#and I was like HOLD UP it sounds exactly like the plot for strangers from hell

[wondeurwall]

AUTHOR'S NOTE. based on the poll: nsfw that won by a landslide, as expected AKSNDJSKb!!! i'll post the sfw soon. i'm currently sitting on 9k with this fic & i don't think i'm close to being done yet omg 😵‍💫 not sure how many more previews i'll post of it – i'll play by ear. or, if it's something y'all still would like, then i'll be more than happy to do it, but i think they'll be much shorter going forward!! 💕💕

AND good luck to anyone pulling for zayne's banner & for anyone trying the new oracle of stars event... i want to try pulling for rafayel's, at the very least, since they all look related to the myths 😭 for the lore, I'LL BE BROKE!!!

TAGS/WARNINGS: 🔞 mdni, fem!reader, porn with plot because i said so, cunnilingus

He drops to his knees, keeps his arms slung over your legs, trapping you at the edge of the bed. His face is in front of your pussy, the heat of his breath makes you quiver.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl,” he says.

And, you do exactly that. Rafayel’s gaze has the full moon in there, the light unblinking and brilliant, like a parallel of the sun during the day. It dares you to flinch the longer you look. But, you keep staring, find that it doesn’t hurt and, instead, the light feels familiar. 

You hear the waves, tides along the shore and grains of sand being pulled into the water. It happens briefly. Holding your breath, the salt of the sea comes to you like it does in your dreams, a little more vivid each time you fall asleep. 

The same images of him fill your vision. Why?

You release the breath, then blink, feeling the heaviness in your chest and the lump in your throat again. It’s a back-and-forth reel of him and Rafayel, different realities converging to a single point in time – and, your lips are trembling. With the heat of Rafayel’s body seeping into you and the recollection of the sea, the moment tastes and sounds like a memory.

No. It’s more than that. 

You look at Rafayel, and everything feels less like a dream and more like a memory.

You’re about to call his name, but it’s quickly ripped out of your lips in an airy moan. The flat of his tongue glides up your slit once. Then, he’s doing it again, dipping the tip into your hole and curling between your folds as he moves up to gather your cum. Taking as much as he can, he swallows the taste of you, eyes fluttering closed as he savors it. 

It’s the way he does that – makes you believe this isn’t the first time, like he isn’t a stranger to this side of you. So, you’re drifting back into your head (only barely now, because the pleasure is intense, hot and needy) and it’s as if pieces of a puzzle come together in the span of a millisecond and you’re lucid enough to arrive to what seems like an impossible reason: it’s not the first. 

You can’t shake off this feeling. 

Your pupils dilate, oxygen completely dried from your lungs when you see the pleasure on his face. To you, Rafayel is reliving something he’s missed. Something that’s been denied from him for so, so long and he’s finally grasped onto it, and he looks like he’s found the secret to walking on air. 

The ache in your chest is overwhelmed by the ache in your pussy. You whine, the glow in his eyes too dizzying. It does nothing more than guide you closer to hysteria. Your hips jerk forward, begging.  

Blood rushes through his cock, straining beneath his pants as a deep rumble comes from within his chest. He’s diving back into your cunt for more before you can catch your breath. 

You lie there, unable to close your legs. His arms keep them bent and tucked securely between his biceps and forearms, the strength of him nothing you can even attempt to win against. It comes to you as no surprise – he’s not human after all. Your mouth parts, a light sheen of saliva over your lips. Shallow, quick breaths keep you grounded as you watch through glassy eyes how Rafayel devours your pussy like a starved man. 

He pulls back slightly, staring – he hones in on your little bud. You hold your breath when he presses a kiss to your clit, slow and gentle, before he traps it between his lips and sucks, humming as he does.

“Raf – Rafayel,” you gasp, the vibrations coupled with his sucking makes your thighs vibrate, has you seeing tiny white stars. He sucks your clit harder, and your voice gets caught at the edge of your throat. 

There’s a pause before you’re moaning like a broken record.

You force your hands to mask your face, rallying enough strength to quiet down because you’re falling, losing yourself so fast, and you have no idea how to wrap your head around the pleasure that’s already building back up.

There’s a disapproving click from the man between your legs.

“Stop,” he says, voice deepening to a near growl. It surprises you – this tone, along with that look in his eyes, half-lidded, clouded with desire, like a predator ready to pounce at its prey – and you feel a greater level of ecstasy being injected into you and it knocks against the sensitive, heavy knot in your stomach.

His demand is never quite like this. It feels… good. 

Rafayel loosens the hold on one of your legs to snatch your hands away from your face, “I need to hear you, baby, or I’ll stop.”

Breath bated, you can’t help but stare at him, utterly dazed by the moonlight that hangs over his head just like it does in his eyes. 

Lovestruck. Only a second passes before you realize how far you’ve fallen, how desperate you are to see more of this version because there’s no use in denying that you’re among the reasons – if not the reason – he’ll take charge. It’s a stark contrast to the light-hearted and comical side he usually shows. There’s a certain attractiveness to it, the willingness inside of him to take care of you with this authority. 

He asks, “Won’t you be a good girl and listen to me?”

God, you’re so wet right now.

You forget how to breathe, feeling like you’ve evolved in a bottomless nothing. His grip on your hands is firm, yet not so much that it shackles you. He’s still gentle. Nodding your head is all you can manage. He finds it cute. Rafayel brushes his mouth over your palm and around your hand to the first knuckle. He smiles. 

And, you melt. Of course, you do. Craving to be good for him, to be the good girl like he says you can be – that you are – you clutch onto the bed sheets instead, let your mouth babble this time.

When he’s sure you won’t do it again, he goes back to your clit, giving the attention it deserves as he keeps his eyes on you. He plants a kiss to your throbbing bud again. And again. And then again. It gets stickier there, messy with your cum and arousal and his saliva; stretchy, gooey strings that reconnect his lips to your pussy.

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here or on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 1

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

A/N: Hi, I am so excited to share this first part with you! I wanted to point out that I am following major plot points in the books, however, this is in the Reader's perspective so some of the interactions may not line up with the text exactly but the major plot points will be there.

Content warnings: Nightmares, Grief, mentions of death, mentions of trauma,

Summary: Y/N accompanies her twin sister to the Nigh Court after Rhysand crashed Feyre's wedding. Where the reader finds herself lost in the memories of under the mountain and finds herself in the company of a Hazel eyed stranger

Word Count: 3.1k

tags: @hellodarling1357

If you want to be added to the tag list for this series let me know!

“Hello, Feyre, Darling.”

My head whipped toward the end of the aisle; the High Lord of the Night Court was flicking an invisible piece of lint from his dark lined suit. My gaze moved to my sister who before his arrival, had looked like she was ready to bolt from Tamlin. Lucien’s casually stepped closer Feyre as the Violet Eyes meet my own, “Y/N.” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown, “You look healthy.”

I straightened my posture and tried to hold the arrogant air that would make Nesta proud, “Rhysand,” His gaze lingered on my long sleeve pink tulle gown I responded, trying to move toward my sister, a firm hand keeps me in place causing me to still completely.

Tamlin’s voice roared in my ear, “What the fuck do you want, Rhysand?” The High Lord of the Spring gripped my arm too tightly and I clenched my jaw to prevent a wince.

Rhysand did not miss the little action and tucks his hand in his pockets, “I am here to collect Feyre and Y/N. Unless Feyre Darling wants to go back on her end on the bargain.

I grimace as the memory of Feyre making that bargain:

I couldn’t keep my body from trembling, I knew I had a fever and Feyre was trying to bring my temperature down by putting a soaked piece of her shirt and pressing it on her forehead. Amarantha had split up the challenges between the two of us.  Taking the first challenge, The Middengard Wyrm was more challenging than I had originally anticipated. When we were living in the human lands, I would occasionally go out hunting with her and she would teach me a few things and those skills came in handy when going up against the Wyrm and was able to slay the beast.

  It wasn’t until we were back in our cell that I was aware that I had the gaping wound. It only took a few days for the infection to seep into the wound and my fever spiking.  “You must hang on just a little bit, Lucien will come and help. You just have to hold it out for a little bit longer.”

Steps could be heard down the hall from our cell and the grating of our cell door creaked open and Rhysand stepped in. Feyre covered me with her small frame, “What do you want?”

The Violet eyed male simply ignored her question and made is way to my side. I was to weak to cower away his presence alone was intimidating. He reached out his hand about to touch my wound when it was whacked away by Feyre, “Do not touch her,” she said through gritted teeth. The High Lord gave my twin a playful smirk in response.

A groan of pain escaped my lips as a violent tremor tore through my body both Rhysand and Feyre gazes meet mine, “I’m only here to help.” Rhysand says.

“We don’t need your help.” Feyre spat, tucking me closer to my chest always the protector.

Rhysand’s face began to blur in and out of focus but in a brief moment of clarity I saw his face hold a cool indifference as he met my stare. “Would your sister agree with you, Feyre?” In a fever haze it sounded as though he said her name like a prayer. “She will die if you don’t act quickly. Make a bargain with me and she will be safe.”

Feyre took her bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes met mine, I gave her what I hoped was a smile but was probably more of a grimace as a coughing fit erupted from chest. Feyre’s grip on me tightened as tears welled in her eyes. She looked up at Rhysand, “We were told not to make bargains with fae.”

I closed my eyes listening to his voice, “And yet you still made one with Amarantha. If it wasn’t clear she’s dying.”

Feyre shook her head, “Lucien will be here, and he can help us, I trust Tamlin.”

Rhysand sighed and I opened my eyes, my lids feeling heavy, and I used most of my energy to keep them on the former High Lord. “Lucien could get here tomorrow, or five days from now,

I gripped my sister’s hand and gave it a weak squeeze, “Feyre,” My voice cracked my throat and my mouth extremely dry from dehydration. “I trust him.” My gaze met Rhysand’s and I could have sworn there was a flicker of stars in his gaze I reached out my hand to him, he quirked his brow, but my hand met with Calloused ones. “I trust you,” A fit of coughing took over and there was a brief squeeze of my hand from his almost comforting.

 “What do you want?” Panic laced Feyre’s voice as my eyes began to flutter shut, loosening my grip on the High Lord’s hand. Rhy’s grips may have tightened but my mind was in a haze.

“I heal her, and you come and spend two weeks in the Night Court with me.”

“No,” Feyre said her voice strained. “I won’t do it.”

My eyes creak open slightly, as the feeling of soothing circles are brushed against my wrist. “Well, that’s a shame,” Rhysand released the grip on my wrist and rose.

Feyre shrieked and amplified my already pulsing headache. “No wait!” Feyre’s eyes meet my gaze tears are brimming, “Five days. I will give you five days, but my sister has to be with me.”

Rhysand scoffs, “Bargaining?” There was a pause, “10 days.”

Feyre countered, “one week.”

Rhysand hummed for a moment, “One week it is. You have a bargain.”

There was a flash and I slipped unconscious.

I met the stare of the High Lord of the Night Court, and he looked as though he was recalling that memory as well. As Tamlin snarled, “You cannot take them,” His grip on me tightening to the point of eliciting a small whimper that caused Lucien’s head whipping over to mine. A scolding look to his friend caused Tamlin to release me as I moved swiftly to my sister as I lace my fingers with hers.

“You want to wage a war on interfering with a bargain that Feyre willingly agreed to than by all means Tamlin be my guest.” He approached my twin and I and held out both of his hands with the palm. “Ladies, if you don’t mind.”

Feyre looked at me, fear extended to her features I gave her hand a comforting squeeze and a nod of my head that seemed to put her at ease. She reached out her free hand and I followed suit. Rhysand grips our hands and before Tamlin can make a beeline toward us, we were consumed by darkness and landed on a balcony and Rhysand ushered us inside to a large dining room area with dark red and black décor.

I looked back at the balcony ignoring Feyre’s bantering with the High Lord. Where we were, was on the side of the mountain and the scenery was breathtaking, the sun glinting off the snow on the mountain. The sun is beginning to set in the sky turning to hues of pink and purples painting the sky. I wish Feyre would take in the scene in the hopes that she would find inspiration to paint again.

Rhysand yelp of pain pulled me from the beautiful seen to see that he was rubbing the back of his head. Feyre has her second slipper in her hand, “Don’t you-“Rhysand growled as she threw the second slipper at him and the High Lord catches the slipper and smirks.

Feyre just scoffs, “Just take us to our room.” Tapping her now foot impatiently the way she crossed her arms I could have almost mistaken her for our eldest sister.

Rhysand’s lips formed a tight line. Crossing his arms in answer to hers, and I had to cough to cover up my laugh. The High Lord’s eyes twinkled with amusement and in a blink, it was back to normal, and he was scowling at my sister. “Follow me.”

Rhysand walked away not waiting to see if we were following him, I began to follow him and a small hand gripped mine. I paused and looked at Feyre her eyes were sunken, and her face had thinned since we came out of Under the Mountain, “I don’t like this.” Feyre whispered, “When we get home, I’m going to see if Tamlin can break the bargain.

I gave her a comforting squeeze giving her a warm smile fighting the disgust at her calling the Spring Court home. “Keep an open mind, Fey.” You paused, “He did save my life,” I looped my arm into hers, “Come on.” I dragged my sister into the hall and rushed to catch up to the High Lord who was leaning against a set of double doors.

“I figured the two of you would want to share a room.” Rhysand smiled and pushed off the door, “Does that work for you?”

I was shocked as I thought back to when we were taken to the manor in the spring court.

Feyre and I had our hands intertwined, the only thing preventing them from shaking, as we followed the High Lord of the Spring court through his manor. Tamlin, as we found out his name, was on our journey to the fae lands. The blonde fae male paused at one of the doors and opened them, “This is where room for either of you. Which one is up to you, of course.”

Feyre and I exchanged a look of pure panic, Feyre was the one to speak first, “Can’t we stay in the same room?”

Tamlin bristled, “You have spent the last few years in a room sharing a bed with your two other sisters and you still want to share a room?”

I glowered, “Well maybe, we’re in a strange place, with strangers and strange creatures, and maybe we seek comfort in each other’s company.”

Tamlin returned my glare and through gritted teeth, “You have two separate rooms, use them or don’t, I don’t care.” Tamlin walked past the two of us purposely bumping into my shoulder. “Dinner will be ready in a couple hours. Feel free to join.”

“Prick.” You muttered. As you and Feyre walked into one of the bedrooms.

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, bringing you back to the hall, Rhysand’s brows furrowed in what looked like concern. “Are you alright?”

I nod and give a smile, “I’m fine, are you okay with us staying together? I know that our ‘arrangement’ is different back in Spring.”

“You can call it home,” Feyre straightened, as if she realized who was standing and listening, “I’m fine with sharing a room.” She once again gripped my hand and dragged me to the room and slammed the door, not even muttering a goodnight to our host.

“My home is the cottage in the human lands, Feyre, considering,” I tuck my hair to reveal my round ear, “By their standards, I shouldn’t be here.  The only reason I’m here and tolerated is because of you.” Feyre flinched at the confession. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Look, I don’t want to fight. You asked me to stay with you and I will, but please let me adjust at my own pace.”

Feyre nodded and, in a flash, she grabbed you and embraced you in a hug, “I love you, Y/N,” you wrap her arms around your sister and squeeze. “Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course,” you pull away and flick her nose, “Alright let’s get you out of this hideous dress.” She laughed and nodded. As if on que the doors of the wardrobe opened and there were two-night outfits. One was in a beautiful violet that looked too small for me and one in a ruby red.  “Well, that’s convenient.” I mutter as I pull out the red shirt and pants, running the cool silk through my fingers. “I have to say,” Feyre blue eyes, met mine, “The Night Court has style.”

We changed into night outfits, and I grumbled over my exposed mid-drift and how they accentuated my curves but overall, they were comfortable. I took a glance at Feyre and my heart ached. I could see her ribs protruding, I knew she was having a hard time, but every time I would ask her about it, she would brush off my concern, tell me that others had it worse under the mountain. Tamlin could barely look at me most of the time, so I was never able to bring it up to her betrothed.  Lucien made himself scarce ever since Ianthe came to stay on the property, so no one was there to help me help her. Feyre smiled at me, “Shall we get some rest? It’s been a long day.”

I nodded and we crawled into bed and cuddled close together and fell asleep.

Tears were falling down my cheeks as I watched Amarantha raise my sister’s body off the ground and throw her down like a rag doll. I was ready to run up to her, but Lucien pinned me to his chest concealing me from Amarantha’s sight. Feyre’s mouth moved and the rage on the red haired fae’s flared in her eyes. Amarantha smirked, “Well you figured it out, but you failed to be specific of when I free you.” Rhysand lunged at Amarantha and with a flick of a wrist he was flung against the wall.

Crack

The tether to my other half had snapped, and Lucien gripped me tighter as I screamed, my sobs uncontrollable. Lucien was whispering in my ear, but I couldn’t discern what he was saying, past my screams. I didn’t even notice how he stilled as the power shifted, and Tamlin unleashing his full power on Amarantha. “Feyre,” you whimpered as Lucien returns to consoling you as Amarantha was torn to shreds. Lucien let me go as I crawled to my sister; her limp body unresponsive. “Feyre, wake up, please wake up.” I sobbed leaning over body sobbing into her should, “Come back to me. Please I can’t do this without you.”

I jolted awake from the nightmare of a memory that plagued me every night these past three months. Sweat coated hair clung to my forehead as I turned to find my sister sleeping peacefully beside me her now pointed ears, proof that she was alive. It should have been me. I thought to myself. I shook the thought, knowing I had to be brave for her. Knowing she needed me to be strong enough to help her through this. I silently slid off the bed and snuck out of the room, knowing full well I would not be able to fall back asleep I figured I would explore our home for the next week.

My feet pad across the carpet and wander through the hall, as far as décor goes the halls are bare. Though the walls are dark the fae lights create a comforting ambiance. A door creaks open that catches my gaze, and I press myself against the wall hoping the shadows conceal me though no one ever came out. Deeming it safe to peel myself from the wall I walked toward the open door and my eyes widened. I stepped into the room and was mesmerized by the books lining the walls and the fireplace sending warmth down my spine. A window showcased the night sky, the room was breathtaking, and I began tracing the tomes with my fingers.

Nesta and Elain sometimes would pull me aside and teach me how to read when we had spare time. Though I could never read books at the same rate they do. Some words were still hard, and my understanding of the words sometimes went amiss so by the time we lost our fortune I had given up on it entirely.  Though I always loved the idea of reading to get lost in a story and transported to far off places.

