Steps he takes. Glaring at you, seething through his pursed lips as he backs you into the wall.

While you may be a goddess, in all your might and power, you are still a goddess under Morax the Archon of Geo.

“You. In that great calamity all those years ago, Cloud Retainer had said you had perished amid battle, disappeared in the war. She had pronounced to me, to everyone that you had sacrificed yourself heroically to save the men who called your name and prayed you’d sharpen their blades and brandish their spears-“, he pauses, taking one long, dignified step, caging you finally into the wall as his breath swooned around you.

The air was so dense with tension, you wondered if he had played some all godly trick to hold the air.

His breath is still tantalizing staining you, piercing right through you as his face inches in closer in such clear detail it shocks you to your core.

Each and every breath he inhaled and exhaled, showed a puff of smoke against the clean cool air of the port. If it was Zhongli’s mortal breath or the angry puffs of smoke from an upset Rex Lapis Loong it was hard to tell at this point. It felt almost... Sacrilegious, to speak.

"Imagine my surprise, when I find that the very god these mortals partake in blessing, comes to stand on the very day of the Lantern Rite. Had you really spent all these years alive? The soldiers these people set out their lanterns for, to guide their ways home, was that you?...", he's yet to lay a single hand on you, simply towering over you with his stature, although it feels like you're trapped in a cage.

"Tell me [Name], had you demanded of Cloud Retainer to lie on your behalf?... Why would you leave us in ignorance of you?...."

"What would you like me to say Morax? No, I apologize, Zhongli. Would you like to hear that I had died in battle gracefully and yet have come back to part ways? Or would you instead like to hear of my betrayals, the life I lost in that war? What would please you to hear my dear Zhongli?" your words held such bitterness to him that it almost shook you. Taciturn words laced over your tongue as you spat your disdain at him.

Its no wonder you couldn't ever face the reality of him.

Doesn't it feel childish to you [Name]? Aren't you ashamed? Aren't you ashamed of this act you're putting on?

He's not replying. He's not even moving.

You realize.

You're scared.

Scared out of your mind, falling again into a pit of overwhelming, surging, urge to run away. Your body won't move, you can't run even if you wanted to.

It is before he speaks, that he finally seems to snap out of his own trance, that his cold, so very cold, hand takes to your cheek. Landing softly on the side of your jaw, reeling you in so wretchedly close. His breathing stilling to a slow, shakingly let loose. Even in this state of distraught, he's gorgeous in every way. His hands were warmer now, stroking from your jaw to your cheek pulling you in closer by the minute. Your foreheads touch, as he lowers his gaze from your cheek to your grey eyes, now pooling in a mix of [e/c] the longer he holds you. As he stares, there's some mixed emotion you can't figure out, the closeness of it all, was this purely the effect of a friend?

Is it wrong to hope he means for more?

"I... I miss you."

.

.

.

With every ounce of your being, a strangled cry let loose, this forlorn cacophony not even slaughter could bring.

Your wailing, sobs wrench themself out of your lungs, caged from all those years ago as you refuse to hold him in the moment of your weakness. Haunted by the ghost of you, you that you could never explain to anyone, not Cloud Retainer, not Zhongli, not Streetward Rambler. A dam built up and broken down by the hurt you felt, forgotten and cast aside, only to be torn down by the gentle embrace he hugged you in.

But Zhongli, as godly as he was, had never looked as ethereal as he did now. That same so longing look disappeared as his eyes closed, silence speaking louder, thrumming harder, as he pulled you closer into his arms.

Is this what old friends do? You’d like to ask.

It doesn’t feel like it.

He’s leading you on, trapping you in this cozy little cage he’s made. Pressing you against his chest as the symphony of his heartbeat strums a rhythm so ruthlessly seductive that your sniffling chokes to a stop.

He’s yet to say a word.

But your struggling to say less.

The tears that run down your face stain his garments. Loose wet pools splayed out onto the rough silk embellished coat he wore. But yet he holds you, falling forward into the wall as his heart continues to fiddle its melody.

A century felt like nothing as the man of your qualms held you so adoringly.

So you stand, you stand as you weep, grieving the person you lost. Grieving the woman you were, regretting the man you had given up your life for. So you stand, weeping for the person you trapped away in a prison you designed. As you stand, as you stand a cry, he holds, holds tightly, cradles gently. Pushing against the wall as his hands wrap tenderly around the space of your back. Rubbing up and down, stroking with his thumb as he begins to breath in a deep sigh.

You’ve yet to see his expression, has it changed? Is he… angry? With you?

“How lonely I must have made you feel Duànzào”, his hands stopped. Instead returns to his side as he steps back, looking you in the eye.

It takes every bone you have in your body not to follow his figure forward, wrap yourself back into the solace you’ve newly accustomed too.

“I apologize [Name], for not being the proper pillar you needed.” Now, he bows, deep all the way down as he lifts his head up slightly to return your soaked eyes.

It takes a few minutes to process his apology. Watching as he holds his breath and waits for your permission for him to raise.

Isn’t this what you wanted?

It didn’t feel right, did it?

“Can you fix me?” Your asking, reaching a hand out limply, curling your fingers in as you take in his cheek.

“Can’t you fix me now?”

When he rises, he only looks deeper in anguish. Looking shamefully away as darkened black shadows of people pass by.

Another tear drips, watching as he fails to answer.

“Truthfully… I am not sure. How can I, Rex Lapis, fix another god? When I am imperfect myself.”

“But you aren’t, you aren’t imperfect.” You're gasping out, surprised by his degenerative words.

“Your gorgeous Mor- Zhongli. Your are so beautiful it hurts. It hurts to stand here and beg you to save me when I've cast myself out away by my own accord.” The words you're spewing out don’t sound like yours. They feel like the storytellers, the watchers, the observers.

“Don’t you understand Zhongli?… I am the imperfect one, I am the forsaken god. The flaw in your flawless self.”

What overtakes you now, you're not sure, but it embarrasses you. Stomping down on your every hurt, as the tears stop rushing down your face. Your clothes are stained dark as the cool air breezes over them. Leaving you to shiver in their sharpness. You're asking questions you don't know the answer to, you're begging for an answer that isn't there. You're wishing he'd look at you and say he knows how to fix you when you know the problem and its solution.

When he looks at you now, his eyebrow perks up, the pools that decorated his eyes glowed with sudden sparked curiosity.

“How could you ever be flawed?", he asks. This genuine tone in his voice peeks in confusion as he takes to lifting your chin again. Beckoning you to look up at him, take his glory as those glowing eyes scan over you. Taking in your fault, your flaw, as you're stained in your own tears, shaking under the breezy wind, broken down into something. Something less than a god.

"When Cloud Retainer spoke of your death, she left much vague," he starts, rubbing your face over and over again, soothing your hasty breaths down from your panic.

"Would it be wrong to assume, instead, that you had fled? Had I, Rex Lapis, so horribly failed at being an Archon you could depend on that you had taken to running away from us all?"

"Was I, what you feared?"

If there were tears left to cry, they've fled and left you stranded. Why is it that to explain how it tore you inside out that you, the divine, couldn't sedate the coarse emotions that ran through you, felt like driving a stake down your heart. How could you ever admit that in the face of calamity, in fear you ran from your responsibilities, hiding away from your problems.

Staring now, back into his eyes, your [e/c] felt dull in comparison.

"Would you believe me, if I told you when I fled, I fled from myself?"

"I can't seem to understand... Please, won't you elaborate?" he perks up, raising a questioning brow.

"I loved you. Once."

...

When he looks at her, the memory of her death flashes through his mind like venom. The dripping cold sweat that had run down his face when he had heard from his dear old trusted ally that you had not returned home.

He remembers that somber night after the news of your passing.

"One is sorry that one was not there to save her in time Rex Lapis. If only one had been there under her arms to aid", Cloud Retainer had responded, sitting side by side with him on the peak of Mt. Aozang on the stone-carved stools.

As she poured steaming tea down into his small cup, softly held in his hands, she looked up at the moon. Hot osmanthus tea shined in pearl-like wonder as they both shared a clink of cups in honor of their fallen comrades.

His eyes are welling into tears, his vision of the rabbit moon blurring the longer he stares.

He weeps for her.

"Rex Lapis... She had died valiantly for our sakes. One wishes you to at least feel peace of mind over that", Cloud Retainer nods, shakingly covering her eyes as she adjusts her red rim glasses. Hiding away the shed of a tear behind the disguise of it.

When two gods tinker and drink to their loss, he is left reminded that in the deep dark of the night two had not returned to join their banter.

Where were those to share the memory?

He is reminded that they are no longer there.

...

So when he looks deep into the god he had for so long thought had died, there's a mournful feeling he can't seem to shake away.

When you had died, had he missed you more then he missed Guizhong?

When you had left him so wrongfully that night, had he weeped because he loved you?

"I loved you. Once"

She said, clear as running water, yet as full of desperate anguish as a soldier in their last battle.

Does he love you? Is he the reason you had thought there was no other escape except for death?

He's yet to process his feelings, perplexed and lost. He's swimming in grief so deeply sewn into his wounds that it's almost impossible to grasp that there is love in her.

The timing isn't right. He can't do this here. Not now, he doesn't understand it all.

But her eyes, stare back at him, despairingly grabbing at him, not with her hands, but with her gaze, reeling him in. Pleading at him to understand, but he doesn't. He can't.

It hurts to even look her in the eye.

Can't she see how much she's done to him? The way she's brought an Archon even to her feet.

"When you had left, had you flee because you loved me?",

Did she run away, did she run away from him?

So why did she come home?

"I'm... Not sure. I'm not sure at all Zhongli."

"Would you hate me if it was?"

In him, he fails to find the words to describe it. The scattered emotions left out to dry ever since the Archon War. The bleeding heart and emotional wounds he's never healed from. Scars that litter his body inside and out, because as god, he is cursed to live with them.

While he fails to find the words for the feelings he feels, he also struggles to say anything back. He could never hate her could he. Not when he had been so graciously granted a second chance at her, at them and the memories.

As long as he stares, he fails to pinpoint what he feels for her. He closes his eyes, letting his body soothe. Releasing the tension he hadn't noticed developed in his shoulders. Letting the whole of his body relax.

He steps forward, opening his eyes, grabbing her face.

"I cannot give you an answer when I have yet to fully face what has happened. But if I could be so bold to make a request in your honor," he pauses, watching tenderly as you soften under his clasp. Breathing in hard as your eyes connect again for the longest time.

"Allow me to face you," he leans in, noses touching.

"Allow me to take the you that you have demonstrated to me this fateful night. Show me the you I could not receive, and I will seep it in with my whole being," lips closing in painfully slow,

"Allow me to try and love you my dear [Name]."

He closes his eyes, the last image of you being as your eyes widen in surprise at his closeness, and tenderly places his lips against yours. Grazing his hands ever so gently on your cheeks as he sinks into you, encasing your lips with his own. Soft and warm as he presses you up against the wall, softly stroking your cheek as he blindly collapses against you. Only opening his eyes once more when he's felt that the last of his breath fails to hold.

A tear trickles down your face, and he prays that it'll be the very last one he causes.

"I think [Name], that Rex Lapis was a very unfortunate man to have lost you." He murmurs, stroking away the tear with the flick of his wrist. It flings with a shine.

"May I love you in his place?", he pauses, waiting for you to reply.

Deep down he fears he's lost you already,

His heart spikes as he fears he's crossed boundaries.

Only to suck in a breath as your lips collide once more. Gnawing desperately against his he's tilting his head to take in the sweet chaste kiss you share. Both of you breathing desperately as tears fall between you both, cold in comparison to your shaky warm exchange.

"I love you," He thinks.

AFTERMATH (bonus)

He's got you swept over his lap as he sits on the wooden bench. Gazing out longingly from the pavilion as he waits for the women behind him to seat down beside him. Sighing tiredly as he listens to the last of her prolonged recap.

"One is most surprised that you Zhongli had taken this long to realize she had the utmost adoration for you", Xianyun snickers, sitting down beside him as she too stares sweetly at your resting body. Taking in quickly the way the under bags of your eyes were puffy as well as the way your eyelashes were clumped up in barely noticeable bundles.

He shades his hand over her face away from her teasing look.

"I would have never thought that her distrusting glares and offish behavior had been from her belief that her love was unrequited..." he replies, awkwardly coughing as he shields his gaze conveniently up to the moon.

"Well, it would seem to One that you had never been good at personal affairs. After all, Duànzào had always been the diplomat." she chuckles, pouring from a steaming pot into two solid stone cups. Steam bubbled up in wisps as the aroma of herbs wafted into the air.

"I simply wish that you had not lied to me Ms. Xianyun"

"Oh? And what would the old Rex Lapis have done? Chased after her and corner her into confession? It's almost amusing to consider how you would have tormented the poor women", she chuckles, passing him the warm cup, as she takes her own in two palms.

"Mm... Perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. For us immortals to be reunited after all these years." Blowing on the steam and inhaling the cup awkwardly to the side to avoid your face as your chest rose in every breath.

"Hmph! A blessing indeed."

As the both clink cups the stone reverts the sound. Sharing a sip of the new brew, their eyes glance up at the stunning moon. Intaking the silent night left after the joyful Lantern Rite activities.

As two gods sit in a breathtaking view, after a night of floating lanterns and fireworks shared between the old and new, they share a pot of brew.

Sighing in unison, both look adoringly at the peaceful figure laid adoringly draped upon one of their laps.

As a third god returns home to share the memories.

SPECIAL BREWS...

Loong // chinese word for dragon

Lanterns // one of zhongli's voiceline refers to how in the old days of Liyue during war people would light lanterns as a way for soldiers to find home, because many related the Goddess of the Forge (reader) to good armour when they would light these lanterns they would pray for a safe journey guided by (reader), zhongli assumes she helped guide their paths when presumably dead, this is untrue of course since she was trapped in prison (it was merely good fortune for most)

Diplomat // a reference to part II dialogue, during the old days as zhongli was considered more hard headed, (reader) would be in charge of negotiations, Xianyun references an old convo

BARISTA'S INQUIREMENT... as of 2024 this is now my longest fanfic, i want to give special thanks to everyone who patiently waited over a year for an update and I hope that this series ending fufilled at least some of your guys expectations. i am so proud that my tumblr journey starts and continues with this fanfic <3, thank you guys for reading!

word count. 4,017

tag list !

PREVIOUS // FINAL

©lilimalia... Please do not plagiarize, themes are edited by me, reblogs allowed, do not repost on any other platform!!

banner credits: @DonaldAkron on twitter

[alicesivory]

Old Habits Die Hard [2/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3115

Summary: The Night’s Watch was a nightmare to the one eyed prince. Longing for his freedom once more, the gods decided to toss a coin and play with him. Meeting a peculiar wildling that could be his answer. And the Targaryen prince could be the answer to her people. 

“Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honour to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.”

Aemond knelt before the weirwood tree as he spoke the watch’s oath. Although he was devoted to the seven, a hint of guilt lies deep in his heart. He recalls how his mother devoted her life to the seven and prays daily to the sept. Praying for him, Aegon, Helaena, Daeron, her own mother, it felt wrong kneeling in front of the old gods. What would his mother say of him?

Does she know that he’s alive?

Did Lord Stark told her of his fate? 

He could only get lost in his thoughts as he stood up to face his commander. The summer snow falls heavy upon his now black garb, traditionally worn by the order. He should’ve had drowned in that lake alongside with Vhagar and his uncle. Why did the gods saved him just to give him a fate worse than death? 

May the gods be with me.

“Just so you know, new recruits are sorted into three orders. Rangers, warriors of the watch to patrol beyond the wall and fend off any wildling. Then we have Builders, tasked to maintain The Wall itself such as castles, arms, and all that shit. And uh last we have Stewards, cooking and tending horses,” His commander said.

“As much I would love to put you as a Steward, princey…we all know you are needed as a Ranger. You are a skilled warrior aren’t you not?”

Aemond could only stare at the commander, letting out a quiet hum. “You don’t talk much do ya?” Stepping closer to the one eyed prince. “It’s better that way,” Aemond replied coldly.

The northerner scoffed, spitting onto the ground. 

“Cocky little shit.”

Walking away from Aemond alongside with the other crows. Turning his back on them, Aemond stared down at the weirwood tree. It was laughing at him. At his demise, his fate. The old gods were not with him. He cursed them under his breath, stomping away from the scene as his cloak dragged across the snow. 

Training with the northerners wasn’t any different than he had with ser Criston back then in the keep. It’s even easier for his liking. Aemond being a skilled swordsman he is, didn’t hesitate to show off his skills as he competed with new recruits of the watch. Even the ones that were longer in the brother hood had to put up a good fight to keep up with his skills. Yet Aemond was persistent on winning every single time.

“Get up,” Aemond said coldly to a young boy aching in the ground after getting hit by Aemond. “We are not done yet. I said get up,” he repeated himself. Is this the kind of men that they’re sending to the wall? Meek and puny men who are supposed to defend the realm from savages and creatures? 

Pathetic. 

“Stand up straight, boy,” Aemond told his competitor, tapping his leg. “Keep your legs strong if you want to live,” he said before striking again, thankfully the boy paid attention and kept his form strong. It went on for awhile after Aemond defeated them again and again. 

“Enough!” His commander’s voice boomed. “You, Targaryen.” Pointing at the one eyed prince. Approaching Aemond, he questioned, “What d’you think you’re doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“That’s enough.”

“These men aren’t ready—,”

“—oh now you’re lecturing me? A fucking know it all?”

“Yes I know it all. You’re sending these men into a death sentence,” Aemond pointed his sword towards the new recruits. “Is that what this brotherhood is meant for? Sending men into their deaths because they chose not to die sooner in the hands of you northerners? This is not honour, this is a—.”

Before Aemond could even finish his sentence, his commander punched him in the face, hard. A punch he haven’t felt in years throughout his youth. Tumbling to the ground, Aemond felt his cheek was sore and aching. Wincing in pain, he felt his nose bleed.

Stupid northerner.

Licking the blood flowing through his nostril, he scoffed. “That’s what you northerners always do, hm? Finishing the matter with violence.” Prancing up, Aemond wanted to behead his commander right there on spot. But he was held back by the other watch members. Grunting, ordering them to let him go, their grip only tightened.