“Someone having a hard time sleeping?” The deep voice that could cause anyone’s toes to curl, caused me to jump and I spun to find the source of that voice. My eyes met Hazel ones and I came face to face with the most beautiful male I had ever encountered.

The male was tall my head barely met his chest, dark raven hair the same as Rhysand’s fell to his shoulders his face was one blessed by ancient gods his chiseled jaw line and sultry lips. He wore red jewels on his chest and atop his hands and I gaped as I noticed his wings were tucked tight to his body as he leaned against the door frame. His face showed concern. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” He spoke again. “Are you Feyre?”

I shook my head words lost on me, I shook my head and continued, “Afraid not, though I am her sister.” I picked up the book that was in my hands and put it back on the shelf, “I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t sleep and the door kind of opened on its own I was curious.”

The male raised his hand, “Rhys wants you both to feel comfortable while you’re here. You are more than welcome to be here.” He walks in deeper and faux whispers, “I technically shouldn’t be talking to you right now?”

You take a tentative step closer to him and faux whisper back “How come?”

He gives a wolfish grin, “He doesn’t want us to scare you away.”

I quirk a brow at him, since he made his presence known I’ve only felt this overwhelming comfort. “Are you someone I should be scared of?” I asked.

His hazel eyes glance at my night ware and it’s then that I notice that the color matches his rubies, interesting. His eyes linger on my exposed stomach that I wrap an arm around feigning a chill. His eyes meet mine noticing the shift and gives me a full smile showing his teeth, “Here? No. On the battlefield? Absolutely.”

I laugh, a sound I haven’t heard out of my mouth in a while. “I don’t think I’ll be on the battlefield anytime soon, so I’ll have to take your word for it.” You noticed how eyes are bright, “Well, it’s late and I don’t want to deter you from whatever it was you were doing.” I walk around him as he straightened, “It was nice meeting you.”

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He asked right as I reached the door. He turned to face me.

I shrug, “What keeps anyone from sleeping? Nightmares.” I give him a small nod, “Goodnight…”

“Cassian, my name is Cassian.”

“I’m Y/N. Sweet Dreams, Cassian.”

I leave and I could have sworn before I did, I heard a soft, “Sweet Dreams, Princess.” Before bolting back to my room to my twin.

Chapter 2

[shroomdreams]

Fish Out Of Water

Jiyan x F!Mermaid!Reader

NSFW

CW: Strangers-to-Lovers, porn with plot, monster reader, light angst in the middle, first time, lots of foreplay, unprotected sex, p in v, cumming inside. A/N: I didn’t mean for it to get this long. I’m so sorry yall, I hope you guys enjoy! 6.5k words

Miles off the coast of a settlement in Tiderise Cliff, underneath the waves, a strange being gazes upwards and dreams of the breaching the unknown. You are a creature of the waters, some may call a siren. However, you don’t have aspirations of drowning sailors or anything remotely similar. Simply put, you want to learn more of the strange world above the waters you call home. The one thing that stops is that you don’t exactly look like the “humans” that populate the world. Few times your head pokes out of the water, they’ve mistaken you for something called a “Tacet Discord.”

Still, it didn’t deter you from observing them, watching how their bodies moved. You gained a better understanding of the human form after a year or two of observing them. Despite this, your plans to explore the land was interrupted by the chaos ravaging the area. You hid in the water, hoping for things to calm down.

When they did, you heard that there will be a festival celebrating the defeat of an enormous Tacet Discord. This was your chance! Even if you couldn’t stay for too long, this was your moment to take in the human culture and be among them. However, your first steps were rather shaky… Both literally and figuratively. For one thing, it was a massive learning curve trying to balance on legs, and you fell face first into the sand. Still, you had to press on, holding yourself onto a rock for stability.

“Excuse me, ma’am!” A voice sounds from afar. Looking up, you see a group of humans wearing the same outfits marching towards you. A few of them are looking away as they approach, while the leader of the squad walks up to you. “Are you alright? You took a fall over there…” He says, a light blush on his cheeks.

“Uhm… I’m okay, thank you.” The nervous look on their faces make you apprehensive. The leader scratches the back of his head, clearing his throat.

“That’s good. Have you been attacked in some way?”

“Er, no… I don’t think so.”

The humans seem to look at each other with a certain look, one you can’t really parse. The leader steels his gaze and straightens his back. “I see… Well, you should come with us. It’s dangerous out here. While we have dealt with the threnodian threat, we can’t be too sure…”

So you find yourself with a cloak wrapped around your shoulders, shielding your body from the sunlight as you walk among the humans. You learn that they were dispatched to patrol the perimeter around the settlement to make sure there’s minimal Tacet Discord interference. When you reach the settlement, the leader tasks for some of the humans to go back to patrolling while he and a few others make sure you’re okay.

“We’ll just conduct a quick medical examination, miss.” The woman in the white robe explains. You find yourself inside a tent with all sorts of important looking devices inside, sitting on an elevated surface. “Please tell me if there’s any sort of discomfort.” The woman presses a few instruments to certain parts of your body, sticking a tube in your mouth and taking it out after a certain point. She scribbles something on her clipboard.

“Your vitals are normal, and there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong.” The woman says. “However, there are still a few things I’d like to confirm. Would you mind waiting here for a moment?” After you nod, she walks outside.

“How is she?” A man in teal attire would ask. The woman bites her lip, looking at her notes.

“Results show me that she’s a normal human, but I noticed a few aberrations on her legs. They look like fish scales… and I spotted a tacet mark on the back of her neck. As for any injuries, there’s also a scar on her shoulder. I suspect that it was caused by a bullet.”

“So we have an unidentified resonator who seemingly washed up on the beach…” He rests his chin on his hand, eyebrows scrunched together. “This is troubling. Maybe the result of an exile attack?”

“Considering the patrollers found her without any clothes…”

The silence hangs for a brief moment.

“She didn’t mention any hostility, but we can’t be sure if she blocked out the memory or if she’s actively avoiding the subject. Either way, General, I suggest we handle this delicately.”

“Very well. Have someone bring her clothes. I’ll go talk with her, see if we can make a breakthrough.”

Back inside, you perk up when the tent flaps open, revealing a man with dark teal hair and golden eyes. You note the scales on his face as he takes a stool and sits down, making you look down at him. He smiles at you.

“Hello. How are you feeling, miss?”

You can’t help but smile back, leaning in a bit. “I’m feeling fine, thank you.” You pause. “Uhm, that woman from earlier… Is she coming back?”

“Ah, Dong Mei will return shortly. I’d like to introduce myself. I am Jiyan of the Midnight Rangers.”

Midnight Rangers… That must be the group who found you. From his attire, you get the feeling Jiyan must be someone important to them. The presence of someone like Jiyan suddenly fills you with unease, your eyebrows knitted together with worry as you shuffle awkwardly. Noticing your tension, Jiyan holds his hands up.

“Please, there’s no need to be worried. I merely want to know how you’re currently feeling, that’s all.”

“Well… I feel fine.” You answer honestly. “It’s a bit strange to have this many people care about me. I uhm, I would have thought strangers would be treated differently.”

Jiyan frowns at your reply. “Forgive me, but it’s troubling to hear you say such a thing. What makes you think we’ll just show you door?”

“Uh…”

The words struggle to form a coherent sentence in your mind, staring at Jiyan as you try and supply him with an answer. Nothing happens, leaving you in silence, your hands resting on your lap.

…You decide to change the subject.

“This settlement… They’re celebrating a festival soon, aren’t they?” You ask.

“Yes. Were you planning on attending?”

“Mhmm.” You nod. “It’s actually my first time here. I don’t really know of the customs or any of the rules.” You don’t mention the brief flash of sadness in Jiyan’s eyes as you speak. “I want to spend some time here, if only for a little while. I’ll be gone by the time the festival concludes.”

“Do you have a place to stay for a while? The festival wouldn’t be ready in two days.” Jiyan asks. When you shake you head, he closes his eyes in thought. “…If it doesn’t discomfort you, you can stay with us here until the festival. Will that be alright?”

“Really? But wouldn’t I be a burden to you?”

It’s Jiyan’s turn to shake his head. “Not at all. We have more than enough resources to accommodate one civilian. Now come along, we should get you cleaned up.”

“Oh, I see. Thank you.”

That’s the end of that conversation, apparently, as Jiyan leads you outside. Throwing your cloak on, you follow Jiyan towards a wooden house. “You can take showers here, if needed.” Jiyan explains.

”Dong Mei will come here with your clothes.”

You walk inside the house. Leaving your cloak on a cubby, you walk further inside and find yourself in a room filled with tiny bodies of water, with a few people already inside. You timidly make your way over a pool, surrounding yourself in the water. The warm temperature of bath is way different than the cold sea you grew up in, but it’s pleasant. You scrub away the grains of sand from your face and allow yourself to be cleansed by the water.

After a moment of soaking in the water, you remove yourself from the bath and dry yourself off with a towel. “Hello, miss!” Ah, that must be Dong Mei. You poke your head out and see the doctor from before holding a bundle of clothes. “A helpful couple gave us these clothes, said it’s a hand-me-down from their daughters.”

Indeed, you’re now wearing a modest dress that makes you blend in with the crowd. You giggle, twirling around to make the skirt flare up a bit. After a bit of thinking, you decide to keep the cloak on you. Jiyan smiles when he sees you walk out the bath house with Dong Mei in tow.

“Did you enjoy the bath house?”

“I did. I haven’t had a bath like that ever!” You giggle, clapping your hands. Jiyan laughs along side you. “Uhm, now that I’m clean, may I go down and see the preparations? I know you said the festival wouldn’t be ready for a while, I just don’t want to be idle.”

“It’s no problem. Would you want me to accompany you?”

Dong Mei’s eyes widen, darting towards to Jiyan then to you. A mischievous smile grows on her face as Jiyan blinks, processing the words that escaped from his mouth. “Oh look at that! Haoran and the others came back. I’ll just leave you in the General’s capable hands.” She quickly makes a strategic exit, leaving you alone with Jiyan.

“...Ahem. Well, shall we?”

“We shall.”

The hustle and bustle of the settlement makes for an energetic environment. You ooh and ahh even at the slightest things. Jiyan smiles as he watches your reactions, chuckling as you point out items and decorations.

“Oh! Jiyan, what’s this flower called?” You pick up a pink flower with five petals, inhaling its scent. “I’ve never smelled something so sweet before… Can I eat it?”

“I’d advise you to not do so.” Jiyan replies. “This is a Pecok flower. Usually, the artisans would use it to make seals for important documents. It’s a pretty one.” He looks you in the eye as he speaks, gently taking the flower from you. He brushes the hair from your face, setting the plant in your hair. A slight blush graces your cheeks at the gesture, eyeing the flower from the corner of your vision.

You spend the rest of the day strolling around, pointing out some oddities and asking Jiyan for his opinion. As the sun sets, you realize that you have no idea where exactly to go. Despite the general saying that you could stay in camp, you aren’t entirely sure where exactly you’re supposed to stay at.

“Jiyan,” You look up at him with a small frown. “Where am I going to sleep?”

Jiyan is silent for a moment. “If it it doesn’t make you uncomfortable, then perhaps you could stay with me?”

Your eyes light up, beaming at Jiyan. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you Jiyan!”

Settling in for the night, you change behind a screen and into your night clothes, which is just Jiyan’s shirt. You place the Pecok Flower somewhere safe, kissing one of the petals before going back to your cot. It was actually Jiyan’s first, but he insisted you take it while he takes the sleeping bag. Yawning, you roll over and flash a smile to him.

“Goodnight Jiyan.”

“Goodnight.”

Laying on your back, you close your eyes and drift off to sleep…

In the wee hours of the morning, Jiyan wakes up first. He stifles a yawn, sitting up and stretching his neck. The sun hadn’t even breached the horizon, the firmament cradling the stars in its embrace. He turns to look at your sleeping figure. Your head is titled to the side, drool running from your mouth and staining his pillow. He takes in how your chest rises and falls, the fabric of his shirt riding up to reveal some of your more intimate parts.

The way the neckline droops downward, nearly exposing one of your breasts, while the hem of his shirt just barely covers your rear… Jiyan gulps, his throat suddenly feeling dry. He lays back down. A tangled mess of feelings creates a tapestry of emotions, hung up by his conscience.

You were a resonator who came from out of the blue, with an unknown past and naked as the day you were born. Would he be like the people who had done you harm, Jiyan wonders as he palms himself, shame creeping in his mind. He freezes when you yawn, turning his head to see you smack your lips and adjust your position, facing away from him.

…He decides to take an early bath.

When you wake up, Jiyan is nowhere to be found. Taking a spare robe and your daily clothes, walking to the bathhouse under the slowly rising skies. As you shuck off Jiyan’s shirt, you pause when you hear groaning from somewhere in the bathhouse. When you peek through the door way, your hands fly up to cover your mouth when you see Jiyan doing… something. Urged by your instincts, you quickly turn away as he lets out a loud groan, panting at the end.

“U-Uhm… Is anyone in here?”

He jolts in surprise, hearing your voice. “I-It’s me.” He replies, quickly throwing a towel over his lower half as you walk inside the space.  You look elsewhere as you make your way to the pool, setting down your towel before you slip in.

“Good morning, general.” You timidly greet, looking up at him as you sink into the water. Jiyan mumbles out his own greeting, unwilling to meet your gaze. The two of you sit in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds outside. Jiyan can’t help but sneak glances towards you.

“...Jiyan, are you okay? Your face is all flushed.”

“Ah- No need to worry about me. I just… Had to take care of something earlier.”

“I see…”

Ever bashful, you sink further down while only your head pokes out of the water. “If you want, you can uhm, join… me…” Your words trail off, too embarrassed to say the rest. Still, you perk up when Jiyan decides to indulge you, the water rippling as he sits down.  Though you aren’t exactly sure of the  proper bath etiquette, you decide to move closer to Jiyan. The general says nothing, though he rests a hand on your shoulder.

“...This scar. How did you get it?”

“Oh, that.” You look to your shoulder, tracing a finger over your scar. “Well… It’s a bit of a funny situation. I remember swimming in the waters, diving down to the sea floor to collect shells. When I went up to the surface, I heard someone yell,” You cleared your throat, putting your best impression of the person you heard. “’Tacet Discord! Quick, shoot at it!’”

The color drains from Jiyan’s face as you continued on with your tale.

“So I tried to get away, and they started shooting… Bullets, I think they were called? A lot of them missed me, but they managed to hit my shoulder. And well, here we are.” You giggled.

Jiyan doesn’t share your amusement, instead pulling you in close. “Why do you laugh at your pain?” He asked, searching your eyes for answers. He finds confusion instead. “The fact someone harmed you because they thought you were a TD… What if you were killed?”

You smiled sadly. “I don’t think anyone would miss me, Jiyan. I don’t have family waiting for me, and what little friends I had leave me in the end.”

“Still… I wish you didn’t have to go through that.” He says, rubbing your cheek. Leaning in to his touch, his breath tickles your lips, the close proximity unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

…However, the moment ended when you hear the murmuring of people approaching the area. You and Jiyan wrap up in the bathhouse, putting on your clothes and walking out, pinkies laced together.

Decorations slowly pop up in the area, banners and streamers being hung as vendors put up their stalls. You and Jiyan are the topic of hushed whispers and gossips as you strolled through the area. Though the festival starts tomorrow, a few vendors who managed to complete their stall began offering trinkets to you. Since you had no shell credits to your name, you manage to completely ignore most of them… Up until a certain stall.

“You there missy!” A woman would wave you over. She grins when you approach, pulling out a box. Flicking the lock open, she reveals an assortment of necklaces and collars. “That dress is real pretty on you… But you know what would make you prettier? Some jewelry, only for a few hundred shell credits.”

…You will admit, these necklaces are really pretty… But then again, you have no credits to you name. Still, it’d be nice to have one of these. As you’re about to decline the woman’s offer, you pause when you take note of a collar. The collar had a wavy pattern stylized in loopy shapes, with little beige rhinestones acting as sand at the bottom. The teal seashell hanging from the collar completes the look. The woman grins, taking the collar and placing it in your hands.

“Good eye, madame. This little beauty takes inspiration from the bay that surrounds us. Just for you, this collar is only worth two thousand shells!”

Two thousand shells… That’s still a lot. But as you were about to hand the collar back, Jiyan stops you by placing down a pouch of credits, pushing to towards the woman. She accepts it with glee while you stare up at Jiyan in shock. “Jiyan-”

“Don’t be so worried.” He smiles, taking the collar from you. “It really does suit you. Here…” He turns you around, eyes flicking towards your tacet mark. Carefully wrapping the band around your neck, his fingers graze over the mark, making you shiver. “How is it? Not too tight, I hope.”

“No, it’s perfect.” You smile, looking down at the shell collar. “Thank you, Jiyan… I’ll have to look for a matching shell.”

Again, you continue the routine of strolling through the settlement before retiring back to Jiyan’s tent. You’re back to wearing one of his shirts, and you sleep the night away...

Tomorrow, you’ll surely have the time of your life with the man who has been so nice to you. You’re sure of it!

When you wake up, a wave of mischief overtakes you, surged on by the excitement of the festival. Carefully climbing out of bed, you crawl over to where Jiyan is and hover over him with a smug smile. A dainty finger makes contact with his cheek. “Ji-yaaaan. Ji-yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan.” Poke poke poke- You pout, thinking your attempts of rousing him from slumber is a bust. Suddenly, you feel muscular arms wrap about your midsection and pull you down, tumbling until you end up pinned underneath your target.

“Getting rather antsy, aren’t we?”

“Good morning, Jiyan!” You chirp, smiling up at him. Jiyan’s gaze softens, before he gains mischievous glint in his eyes. You let out a squeal when Jiyan begins nibbling your cheeks, laughing uncontrollably as you feebly hit his shoulders. “Hahaha! Jiyan noooo! Stoooop! Hahahahaha!” This earns you a playful growl from the general, who starts prodding at your sides, sending you into a fit of giggles.

Jiyan eventually relents when you push him off, nibbling on his cheek as payback. The two of you get ready for the day, Jiyan preparing to leave in order to take care of some business. “I promise I’ll come back before the festival begins,” He says, adjusting your collar. Golden eyes paired with a small smile gives you reassurance of his oath. The general rubs your cheek before he sets off to secure the area. As you think about what to do for the rest of the day, you’re called outside by a familiar voice.

“Ah, Miss Dong Mei!” You greet, bowing slightly. “What do you need me for?”

“Well, since the festival starts later on, I figured I’d give you a whole makeover for when Jiyan comes back.” Dong Mei grins, taking your hand and leading you somewhere else. “It took us some time and we had to rush, but the girls and I got everything we need to turn you into the prettiest lady in Jinzhou.”

“But Miss Dong Mei-”

“No buts!”

So you’re dragged into a tent full of women whose smiles fill you with a sense of dread. However, you calm down when they gently preen and argue about what shade of eyeshadow is perfect for your skin. Eventually, Dong Mei proudly presents you in front of a mirror they borrowed for this occasion. The women pat themselves on the back as Dong Mei places the Pecok flower in your hair. Finally, you’re clothed in a short-sleeved dress that hugs your figure, accentuating your curves.

“What do you think?”

“Is this really what I look like? I look like a whole other person… Will Jiyan even recognize me?”

“Don’t be silly, of course he will. Oh! Here he comes.” Dong Mei saunters out the tent. Her conversation with the general is a bit muffled, your apprehension growing with each unintelligible syllable. It isn’t until Dong Mei calls for you did you snap out of your train of thought. With a small sigh, you shyly part the tent flaps, glancing at Jiyan’s reaction.

Pink dusts his cheeks, his eyes wide and twinkling with surprise, mouth parted open. Words seem non-existent as you timidly make your way in front of him, looking into his golden eyes. “Miss Dong Mei and the others gave me a makeover… Do you uhm… Like it?” It seemed like such a silly question to ask when Jiyan’s eyes scan your figure, and you take note that your legs seem to be exposed by the slit running up the side. Dong Mei elbows Jiyan, causing him to cough and straighten his posture.

“You look beautiful. Perfect for an outing at the festival.” He smiles, and you return the expression. Dong Mei giggles and waves you off as you link arms with Jiyan, walking towards the big event you’ve been waiting for.

At night, colorful streamers and lanterns decorate the starry sky as you and Jiyan strolled through area. Who would have thought you’d find such a wonderful friend when you ventured to the surface? Sure, you had an awkward start, but the elation you feel right now as you toss a lightweight ball into one of the bowls, earning you a pretty, albeit fake fish. Jiyan chuckles at you inspect the fish, turning it around in your hand. The stall owner generously gives you a bag to hold any trinkets you win, and you drag Jiyan to play more games.

Your bag of trinkets fills up, as does your joy. Currently, Jiyan had you sit down at a table while he went to get the two of you some food, leaving you to entertain yourself with the fake fish you earned earlier. It’s unlike any fish you’ve seen in the waters, but you wonder if such a creature could exist. The fake fish swims around in a tiny container, your eyes following its every moment.

“You seem occupied,” Jiyan says as he returns with a small carton box of fries, a few meat skewers, and two cups with pink liquid inside. “I didn’t know what flavor you liked, so I got us both strawberry. I hope you don’t mind.”

Shaking your head, you return the fake fish to your trinket bag as you indulge in the food. At some point, you take a fry and wave it in front of Jiyan’s face, clearly intending to feed him. Jiyan stares at you for a moment, before chuckling and biting the fry, giggles bubbling from your chest. Your eyes shine when you take a sip of the strawberry drink, making sure to savor every last drop.

“Whew… This festival is everything I thought it’d be.” You say, watching as lanterns float into the air. A sad smile graces your features as the water gently laps at your shoes. The two of you have decided to sit by the beach, where you could see the city of Jinzhou in the distance. Leaning into Jiyan’s shoulder, you look up at him. “Thank you for everything, Jiyan. I don’t think I would have had this much fun without you around.”

“...”

“...Jiyan? Are you okay?” The general had gradually stopped speaking over the course of your conversation, deep in thought. Just as you were about to poke his cheek, Jiyan gently grasps your hands as he looks deep into your eyes, his golden hues shining under the moonlight. “Jiyan?-”

Suddenly, Jiyan’s lips lock with yours, and you note the faint trace of strawberries staining his mouth. Jiyan leans in, one of his hands supporting your lower back as your hands fly up and grab onto his shoulders for extra support. You gasp when Jiyan pulls back, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You gaze up at him with wide eyes and reddened cheeks, panting slightly as you processed just exactly what happened.

“Jiyan, wha-”

“I- Apologize for my rash actions… But I could not bare to keep it a secret for much longer…” He mutters. You could make out the faint blush in his cheeks as he holds your chin, giving your jaw light bunny kisses. “I cannot deny it anymore. I’ve fallen for you. You’re so sweet and genuine, I just couldn’t help these feelings sprouting inside me. So I have something to ask you.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

Time slows. Jiyan waits for your reaction.

What he doesn’t expect is for you push him off and for your dress to burst into energy particles, watching as your figure dives into the water. Jiyan can only stand up, watching as your tail waves at him before disappearing into the waters below. As he stands there, his mind scrambling to take in the situation, he notices your collar washing up beside him. The lonely shell glints under the moon’s pitiful light as Jiyan picks up your bag of trinkets.

The following day, Jiyan calls out your name at the beach, hoping he could at least draw you out. Dong Mei and the other rangers took some time off to help him in his search despite his protests. Jiyan clutches the collar in his hand as he scans the waters for any sign of you. “General Jiyan, we haven’t found anything.” Dong Mei says. She’s never seen the general so distraught before. “Perhaps we should send someone to look for her?”

“No,” Jiyan vehemently shakes his head. “She’s… She would just get scared off again. Thank you for your assistance, but this is something I have to tackle on my own.”

Without further instructions, Dong Mei salutes Jiyan and leaves with her fellow rangers. Jiyan lets out a deep sigh, staring into the water with a grim expression, his lips tightening into an uncomfortable line. Where could you have gone, he wonders as the sand crunches underneath his boots. His mind replays the scene from last night, his chest tightening when he takes in your shocked expression. Everything about you suddenly clicked that night. Your lack of clothing, the scales on your legs, and the bullet scar on your shoulder…

Still, Jiyan doesn’t give up. Day after day, he walks alongside the beach, hoping to see the distinct color of your tail in the waters. His soldiers mention how he always seem to smell of salt, and he finds himself losing his appetite whenever seafood is mentioned. However, his search is rewarded when he spots you near the shore, sitting on the sand. You dive back into the water, but before you could retreat to the depths, you hear him call your name.

You’re nearing the shallows, eyeing the shadow. You know exactly who that is. But could you really face him after what you did? He must be very upset at you. It’s so easy to just swim back into the deep and return to your simple life under the water. You could return to normalcy.

…But could you really do that? After the time you’ve spent up on the surface, you craved more. You want to eat yummy food, visit Jinzhou city, see all the pretty flowers you couldn’t see underwater. Most of all…

…You wanted Jiyan.

You breach the surface, staring up at the man who helped you navigate the world. Before you could speak, Jiyan breaks into a sprint and lifts you from the water, spinning you around and holding you close. You could feel his chest heaving. “…I missed you.” He whispers. Your heart breaks when you catch sight of his tear filled gaze.

“Jiyan… I’m sorry. It was all so sudden, a-and I…” You sniffle, feeling your own eyes welling up in tears. You curl into Jiyan’s hold, Jiyan adjusting his grip to hold you in a bridal carry, pressing his forehead to yours as you begin to cry. “I didn’t want to make you sad. I’m not human at all. Y-You deserve someone who isn’t… This.” Your hands clumsily wipe away the tears rolling down your cheeks. “You’re the g-general, while I’m just some nobody… You deserve someone better.”

“Shh shh shh… None of that. Love, I fell for you and you alone.” Jiyan murmurs, kissing your cheek. “I’m hurt that you ran away, but I understand why. You… You must have been terribly lonely all these years under the sea. It was my fault for scaring you off like that. I shouldn’t have dropped the news on you so abruptly. But I promise you this,” He plants light kiss to your lips as he closes his eyes. “I love you no matter what form you take. Whether you have legs or a fish tail, I’ll love you all the same. So please, don’t leave me so suddenly again.

“Oh Jiyan…!”

The waves crash against the rocks as you and Jiyan share a tender kiss, eyes closed as the water ripples around you. Opening your eyes, you shift into your human form as Jiyan smiles at you with blushing cheeks. The two of you make your way out of the water, and Jiyan cloaks you in order to preserve your dignity. Though if he was being honest with himself, it’s mostly because he wants nobody else to see your bare form.

If someone were to describe it, they’d say the trip back to the city of Jinzhou would be something out of a fairy tale, where you cuddled up to Jiyan as the truck makes it way back to civilization. Jiyan wastes no time bringing you back home, needy kisses on your neck and collar bones as you stumble through the front door. None of you realize just how starved the both of you were for attention before the cozy atmosphere of Jiyan’s home ignites that tiny spark.

After barely making it to the bedroom, Jiyan gently sets you down on the soft mattress of his bed, bashfully looking up at him through your lashes as he disrobes. Jiyan wastes no time kissing you again, tangling his tongue with yours and swallowing your moans, your legs feebly wrapping around his waist and pulling him close. Your soft curves contrast nicely with his muscular frame, the heated friction between your bodies making your head dizzy.

“Ah… Ji-Jiyan…” Whimpers fill the space as Jiyan nibbles at the flesh of your neck, biting and kissing such a sensitive place. Aiming to draw more sinful noises from you, Jiyan finally pays attention to your chest, pawing at one of them and gently kneading the flesh. The sensation was foreign to you, as you never paid much attention to that area before, but Jiyan’s mouth swallowing one of your buds was enough to get you moaning louder.

“Do you have any idea how much I wanted to do this?” Jiyan whispered, the pads of his thumbs drawing circles on nipples, teasing them until they hardened. You couldn’t reply, squealing when he suddenly tugs on your chest. “When you came to the bathhouse, I could barely control myself… You were so stunning,” He sucks on your nipple as you sob, your hands finding their way to his hair. “I wanted to devour you right then and there. But I couldn’t. Not with all those people around.”

Truly, you had no idea what you do to this man. You grip the sheets as you panted out, your chest littered with tiny bite marks and covered in saliva. Jiyan kisses your nipple one last time before settling between your legs. He was knelt on the floor of his bedroom as he parted your thighs, revealing your most intimate parts. You sit up, supported by your elbows as Jiyan licks at your inner thighs, shivering as his tongue makes contact with your skin.

“Mmmph!”

You throw your head back when he suddenly kisses the little pearl hiding in your folds, legs shaking as Jiyan licks up from your pussy to your clit. A yell escapes you when Jiyan’s mouth latches onto your clit, his groans sending sensual vibrations to your core, his fingers parting your folds to reveal your weeping cunt. This was a whole other range of emotions you never delved into before, but Jiyan is ready to take those first steps with you. Jiyan’s lips suckle on your clit with a vengeance as his fingers teased the entrance to your pussy, making you weep and cry out. “Jiyan! Oo-oooh- Hah! I-It feels… Good…!”

“Doesn’t it?” Jiyan asks, panting as his fingers tease your slit. “You’re being so good for me… Good girls deserve proper treatment.” You gasp when his middle finger slips in, Jiyan cursing when he feels your walls immediately tightening around his digit. His index finger has an even tougher time trying to join its twin as you babble about his treatment being too much. Your protests trail off when Jiyan finally manages to insert both of his fingers inside. Jiyan’s eyes widen when your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open, your pussy gushing out a white liquid.

Heavens above, you came just from two of his fingers. Your walls pulsate around the intruding digits, either trying to pull them inside or push them out. Either way, you keen as Jiyan plunges his fingers all the way in, trying to loosen up the tension in your core. You feel like he’s thrown you into the deepest parts of the ocean, trying your best to swim against the currents of arousal trying to drown you. However, the loss of Jiyan’s touch when he pulls out his fingers makes you whine, sitting up again. Your face is all red and sweaty, drool running down your chin. “Why… Why did you…”

Jiyan says nothing, instead turning you on your stomach as he climbs back on the bed. You whimper, feeling his hands part the globes of your rear in order to reveal the mess you’ve made between your legs, arousal dripping onto the sheets below. Jiyan lets out a groan at the sight, feeling his erection twitch. “Brace yourself,” he kisses your shoulder and tacet mark as he lines the head of his rod towards your entrance, hissing when the tip kisses your messy hole. Your grip on the sheets tighten when the tip breaches the ring of muscle, soaked by your arousal. “C-Come on… Loosen up for me, love.” Jiyan whispers, one hand keeping your hip steady while the other rests on your hand. Attempting to comply with his request, you will yourself to relax, moaning as Jiyan inches inside.

With every agonizing second, you find yourself becoming increasingly breathless as Jiyan takes up more space. By the time he’s fully sheathed inside your warm, gummy walls, you’re eyes have rolled back into your skull as your tongue lolls out from your mouth. Jiyan pants, struggling so hard not to immediately thrust into your warmth. You’re oh so precious to him, he doesn’t want to break you during such an intimate milestone in your relationship. “Hey, angel… Are you still with me?” He gasps out, leaning down to press light kisses to your tacet mark.

Though you couldn’t respond verbally, you’re able to nod your head. Jiyan kisses your tacet mark again. “I’ll start moving now. Just tell me if it hurts, okay?” When you nod your head once more, Jiyan breathes in and begins moving his length in shallow thrusts, testing the waters of your endurance. He listens intently to your pants and moans, and is quick to learn just what gets you going. Slick dribbles from your cunt as you become more vocal, spurring him on to speed up. His hips slap against your ass while his cock drags against your walls, searching for the one spot that’ll make you see stars. He finds it when you suddenly jolt and push back against his thrusts, and Jiyan starts attacking that sensitive area. Each stroke of his cock stimulates your sensitive walls as he takes in the sound of your voice breaking, struggling to say his name.

Still connected, Jiyan takes one of your legs and settles it on his shoulder, making lay on your side. The position has him reaching deeper than before, the head of his cock kissing your cervix with each thrust. “Ji-Jiyan! Ohhhh! Mmmph- Haaaah! Oh- S-Sensitive!- Mmmp!” You could barely speak, eyes hazy and struggling to keep open from the pleasure he’s dutifully giving to you. Meanwhile, Jiyan finds himself in the same situation, panting and groaning out your name while he furiously ruts into your warm cunt. The headboard bangs against the wall as he passionately thrusts into your pussy, his cock twitching against your poor walls.

“I’m gonna cum…” He pants, leaning down and resting his forehead on your chest. Such an intimate act is offset by the harsh slapping happening between your legs, your pussy gushing around his length as you feel a knot building inside your tummy. Your eager moans are swallowed up by Jiyan’s mouth as his thrusts become rough and sloppy, slamming into your weepy cunny and stirring up your insides. Your muffled sobs are silenced by Jiyan’s own groans as the knot snaps, legs trembling as Jiyan spears you deep, feeling a warm liquid coat your walls. Jiyan curses as he thrusts a few more time, shoving his cum further inside as your cunt swallows every last drop.

The two of you stay like that for what seems like an hour before Jiyan finally pulls out, watching as the mixture of your arousals leak from your cunt. You’re trembling after the whole ordeal, hips bucking up and causing more of his cum to leak outside. Jiyan lays down next to you and pulls you in, kissing you again.

A few weeks later, you’re recognized as an official citizen of Jinzhou, and you’ve moved in with Jiyan. Every once in a while, the two of you would return to where it all started, at a beach at Tiderise Cliff. Jiyan joins you in the water, holding you close as you embrace him underneath the surface. You breathe air into his lungs, temporarily giving him the ability to breathe underwater.

You’ll never be lonely ever again <3

[obsessedwrhys]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ Arthur Morgan x Duchess!Reader

ᯓ★ forbidden love trope, fluff, is angsty, forced marriage, drinking, cheating, sexism, violence, daddy issues, reader is fem!!

ᯓ★ Quick reminder there's 3 parts to this hc but the third part focuses HEAVILY on angst, this was supposed to be a story/series but im too lazy to do chapters, i dont have the patience and time. Also I'll be writing short stories with this prompt (the lore goes deep and im obsessed with this plot) you can request to be tagged.

You were a duchess from a wealthy family. If there was anything you wanted, you had it. However you could never have the thing you wanted so badly, freedom.

So it wasn't a surprise when the day came that your father had decided to arrange your marriage with a nobleman somewhere near Saint Denis, hoping to secure a great alliance between the family businesses. You had no say in it and was sent away like a package.

That was the plan until your stage was attacked by a bunch of bandits. All your guards were killed to the very last one, leaving just you.

Your pretty dress was spoiled by the dirt of the road as the bandit had his gun raised at you, his eyes lit up from the gleam of your diamond necklace. A gift your father gave you in hopes to bedazzle the nobleman...

But you just ended up catching the eye of the wrong person.

Just as he pulled the hammer of his pistol all the way to the back, bullets were fired from elsewhere. You could only cover your ears and lower your head as you caught glimpses of gunshots fired at the bandits.

Some died while some escaped.

Your focus on the dead bodies were pulled away when you heard sounds of a horse galloping to a stop not far from where you are.

That was when you saw him.

Cold blue eyes hidden behind a cowboy hat. He got off of his horse and was quick to assist you, placing his hand comfortingly on your shoulder and another holding your hand.

His palm felt comfortably rough under your touch.

"You alright miss?" He'd ask, the scent of cigarettes heavy in his breath.

"I think so.." You'd answer.

With the death of your coachman, you had nowhere to go and you weren't exactly informed with the address of your new home.

Seeing the vulnerable state you were in, he offered to give you a ride. He'd hold you by the waist as he lifted you on his horse before mounting it himself. How he picked you up so effortlessly made you wonder on his strength.

Not exactly familiar with a stranger, you placed your hands hesitantly on the sides of his waist, which caught his attention almost immediately.

"C'mon now... no need to be so polite" He'd say, his voice low and sweet as he'd then grab your hands to make you wrap them around his waist. Leaving you with no choice but to have your chest pressed gently against his back.

Even from under his blue shirt you could feel his physique. How his muscles tenses and how his chest would fall.

It left you in a daze. You were never this inappropriately close to someone before. A man in court would have to take YEARS to even get this close to you.

When arriving at Saint Denis, he would hitch his horse before helping you to your feet. As you followed him close from behind, you could see the people of the city stealing glances of the two of you. It was almost like the sight itself was unimaginable.

An outlaw and a duchess?

After talking to the lawmen, you and him decided to rest by the bench just outside the station. You watched as he leaned back and made himself comfortable, his feet rested on top of his other knee. He'd turn to you to meet your gaze.

"What's your name?" He'd ask.

"(Y/N)" You'd say. Just then you'd catch how his eyes trailed down to your dress... before he nods to himself when looking out at the streets.

"What about you?" You'd speak up, being the one to ask for his name.

"Arthur"

Arthur... somehow in your mind the name fits him. The way he looks and behaves, it showed his character.

Once you were able to find the address of the manor, the journey on his horse would continue. Your hands found it's place wrapped around his waist.