“If it weren’t for Lord Stark, I would’ve stabbed you here for tainting the watch’s name.” Tapping Aemond’s chin with his own sword. “You’re lucky you’re protected under the starks, boy. Or else your corpse would be lying in the forest as those savages feast on ya.” Tapping Aemond’s cheek with a mocking laugh before his men threw Aemond to the ground, leaving him alone. 

His clothes, once neat and tidy, were now tattered and stained, clinging to his battered frame. Aemond lets his legs give up as he was left alone in the field. Even if his face was in pain, he was relieved that he is finally alone in this dreadful place. Even if it was for awhile, he savoured the moment and laid back on the cold harsh ground of the north.

Looking up, he saw the sky being dark and grey. Snow has stopped falling from the sky, that’s also relief. He wondered what his mother is doing right now. Is she praying for him? For his brother? What about Helaena? Has she forgiven him after what he had done and asked her for? She was kind. Helaena didn’t deserve the war or any of them. Not even himself.

What of Alys? His newborn? What does he look like? Will she successfully give him an heir? But what is the use of an heir if he is not present to see its birth? If he has lost the war. If the blacks had claimed the throne and cast his family aside? Was the war actually worth the fight? He should’ve perished at that lake to end his misery. At Least he didn’t have to endure the aftermath of the war. But now he’s nothing but a crippled Targaryen, surrounded by a useless brotherhood that we would die to escape from. 

A crow flew above him, landing on one of the trees surrounding the base. 

He used to see dragons flying above him. 

Now he is only left with dreadful black crows.

Yet they are free. Unlike his fate. Trapped in a cage he wished to be free from. 

May the gods be with him. 

He wasn’t surprised when they put him on duty that very night to the Nightfort. Of course they put him in the Nightfort. They said that the fort was haunted since it’s twice as old as Castle Black. Aemond sighed, lighting up his torch looking around the barely standing fort. They would have abandon this fort in a few years. Aemond didn’t mind the dark or the haunting noise of the creaking floors of the fort. For Harrenhal was far more haunting than this old fort. 

Even Alys’ visions were far much terrifying. 

He saw a few men on the ground as he stood by the bridge of the old fort. Scared shitless when they felt a small blow from the wind. “Cowards,” he muttered under his breath. The cold wind swept his hair as he stomped through the old fort. Yet when he slowed down, he heard a double foot step. He kept walking.

Tap…tap..Tap..Tap..tap..Tap..tap.

A quite tap was heard from a distance trying to sync with his steps. 

Someone was following him.

For the love of the gods, Aemond whined in his head. He drew out his sword and faced his stalker, finding the boy he duelled earlier raising his arms with a shocked expression. “I-I’m sorry!” The boy stuttered in fear as Aemond’s sword touched his chin.

“Why do you lurk in the shadows, boy? Did they send you to assassinate me?” He accused the boy.

 “N-no, ser—,”

“—Prince. Prince Aemond.” 

The boy swallowed a lump in his throat.

“My pr-prince..I…I am not here to kill you.”

“Then why did you stalk me in the dark?”

“I…I did not want to disrupt your peace. I swear it!”

Aemond stared at the boy for a moment, trying to find guilt in his expression. Yet he found none, so he lowered his sword. “Speak,” he commanded. “I…I..I am..scared…of the nightfort.” The boy’s confession made Aemond scoff, “Those stories they tell you were only lies.” Walking ahead, not bothering to stop and have a proper conversation with the young recruit. “Oh but it’s true!” The boy jogged, catching up to the Targaryen prince. “My brother saw a ghost in the halls. It was the perished wildling who died in this fort!”

Rolling his eye, Aemond said, “Lies.” 

The boy curiously looked at Aemond as they walked side by side. “What happened to your other eye?” A question that Aemond’s sick of hearing and answering. “My nephew took my eye when we were children,” he coldly said. “Why a sapphire?” 

No one ever asked him that before.

Only his mother asked him why he chose a sapphire. He remembered her smiling when he requested a sapphire to replace his eye. He remembered how she told him it suited him. How it made him handsome.

He smiled thinly at the memory.

“Symeon star eyes,” Aemond proudly said.

“The blind knight? Ah yes that makes sense. I read about him once. He’s an amazing hero, isn’t he?” The young boy asked, intriguing Aemond. “He is..and he is a brave knight. Taught me that being blind does not mean you must limit yourself from greatness.” Touching his sapphire eye, he recalled how uncomfortable it was when they placed the stone into his socket when he turned 13. But now he is used to it. As time went by, it slowly moulded into his skin. It was his identity now.

“What is your name, boy?”

“Jack.”

“And how old are you now?”

“I just turned Ten-and-three now.”

He was just a boy.

Aemond stopped in his tracks, “You are merely a boy. Why are you here at the watch?” Aemond asked curiously. 

“I wanted to.”

Aemond scoffed.

“It’s true! I want to be a crow! My brother was one and I have become one!” 

“Where is your brother now?”

Jack went quiet, looking down to his feet. “He died. A wildling shot an arrow through his heart,” he answered. Aemond sighed, in normal circumstances he would not say anything and leave the matter behind. But Jack’s loss reminded him of his own. Aegon. “I lost my brother too,” Aemond said reassuringly. Jack looked up, wiping a snot away from his nose. “You did? What happened to him?”

“He was poisoned. By his own council, I heard,” Aemond vaguely said. “Oh, you were a prince, weren’t you?”

“I still am.”

“What is it like…riding a dragon?”

Trying to recall what it was like to mount on dragonback, feeling the wind blowing through him as Vhagar took him up to the skies, he answered,

“I was free.”

He missed Vhagar. His only companion. The only thing that made himself worthy. Without Vhagar, what is he? Without his claim as prince, what is he? Just a skilled swordsman who coincidentally has silver hair. What has he put himself into?

Crack. Thump.

Aemond turned his head towards the haunted forest. “What was that?” Jack asked. “D’you think it’s a squirrel? Or a bird?”

Thump. Thump. 

“That is no bird, boy,” Aemond warned, shielding Jack from their surroundings. 

Swish- crack!

An arrow shot beside his head. 

“Wildling,” Jack says in horror

Aemond pulled the arrow out from the wooden walls of the fort. Examining its sharp carved edge of the arrow. It was clearly handmade with lack of detail, yet it is efficient to kill. “Warn the others,” Aemond said under his breath. “What?” Aemond rushed and hurriedly push the boy out from his place. “Warn the others. We’re under attack.” Aemond’s words drove Jack into panic before he runs away from the bridge. Leaving Aemond alone with the wildling arrow.

Pulling his sword out once again, Aemond aimed the sword around him.

Thump. Thump. Thump. 

“I know you’re there. Show yourself!” Aemond commanded, “Do not hide yourself from me, you savage!” 

Thud. 

He felt the floor shake as he heard something- or..someone jumping inside the bridge he stood on. Before he could fully turn around, the wildling pounced onto him. He landed on the floor with a thud. Aemond hastily aimed the sword to the intruder but when he looked up, he saw a she-wildling curiously looking down at him.

Her messy wavy hair was braided disorderly as it hangs above his face. He felt how thick her fur clothes were as a few leftover snow stuck onto her fur slightly falling when she pounced on him. Aemond was ready to strike if the wildling made sudden movements or even dared to harm him. He glared at the she-wildling, gripping his sword. 

“Do as you please, wildling. And I shall stab your hea-.”

She curiously lifts a strand of his hair. Feeling the texture of his hair. 

What?

She looked at his hair with a smile, “It’s actually silver,” her sweet voice said with a chuckle. 

“So you speak?”

She looked down at him, “Of course I do,” she answered with her thick rough accent. “Good. Then keep your hands off me!” Shoving her away, Aemond quickly stood on his feet. Pointing his sword at her. 

“Where are the others?”

“What others?” She smirked.

“Do not think this is a joke, wildling. We know your attacks—,”

“—Attacks? No! No! Gosh.” 

What is this wildling trying to do? Play with him?

“You’re different.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re not from the north,” she repeated, stepping closer towards him in which Aemond does not want her to do, still keeping his sword pointed at her. “And you’re not here by choice,” she continued, stopping right in front of his sword. One step closer, Aemond could stab her through her chest with his sword. “Is it true?” She asked.

“What?”

“That you are those people who owned a dragon?”

“What does a wildling know about dragons?”

“Surprisingly we know some things,” she lightly said. “And my grandfather has seen two dragons flying above the wall. But they refused to go beyond the wall.”

King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. 

His ancestors.

“What do you want, wildling?”

“I have a name, y’know.”

She spoke of her name that sounded foreign to his ears.

“I do not care of your name, tell me why are you here before I drag you to the watch—,”

“—oh, now you’re loyal to the crows? The last time I saw you, you threw a punch at the Lord Commander.”

What? How did she know of it?

“Were you spying on us?” Aiming his sword closer to her throat. “Oh really? You’re asking me that? We’re wildlings, of course we spy on crows like you. Or are you really one?” Her question made him grunt in frustration. “Tell me why are you spying on me?”

“Because you’re different. You didn’t ask to be a crow!”

“You do not know that!”

“Oh but I do. I do,” she challenged him.

“And not to mention, your purple eye and sapphire eye caught our attentio-.” Aemond frustratingly tackled her down. “You’re wasting my time,” he hissed at her. Their faces are inches away from each other. She scoffed, “Am I? Or am I making your job far much more entertaining? You seem bored being stationed in this old fort,” she chuckles. 

This woman is insane.

“This is going nowhere. For the last time, tell me why are you here,” he warned her. “Before I cut your throat, you savage.”

“Do you want to be trapped among these crows, snow haired?” She asked. 

Did he want to be trapped amongst these crows?

The watch?

No. 

But he could not admit that.

Not to a fucking wildling.

“You know nothing, wildling.”

“Oh but I know some things. I know you wished to be freed from this prison.” 

He did.

He did want to be free.

“You are such a know it all, wildling.”

“Aye, I am a savage. But I am also a free woman. Do you want to be free like me?”

Her eyes bore into his healthy eye. “If you were to kill me, you could’ve done that minutes ago. You would’ve cut my throat right here, right now. But you didn’t. For you knew my offer is too interesting to igno-,”

“Do not test me, you savage.” 

She scoffed at him.

“Then do it. Cut my throat. Drag me to those men you call brothers,” she challenged him.

Aemond aimed his sword at her.

One swift motion, her throat would be slit and she will lie there lifeless in his arms. That's easy. 

But why couldn’t he move?

His sword just stayed in place. 

He was a ruthless warrior who burned everything to the ground. He slew the strong family line. He killed those bastards and beheaded their men. Killing a wildling is nothing to him.

But he didn’t.

Fuck.

For she could free him from the watch. 

“Come with me. And you can escape from this place. I can help you go back to your home behind the wall. If you agree to come with me.”

She can take him home?

To Kings Landing.

His mother.

The keep.

“And you can help us as well. You don’t have to stay and become a crow—,”

“Targaryen!”

He heard a watch man called him from afar with Jack pointing to Aemond’s direction with the wildling. “Ah so that’s your name. Targaryen,” she jokingly said with a light laugh. She shoved Aemond away making him stumble back onto the hard floorboards of the fort. “Catch her!” He heard a watchman said again as they ran towards them. Aemond picked himself up and was ready to leap and stab the wildling. 

To no avail, the wildling was swift and jumped on the edge of the bridge. 

“This is my cue to leave. My offer stands still, Targaryen. We shall meet again.”

Giving Aemond a wink before jumping down, nowhere to be seen. Disappearing into the cold night air.

a/n: woohooo Aemond finally gets to meet the reader! Hope he’s fond of us🫶🏻🐇 Anw thank you for reading this chapter until the end! I will upload the next chapter asap<3 Alsooo I currently don’t have any taglist so if you want me to tag you in upcoming chapters just LMK🌷

🍰current tags: @suntizme @8812-342 @ladytargg @barnes70stark @magpiewritingsforonce (bold means I can’t tag you and idk why😔🐦‍⬛)

[puppym3]

heyaaa!!! if u still do requests, i have a request for minho! if u also havent done this one, but what if u do their song "i like it" about minho ??

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

── .✦ 'i love that i like you, but i don't wanna love'

minho x reader

wc: 4.1k

warnings: MDNI! 18+, situationship, fwb, angsty, one-sided pining, minho is an asshole, "i can fix him" reader, awkward, reader is so delusional at the start it's funny, hurt comfort, late confessions, fluffy at end, i heal ur wounds dw, (lmk if i missed any)

a/n: omg anon ur trying to break my heart, as a hopeless romantic this might be my first ever sort of angsty piece. but either way i love "i like it" its literally been on repeat its probs one of my favorites from the album. i loved writing this so much you have no idea, THANK YOU for suggesting!

reminder to not be too delulu, these are just fictional stories that i write to show off my creative writing!! also i have a taglist if you're interested!!!!!

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

The city lights glimmered through the window, casting a soft glow across Minho's apartment. The hum of the city outside was a constant reminder of the world continuing on, regardless of the turmoil within. You lay on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, Minho's arm draped lazily over your waist. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, a mix of comfort and longing that you had come to know too well.

"Hey," Minho's voice broke through your thoughts. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with those piercing eyes that always seemed to see right through you. "You okay?"

You forced a smile, nodding slightly. "Yeah, just thinking."

He sighed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "You know you can talk to me, right?"

That was the problem. Talking meant opening up, and opening up meant risking the fragile balance you had. Friends with benefits, a situationship, whatever it was, it worked because there were no labels, no expectations. At least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

"Minho," you started, hesitating. The words felt heavy on your tongue, a mix of hope and fear. "What are we doing?"

His expression softened, but there was a flicker of something—uncertainty, maybe?—in his eyes. "We're having fun, aren't we?"

"Yeah, but..." You sat up, pulling the sheets around you like a shield. "Is that all this is? Just fun?"

He ran a hand through his hair, a habit you had come to recognize as his way of stalling for time. "I like what we have, you know that. I just... I,"

You swallowed hard, the words stinging more than you wanted to admit. "And what if I want more?"

Minho's gaze dropped, his silence louder than any answer he could give. 'I like you'—if only it were that easy.

"I can't do this forever, Minho," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I need to know if there's a future here, or if I'm just fooling myself."

He looked back at you, his eyes filled with a mix of regret and confusion. "I'm not ready for anything more right now."

The words hung in the air, a painful confirmation of your deepest fears. You nodded slowly, the ache in your chest spreading. "I understand."

As you got dressed and prepared to leave, Minho reached out, his hand catching yours. "Wait, don't go like this."

You paused, looking at him one last time. "I need to go think."

With that, you slipped out of his grasp, each step away from him feeling heavier than the last. The door closed behind you, the finality of it echoing in the empty hallway.

That night, you cried until your eyes were raw and your head ached until there were no tears left and all that was left was an empty feeling in your chest.

"What are you doing here?"

You saw your best friend standing in your doorway, her brow furrowed with worry. "I needed to see you, you didn't pick up any calls."

You felt the tears starting to form again as she pulled you into her arms. "I'm an idiot," you managed to say in between sobs.

She gently patted your back. "You're not an idiot, he's the idiot."

"He's not an idiot," you said softly.

She held you at arm's length, looking into your eyes. "Then tell me what happened. What has your eyes all puffy at 9 in the morning?"

"He wants to be just friends, that's all." you sighed.

"What?" her brows furrowed. "I thought you liked each other? What's stopping him?"

"I asked what he wants to be, and he said 'he's not ready for anything'."

She groaned, "he doesn't deserve you"

You let out a deep breath. "He doesn't, does he? But, I like him."

"Why are you putting yourself through this?" She said with worry in her eyes as she traced circles on your back.

"I wanted to fight for him, but every time I end up in his bed, I hurt myself more."

"Fight for him?"

You nodded slowly, your resolve hardening as you said the words aloud. "I'm going to fight for him."

She rolled her eyes, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "And how are you going to do that?"

You hesitated, realizing that you hadn't thought that far ahead. "I guess I'll... call him? No, no that would be awkward... maybe I'll just stop by his apartment and—"

She raised an eyebrow, looking at you pointedly. "And what, you're gonna sleep with him again? What would that do?"

Your cheeks flushed. "Okay, no. Maybe I'll take him out to coffee? No, that's too casual. Maybe dinner?"

"Dinner would be good."

"Dinner would be good," you agreed, a hint of nervousness creeping into your voice.

Your best friend put her arm around your shoulder and gave you a reassuring squeeze. "You shouldn't be doing this, but I support you."

"Thank you."

She shook her head, laughing softly. "If it doesn't work, we're gonna eat so much comfort food tonight."

That afternoon, you paced around your apartment, phone in hand as you tried to muster up the courage to call Minho. Your best friend's words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the risk you were taking. With a deep breath, you hit the call button.

As the phone rang, you felt your heart pounding in your chest, your palms growing clammy. After what felt like an eternity, the familiar sound of Minho's voice filled your ear.

"Hey, it's me." You paused, gathering your thoughts. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was upset and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

You could hear the hesitance in his voice as he replied, "No, it's alright. I'm sorry, too."

"Can I take you out for dinner? I think we need to talk about things." You held your breath, waiting for his response.

"Yeah... I think that'd be okay," he said after a moment, "When?"

"I'm free tonight," you offered, trying to hide the hopeful note in your voice.

There was a long silence before Minho spoke again, "Okay, I'll see you at 6."

You hung up, the finality of the words hitting you. Was this your last chance?

The minutes passed by slowly, your anticipation building with each passing minute. Finally, 6 o'clock came around, and you made your way to the restaurant. You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves as you pushed open the doors.

You spotted Minho seated at a table, and made your way over to him. He stood as you approached, smiling.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Hey." You swallowed, trying to find your words. "I, I've missed you."

Minho looked away, a mix of emotions on his face. "It's been a day."

You laughed, trying to ease the tension. "Oh, right."

There was a moment of awkward silence before Minho finally spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

"I think I missed you too."

You looked at him, the realization dawning on you. He had missed you too. It was something, he at least thought about you during day. "Minho—"

He looked up, meeting your gaze. "What is it?"

"I just..." You took a deep breath. "I don't want to lose what we have. But if that means being friends, then that's what we'll do. Because I can't stand losing you completely."

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes filled with surprise. Then he nodded slowly. "I don't want to lose what we have as well."