What you'd least expected was how he'd asked of your status and your relation to this nobleman he was sending you to. It started off with simple answers but with more and more questions asked, you began pouring out your frustrations before you even realised it.

"My father never was one to care for me. After my mother's passing, he's prioritised his duties over me. I don't hate him for I choose to understand him... but I still feel this gaping hole in my chest"

"So he ignored you when you needed him... nothin's worse than having a coward for a father"

You had to admit, you were taken aback from some of the things he said about your life, mostly criticising your dad the most. But it was how he said it so casually that caught you by surprise.

Yet some of the things he said also made sense, it was like it gave you the rope that you needed to tie your thoughts down. The more he spoke, the more things clicked in your life.

His perspective of things intrigued you.

So when he dropped you off by the gate of the manor, you couldn't help but tell him to come by any time he liked. Either to talk or if he needed anything.

He'd shook his head with an amused smile.

"Yur a sweet girl but I'd hate to trouble you"

"It's no trouble at all. See it as a reward for helping me" You'd say and he'd stare at you, an indescribable look of wonder in his eyes as he nodded before riding off.

It wasn't just you who found his perspective in life interesting but he was also fascinated by your view as well.

How you chose to stay so optimistic and be grateful for even the smallest things in life. It made him wonder if he ever appreciated enough what little things he had.

That is why his visit would come sooner than you'd expected. Soon his first visit would escalate to another... and another... before it became frequent.

Everytime he came back, his goal was to unwind, which you never failed to do so when treating him to some tea in your private garden.

Sometimes you'd even read him a book you were reading at the time, even though it wasn't his strong suit, the way you narrated the story always had him invested.

However your visits were always done behind the back of your future husband, it wasnt hard to when you shared seperate rooms and that hes always away for work, still you'd feel guilty for doing this but some part of you cared more about spending time with Arthur than that.

Then one day, on one of Arthur's visits, he'd open up about his crew. You didn't know all of them but you could only catch a few names and the details of their character.

This new level of trust made your friendship blossom even more.

The way his eyes never left yours when you talked, sometimes it made you wonder if you had hypnotised the man.

He would laugh more. Smile more. His jokes weren't all funny but his humour was contagious enough to have you laugh along with him.

But you'd also notice the little things he'd done.

How he somehow cleans up before coming to see you.

Maybe even come bearing bouquets or gifts.

Not to forget everytime you even mention about something you were interested in or wanted, he would show up in a few days with the very same thing you talked about.

It wasn't that you couldn't afford it but the effort he put in just to get it for you.

It made you fall for him.

You were a fool if you denied it.

But you were even a bigger fool to think you could be with him.

You're a duchess, you had your reputation to hold up. And the obvious fact was that you were getting married to somebody else!

Despite the differences holding you back, your heart couldn't deny the fact you wanted to be with him. His presence alone made you melt.

And the same could be said for him, he just adored you. Your skin so soft and the sun complimenting your features just perfectly. Everytime he saw you was a reminder why he was fighting for his freedom.

But he knew he couldn't have you, you were just too good to be true.

Too good for him.

His thoughts would lead to him drinking one too many bottles on one night. Alone with his drunken thoughts, he'd make a reckless choice of showing up to the manor late at night.

Standing near the window of your bedroom that was a few floors up, he'd shout for your name drunkenly which awoken you in confusion. You'd look out to see him wobbling around, struggling to find balance on his feet.

Worried if he's hurt himself, you'd sneak down as quietly as you could to meet him outside at the garden. To your surprise, he was just a drunk mess.

"I— hic! I miss you!" He'd say, his breath stink of alcohol.

"Arthur? What's gotten into you?" You'd give him your arm to balance himself and the touch of your skin seemed to have his spirits brought back to earth for a while. Like it snapped something in him.

"You... you're cruel!" He'd point at you.

"Cruel...?" You were startled by his tone.

"How could you— make me— love you— ohh" He'd suddenly fall to his knees and you were fast to make sure he didn't hit his head, which ended with him resting his head on your chest, his eyes half lidded from the affects of the alcohol.

"Gorgeous.. " He'd utter before falling asleep.

Some part of you were confused by this sudden confession but you also felt glad your feelings were mutual. You'd hold him in your arms, placing your chin on top of his hair.

The next day was embarrassing for him, he'd find himself awake in the garden... with you beside him...

To be fair he was too heavy for you to carry anywhere so you just did what you could.

The sight of you curled by his side made your beauty ever more ethereal. How he found himself in this position was unclear but he didn't mind. Instead he laid his head back on the grass as he admired how soundly you slept.

His fingertips gently brushing the locks of hair behind your ear to get a better look of your face.

When you finally woke up and you two had talked, it took a lot of convincing to make this relationship of yours a try.

Lots of promises were made that day.

You promised to be careful not to let this be discovered by anyone while he promised to not involve you in the danger in his life.

The relationship was definitely an interesting one.

He calls you princess even though you've corrected him multiple times that it's a different title compared to a duchess.

"I'm a duchess Arthur, a princess has a higher rank than I do"

"Duchess, princess, s'all the same to me" He'd caress your cheek.

To be fair you've gotten use to the nickname that you never bothered to correct him ever again. Surprisingly you'd find yourself loving the name.

He would definitely take you to places on his horse. His favourite area was the beautiful field he stumbled upon one day, it was covered with pastel flowers that he just knew you'd immediately love it.

Which you did.

It became the place where you two could go to with the worries of the world off your shoulders.

Just imagine on the evening sunset, you're reading your book while seated among the short grass, your other hand gently tossling through his hair as he has his head rested on your lap. His hat was slightly tilted to cover his eyes for his nap.

Have I mentioned how he loves to admire you?

You could be a mess and he'd still look at you like you're single-handedly the most gorgeous person to walk this world.

This relationship would go on for weeks behind your future husbands back until one day he FINALLY acknowledge your presence.

Maybe it was something that happened at work but he'd suddenly suggest the idea to push the date of the marriage earlier. You obviously didn't like it but no matter what you said, he'd simply brush your words off and suggest it be done sooner.

You were devastated.

It broke you even more when telling Arthur about it and he could only hold you hopelessly in his arms as you cried.

How is it that your father or even your future husband never stopped to wonder if YOU were okay with this? It was like they treated you like a plastic doll.

To make you feel better, Arthur thought of bringing you to the city to catch a break. There was this restaurant he wanted to treat you to, it did seem high class and from the menu alone he could barely afford it but if it so much pleases you, it's all worth it.

It's not like a couple of bounty hunting won't work.

So don't even think about paying for the food because it'll offend him.

You two strolled down the streets and that's when you were approached by a man, turns out the town hall was looking to recruit new members for the council and from your appearance you were seen as a potential candidate.

At first you weren't so sure but you ended up accepting the invitation immediately.

The second the man left, Arthur had to pull you aside to talk.

"I don't mean to offend you princess but, I've had my experiences with the council and they ain't exactly the most charming folks" He said, being as polite as he could to not shatter your spirit.

"I know... my husband is apart of the council" You said and his eyes went wide from the sudden news.

"Why... then..."

"I'm tired of being his trophy wife Arthur... and I'm tired of feeling hopeless about it... so I'm gonna take his place... and let him feel what it's like to be miserable" You said, a plan already storming inside your brain and Arthur was here for it. He'd grin.

"That's my girl" He'd say, a proud look on his face.

[clockwayswrites]

Clock, I need you to know that I dreamt about that fic you aren't writing.

Clock, I don't dream. And on the very rare instances that I do, it's 99% disjointed nonsense that slips out of my head within 10 minutes of waking up. Literally, in my 24 years of life I've only had like 3 or 4 dreams that actually stuck.

But that fic you aren't writing has apparently sunk itself so deep into my brain that I had a once in a blue moon memorable dream about it.

It was still a bit disjointed, but I distinctly recall a dinner party? potluck? IDK, there was food; at Danny and Jason's apartment complex. Like, the while building. Some of Red Hood's crew was there. And Jason was in civvies. Dick was there too. And Danny was conspiring with everyone (not Jason) to be a mischievous little shit. So there weren't enough chairs. I'm sure you can see where this is going.

Oh my gods that is amazing. Also I'm sorry(?) for making you dream? Or you're welcome?

As a gift, to feed your poor brain... let's write a little bit of this. Hum, when would this happen for max amusement... Let's say this is after Danny has asked Hood if he wanted to share, but before the Goon scene.

-

“What the fuck,” Dick murmured to himself.

“They’re hiding chairs,” the stranger, who Dick hadn’t noticed leaning against the kitchen counter till then, explained.

Dick tilted his head in thought and took another sip of the battery acid they were calling punch at this potluck. The potency of the drink might explain what he was watching happen.

The chair on top of the tenuous stack wobbled dangerous.

One of the men— Marco? —who were trying to shove the stack of three chairs into the closet shushed the chair. He pointed at it like one would a misbehaving dog and that the threat alone would get it to stay.

Definitely the punch.

“Why?”

“Because if there aren’t enough chairs, someone is going to have to sit in someone else’s lap and they’re plotting to make that happen,” the stranger said.

Dick took a moment to glance away from the game of closet Jenga to look over the other person. They were a slight thing, but slight in the way that spoke of lean muscles and a hidden strength. It reminded Dick of how Wally was built. The bright aqua eyes were almost unnerving in how bold the color was. The way they were grinning, widely, as they continued to watch the struggle didn’t exactly make them any less unsettling.

They took a large bite out of the cookie they had in hand.

A cookie sounded like a good idea. Dick snagged one from the platter, recognizing Jason’s baking.

Cinnamon and spice bloomed across his tongue. “Huh. Okay. Does Jason know?”

The stranger laughed, shaking their head. “No, that would defeat the whole purpose. He’s the intended chair.”

“Huh.” Well that was interesting. “Who’s the intended seater. Sitter? Sittie?”

“That would be me,” the stranger said, sticking their hand not holding the cookie out. Dick set his war crime known as punch down to shake it. “Hi, I’m Danny. I’m your brother’s accidental sugar baby.”

Dick choked on thin air.

Just how potent was that punch?

[deathbecomesthem]

No pressure, but is this prompt something you’d do??♥️

You both unknowingly book the same haunted Airbnb and find out you're stuck together for the night.

This has been a long time coming. Eddie Munson x gn!reader - +18 ONLY. I don't know what I can tell you about this fic without giving away the plot. 3.2K words.

This is prompt #14 on the Stranger Prompts list that @bettyfrommars @somnambulic-thing and @allthingsjoeq put together in February. I hope you enjoy this.

Prompt: You both unknowingly book the same haunted Airbnb and find out you're stuck together for the night. 

---

The cabin is exactly what you need. It’s just what the doctor, your psychiatrist,  ordered. A clean break from the city for 3 nights out in the mountains. There’s cell service, but it’s patchy. You found that out on the first night, having to walk all the way to the edge of the property to call in to the office and let them know you’d officially be unavailable for any emergencies while you were out of town. After that first night you find yourself checking that useless brick in your pocket less and less often. 

You didn’t pick the cabin because of its reputation. The reviews are immaculate, and not just from the people that come out here hoping for a close encounter with the resident spirit. Your assumption is, especially now that you’ve spent one night here, that the haunting is a ploy to get more people to rent the property. It doesn’t matter to you if there truly is a ghost sharing the cabin with you, as long as it doesn’t leave the toilet seat up.

Right now, you’re lying in the bedroom at the back of the cabin under a heavy crocheted blanket. It smells like cedar and leaves. You left the window open last night, and the autumn air is carrying the scent of decaying leaves into your room. It’s cold on the tip of your nose, but the rest of your body is held in the comfortable warmth of the big bed. With the window open, you can see the night fading away as the sun begins to make its sleepy journey back to the daytime. You decide to follow its lead and start the day.

Coffee tastes better on the back porch; or maybe you’re able to take the time to actually enjoy it without the distraction of everyday life. Either way, you sit on the old wooden rocking chair that faces out into the woods and hold the hot brew up to your still cold nose. Richly scented steam warms your face. You let your mind wander back to the office for a moment to wonder what this Friday morning looks like without your presence looming over your employees. Like a mini vacation for them, having the boss away. Good for them, it’s the least they deserve for putting up with you every day.

The last dregs in the oversized coffee mug are as cold as the air out behind the cabin, and you decide it’s time to relocate. Throw on some warmer clothes and spend some time exploring the property. Last night you were delighted to stumble upon a barn that held a goat. You made friends with the beast for a while, stroking its rough fur and looking into its rectangular eyes. You think you might go see him again today, bring him one of the apples you hauled in with you. You’ll need to make the 20-minute trek to the small grocer in town to get more than just the cheese, fruit, wine, and coffee you brought in with you. 

You’re thinking about making a nice pasta for dinner, assuming there’s anything at the tiny shop that could be ground together to make a pesto, so you don’t notice that anything has changed right away. You walk past the pair of boots sitting on the rug at the entrance of the cabin. You walk into the kitchen, not realizing the overhead light is turned on even though you never flipped the switch this morning. You set your coffee mug on the counter next to the jar of crushed tomatoes that wasn’t there half an hour ago. Your brain doesn’t even register the quiet sound of running water coming from the bathroom just down the hall. You’re too busy mapping the path you’ll take up the winding mountain road. You’re already planning the conversation you’ll have with the local that stands behind the counter of the store. Your fingers are practicing the movements of chopping basil and crushing pine nuts (or possibly cashews or walnuts depending on the inventory of the store). 

Your lips move in preparatory conversation, “hi there” - “lovely weather” - “just in town for a couple of days up in one of the cabins on Bear Ridge” - “do you have any olive oil?” when a new sound, louder and harder than the tap, stops you in your tracks. A door closed. Not a car door outside, but a door in this cabin. A door just down the hallway from where you’re standing. That sound pulls you right back into the present, which allows your mind to finally see all the things that it missed. 

Someone else is in this cabin.

—

Eddie booked the cabin, as he does every year, before the travel season really starts up. It’s necessary, his journey into the forested mountain. It’s different now than it was that first time, more about finding something that’s been lost than holding on to something. He is pulled to that place, the cedar of its walls hold the memories he lets himself forget the rest of the year. 

It’s a pretty ride on roads that devolve from asphalt to gravel to dirt the closer he gets to his destination. Dust flies up from his truck tires and into his open windows. He wonders when the last time was these roads saw rain. Too long, from the look of the drooping pines that line the path he’s traveling on. That’s fine, it suits his mood to see nature thirst. He’s thirsty too, his own spirit is bent and dying. He can only hope his time spent alone out here will keep him going for a while longer. 

He’s tired, though, and the sight of the cabin creeping up on him makes him feel like he’s being held. It’s what he needs, even if it’s not what he wants, to be called back to the memories. The mid-morning sun sits between the trees and the wooden structure. It welcomes him to the only home he knows how to return to. Eddie throws the truck into park just as he reaches the set of stairs that lead up to the wrap around porch. He sits in the cab for a minute, looking at the front door. He sighs, exhaling out the heaviness of life into the cab of his truck, and leaves it there.

He kicks off his boots and swings his bag off his shoulder just as he steps inside. It smells like cedar and coffee. Familiar scents that make the fine hair on his arms prickle. He begins his routine, putting away the food he brought with him - eggplant, pasta sauce, a block of parmesan and fresh mozzarella, eggs, breadcrumbs, tabasco, whole wheat bread, onion, pepper, garlic, crushed tomatoes, and Irish butter. Staples. These are the things he always brings with him. He makes his way down the hallway to the bedroom at the far end. It’s not the one he stayed in that first time, though he pauses outside of the door of that room to look into it. Dust particles hang in the air, and he’s not surprised to see the sheer curtain move in the breeze of the open window. He smiles to himself and moves down to the blue room where he’ll keep his things for the next three days.

—

“Hello?’ your jump at the sound of your own voice, and scold yourself internally. You clear your throat, “is someone here?”

You think maybe the owner of the cabin has maybe come by for some reason, the thought that someone would come all the out here to harm you in some way is too ludicrous to entertain. Of course, maybe it’s the ghost. Would a ghost wear black boots and buy Newman’s Own marinara? Unlikely. You take a few tentative steps down the hallway, listening hard for any sound that might clue you into who might be lurking in the shadows.

“Uh, hello?” a man’s voice calls back to you from one of the bedrooms. It sounds as unsure as your own. “Who’s there?”

He steps out of the room at the end of the hall across from your own. He’s tall, with a mound of gray curls at the top of his head. He’s dressed in black from head to toe. There’s a scar on his cheek that travels down his neck. This is the man your mother warned you about, the kind that kids in dark alleys with a knife. There should be alarm bells ringing in your head, but the lines at the corners of his eyes are soft. 

“Yeah, hello. Can I help you with something?” You ask the man at the end of the hall. You watch his facial expression. His brows pinch in confusion, you think, and he shakes his head.

“I don’t know, Sweetheart. I wasn’t expecting any visitors on my secluded vacation. Not sure what you can help me with.” He’s walking towards you while he speaks. A kind of saunter, possibly to hide some sort of pain. 

“Well, this is my secluded vacation, and I also wasn’t expecting any visitors. Are you telling me you booked this place?” 

“I’m telling you I’ve booked this place for the same three days every year for the past 20 years. So, yeah. I booked this place. Are you telling me you booked this place?” He stops when he’s within arm’s length of you, close enough to smell the sweat and aftershave on his skin. Up close, you can see that he’s maybe even a little older than you initially thought. 60 at least.

“Well, shit,” you sigh. You tell him your name and extend your hand, “this is some bullshit, maybe I should try to get a hold of the property owner to see what he can do-” you trail off, remembering your lack of cell service, “-which would be a great idea if my cell phone worked out here.”

You look at the man in front of you for some kind of suggestion, anything. You should want him to say, oh no, what a stupid thing to have happened. I’ll go get my shit and get out of here, but you don’t. It’s something in his eyes that makes you hope he’ll choose to stay, even though the idea opposes all reason. 

“Well, sweetheart, I don’t bring a cell phone with me out here. Sorry about that. How about we both stay -” he holds up a hand, as if to hold back the rejection you have no intention of offering, “- I’m a quiet guy. I’ll keep to myself. I bet we can get the guy that owns this place to refund us both when we get to a working phone.”

“Well, look at you. I only just met you, and you’re speaking my language.” You give him a big smile, “I’m always looking for a good deal.”

—

The old man, you can’t help but think of him as that, is named Eddie. Edward Francis Munson. He’s from Hawkins, Indiana, but he’s been living in Boston for a long time. Eddie is happy to keep the promise he made, to keep to himself and move around the cabin like a ghost, but not you. You keep finding yourself next to him. Sitting across from him in the small living room, looking over the top of your well-worn copy of The Poisonwood Bible and hoping to catch his eye. Your feet take you into the kitchen while he’s bent over the stove top, asking him what he’s working on. While he’s on the porch, you’re sitting on the stairs to watch the tree line and see what he sees. 

“Do you have any kids?” The question, like all of your questions thus far, escapes your lips before you can consider that it may be a rude one.

“No kids, no. There was a time…” you crane your neck to look back at him from your spot on the wooden stairs that lead to the yard from the back porch, “yeah, no kids.”

A pitfall you didn’t see, that’s what that question is. Silence erupts in the space between you, loud enough to make you feel like you’re drowning. You can hear the peepers song through the open window, and are thankful for it. You’re ready to apologize, or crack a joke. You don’t do well when conversation ceases, it’s always been that way. You open your mouth and Eddie waves his hand. He waves away the tension and turns his lips up in a half smile. You can imagine it on the unwrinkled features of his youthful face.

“Well, no kids. Alright. What about a dog?” 

Eddie’s laugh fills you with warmth. The question caught him off guard, and tickled him in that way that happens when you’re all bunched up over something sad. The sound of his laughter feels like home. Like a place you used to know. You can feel a smile on your own lips, you’ve caught onto his joy and made it your own.

“No, no dog. It wouldn’t be fair,” he’s wiping the moisture of the corner of his eyes, “I’m not home much. I do have a cat. Scout. He’s more like the neighbor’s cat at this point.”

Every answer he offers sits on the edge of a profound sadness. You can see now that this man is haunted. You begin to wonder if your intrusion on his alone time is wrong. Maybe you should leave him with his ghosts. Or not, you think he might end up following them off into the darkness. 

“Well, cats are good. I’m glad you have one. I’m more of a dog person myself, I love that unconditional love and devotion. I accept nothing less from canines. And men.” You’re back to facing the tree line, and don’t see Eddie’s reaction to that. The way his smile fades even more, and the tear of laughter at the corner of his eye breaches his lash line and overflows with the added weight of his sadness. 

—

Eddie gets to work on dinner while you’re perched on a high back stool at the counter that separates the cooking area from the main living room. He’s humming something familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on what it is. The sound is too lovely for you to stop it and ask him what it is. 

Eddie’s movements in the kitchen are reminiscent of a dance. You can almost imagine he once had a partner that knew how to do the moves alongside him. He’s dicing onions and peppers and you’re transfixed by the movement of the blade. You take a drink of wine and find yourself on your feet and moving around the counter without even having decided to do it. You open the fridge and get to work.

You find yourself humming along Eddie’s song until you’re singing the words quietly under your breath as you whisk eggs in a shallow bowl. Eggplant parmigiana. That’s your favorite meal, and you’re pleased to see that Eddie knows how to make sauce that doesn’t come from a jar. He even brought Cento tomatoes. A kindred spirit.

The dance continues through dredging and frying. Through slicing thick pieces of bread and mincing garlic. No words spoken, apart from the lyrics of that song you can’t quite recall, yet you somehow know all the words. Just like the dance you never learned the steps to, and yet the movements feel like second nature. You know this, you think to yourself, not fully understanding what that means.

And when the pasta is drained and the garlic bread is toasty, Eddie pours you another glass of wine while you grab plates from the cabinet to the right of the sink. You think nothing of it when you wrap your arm around his waist and hold it there while you pull open the silverware drawer, and he doesn’t remark on it. You’re just moving around him as if you’ve done it a million times, a simple dance of dinner time with this man.

“Sit, I’ll bring over the dishes,” Eddie says to you, rooster potholders adorning his hands. So you sit, a satisfied smile resting on your lips. You look down at your foot, expecting to see your kitten, Scout, rubbing against your leg. His cat's way of begging for a scrap of something. Where is that little beast, you wonder, and the smile you’ve been wearing starts to slip along with your calm.

“That song is driving me crazy,” you say, hoping your voice sounds steadier than it feels. “I don’t know how I know all the words.”

Eddie sets the pan of still bubbling eggplant onto the center of the table. He sighs and looks into your eyes. Left to right, he’s not looking at you as much as searching you. You can see the younger man when you look into his eyes like this, and suddenly you know him. 

“Why do you think that is?” Eddie asks you, still looking into your eyes. 

“Because you wrote it for me,” you answer him. 

He sighs, a sound of relief and acceptance, and dishes out the meal he made for you. Your favorite meal. It’s wonderful to be like this with him, it feels like you’ve been gone for an eternity. You’re so thankful for his presence, that he came here to find you.

“Eddie, I missed you,” you tell him. 

“I missed you too. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere ever again,” he tells you, reaching across the table to hold your hand. You eat that way, hand in hand, running your fingers over the tattoo on his knuckles. Your initials, of course, faded with the passing of the years.

—

You didn’t bother to clean up after dinner. Eddie was too tired. You helped him down the hallway. You helped him undress and get under the covers. You climbed into the bed with him and found that spot at his side - your spot - and curled into him. 

You hum your song to him until he’s finally asleep, and follow him into a dream. You’re at the beach with him, it’s the first truly hot summer day of 1995. It smells like coconut sunscreen and salt water. The sand under your feet is hot, and the sun is beating down on your skin. You can see Eddie standing at the water’s edge, his hand outstretched in an invitation. 

You wake, not to the sound of bird call, but the sound of an engine revving outside the cabin. You leave the bed and the cold body resting beneath the covers. It’s not important, not when you know exactly what you’ll find when you open the front door. 

Eddie’s sitting on the back of his old Goldwing, looking like she was just driven off the lot. His black hair is tied loosely at the nape of his neck in a ponytail, and his hand is out to you again. You run down the steps and climb onto the back of the bike, eagerly wrapping your arms around his center. You breathe in the smell of his leather.

“Eddie, where are we going?” You ask him.

“Sweetheart, I have no idea, but we’re going together this time.”

[orchidsangel]

jason meeting you for the first time in book club and he’s head over heels

gonna spam your inbox with jason asks btw hi

wait this is so cute, like you've got me thinking (this got way longer than expected)

there's a bookstore you go to frequently and on the last friday of every month they host a book club. you've been one of the members for a while now, and you know every name, face, and life story of everybody in the group by now. so, when you walk in on the last friday of this particular month, you definitely notice the unfamiliar man sitting amongst people you've already gotten to know. he's handsome, with dark hair, and green eyes, and he looks like the type to be playing beer pong on a friday night, not critiquing the plot of some newly released murder mystery. you'd be lying if you said you weren't intrigued.

regardless, you take your seat and the meeting starts. everyone takes turns sharing their opinions, each person stating how they couldn't see the plot twist coming, and that they found the book incredibly riveting. when your turn comes, you politely explain that to you it was predictable. there was only one real suspect with a clear motive, anyone else would've been a stretch. it was too easy to deduce what had actually gone down that night, and you didn't think the book needed 450+ pages to get there.

the opinion is pretty well received, except for this one person in the group that's always always irks you, asking "and how exactly did you figure that out? because if none of us did, i have a hard time believing that you did." you could give them a play by play of exactly where the author went wrong, how too many of the clues had obvious explanations, and how any semblance of common sense would lead you to the real killer. but instead, you opt for a simple "i don't know, just got lucky i guess," followed by a shrug.

the sharing continues until you get to the dark haired stranger sitting almost directly across from you in the circle. every person in the room is staring at him intently and you don't blame them, it's not often a guy as hot as him joins in on your monthly activity. you almost think it's a joke, a prank, he's being hazed, he'll open his mouth to speak and then bolt out the door leaving you guys in the dust. but instead, he calmly gestures to you, "i agree with them. far too easy to figure out, don't get me wrong it's well written but it heavily relies on the reader conveniently forgetting details from the previous chapters." he gets it, this guy gets it. you chime in, "exactly, like when they reveal that the mistress was on the boat the entire time, but they hinted at her being on the boat within the first chapter." no one asks for any follow up this time, simply accepting the pretty man's word as law.

everyone finishes sharing their opinions and then it's time to mingle. you walk around, catching up with acquaintances you hadn't seen in a while, and the stranger watches you from across the room. watching you seamlessly interact with the people in the store before turning your attention to the shelves upon shelves of new and untouched books. brushing your fingers across the spines, and occasionally pulling one down to read a blurb.

he watches you make your way down the aisles, dipping in and out of his field of vision, and back to the main area where everyone's chatting, before spotting him and heading over to where he stands; a book in hand. you hold it out for him and he takes it, looking up at you curiously.

"a good mystery. if you're looking for one."

"thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

you walk away, and he watches your back as you head over to the rest of the group to say your goodbyes and head out. but before you exit, hand holding the door open, you turn towards him and give him a small wave, before the sound of the bell on the door jangling invades his ears, and you're no longer there.

his eyes follow you until he can't see you through the window anymore and he looks down at the book, it's something he's read before. but it's good, and he knows you know it's good because you recommended it to him. so even though he's already read it, he'll read it again so he has something to talk about with you in a month when he gets your name.

[eleni-cherie]

a thief's origin✨ || bts • kth - chapter 0.9

"you're afraid I won't wait." "I'm afraid you will."

a criminal and a doctor should be as different as the sun and the moon - but unexpected things happened every day. like him finding his safe haven in her.

© 2024 | eleni_cherie

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masterlist: here

— genre: thief au, gangster comedy, adventure, romcom, humour, angst, fluff, sexual tensiON, slowburn, mutual pining, strangers to friends to lovers s2f2l

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE. CHARACTERS NOT NECESSARILY LIKE THE REAL PERSONS. ALSO VERY UNREALISTIC PLOT LOL - JUST PRETEND READING A MANGA/COMIC OR WATCHING A FILM, REALLY.

SUGGESTIVE THEMES. MENTIONS OF VIOLENCE & BLOOD (BUT NOTHING TOO GRAPHIC, IT'S STILL A COMEDY!)

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age 27 // 3rd year - assistant physician

17th July

Barcelona, Spain

The buzzing of the phone in the middle of the night startled Cassandra. Not that she was sleeping. It was way too warm, despite the open window, but an ominous feeling took over her nevertheless as a late-night call rarely meant something good.

Sitting up straight in the dark bedroom, she rubbed her eyes and reached for it. Her heart picking up in pace only more when reading 'cool guy' on the display, though, worry getting replaced by excitement instead.

She swiped to answer, hushed but eager. "Tae?"

There was a beat of silence, then she heard his breath. "Hey, angel."

With just one simple, soft word she felt all the tension she'd been holding inside her body the past days dispel. She'd missed his smooth voice and closed her eyes, letting it soak through her.

Sometimes he'd still use the old nickname and call her 'Doc', but his new one surely was her favourite.

"Thought you might be out."

He heard something of a laugh leave his girlfriend. It was quiet, but it was still there. He was joking, of course and she knew that. It was easy with him after all, always had been. Even if they hadn't seen each other in a month.

"What, at 2 in the morning? No way."

Taehyung chuckled along and her eyes fluttered open at the sound of his deep chuckles, the room suddenly feeling lighter. She'd missed the sound of his laugh.

"Then, sorry for calling so late."

"It's fine, I couldn't sleep anyway," she told him honestly, feeling almost coy and suddenly very aware of her breathing. Her chest falling and raising steadily.

"Me neither."

Silence followed, and she felt a small twinge of panic. Did anything happen? Did he realise he had nothing to say? Please don't hang up, she thought desperately, holding as still as she could underneath the thin sheets.

"I bet I have you beat," he finally said, sounding somewhat amused. And she relaxed. "We were back by eleven. Yoongi was in a terrible mood."

"Oh, how so?" she smiled quietly, adding, "Sorry I'm whispering. I recently discovered I can sometimes hear the neighbours' talking from my bed so I assume they can hear mine as well."

"It's okay. I like it," he whispered back with a smirk, only to still when another question crossed his mind. "Wait, does that mean they heard us when.."

Her lips folded, stifling a giggle as she'd wondered the same thing when discovering that fact. "They might have."

"Oh." His embarrassed chuckle made her smile widen. Taehyung hummed on the other line then, musing for a moment. "Guess we have to be careful next time."

"Mhm. But anyway, why was Yoongi in a terrible mood?"

"He was trying to play it cool, you know?" Taehyung said then, groaning slightly. "Almost blew his cover."

Cassandra snorted softly. Yoongi wasn't exactly discreet when it came to hating their disguises, according to Taehyung. Him and Jimin arguing about it sometimes. It was quite funny to her, two grown men bickering like school kids.  

However, she held herself back from asking what disguise it was and why, knowing it'd be pointless to do so. 

"Hope he and Jimin didn't argue."

"They did, but already made up. They can never stay mad at each other for too long," Taehyung reassured.

She hummed. Realising him reaching out so soon again after their last call had to be a good sign as well.

"Mhm, I assume the job was successful despite that then?"

He huffed in mock-offence only for a boisterous smirk to settle on his lips. "Of course!"

Cassandra smiled to herself, pressing one side of her face further into the pillow.

It always felt nice to talk to him like this. It felt normal, as if they were never apart. As if he lived just across the city. After years of knowing him it was normal to her anyway. The only thing that had changed was the fact it was even more annoying now that they were in an actual relationship. When they were only friends it'd been a pity not hanging out as much, surely, but now it was simply insufferable.

"So.. it's safe to say you didn't really have fun tonight," she concluded then as a joke. Earning an agreeing hum from him.

"No," he simply stated then, "I was forced out and promised a good time, but instead I was surrounded by bickering and debauchery."

A dry laugh left her lips – loudly, unable to help it really. Forgetting about her neighbours possibly hearing her in the middle of the quiet night.

"I guess the latter is referring to Jimin."

"Of course. He made flirting with two hostesses at the same time look easy." Both burst out laughing before Taehyung's tone softened again."Should have been with you instead.."

She had to ignore that, she just had to, otherwise she'd end up doing something foolish like asking him to drop everything and fly over to her. She'd never do that, her pride never allowing that anyway. But she couldn't trust herself a lot after 1am so who knew, she might become weak if she cave into it.

"Pity," she replied instead with a much calmer voice, more appropriate to the late hour, "Did you force him to stop?"

"Had to, otherwise we couldn't have proceeded with the plan," Taehyung huffed out a laugh, "He probably would've had the time of his life right now if it wasn't for me."

A lie, they both knew. Taehyung had told Cassandra everything about his friend being head over heels in love with some other thief who crossed their paths sometimes. Cassandra always found the stories involving Arabella exciting and entertaining, much to her boyfriend's despise really. Of course, she understood his reasons hence why she'd try keeping her amusement over them at bay.

"He didn't think to share with you?" she teased as she stared up to the pitch-black ceiling.

"Me?" he asked, surprised, and for a second she worried she'd gone too far when he continued, "No, he knows I'm not interested in anyone but you."

There was the beat of a silence before both attempted to say the other's name.

"Tae -"

"Cas -" He rushed forward as she held back. "I've missed you." He breathed. "Saying that out loud just makes me miss you more."

Cassandra's heart felt like expanding, drumming against her ribcage. He kept his promise of being vocal about his feelings from now on and it meant everything to her.

She heard him laugh at himself then. Feeling silly. "Do I sound pathetic?"

"No," she insisted, eager for him to know. "No, Tae. I miss you, too." She wanted to tell him everything that had been on her mind, but over the phone like this felt insufficient.

"I called you because I wanted to hear your voice. I thought of you tonight and just wanted to -" He cut himself off with a sigh. "I wanted to pretend everything was normal."

"Everything is normal, what do you mean?"

"I mean actual normal. Like.. like we're a normal couple and I can just see and call you whenever I like."

Without realising, tears had welled up in the corners of her eyes when allowing his words to sink in.

Yeah, that would be nice but it is what it is, she thought. After all, she knew what she got herself into when allowing him into her life. And it wasn't like her own job would've allowed anything 'normal' anyway, with its irregular schedules or being on standby.

One single hot tear slipped away from her eyes then, getting absorbed into her pillow. She blamed the late hour for his voice and words making her so easily over-emotional.

And without realising it, a quiet sob croaked its way past her throat.

"Cas?" His voice laced with concern. "Are you crying?"

She sniffed and wiped her face. "Sorry. It's the late hour."

"No, don't be. I'm the sorry one. I wasn't trying to make you cry."

She took a moment to compose herself, annoyed at herself. Taehyung waited patiently, and when he heard her laugh weakly down the line, he added another, although seemingly unrelated, sorry.

"What for?" He had nothing to be sorry for.

However, Taehyung let out a low whistle. "A lot." A deep exhale followed. "It's hard."

"You mean us?"

"No," he was quick to response. Needing to dissolve any insecurities before they even arose in her mind, "It sucks that we can't see each other as much.. but no, Cas, being with you isn't hard."

Her cheeks were burning by now and it wasn't due to the 23°C and the stuffy air in her bedroom. She couldn't help but grin like an idiot, feeling all jittery for a moment before recalling his sullen tone before.

"What is it then? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really.. I mean, I do. Just not right now." She hummed, relating to that statement. Hearing his mattress move on the other line.

"Is that okay?" he asked thoughtfully.

"Of course."

"Right now I just want to feel close to you," he admitted bashfully, "And hear your voice."

"I want that, too," she said and the corners of her lips tugged into a gentle smile, pretending the warmth of her bed was him. They didn't even need to talk, hearing his breathing was enough. Just like when he was lying next to her.

"I've really missed you, like, a lot." He chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry. It's late, I'm all over the place."

"No, it's cute! Don't worry," her tired smile grew at the thought of his flustered expression, "We'll see each other soon. We'll be okay."

"We will."

His confirmation meant the world to her. For the first time in a while, she felt excited. She opened her mouth, her heart ready to combast, when she stopped herself instead. Something told her he already knew what she so desperately wanted to tell him; why else would he be on the phone with her right after a coup?

Instead, she fell into a comforting silence again with her eyes starting to grow heavy. Sleep began washing over her, until a noise and Taehyung's cursing made her jolt awake. And he laughed faintly.

"Crap. I just hit my head."

The bed moved again, and she imagined that she was there with him.

"Were you falling asleep?"

"Yeah, I think I was."

"Should we hang up?" She felt bad for keeping him up, not even knowing in what timezone he was, but she also didn't want the call to be over yet.

"Let's talk tomorrow."

His assuring tone caught her off guard as she knew how risky it was for them to talk too often or too long.

"You sure?" she grinned lazily.

"Yeah. We need to talk more. I can't take this any longer."

She was suddenly wide awake now. "Okay. I'm free tomorrow. Call whenever you want."