Your chest ached, but you smiled anyway, grateful for the small victory. You would be fine with it. You could be fine with it if that's all you could ever get.

"But," you started, an idea coming to your mind, "if I get a boyfriend, we'll stop whatever this is."

Minho blinked, the words sinking in. He took a moment, contemplating. Then he nodded slowly.

"Okay," he said. "Okay."

His expression was unreadable, was he upset? Or was he fine with the idea of never speaking to you again?

Your heart sank at the thought, did he really feel nothing at all for you?

You forced yourself to smile, trying to hide the ache in your chest. "Thank you," you said softly.

Minho smiled, but you could tell it was forced. You excused yourself and went to the washroom to splash cold water on your face, trying to stop the tears that threatened to spill.

You had to leave, you had to get out of here. You made your way outside, the cool night air helping to calm you.

You leaned against the wall, taking a shaky breath as you tried to hold back the tears. You closed your eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to calm your racing heartbeat.

You forced yourself to come to reality with all of this, you ran home without thinking twice. You had to end all of this now and leave before you ended up in his bed again.

You slammed your front door shut, locking the deadbolt and falling on the ground crying. The tears wouldn't stop flowing, it felt like a river of emotion that was overwhelming you. You were so scared of losing him, of not having him in your life. You sat on the ground for what felt like an eternity, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Getting rid of him now was the only way, the only way you'd survive without being broken-hearted. You dragged yourself to bed and cried yourself to sleep, clutching the pillow and blankets like they were your lifeline.

A week had already passed. You did your best to stay busy, trying to distract yourself from thinking about Minho. You had blocked his number, so you had no idea if he had tried to reach out to you at all.

Your best friend had been beside you to keep you from losing your mind completely or unblocking his number.

The two of you decided to watch movies all weekend long to take your minds off the situation, which helped for a while, but now that it was Monday and you were back at work, you felt like a walking zombie.

Your thoughts drifted to Minho throughout the day, wondering what he was doing, if he had moved on yet, or if he still thought of you at all.

You pushed the thoughts out of your head, trying to focus on your work. But it was no use. He was constantly in your mind, even though you knew there was no point in thinking of him.

You closed your eyes, letting your mind wander back to when things were still good between the two of you, the feeling of his tender hands on your body and his soft lips against yours. You remembered his words, 'I like what we have.' Did he mean it? Did he still think that after everything that happened? Or were they just words?

You opened your eyes, tears forming again as you stared out the window, lost in thought.

The clock seemed to move agonizingly slowly, but eventually, your workday came to an end, and you gathered your things to head home. You took a deep breath before heading out the door, bracing yourself for another long, lonely night.

You walked slowly through the dark streets, lost in your thoughts. You came across a familiar intersection, and you hesitated, memories of Minho flooding your mind.

The two of you used to take this route back to your apartment when he would walk you home from work. You stood in the middle of the empty intersection, staring at the stoplight, debating on whether to continue home or take the long way to your apartment, the way the two of you used to take.

You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. It was silly, getting hung up on someone that didn't even care.

You crossed the street, heading in the direction of your apartment. You glanced down the familiar route, memories of the two of you talking about the stupidest things.

You closed your eyes and sighed, a pang of longing hitting you. You missed him so much, more than you had ever expected.

You kept your eyes closed, your mind replaying memories of Minho as you walked home. It hurt to think about, but it also hurt not to think about him.

The two of you were inseparable, even when you fell in love with him, he enabled your feelings, kissing you, touching you, and sharing nights with you.

He was so easy to love. And he was so easy to lose.

You opened your eyes as you reached your apartment, the familiar surroundings providing you with a sense of comfort.

You trudged up the stairs, feeling more drained than you had all week. You reached your apartment, the familiar walls surrounding you like a warm embrace.

You threw your keys onto the table, slumping down in a chair and closing your eyes.

You breathed in the comforting scent of home, the ache in your chest still lingering, but you felt a sense of calm wash over you. You were home.

You sat for a few minutes, just enjoying the feeling of being at home after a long day at work. The quiet was comforting, a contrast to the busy, loud environment you'd spent your day in. You sat with your eyes closed for a few minutes, allowing your thoughts to settle.

You heard a faint knock on your front door. Your heart stopped, and you shot up out of your chair, hesitantly walking to the door.

You paused, taking a deep breath before opening it, knowing you couldn't keep it locked forever.

"Minho." The word slipped out before you could stop it, your voice a mix of surprise and pain.

Minho's face was somber, his expression unreadable as he spoke.

"I think I love you."

His voice was soft, the words tinged with sadness. You looked into his eyes, seeing the pain there.

You took a deep breath, your heart aching. You opened your mouth to reply, but he continued, the words pouring out of him.

"I'm sorry. I didn't think it would feel so painful to not see you, or hear your voice, or touch you. I just couldn't stop thinking about you, about how you made me feel."

You couldn't hold back the tears any longer as his words filled your ears, your chest aching more than it had in a long time.

You bit your lip, trying to stay calm. Is this real, or are you dreaming? Did he come back to fuck with your feelings?

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mixture of pain and happiness flooding you as you looked into his eyes, trying to see if he was sincere.

His face was pained, his expression vulnerable as he stood in your doorway. You hesitated, trying to find the words to say.

He stepped closer to you, closing the space between you, the proximity causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I liked what we had, that part is true. But I never realized how I felt until you disappeared from my life."

You tried to breathe evenly as he reached out to take your hands, his touch gentle as he spoke again.

"I know I've been selfish this entire time, but I miss you. I miss everything about you."

His words pierced through your heart, leaving you speechless. You were frozen in place, trying to comprehend his words.

Minho closed his eyes, a small smile forming on his face. "I missed you."

The two of you stood in silence for a few seconds, his hands holding yours tightly as he stared into your eyes, his gaze softening as you finally managed to reply.

"I missed you, too."

Without hesitation, you grabbed his face and pulled him in, crashing your lips together as his hands pulled you close to him, holding you as if you would disappear any second.

Your hands moved from his face to the nape of his neck as the kiss grew deeper, his lips parting as the two of you explored each other's mouths.

Minho's hands roamed your body as yours did his, a familiar warmth spreading through your body as you gave yourself to him once again.

You broke apart for air, panting as you tried to catch your breath. The two of you stood there in your doorway for a moment, catching your breaths and staring at each other, neither one wanting to let go.

You were still unsure of where your relationship stood, but as Minho's hand reached for your waist once more and pulled you close, his lips capturing yours again, all your worries seemed to disappear.

He guided you into your apartment, shutting the door behind him and backing you against the wall. Your hands found the back of his head once again as you melted into his touch, his kisses filled with longing.

His hand wandered up your back and into your hair as his other hand rested on your hip, a soft groan escaping his lips as the kiss grew deeper. You wrapped your leg around his, your body pressing against him as you held him close, trying to convey the emotions you couldn't put into words.

After a few minutes, you finally broke the kiss, looking into his eyes as you both panted softly. Your chest was pounding as you looked up at him, trying to read his expression.

He smiled softly at you, his face flushed from the intensity of the kiss. His eyes met yours and held your gaze, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he took in your flushed cheeks and disheveled hair.

He reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

You felt a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at his touch, a small smile forming on your lips as you reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned into him, your chest pressing against his as you hugged him tightly, your cheek resting against his.

He hugged you back, his arms wrapping around you as you nuzzled your nose against his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, enjoying each other's warmth and closeness, the silence broken only by the soft sound of his heart beating.

The two of you stood in each other's arms for what felt like an eternity, but could have been minutes or hours. Time didn't exist anymore as the two of you held onto each other, neither one wanting to let go.

Finally, you reluctantly pulled away, looking into his eyes as you spoke. "We should probably talk properly."

His eyes searched yours, his expression serious as he nodded, a hint of hesitation in his voice. "Okay," he said softly.

You nodded, stepping away from him and moving to the living room, the distance between the two of you growing again. You sat down on the couch, your hands resting in your lap as you stared down at them.

Minho sat down next to you, his body tense as he watched you.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes as you gathered your thoughts. You opened your mouth to speak, but the words seemed to get caught in your throat, your voice coming out barely louder than a whisper. "I've loved you ever since we started sleeping together."

Minho's eyes widened slightly as he stared at you, his mouth slightly agape as your words registered with him. You felt a familiar pang of sadness in your chest as you remembered that time.

He looked down, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you say anything?"

You bit your lip, struggling to find the right words. "I thought you knew. I would always bring up going further with you, but you dismissed me."

You looked down, fidgeting with your hands as you tried to hold back tears. "I just thought things would change if we put labels on things."

The silence in the air grew deafening as you looked up, your heart pounding as you saw tears forming in Minho's eyes. He reached out and placed his hand on your shoulder, his touch light and reassuring.

"But I want those labels now, all of them," he whispered. "I'm so sorry I made you feel that way."

The tears that had been threatening to fall finally began to trickle down your cheeks as you looked up at him. "Minho, I thought you felt nothing for me."

He reached out and gently brushed the tears away from your face, his eyes filled with concern as he stared into your eyes.

Minho took a deep breath before continuing. "I know I've hurt you, but I never want to see you cry again."

Your chest ached as you tried to process his words. It was as if everything you had gone through since the 'break-up' was suddenly erased, as if none of it had mattered. You stared into his eyes, trying to figure out what to say.

Minho's lips curved up into a small smile as he cupped your cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumb as he gazed into your eyes.

You reached up and wrapped your hands around his, holding onto them tightly as you felt a familiar warmth spreading through your chest at his touch.

"I want to try and start again, as your boyfriend," he said softly, placing a soft kiss on the back of your hand.

You felt your heart racing as the words left his mouth, your chest tightening as he looked into your eyes, searching for your reaction.

You took a deep breath, your eyes closing for a second as you tried to steady yourself, the words that left his mouth feeling almost unreal. "Minho," you breathed. "Is this real? Are you serious?"

A smile broke out onto his face as he nodded. "If you'll let me, yes."

Without saying a word, you grabbed his shirt, pulling him into a kiss as your heart raced, the tears on your face now dried.

Minho kissed you back with equal intensity, his hands cupping your face as your hands tangled themselves into his hair. The kiss was soft and filled with longing as the two of you lost yourselves in the moment.

As your lips parted, you felt Minho's forehead pressed against yours as his hands traced down to the small of your back, holding you close. You closed your eyes and smiled, relishing the feeling of being in his arms once again.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he held you, the two of you taking in the feeling of each other. It had only been a week, but it felt like a lifetime had passed.

"I'm your girlfriend now?" you asked hesitantly, still not sure if this was all real.

Minho laughed softly as he nodded. "You're my girlfriend," he confirmed, his voice filled with affection.

You laughed and leaned back, taking in his expression and memorizing the look in his eyes, feeling a warmth in your heart you hadn't felt for a while.

He suddenly wrapped his arms around your waist, picking you up with ease as you shrieked in surprise. He carried you to the bed and gently placed you down on the mattress as if you were made of glass, the mattress shifting from the weight of his body as he moved to lie beside you.

"What do we do now?" you asked softly as his hands cupped your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your lips as he leaned in for a tender kiss.

When he broke away, you found yourself expecting more, but he simply smiled at you as he laid back down and pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your waist to hold you.

"This is all I want to do," he whispered, nuzzling your neck and kissing it lightly. "I want to fall asleep holding you and wake up beside you in the morning."

His words were tender as they reached your ears, making your heart melt.

"Okay," you breathed, pressing a kiss on his cheek and turning around so your back was facing his chest. You snuggled closer to him as he pulled you close, his hands resting on your abdomen and holding you tightly as he buried his face into your neck, kissing it.

You breathed in deeply, his scent surrounding you as your heart swelled with affection.

"Good night, I love you."

His voice was soft, but you could feel the emotion behind the words. You let out a soft sigh as your eyelids fluttered shut, the feeling of Minho holding you lulling you to sleep.

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

taglist for my beauties : @loverbangchan, @reignessance, @imperfectlyperfectprincess1, @armystay89, @ihrtlix, @jiyeonslays, @lovestaysblogs, @jeyelleohe, @celebration88

[judasgot-it]

Friends to Lovers

"I've been in love with you for years now, thanks for noticing dumbass."

Scenario: You literally do not get the hint. Jouno nearly wants to beat you to death because of this, but unfortunately for him, he likes you.

2.5 K words

For the last few years, your life had been relatively simple. Despite having an 'exciting' job, you were stuck doing the same shit basically every day until you died.

Work out, have monthly surgeries, question criminals in completely legal ways with government oversight, and investigate and capture terrorists. Maybe kill them, since you were a completely legal government entity and were allowed to do that.

Same shit as always. It was a rinse and repeat, the only difference was how and where you did it. But it was going to stay the same - something you were going to do until you died.

Just like how your love life had stayed the same - hopeless and stale.

No one could really blame you, now could they? You had a crush on the same coworker for years, and it seemed like you'd get over it when you died.

So basically never.

It sucked.

You wanted to cry sometimes, thinking about how much you liked your coworker's stupid face.

Everyone said he was an asshole, and yes - he was. But not to you.

Saigiku let you call him by his first name, and was nice enough to give you the homemade lunch he couldn't eat. No one was convinced on how good of a cook he was, but that was fine - you were ok with not sharing what Saigiku gave you.

If he was here, you would be able to compliment him and see how red his face gets. It hurt how much of you smiled at the thought, how embarrassed he is that someone liked his cooking.

"Thinking about Jouno again?"

Tachihara looked bored, watching you as if he was observing a bird on a telephone wire.

You swallowed, tasting the onigiri in your mouth. God, Saigiku was a really good cook.

"How'd you know?"

"You're always thinking about him. It's embarrassing." Teruko glared two holes through you; as if you had tried to touch Fukuchi in some way.

"What? No I don't." Maybe just a little bit.

"Right. And who gave you that?"

Tachihara walked closer and inspected the bento box you'd been consuming for the last ten minutes. You tried to shield it from his gaze, feeling as if his eyes were going to melt it.

"Why does it matter?"

"Jouno doesn't give me homemade lunch."

"He almost let me starve once. I'm the vice-captain, and he let me starve! So why is he giving you his lunch?"

Teruko reached her fingers around your body and snatched some rice, not caring if she made a mess as she shoved it in her mouth. Like a sticky, copper-smelling child, she chewed out loud, making sure you heard her crime.

You cringed a little, while Tachihara tried not to gag as he watched her lick her fingers loudly. She really was twelve years old.

"Well it's just because he didn't want it to go bad, that's it. Doesn't mean anything."

It was something you kept telling yourself everytime he did something sweet to you - that it could mean anything, and most likely it meant nothing. Saigiku was a strange man, and he wasn't likely the type to go around and show his feelings so blatantly.

Right?

"He once threw his drink at me."

Tecchou finally spoke up. He looked like he was bored, despite recounting one of the many common war stories that was interacting with Saigiku when he was upset - which was always, when it came to Tecchou.

"I don't think he would have offered it to you anyway, Tecchou. No offense, but that's just yours and Saigiku's relationship..."

"That's another thing! You call him by his first name! It's like you're his girlfriend or something."

Teruko was laying on the punches, nearly spitting in your face as she throughout her accusations. It made you want to hide - he would never like the idea, and you would rather die than lose what you two currently had. It was the closest you could get to being anything like that anyway, so you wouldn't want to ruin it by overstepping a boundary like that.

"We're just close!"

"So close that you have sex together."

That made you nearly choke. Tecchou didn't even bat an eye, instead staring at the floor as he continued his pushups on the meeting room floor.

"We do not have sex together. What made you think that?"

This was it. You were going to die, and it was from choking caused by sheer embarrassment. Where was Saigiku when you needed him?

"Then why were you moaning in his office yesterday?"

"I was showing him how women fake orgasms. Like a good friend does."

The conversation was fresh in your mind - he was saying that he had never had a woman fake an orgasm, of course, you had to prove how easy it was to fake it. It had you both on the floor in laughter, because it was a little ridiculous; even if a part of you wished that it was real.

Hiding those thoughts from him was a little difficult, but it was easy when you hid it under the gauze of laughter.

"That's not a normal friend conversation..."

"We're just that close."

That might have been your favorite part of being with Saigiku. Even if you would never be with him, you could always have him in that close bond.

You were close. That was it. Close, like friends.

-

"Y/n."

Saigiku's voice was deeper than it usually was - either because he was tired, or because the phone distorted his voice to a deeper pitch. Maybe a mix of both.

"Saigiku. How are you?"

"Dying. That mission was awful, I don't know why Fukuchi would make me do it alone."

"I wish I could have gone with you-"

"You would have died. Literally. I would rather it be me than you." His voice was so serious, you wish you could slap it out of him. Or kiss.

"Shut up! You don't know that."

"I do. You need a big strong man to protect you, considering how you can't even walk with your own two feet."

"I only tripped one time, dickhead. Also, sexism isn't a cute look on you."

You could hear how he huffed with laughter. He must have been dead on his feet - he could last so much longer when he bantered with you. The man had petty insults on you for days, saved up for the most random conversations between the two of you. This call could have lasted hours.

"Y/n. I'm coming over to yours. It's closer to the train station."

"This is the warning you're giving me? I'm in my pajamas, you know?"

"I'd rather have you in nothing at all."

And what the hell do you say to that? A noise came out of your throat, but there weren't words to accompany it. You were left there standing by your kitchen table, where you'd left your phone to charge, when Saigiku had waved his temporary goodbyes.

He said those kinds of things, and it was impossible to know if it was a joke or genuine.

It left you a little nervous, cleaning up your apartment for his arrival. You weren't messy, per say - but compared to him, you were a disaster.

Saigiku was a man who kept his apartment organized with mathematical precision. Even with the job he had, the dishes were clean and the laundry was always folded. He owned exactly fourteen pairs of everything, so he could keep his clothes in a perfect dry clean laundry rotation.

He was a bit of a psychopath, in that aspect.

You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. God forbid you had clean laundry that wasn't ironed to perfection. Maybe you were a little messy - eating off of paper plates once and a while, and leaving soap residue around your bathroom.

The man never failed to notice, and he would gladly make it a spat between the two of you. Sometimes you left it messy on purpose, just to see him fold your laundry and do your dishes - domesticating Saigiku was a funny sight, especially when he was still arguing with you.

But tonight he was tired. Maybe in the morning, you could force him to make you breakfast.

Right now? You'd give him the peace of mind of having clean dishes to eat off of.

Because you were a good friend, you had to remind yourself.

There was nothing to the feeling of seeing him behind your front door. His warm smile meant nothing, and neither did the hug he gave only to you in moments like these.

The extra long second between the two of you, where he swayed his feet and put his nose against your hair - it was nothing special, because you were just two close friends greeting each other after a bad day of work.

If Saigiku had looked at you with his eyes, he probably wouldn't have shown you anything special in there either. Ignoring the feeling in your body at every touch had become second nature, because you knew that he felt nothing for you.

He only lingered because he cared about you. Nothing more.

-

"Did you have sex with Jouno finally?"

"Why would you think that?"

Tachihara merely stared at you - he looked exhausted, as if you had told him the same unfunny joke for three years straight.

To be fair, even you were sick of your pining. It was stale and old, to be after the same man with no results.

"You walked in with him today?"

"That's because he slept over at my place. He's done that a lot - nothing special."

The ginger looked at you as if you had grown two heads, but really, it was nothing new, and he knew that. Letting a man like Saigiku spend a night at your place?

There was always something to it. You were lying to yourself, but you didn't want to break the charade and hurt yourself.

"Is it?"

"He doesn't like me."

"Don't say that-"

"He doesn't. Trust me, if he did, I would have noticed already."

Last night you had fallen asleep on top of him, and neither of you had said anything. You had stayed like that for maybe a minute, or possibly ten - nothing was said about heartbeat, and nothing was said about how your hands were in places they didn't belong.

He had gotten up, and woken you up with breakfast; like a disgruntled housewife. No other man in your life had ever done that for you, but you weren't going to let yourself think it meant anything special.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive." The doubt that sat in your stomach was dutifully ignored as you went back to your work, trying to focus on it.

The feeling went to the back of your mind once again. It didn't even exist, really; as long as Saigiku wasn't there or in the conversation, you could ignore those pesky little feelings practically forever.

"Are you thinking about me?"

The blood in your body practically burst as you felt two hands wrap themselves around your shoulders. It was a gentle hold, firm as they squeezed through your uniform.

They were familiar and warm, reminding you of the feeling from last night. It was relieving to feel it there again, even if it was embarrassing to know how much you truly missed it.

"Always am, Saigiku. Always am."

There was hacking from across the room, but you ignored it as you leaned against the man behind you, hitting his chest with the back of your head gently.

"You should be. I've never stopped thinking about you."

"Really?"

"Always on my mind. You're like a disease."

Despite his words, his voice sounded gentle, as if he were speaking through cotton and silk.

"What kind of disease?" Once again, you were trying to swallow the disappointment that built up inside of your chest - you loved him, but you were delusional to think that he would love you back. He was just teasing.

"The stupid kind that I love."

"I'm not stupid! Asshole!" You reached up to slap him, stopping just short of his face. He grabbed your wrists, entangling your arms with yours and swaying your body together as he shook his head.

"Yeah, you are."

"Am not."

"Y/n. I love you."

Saigiku's face was close to yours, and you could feel how he smelled your hair like the freak he was.

I love you?

"Fucking hell don't make me repeat it. Isn't it obvious?"

"Oh...I love you too?" You almost wanted to cry, because what the fuck was going on. It was hard to even let yourself think in the moment, because the man was taking up your space and was saying words you wanted to hear-

This couldn't be real. Maybe you were under attack, because this felt too good to be true.

"Not as a friend. I mean in the 'I want to go back home with you' kind of way."

"We already do that." You didn't know why you said that - you were waiting for his face to twist into a grimace, or for an annoyed groan to sound. But instead, he kept a smile on there, waiting patiently.

"Get the point. I want to kiss you. And do the other things boring couples do."

"...Oh."

You spun your chair around to face him properly. There was the chance to breathe again, without smelling his fancy cologne and the smell of fireworks on his uniform.

"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

The man before you sighed. It was a low whine, a sound you never expected to hear from him.

"I did tell you. I've been telling you every day. You just don't notice anything. Seriously, do you think I would wake up and make breakfast for just anyone?"

Saigiku leaned in close as he said this, his lips close enough to yours that you could see how smooth they were.

Reaching your hand up, you brought it to his face, carefully tracing lines across his smooth skin.

"Sorry."

Pulling him in closer felt embarassing - it was something you had imagined, but having him in your hands right there had your limbs nearly falling apart.

You expected a kiss, like your fantasies; but instead, his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug, dragging you up from your chair like a cat and up into his arms, standing with him. Your legs felt weak, and there was an embarrassed feeling creeping up as you pressed your body weight against his.

"You should be sorry. I thought you were doing it on purpose."

"And if I was?"

"Then maybe I'll let you go. Seriously, why can't you stand?"

He was swaying the both of you gently, his arms locked firmly against your waist and holding you gently. His body was warm and smelled like him, protecting you from the AC and the overwhelming smell of the building.

"Because I fell for you, Saigiku."

"Yeah, I'm dropping you."

Despite this, he held you for longer than was socially acceptable.

This was for my valentine's event, remember that? remember how i have an event? that im supposed to be writing for? haha me neither.....yeaaaa me neither.

sorry to the people who requested. im slow as helllllllll. also you can still request by the way haha

[queenshelby]

Forbidden Desire (Part 24)

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader (Female/Incestuous)

Warnings: Incest, Smut

Please comment and engage xx 😘

As Tommy stood there, watching you leave the ceremony, his heart clenched in a way it never had before. He wanted to chase after you, to tell Lizzie that this was a mistake, but he couldn't. The weight of obligation and responsibility kept him anchored to the spot, bound by the promise he had made. 

He had contemplated his options all night long, haunted by the memory of your lips on his and the way your body had felt against his own.

He was restless and as the priest kept on talking, he couldn't even focus on the words anymore. All he could think about was you, his niece - his forbidden love, and the life that they could never have together.

His body was tense, and his mind was absent when the priest as for his vows, Tommy simply looked at him, silently, causing the priest to repeat the question.

"Do you, Thomas Shelby, take Lizzie Stark to be your wife, as long as you both shall live?"

Tommy's gaze lingered on the priest for a long moment, his thoughts racing and conflicting emotions crashing over him. Finally, he swallowed hard and spoke up, in a strong, steady voice.

"Lizzie, I am forever grateful for your love and the life you've brought into mine, but I can't fucking marry you," Tommy said, with a serious look on his face but without an apology.

The entire church fell silent as the words sank in and Lizzie stood there, blinking slowly, her vows falling from her hands.

The look of shock and hurt on Lizzie's face made Tommy's heart beat quickly. Never before had he been so brutally honest about his feelings, but he could no longer deny what was inside of him anymore.

"Tommy?" Lizzie gasped softly, her hand reaching up to her throat in surprise. "What do you mean you can't marry me?" she asked, her words barely above a whisper as her heart raced in her chest.

Tommy shook his head, guilt etched into every line of his face.

"I am sorry Lizzie, but I can't do this. I thought I could, but I can't. There is a woman whom I love, and this woman is not you," he told Lizzie as her eyes filled with tears and she trembled from head to toe but she stood there, silent, unable to gather her thoughts.

The priest looked horrified as he watched the drama unfolding, not knowing what to do next.

Meanwhile, outside the church, you had heard Tommy's words and your heart sank.

You leaned against the cold stone wall, trying to catch your breath. Your heart ached within your chest as you realized that his words were about you.

But even as relief washed over you, guilt quickly followed. You knew that this was impossible, the attraction between you and Tommy - a love and desire that went beyond accepted norms, meaning this could never be.

"It's this fucking whore, isn't it?" you heard Lizzie scream through the thick walls of the church as her voice trembled with anger. "Your own fucking n...," she began to say but was immediately cut off by Polly who had rushed toward the couple on the alter the moment she had heard Lizzie's outburst.

"Now is not the time, nor the place, Lizzie," Polly said sternly, shielding Tommy from the wrath of his jilted bride as she was about to expose his secret affair with you.

The church remained silent, save for the heavy breathing of those present and distant whispers filling the air.

The shame burning on Lizzie's face was unbearable, and she lowered her eyes in defeat. Though her pride had been severely wounded, she wasn't naïve. She knew whom Tommy loved. But hearing him reject her in front of all these people was something she hadn't expected.

"Let's go and have a drink to calm your nerves and then we will talk about what happened," Polly said reassuringly, leading Lizzie away from the altar, and toward the exit.

Outside the church, you remained leaning against the wall, your thoughts swirling. You wondered what Tommy's next move would be and when he would come for you and when Lizzie saw you, calmly smoking a cigarette , she strode towards you, her eyes blazing with fury.

"You are the reason for this," Lizzie accused you, causing your heart to race within your chest. "The whole world thinks that I am a laughing stock now, but let me assure you, I will make your life even more miserable than you made mine you fucking whore," Lizzie told you while you remained silent, unwilling to confirm or deny her accusations.

"Lizzie, time and place! Let's go!" Polly interrupted, quickly leading Lizzie away from you and towards her Bentley. 

You stood there, your heart pounding in your chest as you watched them leave.

The tension was thick in the air, and you could feel every eye on you. The whispers grew louder, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of shame creeping up your neck.

You quickly dropped your cigarette onto the gravel and crushed it beneath your heel, before straightening your shoulders as you finally saw Tommy, walking towards you alongside your father.

"Now that was a fucking disaster," your father said  with a whistle, but you didn't find the situation funny in the least. "Let's get pissed, eh? And forget that this ever happened, shall we?" he then suggested, causing his wife Linda to shake her head.

"No Arthur, let's get home," she told him sternly while you turned to Tommy, searching his deep blue eyes for answers, but all you could find were reflections of your own guilt.

Being in the presence of your father, you knew that he couldn't say anything, and neither could you.  The tension between you and Tommy was palpable, the moments stretching on as you both took each other in.

You couldn't help but wonder what he was thinking. Was he feeling regret and remorse for not being able to go through with the marriage? Or was he glad to be free of his loveless relationship right now?

Arthur's eyes darted between his brother and you, sensing the tension but unsure of its actual cause. You could feel yourself growing more anxious by the second, your heart hammering within your chest and, as Linda demanded for your father to leave with her, you were glad to finally have  a chance to speak your mind.

"I'm sorry, Tommy. I should never have come here," you murmured softly, your eyes brimming with unshed tears as you tried to communicate all the emotions that were coursing through your veins in a single silent look. 

Tommy looked at you for a long moment, his blue eyes searching yours for any hint of regret or resistance.

"No," he finally said, clearing his throat. "I am glad you did, because you made me realise something that I have forgotten ever since I returned from France," he added, his voice stronger and more assured than you had ever heard it before. "None of this matters. This business. Money. Fucking nothing matters ," Tommy muttered, his voice low and passionate. "Fuck parliament and fuck this deal. Let's just fucking leave, eh? Just you, me and our son," he continued to say, all of his previous restraint thrown to the wind.

You stared at him, your heart fluttering wildly with shock. His words lingered in the air between you like a promise of something new and unexplored. The thought of leaving everything behind, of starting anew, was terrifying and you quickly quietened him down.

"Sshh , not here," you murmured, taking in a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

The last thing you wanted was for the rest of your family to hear his words and realize what he had just confessed to you. This desire, this forbidden love, could never see the light of day.

In another time and place, perhaps it could have grown into a beautiful reality, but not within the narrow-minded constraints of 1920's England.

"If I know one thing Thomas Shelby, it is that you could never live a life away from fucking Birmingham. You crave this. You crave the power and the thrill of it all. After France, this is exactly what you needed. Your mind needs to be occupied, and you are good at it. You are exactly where you belong and I know that you will never be able to live a quiet life with me, away from family, without losing part of yourself,"  you continued, with a sad smile.

Tommy stared back at you, unable to deny the truth in your words. His whole life had been dedicated to this life, and he knew that nothing else would truly satisfy the deep-seated desire for power and control. It was an addiction of sorts, one that he couldn't simply shake off even if he wanted to.

With that, he nodded in defeat before, without many more words, leading you to his Bently just as the last of the guests came walking out of the church with a look of disappointment on their faces.

"This is not the way back to Arrow House," you noticed as Tommy started driving, leaving the whispers of the guests far behind.

"No, it is not. I need to go somewhere else. Somewhere where I can think," he told you finally, after minutes of silence, before taking a left turn to a place you had not been before.

As the Bentley took the final bend in the country road, your breath caught in your throat. The landscape was bathed in the golden glow of sunlight breaking through the clouds; its rays illuminated a sprawling green hill and a small Gypsie wagon.

"What is this place?" you asked him, eyes widening to take in the sight before you that tugged at your heartstrings more than any erotic encounter ever had. This place seemed magical and romantic; two things you thought were impossible with Tommy Shelby.

"This is where I come when I want to be alone," he said, pulling to a stop just short of where the wagon stood.

"But you are not alone. I am right here with you,"  you said gently, reaching over to rest your hand on top of his.

Your voice was soft but it carried a strength that echoed within him; it brought comfort beyond anything he had ever experienced before.

Tommy parked the car and led the way up the hill. At the top, as your breath caught in your chest once more, this time at the beauty all around you, he paused, watching you take in your surroundings before he began to speak.

" This place belonged to my mother. When she died, the land and the wagon were given to my uncle. I spent a lot of time here growing up, and it's still where I come whenever I need to think," Tommy revealed, the words slipping out as easily as if he had been telling you about his day instead of something far more deeply personal.

A haunted look lingered in his eyes, and for a moment, you could almost see the boy who mourned the loss of his mother and sought solace in a wagon tucked away on a high hill.

"Do you want to tell me what it is that you are thinking about?" you asked Tommy, as you both stared off into the distance.

Your hand remained on top of his and your thumb absentmindedly traced circles across the back of it as you watched a little bird fly past, soaring effortlessly through the air before disappearing from view.

Tommy turned his head towards you, blue eyes meeting yours before he glanced down at your hand and slowly lifted it to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against it.

"I am thinking about how to make this work," he replied softly, watching as the breeze stirred loose tendrils of your hair around your face.

His voice was calm, but you could sense the urgency in his words, a silent plea for you both to find a way.

"You know you can't just leave everything behind and run off with me and we cannot be together otherwise. Not with your family knowing," you said gently, your heart heavy with the reality of their situation.

You couldn't pretend that things could be any different, no matter how much you longed for them to be.

Tommy nodded slowly before turning to look out across the fields once again.

He released a long, slow sigh before finally speaking.

"I know, but I will come up with a plan to make this fucking work, eh," he started, a determined look glinted in his eye as, suddenly, he heard a voice speak up behind the two of you.

"It better be as good as my plan," your aunt Polly said, startling you both, even causing Tommy to draw his gun.

Polly raised an eyebrow with some amusement as she calmly stepped forward while Tommy put his weapon away, back into the holster beneath his suit jacket.  

"How did you know how to find us?" Tommy asked , surprise and concern in his voice.

"I have eyes everywhere," Polly replied, with a quiet chuckle. "I knew about your mother's wagon for years and the peace it brought you when the world felt out of control, especially when you came back from France" she said as she took a seat on a patch of grass next to you.

"Now listen, I have spoken to Lizzie and she agreed to keep your little secret safe so long as you provide generously for her and Ruby, the monies for which, I may add, will not come out of the company's account," Polly said sternly as she stared at Tommy, waiting for his reply.

Tommy's eyes narrowed in thought before he finally nodded, understanding the weight of the situation.

"Of course," Tommy replied simply.

Polly looked at him for a long moment before she finally spoke up once more.

"Now, as far as your relationship with each other is concerned, I suggest that Y/N and your son remain with you at Arrow House for their own protection," Polly continued in a business-like manner. 

"Protection from what?" you asked , your brow furrowed in confusion as you looked from your aunt to Tommy.

"Protection from the men who burned down the Midland Hotel," Polly explained, causing Tommy to furrow his eyebrows as well.

"These men have been dealt with, Pol," Tommy explained, causing his aunt to smile.

"I know, but Arthur, John and the rest of our men don't know that, which ultimately gives Y/N and her son a reason to stay with you for now,"  Polly said, glancing at you before she finally continued. "It is the perfect disguise for you to continue this rather inappropriate relationship with one another without anybody finding out about it," Polly then chuckled , causing you to blush slightly while Tommy frowned at his aunt's playful jab and whilst she did not exactly approved of what you were doing with each other, she knew that, without you, Tommy had been miserable, leading him to make bad and dangerous business decisions.

Tags:

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[cheynovak]

Every part of you

Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N Female character     

Summary:  After Y/N gives birth, Dean notices her feeling insecure about her post-pregnancy body. She tries to hide from him, feeling ashamed of her stretch marks, fuller thighs, and softer belly. Sensing her sadness, Dean makes sure she knows he loves her even more than before.

Warnings: Fluff! - Body positivity, hurt, mentioning: plus size, stretch marks, reader just gave birth feeling insecure of her body...

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

* Published August 5th 2024 *

Dean leaned quietly against the doorframe, cradling his newborn daughter in his arms, a rare softness settling over him. He couldn’t help but feel in awe of the moment — his baby girl nestled against his chest, her tiny breaths warm against his shirt, he walked into their room seeing Y/N standing, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

But something was off. He watched Y/N, her eyes scanning her own body in the mirror with a look that twisted his heart. She stood in nothing but het panties, her posture was tense, her face showing not the pride or joy he expected, but something much sadder.

He cleared his throat softly, not wanting to startle her, but she jumped, quickly grabbing her robe and wrapping it around herself as if to shield her body from him.

"Hey," Dean said softly, shifting the baby in his arms. "What's going on?"

Y/N kept her eyes on the floor, fidgeting with the belt of her robe. Dean’s brow furrowed as he stepped closer, Y/N took a step back, his heart squeezing at the distance she was putting between them.

He had expected things to be different for a while after the baby. He knew she’d need time to heal, to adjust, he didn't push for any fysical affection for a while. Hell, he’d been reading up on it in preparation.

But this? This sudden retreat? That was new. "Talk to me," he coaxed, voice low, full of concern. “Is it the baby? You’re worried about something?”

Her lips trembled, and she shook her head, but a tear slid down her cheek anyway. "No, it's... me." Her voice was small, fragile in a way that tore at his chest. "I know you won't like to see me like this."