"I'll make sure it's early in the morning then."

She could hear the teasing grin on his face. Picture it, too. "Meanie. As if you'd be up early."

"Just joking."

She giggled faintly, feeling both, excited and relaxed. "I can't wait."

"Me neither."

She could almost feel his breath, wanting him close. Tomorrow, she reminded herself.

"I should go now. You need to sleep."

"So do you," she added with a light scoff.

"So, I'll talk to you tomorrow?"

She knew he was smiling, she could hear it all the miles apart.

"Yeah," she smiled back. "You will."

The phone call ended and she was about to put it away when a text appeared on her display.

cool guy (2.46am): btw goodnight :)

angel (2.46am): goodnight ♡

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3rd October

Cassandra wasn't sure what time it was, nor was she sure if her mind hadn't imagined things in her sleep. Still in a half-daze, she tossed her blankets away, hearing the persistent ringing again which had torn her away from a deep slumber.

The doorbell, she concluded so far. Brown eyes frowning when she took off her sleeping mask and trotted to the door in the dark.

Had she forgotten about an upcoming delivery?

It didn't even cross her mind that it wasn't daytime yet despite the darkness of her apartment. That was how she preferred to sleep after all, blinds all the way down. Besides, the days became shorter and it was raining endlessly, so naturally it was rather dark outside even in the morning.

Only when she unlocked the door and swung it open, she realised how off her assumptions were when in front of her was standing none other than Taehyung. 

Clothes entirely drenched, soaking wet from the pouring rain with pools forming around his feet.

Any sleep that had remained in her system was abruptly blown away, replaced by pure excitement followed by confusion and irritation at his slumped posture. Her lips eventually parted, causing him to flinch.

He was ready to hear her expelling him for showing up there in the middle of the night, when instead she grabbed him by his arm, pulling him firmly inside and closing the door behind him.

"Tae, what happened?"

Her words faded when she noticed his sulked expression underneath the hood. Almost hidden away by long streaks of dark hair sticking onto his forehead. 

It wasn't so much the question itself that completely unarmed him. He had expected it considering the randomness and time of this encounter and his abject state.

No, it was rather the concern in her eyes and the whisper of her voice that made him completely lose any remaining energy to deny it and instead made him tear up. And he almost knocked her off when wrapping his arms around her.

She smelled of almonds and flowers. Just like he remembered.

Startled, the young woman tensed for a moment when her hands instinctively engulfed her boyfriend's torso in a tight hug. Putting her all into squeezing him as much as she could. It was her way of showing him that she was there, whatever it was that he was struggling with. Not even caring the slightest how his soaked clothes were wetting her pyjamas.

She understood not to ask further. He'd tell her eventually, she knew. He always did.

Stepping back, she clasped his arms to take a better look on him. He swallowed, avoiding her worried glance. By now he somewhat regretted coming there in an impulsive moment, acting out the only clear thought in his chaotic mind.

He'd felt so miserably and pathetic, he couldn't even bare himself, let alone fleeing to Panama with Jimin and Yoongi - the next place where an object of interest was located at - after what had happened. Even if they had tried persuading him and ensuring him it hadn't been as bad as he had made it out to be. He was so upset with his own self, however, that he couldn't simply stand being alone either.  

And out of pure selfishness and immaturity he'd spent six hours driving from Marseille to Barcelona, to the only person he wanted to see.

Perhaps it was because Cassandra wasn't one of them but an outsider. Perhaps it was her sweet and campassionate nature. Or how she tried to see all sides and wasn't set on black & white views - and he needed someone like this in that moment. Someone else who'd essentially verify what his friends had been trying to convince him of.

But when he had rung the doorbell, two sudden realisations had hit him.

It was 3am. And she was a physician.

Now it was too late though. She was already standing in front of him with big questioning bambi eyes. The fact she hadn't flipped him off or cussed at him already would've been a miracle, if she was such a person. She wasn't, however, he knew that. And yet, he felt terrible.

Was he using her to make his pity self feel better? To calm his guilty conscious?

When she felt his arms growing tired and loosening around her, she placed a hand on his cold cheek. Carefully inspecting his face with a serious glare.

"Are you hurt?"

He only responded with a small shake of his head to assure he wasn't. It was enough for her. Her hands dropped and she helped him slip off his jacket while he stepped out of his shoes.

She grabbed his hand then and he silently waddled behim her to the bedroom.  

Only when she switched on the small cloud-shaped lamp on the nightstand did she see what time it was.

She had barely slept three hours and had planned to wake up in another six - enough time to properly rest and get prepared for her shift at 2pm - but now it seemed like she had to abandon that plan.

It was alright though, first she had to take care of her favourite patient after all.

"Wait here," she quietly instructed him and Taehyung willingly did as he was told. That was the least he could do in that moment anyway, and he watched her disappear into the hallway. Eyes wandering around her room. It was the same as he remembered it, only with a few more of his postcards on the wall. And he smiled, realising she had kept them all. Along with photos of him between her friends and family.

His heart clenched. The tiny voice in the depths of his conscience telling him yet again he didn't deserve Cassandra. And it only got louder after tonight.

He heard steps then, seeing her reappearing with two mugs and a towel. She rested the mugs onto the nightstand first, the hot steam prominent while rising from the tea she'd made them. He smiled.

She pointed at him then with a scowl. "You should take off your wet clothes."

He couldn't help but chuckle quietly at the suddenly demanding tone. "Is that a doctor's order?"

It was the first time he spoke tonight. Evident in his hoarse voice. And yet, Cassandra only huffed out a laugh at the fact it was a teasing remark out of all things. Of course.

"Not this time. This time it's your girlfriend's order."

His thick eyebrow arched at this. Liking the sound of the word whenever she was referred to as his girlfriend. "Is that so?"

"Yep. I don't want you to wet my bedsheets," she grinned, "If you wet my bedsheets I'll kick you out."

"You didn't mind your clothes though," he retorted, to which she shrugged unimpressed.

"I can always change those. But I don't feel like changing bedsheets in the middle of the night. And besides, it feels disgusting being in wet clothes. Doesn't it?"

He hummed, unable to counter something to her logic like so often. She was definitely not wrong about the disgusting feeling, although it wasn't only physically.

Quietly, he began pulling his hoodie over his head, remaining with a plain shirt and she stepped closer, placing the towel over his head. She held the edges together, framing his face with it. The adorable sight making her lips curl into a smile. She almost cooed but knew to suppress it, so instead her fingers began rubbing his hair dry. Her arms were completely stretched out to properly reach him, although he was already stooping to assist her.

Soon his brown irises disappeared behind his eyelids, the stern expression on his features softening. He hummed at the soothing sensation, lulling him more and more until he couldn't feel the motion anymore.

When she deemed it dry enough, she let the towel slide from his head. Revealing his tousled waves.

"How do you still look so cute even with messy hair?" she jokingly pouted. Earning a lazy smile from him. It was so easy for her to make him smile and he tucked at one of the curls falling from her loose bun then.

"You look cuter."

She puffed her blushing cheeks, dismissing his words as always. And he still found it both, endearing and annoying, how she didn't know how to properly react to his compliments.

"Drink the tea, it should've steeped by now," she mumbled then. Quickly making her way under the covers and choosing one of the mugs to try the tea herself. By the look of her face, however, he could tell that it was still too hot and he stifled a laugh at her grimace when putting it back down. "Okay, maybe wait for a little long."

He only hummed and attempted taking off the equally damp trousers when he unintentionally shuddered at the cold metal of his magnum brushing against his skin. Shoving the gun underneath his clothes as if he tried hiding it and Cassandra noticed, but chose not to comment on it. Already holding the sheets up beside her for him. 

"What about your pj's?" he asked worried.

"It's fine they didn't get wet. Just a tiny bit dampish. It'll dry off quickly."

"Oh, so I'm the only one doing a striptease here, huh?" he smirked before sliding under the warm bedsheets. Only earning an innocent pout from Cassandra as she rested her head on his shoulder. Her arm finding its way around his waist when his draped around hers.

"Aw, poor baby," her tone teasing as she lightly poked his flushed cheek, "But you were the one running around in the rain, not me."

Sitting now next to each other in her cramped bed, they grew quiet. Partially due to their tiredness, partially due to the elephant in the room.

Taehyung didn't mind her twin-sized bed, it made it easier for him to cling onto her like a koala, even if she always complained not being able to sleep that way. Secretely she liked it, it gave her some kind of security. Unless it was the middle of summer, then she indeed hated it.

Cassandra propped her chin onto his shoulder then, glancing at him expectedly. She noticed him licking his dry lips, eyes focusing on something invisible as he held her close. His fingers curling around her hip more as he was seemingly lost in thoughts, staring into space absentmindedly.

It didn't seem like he was ready to talk yet.

With a sigh, she lifted her head and turned to grab her tea and retry. This time the sip was in a much more drinkable temperature and she took another sip. Taking the other mug and handing it over to him.

"Be careful not to spill," she quietly said and he gladly accepted it. Despite feeling warm on the outside by now, there was still an internal coldness that made him shiver.

The tea managed warming him up, but the heaviness in his chest remained. And Taehyung sunk further into the sheets after drinking the last bit of it.

His throbbing head burying itself into the crook of her neck ans she stilled for a moment when he inhaled deeply. His warm breath tingling her skin. He sensed Cassandra's lips on his temple then when a delicate hand of hers reached to his still damp hair. Her fingers beginning combing the soft dark waves.

He smelled of falling rain.

It was a soothing sensation that clouded his mind and his eyes fluttered closed. Getting lost in the anew relaxing movement of her hand. It was steady, despite sleepiness slowly taking over her as well. And his body began feeling numb, falling asleep before his mind could. Taehyung was sinking more and more into his seat. His head slipping from Cassandra's neck and sliding to her chest and to her stomach. Settling there just between.

Cassandra was his save heaven.

With her he was in a bubble. She shielded him from his chaotic and dangerous life, providing him with something he had never believed he'd receive or even deserved. Something that also terrified him though.

She was his weak spot after all, his Achilles' heel. And his profession a threat to her normal life.

It was silent in the small bedroom except for the clock on the nightstand and the pit-a-pat of the falling rain against the window glass. Occasionally, a lonely car would pass by and the sound of splashing water was heard. Their breaths and her heartbeat underneath his ear soothing him even more.

"What if I injured someone innocent?"

The sudden whisper of his voice made her perk up and she began to understand.

"Is that what happened?" she quietly asked. Her fingers not stopping from gliding through his hair. "Did you injure an innocent passerby?"

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, turning his face towards the soft fabric of her pyjamas for a moment.

"Yes."

Cassandra hummed only, peeking down at him. She knew he'd open up on his own and she knew there had been a reason, but only now she grasped why he had been in such an awful state.

She had always been curious about his 'job'. Always wanting to hear heist stories and how they pulled them off. It was an odd fascination, the whole technical part. Whether it was illegal or not what they did, it was still a form of art to her - if done correctly.

However, as he always refused to give too much into her interest and instead kept stories as superficial as possible, for him now to tell her about a job on his own felt like an apology. A depreciation.

And perhaps it was just that. Perhaps that was the reason he had driven all the way there, because she was the only person who could grant him some kind of absolution.

Her knuckles brushed over the side of his agitated face then.

"How did it happen?"

Taking a deep breath, he collected his thoughts before continuing. He didn't want to speak it out, but he had to. He couldn't bare it anymore. "It happened so fast, but.. I should've foreseen it. It was my fault."

Cassandra remained silent. He wasn't sure if it was a good sign but she hadn't pulled away her hands yet.

"Why's it your fault?"

"It just is."

"Why do you th-"

"Because I'm the best shooter in the damn world!" His voice rose with frustration when recalling the incident and he abruptly heaved his head from her warmth. Cassandra tensing at this, startled. "I can aim and hit a target in my sleep, I should've - I should've -" He began stuttering, screwing his eyes shut. A deep crease forming between his prominent brows. Cassandra's face mirroring his pained expression, the corners of her lips pulling downwards. "I should've noticed that goon creeping up behind me and pushing me. I-I shouldn't have missed my target -" He choked up at this point, cutting himself off.

Her hand glided from his hair to his cheek, cupping it as she stared into his afflicted eyes and he swallowed.

"Cassandra, I.. I swear it was an accident - it was the first time - I'd never - Please, believe me."

He needed this. Needed to hear it from her. Needed to hear that she believed him, that she knew he wasn't a common criminal shooting at innocent people without a care. Needed her to confirm he wasn't a monster. Needed her to ensure him she wouldn't despise him, despite her own profession of saving lives. Needed her to forgive him.

Cassandra gave him a look of commiseration and trapped his flushed cheeks between her palms.

His guilty conscious had been visible from the moment she'd opened the door. She knew he felt terrible, she could feel how sincere he was. How much he regretted it. And she knew she was in no way entitled to judge people in situations she'd never gone through herself and went beyond her experience. Hence why it was flattering that Taehyung not only felt the need to tell her but was also concerned for her opinion on the matter. After all those years of knowing each other, she was truly his confidant. And the realisation warmed her heart.

"I've told you time over time you're not a bad guy. This was an accident, you didn't want it to happen," she softly spoke. Her thumb caressing his cheek in an attempt to calm him down. And it seemed to work, his guilt-ridden expression mitigating. His jaw unclenching.

"You truly believe that?" he asked quietly.

She nodded confidently. "I know it."

"It won't happen again," he confirmed. He planned to learn from his mistakes. Perhaps he should try mediating like Yoongi who sensed any threat from miles away.

"I know," she smiled. Her gaze falling then. "What happened to the person you accidentally shot though?"

He frowned. "We fled instantly, so I'm not sure. But I heard sirens of an ambulance in the distance, so I hope.." His index finger went to his hip. "I got him here, it's not a vital part, right?"

Cassandra knew that a hip injury by a gunshot was likely to cause complex peritrochanteric fracture. But orthopaedic procedures had an overall union rate for primary fixation of over sixty percent - which was pretty good. There was, of course as it was the case with all medical procedures, always a remaining chance for complications, however, she chose not to disclose the last part. Not wanting to make him feel worse. Instead she kept it positively vague, just like with patients and their families.

"He should be fine," she nodded, her smile widening, "It's not a life-threatening injury."

With the heavy burden being lifted from his chest, he slowly sank back down to her chest. Closing his eyes as soon as he heard her heartbeat and felt her fingers returning to his chocolate waves.

Cassandra had managed to calm him down like no one else ever could.

He wasn't used to this. To feeling so at ease. There in her warm embrace, with her fingers running through his hair, her chest rising and falling underneath him, her scent in his nose and her steady pulse in his ear, he slowly drifted off to sleep.

Realising the reason she was the only person he wanted to see that night, the only person he wanted to ever talk about his heavy heart with and the only person whose words mattered the most to him, was as simpel as the answer to why he always kept coming back to her, despite the risk of getting caught by interpol.

Because he loved her.

»»»

next chapter: 1.0 here

Don't forget to like, comment & leave feedback!♡ It motivates me to keep writing :)

- btw any detco fans here who caught the shinran reference? 👀 hehe

taglist: @lilanyxta @naoolammao345 @memna234 @tetehion @myblacklilame

[gingerteawrites]

BY THE HEARTH: PIECES

A/N: Hey everyone! Welcome to another installment of BTH! I have been thinking a lot about the progression of this plot, and some decisions are making it hard to write lol (please remind me to sufficiently plan series in advance). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part, and I hope to update again sooner rather than later. Hugs <3. Previous part here.

Content: Royalty!AU, Nanami x female reader, king Nanami, Princess Y/N, Widower Nanami, Toddler Yuuji, hurt, angst. Not beta read

Word count: ~1.8k

Banner by: @cafekitsune

ACT IV:

Oh no, Oh no, Oh no, Oh no…

All the alarms were blaring in your head. Bright red, loud and clear. If the look on the face of the man standing in front of you was any indication to go by, you having the boy in your arms was terribly wrong.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, not sure of what to say. The king took a few strides to close the distance between the two of you, bending down to pick Yuuji up in a swift motion that made your heart feel like it was going to beat out of its cage.

Nanami stood back up, adjusting the boy in his arms, who whined in his sleep and nuzzled in the crook of his father’s neck as he mumbled something incoherent.

You shook yourself and stood up in a hurry.

"I apologize, your majesty, I was terribly mistaken." The words come out in a rush, wanting to appease him.

The king sighed and closed his eyes. His features seemed especially sharp when they held hostility like this, almost making you want to cower. He turned away so that his back was to you.

"I will send for someone to escort you back to your quarters." He announced, his hand resting on Yuuji's back. Not waiting for your response, he walked away, disappearing in the maze of bookshelves.

A beat passed and you plopped back down onto the seat, sighing in defeat. Your first proper opportunity to exchange words with your husband was officially a disaster. You had thought the boy belonged to some sort of nobility, but how could you possibly guess that he was the king’s son?

Before your departure from your nation, you had heard rumors of a dead queen. They were rushed things, incoherent snippets of what you thought was meaningless gossip. But now the fragments seemed to hold significance. There had to be some woman before you; Yuuji’s mother.

Your tapped your fingers against the lush fabric of your dress in deep contemplation.

If there is a heir to the throne already, why on earth would I be brought in?

From what you had observed, the king was not at all interested in you. A taste for women was not what drove him to remarry, and he certainly did not seem like someone who would decide to bring in a stranger on a whim.

By the time Alma and the rest of the servants you had ditched back at the garden found you, you were sitting in the same spot, trying to connect the dots of the situation you had found yourself in.

Am I in some sort of political ploy? I do not like the sound of it at all.

The older woman scurried over to you with a wary look on her face, and you blinked out of your daze, the worry that she had been reprimanded on your account coming to the forefront of your thoughts.

"Your majesty, there you are.” She rushed out, hand on her chest. “I apologize for my oversight."

You stood up, meeting her with your hands pressed together.

"I am the one who has to apologize." You stepped closer "I did not mean to leave you all behind. I just met the sweetest boy." Something akin to worry flashed behind her eyes.

"The young prince," Alma mumbled, stepping even closer. "What happened?" she asked hastily, eyes widening in anticipation.

And that was when the lightbulb turned on in your thoughts.

Alma must know a great deal in lieu of her position as what seemed to be head maid. Now that the possibility of you being a mere pawn in a game struck you, you wanted to know what exactly was going on in this palace. The notion of being used was repulsive.

At least not unknowingly. You reflected, given your current predicament was a result of your kingdom trading you. But at least that was a transaction you had consented to.

Regardless, the older woman could provide invaluable context. But she seemed unlikely to just spill what would be royal family business to someone who was essentially still an outsider. Getting information out of her would be a slow venture, but you decided to focus on the present moment.