Dean blinked, his mind racing to catch up. "Like what?" He stepped closer, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Y/N, what are you talking about?"

She swallowed hard, the tears coming faster now. With a shaking hand, she gestured toward her body — her once taut belly now soft and covered with stretch marks, her fuller thighs and ass still holding on to the extra weight from the pregnancy. Her breasts, no longer perky, hung heavier than they used to, swollen from breastfeeding.

"I’m... I look different now, I'm still fat" she whispered, her voice cracking as she looked away, her arms tightening around her robe. “I feel fat. I don’t... I don’t look like I used to.”

Dean stared at her for a long moment, not really understanding the words she just said to him, his heart aching at the sight of her tears, the weight of her insecurity hitting him hard.

Gently, he placed their baby down in the crib, making sure she was safe before he moved to Y/N’s side, his hands itching to reach out to her. He hesitated only for a second before pulling her into his arms, holding her tightly against him.

"Hey, stop that," he murmured against her hair, feeling her body tremble against his. "Look at me, Y/N." She shook her head, trying to pull away, but he gently held her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears.

"Look at me," he repeated, his voice soft but firm. Slowly, reluctantly, she raised her eyes to meet his, and what she saw in his gaze made her breath catch.

It wasn’t disgust. It wasn’t disappointment. It was love — fierce, unwavering love.

"You’re incredible," Dean said, his voice full of awe, his hands sliding down her arms to hold her waist. “You just gave birth to our kid, Y/N. You brought her into this world. You think I care about some stretch marks or curves? Hell, I love them."

Her brows furrowed, disbelief still clouding her eyes. "But... I don’t look the way I used to, how you met me."

Dean shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're right, you don’t. But that doesn’t make you any less beautiful. You think I fell in love with just how you looked? Come on, Y/N. I love you. All of you a few pounds more is just more to love, more of you to love."

He placed his hands on her hips, grounding her, his fingers tracing the curves she had grown so self-conscious of, his fingers kneading in her ass, proving he didn't care.

"You’re a damn warrior," he said, his voice deep and reverent. "You carried our baby, brought her into this world. You think I'm gonna look at you and think anything less than that?"

Y/N's tears started again, but this time, they were from a different place — not from shame or sadness, but from the overwhelming love and sincerity in his words.

"I don’t feel sexy anymore," she whispered, her hands gripping his shirt, like she was afraid he might pull away if she admitted it.

Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You’re always sexy to me. Every curve, every change... it’s a part of you, and I love it all."

"But you don't touch me anymore Dean... Not like before."

He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered, "I was just waiting for you baby, whenever you’re ready, whenever you feel comfortable, I’ll be right here, waiting for you. But until then, I’m just lucky I get to be close to you, to sleep next to you... to hold you and feel those perfect new curves while we hug."

Y/N’s heart swelled, and she buried her face in his chest, letting herself cry fully now, her body relaxing into his embrace.

Dean held her close, one hand tracing soothing circles on her back, the other resting protectively on her waist. He didn’t need to say anything else — his touch, his presence, spoke louder than words ever could.

Dean gently guided her toward the bed, his hand resting protectively on her lower back as he sat down and tugged her closer. Without a word, he pulled her into his lap, his arms wrapping around her securely. Y/N hesitated for a moment, still feeling the weight of her insecurities, but the warmth of his touch and the steady beat of his heart against her helped her relax.

He kissed the side of her neck softly, his lips lingering there before he whispered, "Come here."

Before she could protest, he carefully shifted her onto the bed with him, laying her down beside him, his eyes never leaving hers. His hands, warm and steady, began to trace a slow path along her body, starting at her thighs. He squeezed them gently, kneading the softness there like it was something precious, his touch reverent.

"These thighs and ass?" he murmured, his voice low, deep, as his hands moved up, cupping her fuller hips and sliding over her ass. He gave it a playful squeeze, his lips quirking into a small smile. "I love them."

She gasped softly as his lips found the swell of her breast, kissing the skin there tenderly, making her body heat with his affection. He paused only to glance up at her, his green eyes burning with sincerity. "These boobs?... I love them"

He continued his journey, his kisses moving down to her belly, the place where their daughter had grown. He kissed the stretch marks with a reverence that made her heart clench, as if they were a testament to her strength, her power, and not something to be ashamed of.

"This belly," he murmured, pressing his lips against her skin again. "It's where you carried our girl. How could I not love it, my little tiger."

Y/N's breath hitched, her hands instinctively coming to rest on his shoulders as he worshiped her body with every kiss, every touch. She could feel the love radiating off of him, wrapping around her like a protective shield, erasing every doubt she’d had.

When he finally leaned up to hover over her, his eyes met hers again, filled with a raw, unbreakable devotion. "Y/N," he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I love you, all of you. You’re more beautiful now than ever."

Tears welled up in her eyes, but this time, they weren’t tears of sadness or insecurity. They were tears of love — of feeling seen, cherished, and completely adored by the man she loved.

Dean smiled softly and pulled her into his arms, wrapping her in a safe, warm embrace as they lay there together, the weight of her worries melting away in his touch.

"I’m not going anywhere," he whispered, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead. "And I’ll remind you every day if I have to."

And in that moment, as his arms tightened around her, Y/N believed him. He kissed her head while holding her.

"I love every part of you."

--

Please like, share or comment when you liked the story. If you liked this, please check out my masterlist for other stories.

Tag list:-> If you want to be added let me know what you like to read!

@kr804573 @nancymcl @suckitands33 @mostlymarvelgirl @globetrotter28 @jackles010378 @hobby27

@call-me-mrs-winchester @winchesterwild78 @deans-baby-momma @soab1967 @livingdeadblondequeen @yvonneeeee

[icaberries]

Just Sibling Things - Vinsmoke Edition (side of ZeffSora and ZoSan)

Just some headcanons in a Modern AU where the Vinsmokes are a regular family trying to live together under one roof. Most of these are drawn from my experience as the eldest sister with three younger siblings lol

Some important notes:

Judge and Sora are divorced, and Sora won custody over the kids. Later on, Sanji would work part time at the Baratie and introduce Sora to Zeff, and the two of them fall in love. Zeff becomes their new dad :3

All the kids sans Yonji are working. They wanted to give their mom a good life so she wouldn't have to work a day in her life. Here are my headcanon jobs for them:

Reiju works as a chemist with a specialization in poison. Ichiji is upper management in some tech company and Niji works as a sort of electrical engineer for them. Sanji is still a sous chef at the Baratie. Yonji is bouncing between part time hustles, he's still figuring himself out.

On to the headcanons!

Sanji is the early bird of the family and often cooks breakfast for the rest of them. Ichiji is the chronic workaholic night owl. They scare each other from time to time, when Sanji is going downstairs to cook, and Ichiji is heading up to sleep. Sanji worries about Ichiji a lot, so Ichiji allows himself to be fussed over and fed breakfast before sleeping.

Reiju is known as the pretty, levelheaded sister compared to her hotheaded brothers. She prefers avoiding conflict while her brothers often start them. The only exception is when her brothers are put in any danger. One time, she came to pick up Niji from the bar and found him on the losing end of a bar fight. Reiju picked up a chair and started swinging. Nobody hurts her little brothers 😤

Sanji bakes his brothers a cake for practice, but instead of eating it right away, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji fight about splitting it evenly three ways. Ichiji busts out a ruler to slice the cake perfectly in three, but Niji wants to rock paper scissors, and Yonji wants to fistfight over it. In the end, Sanji slices it for them perfectly and receives zero complaints.

But then he serves drinks. "yonji has more juice than me" "oh for fuck's sake"

Yonji is the type of brother who'd barge into your room, stand at your door, and stare at you before suddenly bodyslamming you on your bed. Reiju is the frequent victim. It gets worse when he picks up judo and decides to use the rest of them as training dummies. Sanji is the only one who's figured out how to counter him, but even then Yonji can pick him up cleanly.

Sanji is Zeff's favorite child. Don't tell the others.

One time, Niji dropped by the Baratie for lunch and kept bothering Sanji. He ended up accidentally smacking Sanji too hard, and Sanji started crying. Niji panicked and begged Sanji to shut up. "I'll let you hit me back! Just shut up!" He resorted to bribery too, but it's too late. Zeff heard Sanji crying and is on a warpath.

Speaking of parents on a warpath, Reiju has never been more terrified of Sora than when she accidentally said 'shit' and a toddler!Ichiji repeated what she said.

They generally don't give a shit about each other's romantic lives until Sanji started dating Zoro, and suddenly they have very strong opinions over Sanji's standards in men. (Zeff and Ichiji bond over their mutual dislike of Zoro and they can be seen glaring daggers at him whenever he visits Sanji.)

If they ask nicely, Reiju is always more than willing to spoil her little brothers. They often have to pay her back in favors, though (minus Sanji, who is her secret favorites).

Yonji often feels insecure about his career compared to his successful sublings, but they’re all very supportive of him. A traditional 9-5 isn't suited for their baby brother, and they’re not going to force him into it.

Ichiji is very protective of his sister and baby brothers. He used to stand in front of them to shield them from Judge when things got bad. He doesn't do it as often nowadays since they left, but sometimes Sanji would unconsciously grab Ichiji's hand when he's nervous, and Ichiji would just squeeze Sanji's hand.

They work very well together! It's mostly seen during Mothers Day and Father's Day. Sanji cooks breakfast in bed, Niji makes coffee, Reiju buys flowers, Ichiji, and Yonji plan a day out for the family.

The quadruplet's have two birthday parties. One that's celebrated with their respective friend groups, and one with the family at the Baratie. Zeff has perfected the art of combining four preferences into one menu. (Also, Sanji has to be held back from helping cook his own birthday meal.)

Sometimes, when Ichiji's insomnia is bad, the rest of the siblings take the next day off and just stay up with him. They just talk and eat snacks, waiting for Ichiji's eyes to droop so Yonji can carry him to bed.

[corpsebasil]

the brain rot is insane guys sorry

stopping by -> m. o’hara

“Hey.” You said dumbly, standing in front of Miguel’s room with your hands fidgeting, looking a bit like a spooked cat. You were jumpy and anxious as he tilted his head, eyes running over your figure with an analytical stare. “I um..”

“Where were you hurt?” He asked. His voice was flat, almost emotionless.

“Well—”

“Shot? Stabbed?” He reached out and moved forward, his suit vanishing from one hand as he searched.

“No, I—” you tensed a bit and he froze in response. With him that close it was sort of hard to focus. “I wasn’t cut. I fell.”

“So what do you…?” His expression was still vaguely bored but now looked confused.

“Can you just tell me if you can do something for it?” You felt embarrassed. He nodded and you moved, kicking the pants of your spider-suit off of you.

Miguel had seen you naked before. Not on purpose, of course, but ever since the two of you had begun playing nurse with one another you’d seen everything—but he was unfazed with all nakedness, even yours, so he simply watched as you turned. He barked out a laugh so fast you flinched, raising your brows at him.

“Sorry.” He chuckled, planting his hands on his hips as he took in sight. The side of your ass, your thigh, and even some of your lower leg was covered in deep, almost purple bruises.

“It’s not funny.”

“You’ve got a bruise the size of Pangea on your ass. Listen guapa, you—” He shook his head, looked back, then laughed again.

The sight of you pouting at him made it worse and he pinched the bridge of his nose, mumbling something inaudible before he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. He led you, still pants-less, to his icebox in his living-area and began methodically gathering the several ice-packs he kept for moments like this.

“Anything broken?” Miguel asked, watching as you propped yourself up on the counter, leaning against the wall. You shook your head, wincing and adjusting your position so you’d be on your bruise the least amount possible. “You sure? I can run a scan.”

“I know what broken bones feel like, Mig.”

“You sure?” He smirked lightly and approached, passing out the packs and helping you hold as many of them on your leg as possible. “We can check but you’d have to get out of that underwear.”

“Miguel—“

“No, mira, just to be safe—”

“Miguel.” You repeated, annoyed but slightly amused as he moved an inch closer.

He pressed a pack to your thigh a bit too hard and you flinched, reaching out automatically to grab his hand. He paused; his eyes flicked to yours, his expression once again curious. His smirk was barely there—it was always slightly permanent around you—but it was fading when he noticed the color on your cheeks, your bodies both unmoving.

“Too hard?” He murmured, and the rough sound of his voice made you swallow. His eyes darted to your throat as if to watch the movement, his hand on your leg pressing the ice pack a bit harder on an impulse.

“Yeah.” You whispered back, nervous and oddly flustered. He seemed so much bigger, then, his form towering over yours, your hand smaller and barely covering all of his. His fingers flexed and he moved, your hand falling away from his before he reached out, his fingertips grazing the side of your face to test the waters.

“I can hear your heartbeat. It’s racing.” He tilted his head, watching as you ducked your head slightly. His fingers tightened, forcing you to look. “Why?”

“You know why.” Your word were quiet but fast, too quick to overthink them, and Miguel took a deep breath, chest rising with the movement.

“Yeah, I know.” He responded and, his other arm bracing against the counter, leaned in to brush his mouth against yours.

“Hey guys! Oh.” The two of you both jumped when Lyla appeared, her eyes wide. “Am I interrupting something scandalous?”

You blushed and Miguel let out a sound of annoyance, his body moving closer to yours as if to shield you. He gave her a look and she giggled, waving her fingers before vanishing. There was a moment of silence before you opened your mouth to speak—apologize for the awkwardness, tell him Goodnight, you didn’t know—but in that half second he turned back to you and kissed you hard.

brain rot BRAIN ROOOOT

[theyluvlyss]

𝐬𝐨, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞...

I literally just came up with this little drabble, and I'm sorry, but it's funny to me, so-

but anyway, two more shazam fics are on the way pretty soon (one freddy, one billy), and then I got a stranger things/mike wheeler request after that, so be on the lookout :) !

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝

《 ♡ 》 oneshot/crack-fic

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

reader loves it when billy showcases his power. billy loves showing off to his girlfriend. it's a win-win situation, to be honest.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!girlfriend!reader x billy batson - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

post shazam!: fury of the gods

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

yelling/screaming (in a good way, dw) - lots of begging from reader lmao - billy being easily swayed bc he wuvs you🥰 - dang, this is kinda crazy sounding outta context, huh? - anyways - this whole thing is just very berry cute, methinks - good vibes only, supa good vibes only✨️ - shrek reference

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

"Do the thing!"

It was a sudden squeal, almost as if you'd been holding it back for a while. Not to mention, the walk back to his place had been comfortably silent the whole time before, your hand in his with both stuffed off in his coat pocket in order to shield them from the cold, winter weather.

Although, the squeezes you would give occasionally should've been somewhat of a warning sign. Billy just figured it was a silent, "I love you" of some sort, returning the action every time with butterflies in his chest that kept him warm.

He never would've guessed them as a sign for an incoming fangirl moment. And so, to be sure...

"What thing?"

Not that he wasn't genuinely confused, of course.

"Ya'know... the thing that I like?"

He looked down at you, met with your beaming smile back up at him that brought on one of his own. Still unsure, though, merely repeating the words you had jingled to him all of the sudden back to you in a tone of skepticism.

"The thing you like?"

"Yeah!" You chriped, waiting for him to catch on excitedly, only to be mildly disappointed when that moment never came and he shook his head in dismiss.

"...I don't know, I'm still lost."

"Billy, noo..." You whined, nudging him a bit with your side as the walk continued. "Pleaseeee?"

"What thing?!"

And before you could fully explain yourself, you saw a look in the emerald of his eyes that told you he was faking, the boy having caught on by this point and leaving you to huff and turn away.

"...Stop, you know what I'm talking about, you're just being mean."

Deep chuckles came from his chest, Billy nodding to himself in amusement after you had realized he was teasing you. And, because it was in his nature, he continued to do so until you would ask properly.

"You're right, I do know. I just wanna hear you say it."

"Mncht." You clicked your tongue but didn't give in to the vexing feeling of your boyfriend complicating the process, keeping strong at your pleads in hopes to simply just wear him down.

"Billyyy...please do the thing? Please?"

"C'monnnn..." He urged, nudging his shoulder with yours, and was satisfied with the roll of your eyes and his implied directions followed.

"Hmff... Can you pleaaase say the word? Please?"

"You want me to say the word~?" He repeated, this time with a tone of flirtatiousness that you willingly succumbed to, snuggling up to his arm almost too cheesy for your own liking as you gave an eager, "Yes!"

"Mmm, I dunnooo'..."

This boy and his need to taunt, you swore, would be the death of you...! And yet, it was charming enough for you to let it slide.

No, he was charming enough for you to let it slide. Shaggy brown hair and gorgeous green eyes and those cute dimples whenever he flashed you that winning smile...

Plus, you had been on the verge of geeking out the whole day out with him. Your boyfriend is a superhero for Christ's sake! Of course you'd want to randomly see the magic of it all from time to time! And it's not like you ever knew him to shy away from amazing you whenever he could. So...

"Please-please-please with a lot of maraschino cherries on top?"

Billy laughed at your specifics, already in the midst of guiding you towards a secluded area away from crowds and bystanders.

"Okay, okay, but only because you asked so nicely."

"Yes, yay-yay-yay...!!"

Your cheers and giggles of excitement went hushed by your own hands, waiting in anticipation as Billy took some safety steps back away from you and gave one last look around the area. When he was sure he was in the clear, he granted you your wish. Did just as you asked...

He said the word...

"SHAZAM!!"

...and with a thunderous crash of lightning and a blinding light for only a moment, he was transformed into his older, super-self, and you were laughing wildly through jagged gasps of amazement.

"AHAHAHAHA!!!"

A little bit of a crazy laugh, you'd admit later, but not the point-

"Yeah? How was that?!" Billy-... Shazam asked, his arms spread wide open as he walked closer to you.

"Super loud and scary!" You squealed, hopping around like a little girl who was seeing a fireworks show for the first time, the glowing emblem on his chest casting you and the entire alleyway in gold.

"Yeah?!" Shazam nodded in confirmation with a grin just as wide as your own.

"But it's so hot!!"

"Yeah, it is...!"

Billy's ego? Boosted.

Your fangirl levels? Off the charts.

Hotel? Trivago.

"Okay, now do it again, but back to you-you." You demanded requested, doing a small spin move with your index finger while Shazam dropped his arms to his side.

"Dude-"

"-Please?" You cut before he could provide any light scolds or reasons as to why he shouldn't. You were his girlfriend, and you were so cute looking up at him, expecting to see her boyfriend, now, and not some grown man version of him she... liked... but didn't truly care for.

"...Okay."

"Yay!" You clapped, moving yourself back this time to avoid a second lighting strike.

"SHAZAM!!"

And with that, he was back to himself, your Billy Batson, standing with his arms still open in hopes he'd impressed you the way you had assumed he would.

And god, did he go above and beyond.

"AHAHAHA, YOU'RE SO COOL, I LOVE YOU!!!" You nearly screamed, voice rasping over from the sheer amount of pressure you were putting on your throat.

"I love you, too! C'mere...!" He laughed, admiring your excited figure and the way you were already running towards for him to catch you in his arms in a warm hug.

It lasted for longer than you both expected, but was clearly needed as you enjoyed each other's presence and touch.

"You know what you reminded me of, lowkey?" Billy murmured, no need to be any louder when he was right by your ear.

"Hmm?" You hummed, face pressed into the crook of his neck, cold nose tickling his skin.

"...Do the roar."

You pulled away very slowly. Your face went about as cold as your feet were right now, staring deep into Billy's eyes with a look of pure disbelief.

He stared back. Grinning, head nodding as if to say, "Yeah? Right?" like a puppy.

"You know what?" You hummed gently, returning the smile softly while your vision trailed his features and then down to his chest.

"Yeah?"

You pointed directly to his heart.

"You...are amazingly talented..."

":D!?"

"...at ruining nice moments between us."

":0..."

You nodded, satisfied with yourself at the light tease.

"Mhm, yeah :)."

𝐲𝐚𝐥𝐥, 𝐢𝐬-...𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐭...𝐢𝐬- 𝐈-...

is it obvious I have such a BAD crush on billy, and this is lowkey shamelessly self-indulgent, or nah🧍🏽‍♀️?

you said nah?

awesome, cool, thanks /ᐠ-⩊-マ.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

me🤭

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,132 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

[sotwk]

Taken (Eomer x unnamed OC) - Part 2 of 3

Part 1 / Part 3

Love Confession feat. Eomer Eadig

Valentine 2023 Event by @sotwk

Summary: Eomer is determined to convince the woman he loves of his long-hidden devotion, but the obligations of his new crown and her baseborn origins shake her faith in their future together.

Prompt: "It's hard for me to describe what I feel for you… but just know that it's love nonetheless."

Requested by and Dedicated to: @laneynoir You've probably forgotten about making this Valentine ask, but I remember and write down everything you ask of me! <3 Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3.9k

Content: Angsty romance, declarations of love, jealousy, mutual pining, class division, shield-maiden, King Eomer, post-RotK, non-canon pairing

Rating: T (Teens and up)

Warnings: Excessive angst? Verbal passion? This is clean but it will do a number on your feels.

To Read on AO3: Link

Tumblr Post for Taken, Part 1: Link

Taken 

Third Age 3019 May 2

Minas Tirith, Gondor

PART TWO

“My lord, are you certain it is safe for you to go without a proper escort?” 

Eomer cast a taut but amused smirk at Haleth, son of Hama, over the horse they had just finished tacking up together. His new squire, one of the youngest fighters to survive the Battle of Hornburg, had been appointed to the post just very recently, and so still had much to learn. 

Eomer dismissed the given counsel that a king needed someone with experience in his direct service, not a novice that required training. He had seen with his own eyes how bravely Hama’s orphaned boy had helped to defend the refugees at the Glittering Caves; in Eomer’s eyes, the child had earned the honor several times over.

“Surely you don’t mean to imply that the King of the Horse-lords is incapable of defending himself on a short ride?”

“No, sire. It is just…” Haleth’s eyes darted about nervously and he lowered his voice. “You ride with a woman. If something were to happen, would you not have to defend yourself and her as well?”

At that, Eomer chuckled. “I commend your gallant instincts lad, but I advise you not to make such an insinuation in the presence of a known shield-maiden. They do not take kindly to having their abilities questioned, and will be quick to set you right.” He patted his squire’s shoulder to show that no offense was taken. “Rest assured that the lady is more than capable of holding her own, and of shielding me from harm if need be.” 

The boy need not know that Eomer would sooner die than put her in that position. He had kept that a secret from her and the rest of his Éored for years, although perhaps a little too successfully and to his own detriment.  

Riding Firefoot into the white-stone square courtyard that connected the galleries of stables, Eomer quickly saw that she was already waiting for him, standing alert beside her own horse. Greywind, a dappled mare that bore no meager resemblance to her equine brother, tossed her head and whickered softly at Firefoot's approach. It was a warmer reception than his master received.

"Good morning, my lord," the shield-maiden acknowledged with a nod as curt as her tone. Royal protocol satisfied, she turned and swung up into the saddle of her own steed. 

Her cold shoulder was to be his comeuppance, then. So be it. Her silent rages were nothing Eomer had not seen, borne, and successfully navigated before. 

But today, this time, would be different. Everything was sure to be different after that kiss, which, after a sleepless night of pondering and self-debating, he would still swear on Bema was no mistake. Clumsy perhaps, but an action he did not regret leaping into. There was no part of Eomer that did not desire to repeat it, over and over. 

First, he must resolve the confusion his recklessness had caused. 

"Follow my lead,” he said, and spurred Firefoot on toward the exit gates. 

His command came from habits formed over years of riding together, and so did her immediate obedience. Her loyalty had always been faultless; loyalty to Rohan, loyalty to him. Whenever he called and whatever he asked for, she gave, just as she came to meet him now, regardless of what had transpired between them last night. 

This new epiphany that her devotion to him might be encouraged not just by duty, but a love to reciprocate his, still felt like too much to hope for. 

They rode side by side down the levels of Minas Tirith, and soon were past the city’s great white walls. At the slightest shift of his master’s weight, Firefoot burst into a full charge down the North-way, rejoicing at the freedom to run across open land once more, an impatience that mirrored Eomer’s own. Next to them, Greywind and rider matched their gait to keep up, and they tore their way for several miles northward into Pelennor. 

Eomer’s body sang at the rush of the wind over his skin, through his hair and his cloak that streamed over Firefoot’s haunches. Too long had he been cooped up within the city walls, tethered to the duties of his new office. It still felt unseemly for him to carry the title of King while his uncle had yet to be properly laid to rest among his forebears, but he was determined to serve in every manner his people required. 

This involved taking guidance from his newly formed council, who seemed to believe that the first order of business was to reaffirm and restrengthen Rohan's alliance with Gondor. In the weeks that followed the great feast at Cormallen, Eomer spent more time with new acquaintances, lords and ladies from the noblest families of Gondor, than with his own men. His Éored, who had been the rock at his side for nearly the whole of the past year, were granted time to rest and convalesce according to their desires, and every one eagerly embraced the offered leave.

That included her, most painfully and noticeably. Each day that passed by filled with council meetings and formal dinners but nearly nothing of her, had dragged Eomer further into despair. When she finally reappeared for the coronation, dressed the way she was…small wonder that he finally lost hold on propriety the moment he touched her. 

In seemingly no time at all, they left it all behind. The high ramparts and looming towers of the grand city turned into a white speck on the mountainside. So far out north into the fields and away from the main road, they had separated themselves from the thousands that had flocked to the city to celebrate the coronation, and retreated into the peace of the vast plains that bore some semblance to their home. 

Eomer eased Firefoot into a relaxed pace and she followed suit. Afterward they were blanketed in silence but for the clink of tack and thud of hooves on the long grass finally regrown in the end of Pelennor’s strifes. 

One sideways glance showed Eomer that she remained resolved to look anywhere but in his direction. No matter. If she refused to look at him, he would gladly stare at her, and take his fill of what he had been deprived of for weeks. 

He had forgotten what a vision she made outside of armor, so long had they lived in battle gear. The gown she wore to the coronation ball had distracted him all evening, but it painted her beauty too foreign. The plain clothes of their people suited her best. On her, the wine-red dress underneath her green Rider’s cloak outstripped any fine silk confection. Her hair, usually held back in tight braids or trapped underneath a war helm, flowed in free waves that tumbled to her waist and made his fingers ache with longing. 

To see her in this manner reminded him of what Rohirrim sacrifice had achieved: the end to a life of constant peril, and in its place, domestic bliss. Eomer knew he would be wholly content to look upon her this way forever. And by Bema, by all the Valar that might hear, he prayed that she would let him. 

Another mile or two passed in the bleak silence before the skies gave him the opening he needed. The faint drizzle that had lazily harried them gradually intensified into a downpour, and the menacing grey clouds above rumbled a fair warning. 

Eomer pointed to a copse of beeches in the distance. “That should suffice for us to wait out the worst of it,” he said, and they directed their horses into the thicket. 

After releasing Firefoot and Greywind to find cover and graze at their leisure, they took their shelter underneath the tree with the most generous canopy. As Eomer watched her gather the cascade of her soaked hair over one shoulder, she happened to raise her eyes in his direction and catch his gaze. Her face remained impassive, but she did not look away again. She knew she could no longer delay what he had requested her company for. 

“May we speak now?”

The tense lines on her brow softened. “My lord,” she said, in a tone that was almost contrite. “I am here to listen to whatever you wish to say.”

“Good,” Eomer said, and needed one more breath to steady himself. “Good...” 

"Long has there been great camaraderie between us as comrades in arms, but in time that deepened into…more meaningful affection.” When she did not flinch at that attestation, he carried on. “After last night, it is clear that we must lay bare the extent of our feelings and finally be open with each other."

Her mouth trembled. “My lord--”

“I love you,” Eomer said. “I recognize no plainer truth than that. I am no bard or scholar, and so it is hard for me to describe what I feel for you...as it would be hard for anyone to explain the glory of the sun or the vastness of the skies. But you must know that it is love, nonetheless."

She remained silent at this, and her clenched jaw told him no response was forthcoming. But he had more. 

“These past years, Rohan’s protection occupied all of my waking thoughts. There was no time to consider ambitions for myself. And what need did I have for that, when the sole object of my desires rode in my company to every battle? But after all our years together, I suppose I began to take for granted that you would always be close by, even while I drowned in fear that one sword stroke could separate us forever."

He edged a step closer to her, driven by the mere suggestion of such unspeakable loss. 

“When you grew distant after Theodred's passing, I awoke to my folly. I wished to blame your withdrawal from me on your grief, but my jealous mind whispered that my long buried suspicions were confirmed, that you had always desired his devotion over mine. I wrestled with the torment from it, until last night, when you gave me reason to hope again.” 

“But..but I did not…y-you had never…” She cut off her own stammering and squared herself determinedly before continuing. “I never found sufficient cause to believe you could care for me so, my lord.” 

“The fault is mine for not being forthright with you from the start. I will do whatever I must to remedy that now.” Suddenly they were face to face on the same side of the tree, for she had not thought to dart away from his advances this time. “I would shout it from the very spire of their great Tower if it will end your doubts.” 

He reached for her, and the edge of his hand found her chin. Contrary to his bold declaration he repeated, barely above a whisper: “I love you.” 

“No,” she murmured back. “Please. You must not say such things.” 

“Why not, when it is the truth?”

“Because it is a truth you cannot act on.”

Eomer’s hand dropped to his side as he barked a humorless laugh. “Granted I have not held the role for very long, but that seems a peculiar thing to tell a King.”

“You are the King now, and that binds you to do things according to your duty, not according to your desire.” She lowered her head. “That is the truth that matters, my lord. Love cannot always prevail over everything.”

The familiar frustration marked with dread clawed at Eomer again. “My love for you will prevail over this,” he vowed. “Moreso because it is love returned.”

Only the sound of splattering rainfall followed, and the realization that she was starting to turn away.

“You… you do love me.”

“I do not.”

The ensuing crack of thunder paled against the shock her reply struck in Eomer. She slipped away from his side once more while he fumbled through his recollections of the previous night.

Drunk as he had been on the taste of her kisses, he could not have misunderstood her impassioned outburst. You are all I ever see, even when I do not wish to!  He had dissected that precious confession over and over in his head and basked in sweeter hope that he had ever dared to feel about anything.

“I will not accept that. I do not believe it!”

In a handful of strides he overtook her as she fled to the edge of the grove, where the trees stood further apart and exposed them to the deluge. 

“What is causing you to deny me? Deny yourself, deny us?!” She attempted to step around him, but Eomer blocked her progress relentlessly. “Is it that misguided belief of yours that I am, in your words, ‘taken’?” 

Finally she succumbed and stood in place, cold and drenched and as stock-still as a soldier holding the line. But Eomer found the answer clear on her grimace. 

"Do you mistake me for some bull that has been put on the market for the highest bidder? Or believe me so feeble that I have no control over my choice of wife?!"

She stiffened at his rising rebuke and shook her head. “Not just a wife, my lord. A Queen. You must choose the right woman to offer to Rohan as our long-awaited Queen.”

“Marry me and it is done.”

Immediately her eyes widened and her face blanched, as his bluntness finally plowed through her shields.  “Oh Eomer,” she breathed, and the return of his name on her lips nearly rendered him as dazed as she was. 

He moved to embrace her, but she clutched him by the forearms, guarding her space. He felt her fingers tremble as they dug into the fabric of his tunic sleeves. He thought he might have heard a sob, but in the rain it was impossible to discern the source of the drops slipping down her cheeks. 

“I know you are wiser than that,” she told him. “You know Rohan’s political realities, regardless of your distaste for them. Your rise to your uncle’s throne has separated us by a chasm that cannot be bridged.” She sensed his intention to interrupt and spoke even louder. “I am an orphaned stray, Eomer. Theodred’s favor may have rescued me from a life of insignificance, but I am still baseborn by anyone's standards. Yet however lowly I am, I can hold my head up with pride, because I have always known my place.”

“As do I.” Eomer slid his hand up the curve of her neck. “Your place is with me.”

“Yes it is.” Her smile was joyless as she gripped his wrist to keep his obvious desires at bay. “I belong at your side, on the open fields, with a sword in my hand, ready to give my life for you at a moment's notice. You gifted me with purpose, and riding in your company has brought me such honor. Please do not ask me to play a role where I will only fail and return to an object of derision.”

Eomer frowned. “I have only ever loved you. No one else is suitable for me to take to wife.”

She lifted those beautiful eyes to stare dead-evenly at him for the first time in months. “Dol Amroth,” she whispered. “The daughter of Prince Imrahil.”

The sadness in her eyes lifted the fog of ignorance that obfuscated him. He recognized that pain as the very same one that had pierced him each time he watched her in Theodred’s company. The way they smiled at each other, their intimate touches, their freely exchanged affection that made his stomach twist with envy. But he had been wrong in his interpretation of that situation, and so was she on this one. 

“What of her?” he said brusquely, pushing aside his full realization of what she was implying. 

“One does not have to sit at the council table to see the soundness of your match.”

“There is no match!”

“Then there will be and there should be!” she insisted. “Everyone sees it, and if you tell me you do not, then you have no right to accuse me of denying what is true.”

A low growl rumbled off Eomer and suddenly he was the one to swivel away, rubbing his face and rain-matted beard while he weighed his answer.

“I do not deny that overtures have been made by advisors, both mine and King Elessar's," he said finally. "Lothiriel does seem an obvious candidate to put forward as a consort for the King of Rohan. But that appropriateness has nothing to do with me. Had Theodred survived to stand in my place, they would be pushing her to him. Have I been counseled on the benefits of an alliance with Imrahil's house? Oh yes--with the subtlety of a hammer's blow. But I barely paid heed to that, since all that mattered to me was your opinion on the subject."

"My opinion," she echoed. She planted her hands on her hips and studied her muddied boots for a long moment. "I can offer you what I know. You, Eomer King, will be the greatest ruler the Mark has ever seen. Your rule deserves every opportunity it can claim, and this offer of an alliance with Dol Amroth is one you cannot dismiss. I have heard nothing but praise and approval at the prospect, from mouths both common and noble."

"Princess Lothiriel is young, and beautiful, and beloved. Her blood is of the most distinguished and most powerful house in Gondor. She will give you exactly what you need. What Rohan needs."

She suddenly came forward to cradle Eomer's face between her hands, a touch he had only experienced in dreams until then. Except this was more akin to his worst nightmare. His inner wretchedness must have become evident in his furrowed brow and was too pitiful to ignore. "Moreover she will adore you, if she has not fallen already, for no maiden has ever lived whose heart you cannot ensnare.”

“Do not flatter me in one breath only to spurn me in the next,” Eomer muttered. “I did not ask for you to wax poetic about my future with another woman. I want your thoughts about all that matters. Us.”

“Us?”

She tried to withdraw her hands, but Eomer caught them in time, and held them firm against his chest, as if it could make her feel how consumed his heart was by her. 

“Once I might have carried hope for us,” she said softly. “Hope that I could one day be enough, because I knew you cared for Rohan above all else and admired my dedication to our people. I thought perhaps in time, that admiration might grow to love, as mine did so quickly after I met you."

“But it did, it--”

Her hands jerked inside his grip, their next attempt at escape futile. “Any hope I had for us died with Theodred,” she said tersely. “When his charge as the King's heir passed on to you. Let it rest with him.”

The roll of receding thunder brought Eomer back to a distinct memory of that dreadful day at Isen. The raw anguish on her face as she looked up at him with Theodred's head on her lap. Her frightened reluctance at releasing the prince for Eomer to take on Firefoot. 

It had rained too when Eomer came to bring her the news of his passing not a day later. Ignoring the heavy downpour, she ran out to meet him as he approached her cottage, and broke down before he could get the words out. He had to lead her back inside and wrap her in a blanket before she caught a chill. She clung tightly to him as he held her for a long while, bewildered by her sobs. It was the only time he had ever seen her weep. 

Only then did it dawn on Eomer: it was not just the loss of Theodred that she had mourned. 

“Run away with me.” 

It burst from his lips without a thought. 

“Wh-What? No!” She yanked away from him with such force he was left grasping for empty air. 

“Come with me, and let us run away together.” He rushed after her as she strode toward their horses. She already knew his mind, but he also knew hers, and there was nothing left for him to employ to sway her to his thinking. Nothing but this brazen proposal. 