"He took me around the garden and then to this small nook." You explained, wanting to feed her interest. "I read to him and he fell asleep here. I was going to try finding his guardian. But then His majesty walked in..." You look up into her eyes, not hiding your unease "I promise I did not know Yuuji was the prince. The king looked quite upset."

Taking in your explanation, Alma sighed before putting on a smile. You could tell she was trying to reassure you, her features softening.

"It is alright, your majesty. It seems you had a good encounter with the prince, I am glad.” She closed her eyes, a a sad smile gracing her lips.

Before you could question her sudden melancholy, the woman turned to the rest of the servants that had come in tow, standing a few paces back. Their expressions showed surprise and a certain defensiveness at you mentioning Yuuji, piquing your interest even more.

"It is time for lunch. Let us return." Alma announced, extending a hand to lead you away, which you grabbed with a grateful smile.

It had been three weeks now since your encounter with the young prince, and you had started to get a bearing of how things work in the palace. Trying your best to maintain a kind disposition and initiate conversations had allowed you to confirm some of your theories via small bits of idle chat.

There was indeed a queen before you. Kaori, you knew was her name. Yuuji’s mother and Nanami’s wife, who had tragically died about two years ago (everyone shied away from mentioning anything about the circumstances of her death, which you found peculiar), after which her husband had spent an extensive amount of time mourning.

He must have loved her dearly, you thought, feeling the pang of something akin to envy.

Anyway, the information you had collected made your presence in this castle make even less sense. The kingdom was prosperous enough that it had no need for political alliances with the small nation you came from. There was something else at play. Something you could not quite place, but were determined to find out.

Over the weeks the weather had grown warmer, the afternoon spring air bringing along its lightness. This meant that being cooped up in the your quarters all day was becoming a mental torture, and your walks became more frequent. While most servants were still wary of you, you noticed some had grown warmer to your presence, especially a younger servant which was a new addition to the castle staff.

You were trudging along the edge of the inner castle walls, looking at the rose bushes that sprawled the area when you saw her emerge from the corridor, her black hair neatly tied in a bun. You called out a greeting when she turned, her eyes catching yours.

“Good morning, Riko.” You smiled.

She beamed towards you, rushing over with a smile before bowing hastily “Your majesty! The weather is lovely today, isn’t it?” She said, turning to greet the two maids who were chaperoning you from a few feet behind.

“It is indeed. I love the spring air.” You smiled at her. A group of especially jittery maids rush along the corridor, making you grow curious at the effervescence in this usually quiet place.

“Pray tell, I noticed the castle has a certain buzz today…” You said, running your fingers on the rose’s delicate petals.

Before you could even finish your sentence, she rushed in to explain, eliciting a soft chuckle, equal parts amused and endeared.

“The royal knights are set to return today! The king is throwing a banquet in honor of their returning from an expedition in the South.” She explained.

You hummed in thought, eyes roaming the thorny stems.

Royal knights? For a large banquet to be thrown, they must be quite the force to be reckoned with. You mused, trying to ignore the sting you felt at not being made aware of the banquet beforehand. He clearly had no intention of having you attend.

You proceeded to inquire about her maid training, and she enthusiastically recounted the tasks of the day, before announcing that she needed to run off, remembering she was in the middle of an errand. You bid her an amused farewell and watched the girl rush back into the halls. You turned back to the servants behind you, having grown out of the mood of being outside.

“Shall we return to my chambers?” You phrased, smiling, to which they replied with a bow, waiting for you to lead the way back.

Back in your room, they served you the afternoon tea and biscuits which seemed to be costumery in this nation and exited, leaving you to your thoughts again. Loneliness was an ailment that had started to take siege, causing you to spend your evenings sometimes staring outside your large window that offered peerage into a corner of the main courtyard within the inner castle walls.

The spectacle of nobles occasionally walking in with their upturned noses, and now servants rushing up and down was somewhat entertaining. A backdrop to your thoughts running wild with theories. One of them was the curious absence of the rest of the aristocracy from the castle. Whether this observation was a result of your relative isolation or other circumstances was still up for contemplation.

You were absent-mindedly sipping your hibiscus tea when the sight of a very elegantly styled tuft of blonde hair caught your eye from below, causing you to lean in closer. The king, seemingly unaware of your gaze turned, and you saw the flash of a smile on his features.

You pressed in closer to the glass, compelled to get a better glimpse. A new look at the man you had only experienced sourness from. Your heart melted in your chest when you saw Yuuji run and jump into his arms, having come from another side of the yard with what looked like a tutor.

The tender moment honestly moved you. The loving embrace and gleeful smiles causing another pang of envy to ring through you. You willed yourself to back away from where you were almost glued to the glass, feeling like a voyeur peering in uninvited. You pulled the curtain close and walked back towards your bed, missing Kento, whose eyes had turned to your window high up.

I know not much happened this chapter, but get ready for the pace to pick up very soon *wink wink*

Tag list: @ofcqdesi @tomiokasecretlover @luvstama @amisuh @abhootghiihii @cosmicbreathe @lucreied @starmapz @tylersaiddonteatbananas @taeteddybear @bopsigles @flaneur002

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist!

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

A (Hair)Cut Above The Rest [Hunter x Fem!Reader]

Warnings and Information: Trying to brute force my motivation to write by writing this in the course of an hour or so, so blame any spelling/grammar/plot mistakes I didn't catch in the editing on the caffeine. Undescribed fem!reader. Hunter is not described completely accurately to how he's depicted in The Bad Batch show (meaning not whitewashed) and is having a little hair trouble. Reader helps him out. Mando'a pet names are used. Order 66? Don't know her.  [I got a haircut recently and I'm gonna have Hunter thoughts about it apparently.]

Word-count: 1,688

Through a turn of events that would take too long to recap, it has been you and the sergeant of Clone Force 99 aboard the Havoc Marauder for the past four days, and only you and the sergeant. You haven't minded traversing the stars, just the two of you, but you suspect he's beginning to become antsy for one reason or another the longer you and Hunter have been away on a supply run. 

Several times now you've caught grumbling and grimacing every occasion he has to adjust the crimson bandana for any reason.

He's being as discreet as he can be, but you just get this feeling that Hunter is growing so uncomfortable the longer you're away from his brothers. "How much longer until we get back to the rest of the squad on Saleucami?" When he asks you this question, it's through gritted teeth and measured breathing, like he's trying to reign in his temper or something. Stave off panic, perhaps. 

You look at the astronav and perform a quick mental estimate with a shrug. "Probably a day, or less. Why?" 

"I don't think I can wait that long…" Hunter swears bitterly under his breath as he rips the knot of his bandana apart, and lifts the thick, curled brown hair off the back of his neck. "It's my hair," he explains with a flushing face, "normally one of my brothers helps me with this when it gets too long, but it's just you and me right now, mesh'la. I really need your help. I don't think I can wait another day before I can get this extra weight off my head and neck. Please, Ka'ra…" 

He's near-desperately asking you for help in wrangling his hair, even buttering you up with pet names in Mando'a. Beautiful. Star. 

Before he can beg again, you agree to help. Maker help you for having such a tender heart; never one to turn away a friend in need. "I'm not exactly a cosmetology school graduate, but I'll see what I can do." You just have to grab some items like a few hair clips and something to cut his hair with from your shower kit that's stashed in your bunk first, and then you can meet him in the refresher that's just barely big enough for Wrecker to comfortably fit in to get a handle on Hunter's hair situation. 

"I don't need pretty, I just need it gone." Hunter insists, his breathing a little hitched. "There's just too much weight on my head, ka'ra." He's looking for a place to sit in the fresher, finally opting for the floor. It'll have to do. You have to kneel behind him as you make a quick assessment, and you promise you'll be gentle.

"If I'm pulling too much, you let me know, okay?" 

You start to make the first cut, hoping to whatever higher powers that be in the galaxy that you'll have feeling in your knees by the time you're done. It's not exactly pleasant to put all your weight on your knees for a long time in such a cramped space. 

Hunter comes just short of moaning in his relief as the weight eases off his tender scalp with every careful cut, and every slow pass of the comb through his hair to keep things tidy and mostly blended as you do your best to cut his hair in the tiny on-board 'fresher. You're going slow to start out with, doing your best to avoid sending him over the edge. You're no stranger to the rare instance that touch and taste and sound and smell becomes much too much for the Clone with half of a skull forever painted into the bronzed skin of his face. And you prove your attentiveness by how tenderly you hold the hair off the back of his neck, sensing he needs a break from all the tugging and brushing of his thick head of hair after ten minutes. 

"Thank you… thank you, ka'ra…" Hunter utters, grateful that you offer reprieve without being explicitly asked. He can allow his eyes to flutter closed for a moment and likely lose himself in the constant thrum of noise inside the attack shuttle. "Feeling a bit better already."

"Oh, good. If you want me to let go, or you're ready to start again, just say the word." 

"I appreciate you doing this…" he says again in a fervent utterance of thanks after some time passes by in silence, nodding decidedly when he's ready again. "...I just couldn't wait any longer. It was getting to be too much." 

You pick up the pair of scissors you had set down in order to hold his hair up, and get back into position behind him. "You're welcome, Hunter. Don't want you to be too uncomfortable, now do we?" You've heard his brothers say those words a hundred times over. (But his brothers aren't here with you now. You'll be back to them soon. Hopefully they've kept out of trouble while visiting the Lawquanes.)

Sometimes Crosshair, Echo, Wrecker and Tech say it in teasing, when Hunter's hesitant to go perusing a quaint summer market on Naboo because of the pressing crowds. Sometimes they say it while trying to force him into his bunk, knowing that the careful cocktail of muscle relaxers and pain relievers will knock him flat on his ass once they've kicked in after particularly long missions, and Hunter stubbornly believes he'll lay down in his bunk before they do. 

You've laughed yourself silly listening to Crosshair or Echo scolding him with a stern, mostly concerned "Get back in bed, Hunter!" like a child caught out of bed on more than one occasion as he's tried to stumble his way through the shuttle. "You don't need to take care of that right now, let one of us do it. You're. Drugged. Lay down so the medicine can do its job." 

As more and more hair is snipped free, you see the relief washing over him, the discomfort ebbing away at last. "Feeling better?" you ask, brushing through his ends one last time to make sure it looks mostly lined up. 

 "Much. Thank you, mesh'la…"

You could theoretically have all his hair cut at once, and you offer while you've still got the scissors and comb in your hands, but Hunter thinks he can wait on thinning out the rest when you get back to the Lawquanes with things they needed for the farm. It was just the weight of his hair on his neck that he was struggling with the most today. 

"Well, I'm glad I could help. Hopefully I didn't do too bad a job." you say with a gentle chuckle, brushing the loose hair from his shoulders and sweeping up the mess with the small dustpan set Hunter found somewhere else on the Marauder. He runs his hands through his hair experimentally, and then carefully ties it back with the red slip of fabric he tucked in his pocket. 

"Not too bad I'd say, mesh'la…" Hunter's warm, appreciative grin sends your stomach fluttering at the sincerity, the way his eyes crease ever so gently with the gesture is equally precious. "Certainly a cut above what I could've done on my own." 

"Who usually helps you cut your hair?" you wonder, fixing a curling lock of hair back into place previously trapped under the bandana. 

"Cross does, typically." 

"That's nice of him," you reply with a bright smile, "hopefully I didn't steal all his fun when we get back to Saleucami and he finishes the rest of the haircut." 

Nothing gets past the sharp-sighted sniper: when you disembark the Omicron-class shuttle, Hunter just a little behind you as you carefully tromp down the ramp, Cross stops mid-turn in a game of Sabacc up against Cut, Echo and Tech to voice himself. 

"I told you you should have let me cut your hair before you left, Hunter." 

"You did, yes." 

"And you didn't listen," Crosshair continues, shaking his head almost disapprovingly. Almost. He's slightly more worried than it would appear. "Had sensory troubles and had to cut it, didn't you?" Hunter bobs his head once, and sheds the bandana to allow Crosshair to perform an inspection, Sabacc now abandoned momentarily. "Hmm. Doesn't look half bad this time, Hunter." 

"Afraid I can't take the credit. I asked her to help me." Hunter explains, nodding once in your direction. Crosshair's tone of scrutiny changes, now that he understands it's not his brother's handiwork. 

To his memory, this is the first time you've offered to help Hunter deal with his hair like this. His brother takes good enough care of his hair on his own, save for cutting what he can't see or comfortably reach behind his head, and that's where Hunter usually turns to his brothers for help. 

Wrecker, who's just gotten back from exploring with Omega, Jek and Shaeeah since they saw the Marauder coming in for a landing near the farm not too long ago, sees that Crosshair is still passively fussing through Hunter's recently-cut hair and assumes he's missed the trimming. 

"Hey not bad, Cross! That was quick!"

"Can't take the credit," Cross chuckles softly, nodding in your direction, "but she can."

And there's a little cleaning up that he notices he'll need to do, but otherwise, you pretty much nailed it. "Not bad, doll." Crosshair offers at long last. "Not bad at all. Think you're gonna replace me if I'm not careful." After dinner, time and circumstances allowing, he'll coach you through on how he usually takes care of Hunter's hair when it reaches a certain length since Hunter trusted you enough to ask for help out of the blue, after Hunter recounts the ordeal to his brothers and sister.

"Always happy to help, Hunter." you promise him. 

Hunter returns your friendly smile as he ties his hair back for the time being, saying he'll help Cut gather everything from the shuttle and put it in the shed for the time being before everyone helps with getting things ready for dinner. 

"I'm certainly lucky that you are, mesh'la."

Don't have a fic taglist for the time being. For now, though, if you'd like to join a taglist for specific types of fics (for example: just TBB-centric or just TCW-centric (or both)) don't hesitate to ask. 🩷

[Masterlist] [Requests: OPEN]

[grapenehifics]

Rotating the Obikin Lighthouse Fake-Married AU in my brain 🤔 Forgive me, I’m about to throw a lot of ideas at you because my plot brain is a mess lol.

So, I’m thinking this world but in the 1950’s to make them suitably cut off from the rest of the world and to enable some backstory for them both from WWII. Obi-Wan has already been a keeper of the lighthouse for two years now unaccompanied, but in the fall the owners of the house send him a letter requiring him to marry or else he’ll be fired in favor of an already wed keeper. Panicking, he writes a letter to the local town’s paper requesting an ad to be put out looking for a spouse/assistant keeper.

Anakin within this AU is desperate for a job due to backstory I haven’t thought of yet lol and looks through the newspaper ads to find Obi-Wan’s, and although marrying a stranger and working on a tiny island tending a lighthouse doesn’t sound like his thing, he immediately writes back for the promise of free room and board for six months.

Their first meeting is their wedding, officiated on the seaside dock of the island right after Anakin gets off the boat. From there, the fic would go through their awkward first few weeks, their conflict with one another confined to such a small space, then their budding friendship when they recognize themselves in one another.

I think the smut/romance would naturally come about in the winter, when they have to spend nearly every minute inside lest they freeze in the ocean’s icy mist. Would definitely feature cuddling for warmth, fireside bonding, sleeping in the same bed on the coldest nights 👀 I can just imagine all the kinky shit they’d get up to on a remote island the second the dam broke between them lmaooo

Happy ending is they eventually save up enough money and buy their own lighthouse as a proper couple

Sorry for the unsolicited idea dump! Ignore me if you’re not into it hahaha just had to throw my sudden plot around the AU somewhere!

OMG YES THIS EXACTLY this is what I was picturing too!!

Anakin could be having a hard time readjusting to life post-war that makes it difficult for him to hold down a steady job? PTSD, and/or that's where he lost an arm and that's been a tough transition? (Or employers simply look at him and *assume* he won't be able to do the job, even though he's perfectly capable.)

Their first few weeks together would be SO awkward and uncomfortable! Neither are very talkative or forthcoming so they just sort of...sit and stew, haha. Until one of them makes the other laugh and they learn to have a normal conversation :)

And then you had me at cuddling for warmth. The aesthetics of this is amazing. Fireplaces, warm blankets, hot tea...when they do have to go outside to work, they'll inevitably get soaked to the bone in a storm and need the other to get them out of their wet clothes, dry them off and warm them up!!

And sooooo much privacy; they can be as loud as they want together all the way out there, and have sex in every room of that lighthouse whenever they feel like it ;) (a.k.a. often) (The next owners might not love that part so much...)

EXTREMELY into this and would gladly read more of this anytime!! ♥♥♥ Thank you for running with this fun prompt!!

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter 6 is up!!!

Once-ler tries to sell his product in town and meets the Lorax. Excerpt below (read full chapter on Ao3):

It was sticking out from a stump, covered in mossy brown fur. It was the size of a cat, but with the round bean-form of an animal Once-ler had never seen. Its most significant feature was the yellow mustache on its face that was so thick Once-ler had the urge to pick the creature up and turn him upside down to sweep a floor. It positively radiated power and adorableness both at the same time. It pulled itself up and looked him in the eye.

The foot of the creature tapped expectantly.

Once-ler straightened his grey business vest and hat. "Can I help you… sir?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, if I gave you a surprise." The creature didn't sound sorry at all. "But I think you earned the shock in your eyes. You're up to mischief, best confess. Your secret plot, your sneaky mess."

"What am I doing wrong? You mean trying to make a living? Why is everyone here so against that?" Once Once-ler started ranting, he found he couldn't stop. “At least I actually have some ingenuity. Why is that a bad thing? My family was like that too. Don't we need inventions and new ideas to keep the world going? How are people supposed to support themselves, huh? Just by working for the O'Hares, and that's it?"

"You have a point, it's true, I see. Your words hold weight, are error free. But mind your manners, and do beware, lest your sharp wit makes you an O'Hare."

Once-ler flushed. "Well, maybe you should all stop assuming that every stranger who tries something new around here is exactly like an O'Hare." He tipped his hat stiffly, and turned away.

"Hey, you're alright, don't you fret. A nice, amusing chap, I won't forget. Ambition burns, inspiring, bright, but heed my words, and do what's right. Two paths I see, a heavy choice. One leads to glory, a tempting voice. The other path is a conscience clear, but it all depends which way you steer."

"Amusing, huh? Well, I think you're annoying," Once-ler grumbled, and grabbed Melvin's leash.

The creature kept up with Once-ler's long legs at a surprisingly quick pace as it stroked its mustache. "The Lorax am I, my voice is always near. I've been watching this place, year after year. The trees and beasts, they're my sacred domain. The forest's my charge, and I'll watch over it again." It darted in front of him and stuck out its spindly hand.