“Away to where?!” she cried, without bothering to look his way. She came up to Greywind and seized her saddle pommel, but Eomer’s hand closed around hers, stilling her progress. 

“Anywhere. Far enough to take you away from all this--” Eomer swung out his free arm in a gesture as wild as the fervor in his eyes. “Away from everything that is confusing you.”

She started shaking her head vigorously and backing away. “Eomer, no. You are mad!”

“Do not tell me that!” Eomer lurched forward in pursuit, yet knew better than to grab her. She could not lose him out here where there was nowhere to hide. But he would lose her if she shut him out again by refusing to listen. 

“Do not tell me I am mad when the only madness is you believing we do not deserve a future together!” Each time he blocked her path, she pivoted in another direction, and he immediately swerved to repeat the dance. “Madness is you rejecting a man who yearns for you more than a mortal heart could possibly bear, clinging to the barefaced lie that you do not feel exactly the same.”

At that, she fell still. In the stillness Eomer realized that the rainstorm had finally dissipated, and in studying her face, he noticed the drops that continued to slip from the edges of her closed eyes, gliding to her quivering jaw. 

“You know as well as I that we belong together.” He caught one of the tears with the edge of his thumb, smoothing his finger over her soft, flushed skin. “So let us take the road west and… and just keep riding. Let me take you home. Our people here will follow soon enough, and when they arrive we can meet them as man and wife.”

���Eomer,” she sighed, before falling silent, her eyes still shut. He hoped she would take her time finding ease, so she may really consider his offer. But she responded immediately, too quickly, once again. “We cannot just abandon our obligations.”

“You insist we cannot, but we can. You can do whatever you wish. You just need to decide what that is--"

“No! No, no, no…” The word morphed into whimpers on her lips, an effort to drown him out.

“--and that is all I ask. That you shut out thoughts of all else and answer truly, from your heart." Something in Eomer’s throat tightened, as though an invisible hand had seized his neck and threatened to choke him. He swallowed and persisted with all the courage he could muster. "Will you marry me?"

“No.”

“Please.” It tasted bitter on his tongue, for Eomer son of Eomund had never begged for anything in his life, even as it took the last shreds of pride for him not to fall on his knees in his final bid. “I am asking you for the truth. Your truth alone. Do you want me?”

Her eyes fluttered open, bearing the steely determination and battle strength that had won his respect years ago, and in that moment Eomer saw that that inner fire he loved would now crush him.

“No,” she answered. “I do not.”

To be continued in Part 3...

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[throneofsapphics]

Hi can I request manorian x reader where she has a drinking problem and stopped but when she’s out with her friends they make her drink and it gets bad again :( manorian are frustrated, give me some angst and also then helping her

one day at a time

Manorian x Reader

Summary: “You knew they were next to you, one on each side, probably waiting for you to wake so they could talk, but the last thing you wanted was to face them. One drink, and all of your progress felt thrown out the window.”

Warnings: alcoholism, not great handling of alcoholism, minor injury/description of blood, some angst, hint of fluff 

Word Count: ~3.2k

A/N: thank you for the request

“Just one,” she grinned at you. 

The problem was one always led to another, on and on until you slowly stopped remembering why you didn’t drink. As she slid it towards you, across the table, you knew you were making a mistake, but kept trying to justify it to yourself. 

The disappointed look on your friend's face when you turned the first two drinks down. 

It’s not like you said you would never drink again. Just that you’d keep it under control.

You wouldn’t go home for a few hours, that’s plenty of time to come back sober. Like you’d said - you’d promised to come home sober. 

Earlier, you’d told them you’d likely be home … but you said likely. They wouldn’t worry. Maybe. The fear of their disappointment, of them seeing you like this, overrode any common sense. You weren’t thinking clearly. If you were, you’d know they’d rather you come home drunk off your ass than not at all. 

Not quite in your right mind, you decided to stay the night at a friends apartment. 

One thing you forgot; the guards, waiting quietly for you in the shadows. Discreet enough you rarely saw them, at least two or three were always there, especially after the threat on your life a few months ago. The reason you’d stopped drinking in the first place. Nobody knew you had a problem. 

-

They watched as you took drink after drink, waiting for you to leave so they could make sure you got home safe. Under orders to make sure you got to the castle, through one of the side gates, without attracting attention. 

“She’s got a high tolerance,” he said under his breath, the man next to him chuckling. You twirled and danced, finally waiting until last call. They knew just how much you’d downed, but you played it off well, appearing mildly tipsy. 

As you strode for the door, arm in arm with a friend - the one who’d funneled drinks to you all night, they rose to follow. 

-

Turning onto her street, the path away from the castle, you only made it a few paces before you were intercepted. 

Shit. 

You’d forgotten they had people tailing you at all times. Felix, and someone behind him you vaguely recognized, his name slipping from your mind. 

“Castle’s this way,” he jerked his chin, an amused smile on his lips, probably thinking you’d just made a wrong turn. 

“I can’t go home like this,” the words stumbled into each other, your cheeks flushed red with alcohol, jerking your arm out of your friends. 

“We have more wine at our place,” a vice-like grip curled around your upper arm. Alcohol numbed you enough you didn’t sense the pain right away. Felix had tensed, eyeing her warily. “Come on,” she coaxed, nails digging in harder, warm liquid pooling on your arm. When you didn’t move - she tugged - hard enough you let out a small cry, your shoulder straining - maybe even popping. 

Everything happened quickly, you were separated from her, a third person, a woman, appeared from the shadows, a flash of metal, you were shoved behind someone. Shielded. Murmurs over the wind - words indistinct but undeniably a threat. If your arm wasn’t hurting like a bitch maybe you’d feel pity. 

It was repeating again. You were too drunk to stop someone, hurting you. Last time you’d barely gotten away. Even though she was a friend, likely meaning no harm, just unaware of your own strength, the realization brought tears to your eyes, quickly hidden as your good arm threw your cloak over your face. 

The guards were good. Not a single passerby sensed anything was wrong. 

They stuck close to you as you headed through the back gate, half-aware of everything around you.

Declining a visit to the healers, just wanting to be with them, you made it to the end of the hall before Manon was shoving through the door, stalking towards you, Dorian behind her. 

You couldn’t - wouldn’t look at them, and tried to skirt around her. She wasn’t having it, stepping to the side to block you. 

Taking a breath, you prepared yourself for the lecture - for the disappointment, only for her to gently lift your arm, gold eyes peering at the spot where your friend had gripped. Blood - that was the warmth from earlier. Why Manon came out so quickly - she’d scented your blood. 

“It’s fine,” you murmured quietly. She lifted it again and you winced, some of the pain catching up to you, the walk had sobered you enough. A small strain that would heal in time. 

“What. Happened?” You could tell her temper was balancing on a paper thin edge. 

How could you begin to explain the shit show? Thankfully Dorian started guiding you back towards the room, giving you time to think. 

After you were seated on the couch, a cup of tea pressed into your hand, Dorian against your side, Manon pacing in front of the fireplace - looking murderous, he spoke. 

“Who did that to you?” You raised your brows, surprised he wasn’t asking about why you were drunk. “We’ll get to that later,” he read your expression, and your head dropped.

“Who was it?” Manon hissed, murderous rage flooding from her. You’d have to convince her not to gut the guards who brought you back here. 

“It was an accident.” You winced as Manon pressed a finger into the fingertip shaped bruises, silently calling your bullshit. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you tried. She didn’t look convinced. 

-

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Dorian sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You’d insisted you were fine, ready. He didn’t want to stop you, even though he had a bad feeling - hence the clear orders he gave to get you back. Maybe he should’ve told them to keep you from drinking, but that felt a bit too invasive - and he’d trusted you when you said you were ready. 

You were, for all he knew. There was something else missing - other answers he needed to get. 

“I need you to stay here with her,” he said quietly, to Manon, as you were getting ready for bed, the bathroom door wide open. She agreed - quicker than he thought he would. He was going to get answers. 

Felix, the guard who spent the most time watching you, was waiting at the end of the hall, as if he was expecting someone to come looking for answers. Dorian watched a hint of relief cross the man’s features - probably that it was him, not Manon. He couldn’t blame him, his witch was terrifying on a good day. He gave a detailed and precise report of the night’s events - down to each detail, and Dorian remembered exactly why he requested for him to guard you. 

Objectively, he knew they’d done everything right - but he was still pissed you’d ended up injured, blood drawn by one of your ‘friends.’ As for the identity of the friend, he decided Manon would have to get you to tell her yourself.  

“Thank you,” he said at the end, giving a polite nod as the guard bowed, taking his leave. Dorian pressed his forehead against the stone wall, letting the rough and cool surface center him. Anger would get nowhere tonight. He’d been so fucking proud of you, and the disappointment stung. 

-

The next morning, your head was pounding. One hand shielding your eyes from the sun, an audible groan left your lips. Hungover. 

Hungover. Drinking. You’d broken last night. Fuck. 

The self-loathing hit a moment later. You knew they were next to you, one on each side, probably waiting for you to wake so they could talk, but the last thing you wanted was to face them. One drink, and all of your progress felt thrown out the window. 

“Good morning,” Manon drawled, and you forced your eyes to blink open, your hand to move. Her expression was too neutral. An obvious sign of her holding in her anger. “Who hurt you?” She followed up. 

Hurt? There was a tinge in your shoulder. Vaguely, you remembered one of your friends gripping you, her nails digging in, the wet drop of blood against your skin. “It was an accident,” you said quickly. 

She pulled the sheets down, revealing the angry blue-purple bruises, small indents of fingernails, on your upper arm. Her finger traced over them, barely touching. “That is not an accident,” she hissed. 

“They didn’t mean it,” you tried. Manon raised one brow. “Please, don’t hurt them.” Before breakfast, and you were already resorting to begging to keep her from murder. “I’ll promise not to see them again, if you won’t hurt them.” 

Her nostrils flared. You watched her debate it, whether or not to satisfy her bloodlust and rage. Part of you was endeared by this, at her protective streak, but the other part was very, very worried about having blood and death on your hands. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “How do you feel?” 

The words felt like a trap, but you answered honestly. “Like shit.” 

“Good.” Ouch. She ran a hand down your arm, skipping over the bruised area, and gently squeezed your hand. Tender, coming from her. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” You tried to sit up, to catch her and maybe give her a kiss or hug, but with preternatural speed, she’d already left the room. 

A pathetic and small broken noise left you, and a sigh reminded you of Dorian’s presence. 

“She’s just on edge.” His voice indicated he, too, was on edge. 

You were still half-raised, staring at the door, when he slid closer to you. Close enough to feel his body heat, but not to touch. Self loathing and destructive thoughts filled you. Maybe they didn’t want to touch you, maybe they thought you were disgusted enough you’d be packing your bags, heading right out of the castle. Your shoulders caved, curling in on yourself, eyes squeezed to fight tears. 

Dorian’s hand rested lightly on your good shoulder. “We’ll talk later.” 

Then he left, and you felt your fears were confirmed. 

Forcing yourself out of bed, you brushed your teeth, washed your face, scrubbed your body near raw - trying to erase any vague scent of alcohol. You had the day off work, and knew they’d both be busy. Tying a towel around yourself, you clutched the clothes from last night in one hand. Without hesitation, you threw them in the fire. The less reminders, the better.

That night, you all had a private dinner in your shared rooms. 

“Why?” Dorian asked, and you could tell he was trying and failing to keep his tone neutral. That was worse - you wanted anger, maybe frustration, anything else. 

“I don’t know,” you fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, the one they’d both given you - not an engagement ring, just a physical representation of your commitment to each other. “I thought I was ready, but … I wasn’t. I gave in.” 

You didn’t need to say what you gave into. It was obvious - the atmosphere, peer pressure, temptation. Glancing up, they both tried to hide it - Dorian more than Manon - but the disappointment was there and gods you hated yourself even more. Subconsciously, you began to slide the ring down your finger. Before it could reach your middle knuckle, Manon’s hand had clasped over your own. 

“Don’t,” she nearly snarled, lifting just enough to slide the ring back up, before retracting her hand quickly, like she couldn’t bear to touch you longer than necessary. At least they didn’t want to leave you. Yet, a voice in your mind whispered. 

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding. Any words might lead to tears. Dorian sent you a smile, but it was strained - forced. Didn’t they understand you hated yourself now? More disappointed and frustrated with yourself than they ever could be? Maybe, maybe not, but it wasn’t worth saying. Quickly gulping down the rest of your water, you excused yourself. 

Finding your favorite chair in the small personal library, closest to the fire, you tried to read, but your eyes scanned the same page at least ten times. Everything would be fine. It wouldn’t happen again, and … hopefully whatever divide came between the three of you would mend. 

-

Manon knew you were avoiding them. But, she’d always been under the impression that if someone needed help, they either had to ask or do it themselves. You’d come to them the first time, and she was waiting for you to do it again. At communal dinners, she watched how your eyes would waver towards the various bottles of wine or liquor, before averting quickly - as if they’d burn you for looking at them. Your hand would twitch if one got particularly close. Dorian had noticed too, and said nothing. Maybe that’s what you wanted? For them to pretend it never happened? 

As another week passed of your distance, she grew tired over it. Fine. If you wouldn’t ask for help, she’d go to you. 

Dorian would be out late, and she headed back to the rooms - knowing you’d already be settling in. 

Inside, she saw something that nearly made her blood boil. A bottle of wine sat on the coffee table, a small note attached to it. You sat on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, physically shaking - staring at it, a haunted look in your eyes. 

Slowly, she stalked towards you. No glasses, the bottle wasn’t open. Getting closer, she picked the bottle up, watching you from the corner of her eyes. You kept your gaze straight ahead, switching to the wall, pointedly avoiding her. At least you weren’t fleeing the room. 

Witch senses helped, and she could tell you only touched the note - not the bottle. 

“We’ve been missing you, come out of hiding soon! First round is on me.”

A female, one of your former friends, signed underneath it. She walked around the couch, placing the bottle out of view, before crouching in front of you, putting herself directly in your line of sight, forcing you to look at her. 

“I told them before,” your voice was just above a whisper, “that I’d stopped.” 

She noticed the blue-purple bags under your eyes, the pain in your eyes. 

“And they still pushed you?” Manon was fighting to keep her temper even as you nodded. “Not very good friends,” she commented. “You should’ve let me kill them.” 

A choked laugh left you, and she thought that was a fairly good sign. “I don’t need blood on my hands,” the corner of your lips tilted. A smile you were fighting rather than forcing, she liked that. Manon knew you liked how protective she could be, even if it irked her you rarely ‘let’ her act on it, not that she always asked for your permission. 

Still, it was about time she got to the point of this. “Do you need help?” 

The smile left, your arms tightened around your knees again. One small jerk of your chin. Manon raised a brow. “Yes,” you sighed. 

Years with you had taught Manon more of what human’s needed, liked, and granted these things grew on her as well. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, chuckling at how you quickly unwrapped and hugged her midsection instead, leaning your head into the space between her chest and shoulder. Before you and Dorian, she never thought she would’ve missed physical touch this much. But, as you not-so-discreetly moved close enough you were nearly on her lap, she realized she didn’t want to go another two weeks without this kind of closeness. 

-

Dorian spotted the bottle of wine tucked away on the kitchen counter first, his eyes widening in alarm. A closer look told him it was still closed, and a note was tied around it. The contents of said note pissed him off. That’s the last thing you need right now. Gazing over his shoulder, he saw Manon shooting him a warning glance. A keep fucking quiet, if he read it correctly. You were there too, curled up around her. 

How long had it been since he spotted the two of you like this? Too damn long. But … Manon had probably been with you for a few hours by now, he could justify interrupting. It was only fair to share. 

Striding across the room, lips curving into a wicked grin, Manon’s golden eyes narrowing into a glare, he sat heavier than necessary next to the two of you, one hand brushing over your knee. 

Your pretty eyes blinked open, small bags lining them. Had you not been sleeping well? He hated that he didn’t notice it before now. 

“Hello love,” he ran his hand up and down your thigh, in calm and soothing strokes. 

“Hello,” you murmured back. 

“Tired?” 

“No,” you yawned, covering your mouth. 

“Mhm,” he slid one arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulders, ignoring Manon’s snarl and carted you off towards bed. 

Manon stood in the doorway, silver hair gleaming, arms crossed. “I have a few reports to read,” she said gruffly. 

“Can’t you do that here?” He could tell you were trying to keep the whine from your voice. Manon’s eyes softened briefly. 

“The two of you are too distracting,” she spun on her heel, closing the door softly behind them, not giving either of you the chance for a snarky reply. 

“I can’t get you to myself for a while?” He teased. You blushed, and his fingers trailed over the heated areas as they turned a brighter shade of pink. 

“Of course you can,” you mumbled, hand running over the back of your neck. You wanted to talk - maybe not wanted, but needed. Dorian needed it as well, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do right now. “Are you mad at me?” You asked. 

Honestly, he reminded himself, and took in a steady breath. “I was at first,” he said cautiously. Resignation showed on your face, along with a glimmer of hope. He’d said at first. Wording was important, and he still treaded carefully. “But, I haven’t been in your … situation, so I can’t say I understand - or what I would have done.” He didn’t recognize the emotion that flashed in your eyes, but it didn’t look negative, so he continued. “I want to help you,” he gripped both of your hands, pressing a kiss to the ring he’d given you last year. “If you’ll let me.” 

Tears started to glimmer, lining your eyes. Maybe you’d wanted help this time, but been scared to ask for it, or were ashamed, or - Dorian reminded himself not to make assumptions.  

“I’d like your help,” you said quietly, blinking. His thumb brushed away the tears, and your head tilted. “Did you and Manon coordinate this?” 

It was his turn to blink. “No,” he shook his head. A pleased expression crossed your face. Apparently that’s what the two of you had spoken of earlier. “Did she ask if you wanted help?” A nod confirmed it. Subconsciously, his lips quirked up at the corners. Figures they'd both ask on the same day, and that Manon would beat him to it. "We'll take it one day at a time," he assured you.

"Thank you," you tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle another yawn and he figured now’s a good time to table the discussion. 

“We can talk more tomorrow.” 

You looked relieved, and nearly dragged him into bed.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Breathing Room

@wolfstarmicrofic June 15, word count 742

Previous part First part

McGonagall ushered them over to the gardens where Pomona Sprout was waiting for her. She was a plump older woman who spent her retirement tending to the vegetable patch and exotic flowers she kept in a little greenhouse. 

“Good morning boys,” She announced as they carefully walked around her plants. “Gather round, gather round. Come on Mr Pettigrew, I won’t bite. Ah, good. Right then, today you’ll be helping me plant these seedlings.” She pointed at two dozen trays filled with tiny sprouting plants. “Now watch me very closely. You dig a little hole for them in the earth I have already prepared for you and you gently, and I mean gently, remove a plant from the tray and transfer it into its new home. Make sure to leave them enough breathing room. If they’re too close together, they won’t flourish. Right let’s get started then,” She clapped her soil-caked hands together and set them to their task. 

Remus was still sore from the previous day’s task of painting fences. He could hear the rest of the campers down by the lake, splashing and shrieking, clearly having a lot of fun. 

“It’s only 6 trays each, we’ll have it done in no time,” James said cheerily. James was wrong. 

Remus ended up sitting on the ground and planting as far as he could reach before crawling forward and repeating the previous step. They’d been at it for two hours and managed two trays each. 

“There has to be an easier way to do this,” He grumbled. Pomona had disappeared behind her greenhouse, and they hadn’t seen her since.

Remus lay on the ground, stretching out his sore back and neck muscles. He was fine if he could keep moving, but repetitive movements and being hunched over made him ache far quicker than anything else. 

The sun was warm on his face and the light breeze made it almost pleasant. A shadow fell across him, blocking the warmth. He shielded his eyes with his hand and opened them. Sirius grinned back at him. 

“I’ve had an idea,” He said as he held up a small plant pot. He knelt beside Remus and shoved it into the earth. When he pulled it out, there was a perfect hole ready for the seedlings to be deposited in. 

“Sirius, you absolute genius,” Remus said, amazed. Sirius leaned over and stole a kiss. Remus’s eyes darted to the other two, but they hadn’t noticed. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Sirius winked at him. “Oh, they know by the way, so no need to hide,” He jabbed his thumb in James and Peter’s direction. Remus couldn't quite believe it, but as James and Peter hadn't said anything, clearly they didn't have a problem with him. “Oi, you two use the plant pots,” Sirius showed them what he’d done and the planting went so much faster. Sirius and James ran up and down the vegetable patch jabbing the little plant pots into the ground while Remus and Peter followed more slowly behind them, burying the plants in the holes left behind. They were done in no time. 

Pomona found them all stretched out on the grass, Sirius, James and Peter telling Remus about the mischief they got up to over previous summers spent at the camp. 

“Boys, I gave you a job to do,” She said sternly, hands moving to her hips, “Do I have to go get Minerva?”

“But we’ve finished,” Peter complained as they all sat up. 

“Finished?” She asked incredulously. She peered behind them and her eyes widened in shock at the neat rows of plants. “Well I never,” She muttered under her breath. She shook her head and checked her watch. “Well done, boys. Might as well take an early lunch before the rest of the rabble get back. Thanks for your help,” She called after them as they walked back to their cabin to get cleaned up. 

“I need to wash my hands, badly,” Remus moaned, scrapping at the soil coating his nails. 

“I wonder what Minnie’s got planned for us this afternoon,” James pondered aloud. 

“Oh plenty, Mr Potter. Don’t you worry about that,” McGonagall said, emerging from the store cupboard. The four of them jumped out of their skins. “Mr Lupin, you may want to apply more sunscreen, you’re looking a little red dear,” She crinkled her eyes in a smile as they hurried away in case she gave them another job before lunch.  

Next part

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Could you possibly do a fluffy Rhys x reader where reader finds out she’s pregnant in like the middle of the night? I saw a TikTok where the woman just decided to take a test at like 1 in the morning because she had a feeling and just told her husband after she took it.

It really reminded me of Rhys because he likes being public about things but at the same time very private if that makes sense.

Baby.

Rhysand x f!Reader

Masterlist.

Warnings; none just pure fluff

Hope you enjoy it!

Darkness surrounded you, the only light in your room was coming from the window, the night sky in Velaris was so bright that you didn’t need to keep any fae lights on. The stars filled the sky and painted it with different colours. Rhysand’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his warmth spreading all over your body making the chilly night more bearable. You had a feeling that instead of two, you were three in this bed and your heart melted by the thought. You and Rhys had the conversation about kids and you both decided to stop drinking the contraceptive tea, but you weren’t actually trying. You had the feeling for the past three days and consulted Madja, she gave you a liquid that you had to pee in it and if it changed color, you would be pregnant. You stared at the bathroom door, you couldn’t take it anymore, so you removed Rhys’ hand and slipped out of bed. He let a whine but didn’t wake up.

You walked into the bathroom and stared at the cabinet where you kept the container Madja gave you. Your thoughts running wild, you didn’t know how Rhys was going to react if you were indeed pregnant, he wanted a baby but after the war he had become so overprotective and anxious… add a baby to that and he might actually die. With a sigh you picked up the container and headed to the toilet- seat.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were watching the liquid like a hawk, your hands shaking and your heart beating so fast that you feared that you would wake your mate. Then, the blue color darkened and slowly became red. You blinked. We are having a baby. You thought and burst into tears, you weren’t sad or worried. No, you were happy, those were happy tears. You ran back to the bedroom and jumped into bed, making Rhys groan. “What happened sweetheart?” he kept his eyes closed.

“Baby wake up” you shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes, taking your breath away. You thought you would be used to the beauty of those violet eyes by now, but you were wrong.

“What?” he asked.

“Well… I sure hope our baby will have your eyes.” You smiled and he frowned.

“What?” he repeated and stared at you, noticing your teary gaze and finally taking in what you said, the frown turned into a grin. “Please tell me you’re not joking, I swear if I see Nesta hiding somewhere in here I will take both of you and leave you to sleep by the Sidra.”

“That’s mean” you gasped. “I’m not joking we are having a baby”.

He teared up and grabbed you, jumping off the bed and twirling you around.

“We are having a baby” he shouted and started laughing.

You were laughing too, your heart swelling by your mate’s reaction. You sure felt like the luckiest female in the world.

When your feet touched the ground again Rhysand was gone, you furrowed your eyebrows and a few moments later he walked back with your coats, his wings stretched behind him. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“Taking you to Helion, we need a shield around you.” He replied.

And there he goes. Overprotective intolerable mode on. You thought and rolled your eyes.

Requests are open!

[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (4)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: When you want to read but the universe won't allow it, Loki is deep in the delulu and that's ok, Thor's golden retriever energy to Loki's prickly cat vibes, work stress, how to meet with royalty, tiny midgardian vs giant asgardians,

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N: The power of acetaminophen, water, proper food, and actual oxygen to my brain is what made this chapter possible! Thank you for patiently waiting, I hope you enjoy it!

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed ant tags, please let me know, I'll add you right away!)

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Agent Pruyn is not so fond of me, much like many of the others. The bird and spider were quick to support my plan, though. I was not expecting help from anyone, but I suppose they’re wise enough to see that I know my strengths and have proven myself to be an asset in more ways than one. Loki walked into the library as per usual, ready to welcome the silent comfort it would bring. Sadly, that silence was not to be had with the sound of not one, but two voices. It’s that blasted chatty Captain Star. He is bound to try to strike up conversation again and ask unnecessary questions pertaining to how I feel and how I am adjusting. Loki quickly looked around for a potential escape route that would avoid meeting him and get him quickly to his usual corner. He knew he could easily teleport himself from one spot to the next. However, he already had been given an earful by said star-spangled leader about how it was ‘rude to vanish in the middle of a conversation’ and how ‘he should minimize his magic use to me more approachable’. To avoid a repeat of that, Loki simply avoided using it whenever Captain Lectures was not around.

It was the second voice that surprised him. A familiar voice that reminded him of a subtle force and scattered papers. The very same voice that said the owner thought he was a mute for never speaking to her. Which is utterly preposterous. I have spoken plenty of times between invading the Earth, addressing the public, and working with S.H.I.E.L.D. and the Avengers. It’s not as if she’s gone out of her way to greet me either, where would she even begin to conceive such a notion on her own? He frowned, trying to recall all the times he had been to the library. She only ever interacted with him in a professional capacity. Watching the two walk in the opposite direction of his intended destination, he breathed a small sigh of relief and quickly made his way to the table that always had a book waiting for him to read. The Metal-Man’s technology is quite fascinating. He marveled at the new book that awaited his arrival. Picking it up, he sat back into the plush seating and began to read.

At least, he tried to read. The loud voices of the other two kept interrupting, and he was unable to properly get into the mindset of losing himself in the text. Each time he thought they were done, it seemed to start back up, which irked him. The first two times were mere chance, but for it to happen repeatedly had to be intentional. The only problem was proof. They could not see him, nor could he see them. 

You are overthinking, Loki. It’s because of that petty agent that you’re now thinking everyone is out to trouble you. You’ve never had trouble in the library before, why would it start now? If anything, that woman’s chatter is keeping Commander Shield busy and away from you. It’s a blessing in disguise. He reminded himself. He listened to the two prattle on for a little longer, not really paying the content any mind; he simply was waiting for the conversation to end so he could peacefully begin to read. And just it did, he wiggled back into his seat and opened the book once more. He snapped it shut and sat up in his seat. She is the librarian?! “That woman is the one Agent Hill was referring? Why would they assume I’m acquainted with someone like her? We’ve hardly ever spoken to one another, but clearly that is not my fault. She’s perfectly chatty with Officer Gabby over there.” He muttered to himself. There was a slight sting in his chest at this fact. Even in his sanctuary, he was facing prejudice. Why should her lack of conversing with me matter otherwise? Thor has the ability of AllSpeak, he can assist her. I have my mission to attend to, tomo-, he frowned. His mission was postponed while Thor was still set to go. That meant that he was the only available translator. “No matter, she is to approach us first, as per Agent Hill. Why should I go out my way for her when she has done little for me?” He continued to grumble to himself, propping an elbow on one of the arms of the chair and resting his cheek into the hand as he resumed the book once more.

The chime of his phone was the one to shatter the moment this time around. He closed the book once more and returned to the table. Taking a few deep breaths, he pulled the horrid device from his pocket and glared at it.

How anyone finds having such a thing with you at all times as practical or essential is beyond me. It’s a metal leash where anyone and everyone can disturb you at their whim without a care of whether you are available to be bothered. Though he found the various things it could do fascinating, in the end it was still a means to dealing with people around the clock, and he disliked the idea greatly. The device lit up and chimed again, as if it knew he was looking at it. Frustrated, he tapped the screen awake and used his fingerprint to unlock it. Now where are these notifications, again, ah, yes, up here! He carefully navigated his way towards an email thread which looked to be between himself, Thor, Agent Hill, and Director Fury in reference to the translation project. “So she isn’t as scatterbrained as she seemed. She looked into our schedules to make sure we had time to meet and made it a time both could be present instead of having multiple meetings.” He mumbled. He scrolled lower to see Thor’s reply, agreeing to the time. Loki quickly responded as well, agreeing as well, but also requesting where she intended for them to meet. Satisfied, he tossed the phone lightly onto the table and picked up the book once more. Now everything was set and he could finally read in peace.

Y/N was surprised to see a response from either of the princes so soon, but was all the more grateful for it since their meeting was last minute. Leaning back in her computer chair, it tilted back silently, as she swiveled side-to-side The location to meet had to be easier for them to reach and still make it to their next appointments.

The cafeteria will be pretty busy around then and to head up to their lounge area is a bit much. Plus, the Avengers might be there, and I don’t want to impede on their downtime by talking about work things. They might have too many questions or the topic might get lost through distraction. I can’t really leave the library for too long, either. The daily meetings are one thing, but trying to get to some place and back would be a waste of time. I suppose the only proper place would be here at the library. I can close it for about thirty or so minutes for my lunch. She hummed to herself, trying to see if this was a beneficial spot for everyone. “Loki already comes here, so I doubt he’ll be against it. Thor has been here from time to time as well, so he’s not completely unaware of this location. The training hall is not too far from here either, so neither of them will be late for that. Alright, sounds good!” She sat up in her seat, the chair springing up and rolling forward into her desk. She quickly sent out the reply of time and location, with a small sign-off stating that she looked forward to speaking with them. Now that that’s done, one teensy weensy problem, how do I talk to alien princes?! Royal etiquette training was not including in my onboarding training! “And one of them hates me, so the brother is obviously going to hate me by defaults, right? Sibling solidarity and all that good stuff?” She lightly slammed her head on to her desk. “I didn’t expect ‘hated by alien princes’ on this year’s bingo card, let alone checking it off!” She let out a heavy sigh of defeat. “It won’t be that bad, right?”

It was that bad. It was straight up awkward from the moment the two of them walked into the library, together. Both were tall, handsome, and very intimidating in their own ways. She knew all this, and yet seeing them together made her feel like a Lilliputian in front of not one, but two, Gullivers!

“Thank you for coming on such short notice, please, let’s take a seat over here.” She pointed towards some tables to her right and led them over. She motioned for them to take their seats and waited for them to sit before taking her own seat. Those of higher status are usually seated first, I’m sure this will help ease the tension, right? “Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Y/N Y/LN. I am the director of the Resource Management department of S.H.I.E.L.D. As per my email, I’ve asked for your time to discuss how to best work together on the task of translation.” See, you got this! Play it cool, like any other board of directors meeting!

“Yes, Agent Hill spoke with us about this matter. We would love to be of assistance to you in any way we can.” Thor smiled, the brightness comforting Y/N to feel less tense. He certainly had the charisma to be a well liked leader, if his smile was enough to ease up the tension. “But as you’re aware, we are Avengers and are sent off on missions globally for many days at a time.”

“Yes, I am aware, and I can’t thank you enough for allotting some of your free time to assist me in this matter. The archives are one of the greatest things we have. There are texts here from all around the universe that are still unknown to many of our agents. The goal is to have all of them scanned into digital copies and have translated copies as well to allow easier access between all of our locations and even allow access to the Avengers while on their missions. It’s a very difficult task that requires many people, but S.H.I.E.L.D. does not have the means to hire so many for such a task and risk someone leaking the information, nor can it sacrifice the agents on staff who are needed for the missions and risk the safety of the people because they pulled people. I, and my department, along with your help, will be working on this task.”

“We are both due to depart by week’s end, but once we return, we will gladly assist you, right  brother?” Thor turned to Loki, who had been silent throughout this entire time.

I’m guessing Mr. Thor doesn’t hate me? But Mr. Loki clearly does? What did I do to be hated by him?! Did I step on his foot one time, or maybe I whacked him with a book unknowingly? I would’ve definitely noticed if I hit someone like that, right?! She racked her brain for any inkling of a clue as to why she was disliked so much by the younger prince. Is it because I called him mister? Is that not okay? I mean, I don’t see anyone else calling him ‘His Highness’ or ‘His Grace’ or ‘Lord’. Oh no, did I call him that one time and did he think I was mocking him?!

 His blue eyes were trained on the Librarian the entire time. She was poised and cordial, nothing like the rushing mess he encountered days ago. She was articulate, but she was nervous. Though her face gave away nothing, her fingers were interlaced tightly with one another. There was a slight tremble in them. Thor was happily giving away his blessings and promises, while Loki was not sure, not yet. Though, the promise of secret text was rather enticing. He wondered if they had anything from the other realms.

“I am no longer due to depart, my mission has been temporarily suspended.” The words came out before the younger prince realized. Why was he given such unnecessary information? He had no intention of being roped into this useless charity work. His eyes narrowed at the genuine surprise on the Librarian, who looked hopeful, too hopeful.

“That is rare, were there complications?” Thor frowned.

“It’s not something to discuss in present company.” Loki cut the conversation short, seeing her flinch at the sharp words.

“You’re right, it’s not wise to speak so freely about such information with unauthorized people.” She readily agreed. “But if you’re no longer due to leave, would you be willing to work with me on setting up a plan on how to best work with your ability?”

“Very well,” he sighed. “We can coordinate a time for here. Perhaps later today after my training.”

“Excellent,” Thor grinned and roughly smacked Loki on the back, earning a scowl from his younger brother. “You may not know this, but my brother is one of the greatest strategists in the nine realms! He is well-educated and far more scholarly than myself. He is the best person to work with on creating a plan, and I will follow along with what you’ve decided. I will do my best to keep up with him and not drag you down.”

“You will be just as helpful, Mr. Thor. You are able to translate like he is, which is exactly what we need.” Y/N was quick to assure his easily excitable brother, earning an eye roll from the raven haired younger prince.

“Please, Director Y/LN, call us by our names. We are the ones who will be under your care throughout this undertaking. There is no need for such formalities between us.” Loki stared at his brother as he completely lost his mind.

How are we under her care if she needs us? She should be respectful of us taking the time to assist her in something the organization as a whole deems to be of the least importance! 

“You don’t need to call me by title when it’s just us. Y/N or Y/LN is fine. Some just call me ‘Librarian’ as well. In official meetings with other directors you’ll need to abide by rules, but between us, I’m not all that strict with it. I mean, you’re the ones doing the dangerous work. I think that alone deserves respect.” Her words stunned Loki.

“Even me?” The words slipped from his lips in a low whisper. She turned to face him with a questioning look, but he made no attempt to repeat or clarify himself. “Very well, Librarian. I will return some time after my training session. We can discuss more than.” Loki stood from his seat and quickly left the room. It was getting too chummy, and he was not comfortable with it.

"My apologies, Y/LN. He’s not the most easy to get along with at first, but he really is one of the best.” Thor slowly stood from his seat, while Y/N watched Loki disappear behind the door. She quickly tore her gaze away and looked up at Thor.

“Why are you apologizing? He didn’t do anything wrong. I was going to end the meeting anyway, since it’s about time you both left for your training sessions.” She raised an eyebrow at how quick Thor was to apologize and try to assuage her. He’s trying to help Loki fit in, but if he’s always apologizing, that’s not helpful. But then again, I’ve never really interacted with either of them. I’ll wait before I say anything. This could be a one time thing. She stood from her chair and extended a hand to the stunned God of Thunder. “I look forward to working with both of you.” She smiled and he happily to her hand in his, kissing the back of it.

“We are in your care.” He smiled and left a surprised and slightly flushed Y/N.

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