Once-ler stared at the long curling fingers before hesitantly giving them a shake. "Once-ler."

"Once-ler, that's a name so odd. What could it mean, I'd love to prod. Is it a title, a moniker grand? Or a label that I can understand?"

"It means I never make a mistake more than once," said Once-ler. "Because my Ma said she wishes she hadn't.”

"And what was the woman's misstep I wonder, that gave her son such a name to ponder?"

(Full novelization on Ao3. We're going to make a bunch of high quality rewrites of movies that had too many plot holes).

[kiss-theggoat]

The Ghost with the Most

The Ghost (Mitch) x Reader (Haunt 2019)

Word count: 1.6k

Summary: You and your friends decide on an “extreme” haunted house, and you’re not excited, until you meet a certain charming Ghost.

Warnings: Porn with the tiniest little bit of plot, quickie, you get fucked while your friends are dying, Mitch has a dirty mouth,

“Bailey calm down… Angela got the bleeding to stop and I’m going to go get someone to let us out okay?” You soothed Bailey, who had three sizable slices up her wrist. She was pale, sweaty, and leaning against the wall, tears rolling down her cheek every once and a while. Angela had ripped part of her costume off, wrapping it right around the wounds to slow the breathing.

Evan turned to you quickly, “You’re leaving?”

“Well what else are we supposed to do Evan? Stay here until she bleeds out?” You started looking for a way out, wondering what was behind the fence and curtains. The door you had come through was closed, but another had opened in its absence. “There has to be another actor up ahead…wait here.”

You walked through the doorway, despite the pleas that you stay. Bailey’s injury has everyone on edge, but you don’t understand the issue…accidents happen, even at haunted houses.

“Hello?” You called out, finally turning into another room. The room had an ominous blue tint, sheet covered mannequins covering every square inch. You yelped as fog sprayed up towards you through a grate in the floor, but then you laughed, thinking how stupid you must’ve looked getting scared by fog.

“Hello? Is there someone here? Our friend…she got hurt back there, she’s bleeding, we need out.” You announced. A loud bang sounded from the hallway you’d come from, followed by a scream, causing you to turn your entire body towards the door. This had you alarmed, even though you were sure it was just a planned scare, because your friends weren’t having fun anymore.

“You said someone’s hurt?”

You whipped around to the source of the smooth voice. A ghost, shrouded in what looked like pounds of fabric. “Yes, I’m sorry. She’s cut, she’s bleeding.”

“Hold on..” he said, beginning to walk to the door behind him.

“I uhm…I told them I’d go back with help…” you said meekly, still feeling sort of bad for interrupting the whole show. His body froze, then turned slowly to face you.

He nodded a little, “Let me get something…”

You stared at the ghostly figure, thinking that he must be handsome beneath his mask. His voice was so smooth and silky, and he was tall. Maybe the fabric was adding to the bulk, but he seemed much bigger than you. Masks have usually been your thing, maybe that was it. Keys jangled on his belt as gloved hands grabbed and pushed his drapery away from his waist, revealing a trim waistline and nice legs.

You took a deep breath and walked forward towards him. “Uhm…what are you grabbing…exactly…?”

His hands froze on the doorknob and the hollow eyes of his mask bore into your soul. “My other set of keys… I only have the keys to this half of the maze on me.”

You nodded, staring down at his key ring. Your eyes must’ve lingered for too long on his lower body because he cleared his throat, still facing you. He dropped the key in his hand, letting it jangle back down to his hip. “What’s your name?” He asked softly.

Nervously, you told him your name. You didn’t know why he was asking, but you damn sure weren’t going to not answer the hot masked stranger. He took a step closer, engulfing you completely in the white fabric of his cloak and the musky smell of his cologne, which had a slight undertone of something unpleasant, but you didn’t mind.

He said your name, as if testing how it sounded in his mouth. He reached forward, grabbing with a large gloved hand the bottom of the cropped shirt of your Halloween getup. “I like your costume…”

He tugged at the shirt a little, before flattening his palm on the skin of your hip. You felt yourself turn red, but decided that this was your chance. Every other thing you needed to worry about right now just evaporated into thin air. You took a small step forward as well, putting your hand on top of his.

In a blur, his right hand was tangled in the roots of your hair, tugging hard to spin you around, left hand right on your hip, holding you flush against him.

A surprised squeak left your lips at the sudden and confident action. One of his hands was still yanking on your hair, making your head fall back to expose your neck, the other hand moving from your hip to the center of your pelvis.

The force he spun you with surprised you, and before you knew it you were sandwiched between his ghostly figure and the wall. The fog from the grate hissed again, surrounding you both in a baleful cloud. Even through his shroud, you could feel how hard he was pushing his hips against yours, making your hips jut painfully into the cold metal wall.

“Such a slut.” He growled, hands fumbling with the button to your shorts. “Waltzing in here dressed like this…coming onto me…all while your friends are still waiting for you…”

A pang of guilt tore through your stomach. Your friends were currently scared, injured, and waiting for you to bring some sort of assistance, and you were too distracted by the Ghost that you completely abandoned them.

He yanked your shorts and underwear down hard, but only about to your mid thigh. The feeling of his gloves against your skin as he pulled up your shirt to run his hands over your exposed chest made you shiver and groan.

“Or maybe that’s what you want…huh? You want them to walk in on you getting fucking railed by some dude you just met.” The shroud he wore tickled your back as he hiked it up over you, finally giving you contact with something other than the strange fabric. You felt his jeans against your bare thighs, belt buckle pressing uncomfortably between his leg and the back of your knee.

Desperation overwhelmed your senses and you nodded for him, even though you didn’t want your friends to know what you were up to. He didn’t warn you, but with a loud groan, he slides inside of you. You barely need any adjusting, immediately you could feel the low simmer of pleasure in your belly.

Nothing could phase you. The feeling of the Ghost, a man who you’d just met, never seen his face, didn’t even know his damn name, fucking you up against a wall, erased every other thought in your mind. The feeling of him pressed against you, thrusting into you hard and needy, was almost too much to handle. You reached back and grabbed onto his hands, which were holding on for dear life at your hips.

“Holy shit…if I knew…sluts that come through this place felt like this…I’da fucked ‘em a lot sooner…” He groaned. The thought of him making this a thing excited you. Maybe you’d come back next year to see him again.

You moaned, loudly, surely loud enough for everyone to hear you, but you’d stopped caring.

“Mitch.” He moaned.

You craned your neck, confused. “What?”

His eyes were glued to where you were connected. “My name is Mitch. Say it.”

You followed orders, letting his name roll off your tongue in a pleasure-drunken stupor. You could feel yourself tightening around him, nails scraping at the wall you were squished against.

“Mitch…” you whimpered, “I…I’m gonna cum..”

“Awe already? I was having so much fun…” he leaned his head back, fully enjoying the sensation of you losing it on his cock. You came hard with him buried inside you, jaw dropping and eyes rolling back, legs struggling to hold you up.

“So fucking tight…” he grabbed your hair again, pulling your head back so he could say directly in your ear, “I’m gonna cum inside you, whether you want me to or not.”

You swore he was trying to kill you. You felt him push against you hard, forcing your cheek painfully against the wall. The sensation of warmth spilling inside you was enough to make you cum a second time, loud wails escaping your throat as you twitched and convulsed from the overwhelming pleasure. You both stood there panting, you were laying against the wall and Mitch was laying against you. The fact that your legs were trembling and about to give out any second didn’t help.

A few minutes later, you realized…you’d abandoned an injured, bleeding person in order to have sex with a complete stranger. You felt like the worst person in the world at this moment, and as guilt overtook you, you slowly pushed back against him to get your distance. “I…I really should…uhm….get back to my friends, I’m sure they’re worried sick…”

What you didn’t see was that in the other rooms of the haunted maze, two of your friends lay dead and bloodied, the rest sure to meet the same fate within the hour. But Mitch wasn’t about to let you go that easy…he thinks, no, he knows, you’d fit in wonderfully at this attraction.

Mitch whispered, “I’m sure they don’t know a thing…”

A/N: Haunt is criminally underrated, please give it a watch and understand my obsession for this ghost man

[aplgy-girl]

THE QUARRY — bloodline ᝰ.ᐟ

~ fem!oc x jacob custos — fem!oc x max brinly 𝜗𝜚

CHAPTER ONE — prologue

TAGS ༉‧₊˚.

17+ !! suggestive, gorey, NOT PROOFREAD, cancellation of characters and/or dialogues, no caps friendly, lore is semi changed to fit into my characters plots! <3

no schedule — chapters might be short ྀི

────୨ৎ────

THE MOONLIGHT SHONE through the cracks of the van max borrowed from his mother, four young adults sat on the cushioned seats of it. all met from college classes, turned to study group, made into close friends. laura sat in the back with a veterinarian technician textbook in her sleep, whilst the purple haired woman, valerie, on her right side with her eyes closed, head bobbing softly to the soft music coming from her vintage ipod thrumming in her hand.

“okay, but seriously, max.. you shouldn’t be so stubborn and listen to me about directions.” a dark haired brunette cooed towards max, her hand holding onto max’s free hand, rubbing delicate circles on top his soft knuckles. max was noticeably anxious, driving into circles for what feels like eternity.

“sammie, hun, i tried. you told me two signs ago that we should go left… we are at the same sign.” he sighs, glancing towards his lover with adoration and agitation. they all decided to volunteer at a children’s summer camp over the season, to allow themselves “peace and tranquility” through the upcoming hardships they will have to encounter at university. it was also a farewell vacation for max and sammie, since they were moving universities to study abroad, or so what sammie said. max didn’t seem too keen on the plan, moving away from his childhood bestfriend, laura. sammie reasoned they will return to visit soon, since she would also be leaving her bestfriend, valerie.

valerie understood though, shes always supported samantha through everything. if you were a stranger to them, you would think they’re dating, but its quite the opposite. sammie and val always were like two peas in a pod, her mother being the sister to val’s, causing them to be close from the get-go.

they met max and laura in middle school, after sammie talked max’s ear off in aquatic science that she adored sharks, she introduced max to val, who then introduced laura to the bestfriends.

“i—ouch!-” val yelped when laura kicked her in a sleepy haze, causing val to lightly kick the girl in retort. the blonde stirred awake, eyebrows furrowed as she glares at val, in which she shrugs, kicking the blondes feet down from the seat to make more room for herself.

“whatever, whats going on guys? do you need a map, max?” she yawned out, stretching as much as she could in the confined car. she looked around the area to find the map, causing max’s attention to deviate to the movement.

sammie turned back to address max about what an offline book just experienced, before realizing he wasn’t paying attention. “max! road!” she groaned, lightly tapping his head as to signal it to turn.

he mutters a sorry, quickly turning to the road but sees a…. he doesn’t know exactly what he sees, but it’s big and most importantly, in their path. sammie’s eyes widen in realization as time feels to freeze, her hands flying to swerve the car to keep them from running over whatever that was.

the sudden movements pick up the attention of the two other women. the car thrashed wildly as you can hear sammie panicking while max tries to maintain the cars balance.

“ohmygodohmygodohmygod-” sammie rambled, one hand holding onto max’s shirt tightly, his once free hand now on the wheel to offer extra support, and the other hand holding the grab handles at the top of the car.

after what feels like forever for them, but in reality was 20 seconds, the tires screech to a pit stop. the only sound made was the panicked breathing of the group, eyes wide as saucers staring at each other.

“can somebody tell me what the fuck just happened?”

[angstyaches]

from the prompts you just reblogged, would you do 10 for shayne and charlie? they’re literally so cute and i just love how flustered they both get when shayne’s tummy is upset. shayne always seems so embarrassed when he has to acknowledge having a physical form and charlie is adorable when he’s trying to pretend that he has a normal level of affection for shayne’s tummy

The ending to this did not want to be written. I'm sorry if it's awful.

Another one from @butterfliesornauseous's lovely prompt list.

I've been in a plot/character development mood lately so this ending up being about 10% character dynamic, 70% Charlie angst, and 20% Shayne having a stomach ache.

I just thought the idea of Shayne feeling sick but still focusing on Charlie's problem was nice 🖤

CW: anxiety, stress, crying, mention of childhood depression and trauma, food mention, slight bloating, implied body issues, stomach ache, stomach noises, burping, belly rubs, mutual hurt/comfort.

___

Charlie idly stroked the side of Shayne’s arm and let his mind wander. 

They were sitting next to each other in the surprisingly spacious conservatory – one of the better selling points of Trevor and Ingrid’s latest fixer-upper. The four of them had eaten a late dinner and then moved out here to continue catching up. 

As nice at it was to get some use out of the conservatory, it wasn’t the most well-insulated, so Charlie was glad that Ingrid had suggested making hot chocolate. He could still feel it warming him up inside, even if his mug was empty and cool in his hand. 

He was also enjoying the mundane view, if he was being honest; streetlamps blacked out the sky, erasing the stars, but the sights of other people’s – strangers’ – driveways and gable ends was comforting. He loved Mulberry, but the knowledge that it was the only house around for miles wasn’t exactly his favourite thing.  

He wondered if he would always have this need to seek out crowds and repetition and anonymity. 

This was the only room that had been completely cleared of construction clutter, leaving just the two wicker loveseats and matching coffee table. Even the blinds had been pulled all the way up, their cords rolled and sellotaped out of reach of anyone shorter than three feet. Belle wasn’t old enough to walk about by herself yet, but Charlie’s parents were taking no risks. 

She would be here tomorrow. In this room, at the same time as him.  

Charlie’s chest fluttered. He was trying to convince himself that he was feeling the good kind of nervous, but this didn’t feel like that. He knew he needed to get over it. Did he really want his five-month-old niece to look at his face for the first time and see all of his fear, all of his insecurity there? Was that the kind of role model he wanted to be? 

“... Charlie –” 

His thoughts jerked back to the moment at the sound of his own name.  

Shayne was speaking towards the other loveseat. Trevor and Ingrid were seated over there, holding mugs that matched the ones that Charlie and Shayne were using. 

A warm feeling swept in to soothe the anxiety in Charlie’s chest as he realised Shayne hadn’t said his name to get his attention; he was in the middle of telling his parents a story. 

“And then, um... w-well, Brian says, ‘oh, Charlie’s a nice name. Is she pretty?’” 

Ingrid snorted softly. 

“And – and I panic, right?” Shayne said, “and I say, ‘Yeah, Brian, she’s beautiful’.” 

Trevor bent his head forward, cackled, and slapped his knee. 

Warm feeling rapidly retreating, Charlie gaped at his boyfriend. “Excuse me?” 

“Shayne,” Ingrid chided outrageously, lifting a hand to her mouth to hide her grin. 

“What? I’m sorry,” Shayne groaned, sinking back in the loveseat and sliding down a few inches. “The guy is ninety-one. For all I know, I could have given him a heart attack if I corrected him.” 

Trevor, Charlie noted, was still chuckling away. Great. Thanks, Dad. 

“Charlie,” Shayne said softly, looking up from his slumped position. He had one hand balled into a fist and was half-heartedly covering his mouth to hide his grimace. The other – Charlie couldn’t help noticing – was holding his empty mug in place at the top of his tummy. “Forgive me?” 

Charlie smiled. He didn’t even have to think about it. The fact that Shayne was relaxed enough to even tell Charlie’s parents a story about his life was enough to make Charlie’s insides flutter. 

Definitely in the good way this time. 

“I forgive you,” he said, “but are you saying that if I ever visit the nursing home with you, I’ll have to wear a pretty dress and pretend to be a girl, all for the benefit of a ninety-year-old man who thinks you have a girlfriend?” 

“Ninety-one,” Shayne corrected him.  

“I don’t know, Char,” Trevor chimed in, “I think you could pull it off.” 

“Can we take it easy with the gendered stereotypes, please?” Ingrid demanded, partially tongue-in-cheek, partially genuine. “I’m a girl, and I haven’t worn a ‘pretty dress’ in years.” 

Shayne tilted his head to one side. “And I’m... fairly sure I've seen Felix in a dress.” 

Despite not even knowing who Felix was, Ingrid gestured towards Shayne, raising an eyebrow at Charlie.  

“Alright, alright,” Charlie half-smiled, lifting his hands in surrender. “I was describing a... a caricature more than anything –” 

“Too late, son,” Trevor declared. “You’ve been cancelled.” 

Ingrid rolled her eyes. “On that intellectual note, I think I’ll be off to bed with a cup of tea and my book. Have to savour the peace before it all kicks off tomorrow. Are you boys staying down here a bit longer?” 

Charlie glanced at Shayne, who shrugged. He was still sitting a little too low in the loveseat, mug propped on his belly, and he looked adorably established.  

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I think so.”  

“Don’t be too long, though.” Ingrid wrinkled her nose and shuddered. “It’s cold.” 

“Your bed’s all made up for you,” Trevor reminded them for the third time since they’d arrived. Charlie had a feeling his dad’s emphasis was on the word your, insisting that the spare room in the fixer-upper belonged to Charlie as much as it would have if he’d been living with him permanently. Charlie couldn’t think about it for too long without his eyes fogging up, so he flashed his father a grateful smile. 

“Oh – do either of you want more hot chocolate?” Ingrid asked. “There’s still some left in the slow cooker.” 

Shayne was instantly shaking his head. “No, thank you, Ingrid.” 

Confused, Charlie glanced at the empty mug in Shayne’s hand. He hated the thought of Shayne pretending to like something just to be polite or to not hurt his parents’ feelings. He’d had a similar thought at dinner, when Trevor had given Shayne a slice of lasagne the same size as Charlie’s, and Shayne hadn’t said anything despite the look of dread on his face. 

“Um, yes, please,” Charlie smiled widely as his mum passed him on her way to the kitchen. 

She gently clicked her tongue and took his mug. “How did I know you would? Hmm?” 

“I mean, I can get it mys–” Charlie uncrossed his legs and started to stand up. 

“No, no, no, stop that. Relax, sweetie.” Ingrid poked his shoulder. She always made a point of fussing over him on the first day of one of his visits. By tomorrow morning, he’d be hard-pressed to get her to pour him a cup of coffee from a pot she was already holding, at least not without a raised eyebrow.  

He waited until both his parents had stepped out of the conservatory and into the kitchen before he turned towards Shayne again. 

“You didn’t like the hot chocolate?” Charlie asked softly. He was a little bit disappointed that sipping hot chocolate on chilly night wouldn’t become one of their regular shared activities. 

“I did.” Shayne narrowed his eyes. “I just didn’t want any more.” 

Right. Charlie had spent so long battling his own serotonin-starved brain that he forgot that some people actually believed that too much of a good thing could be bad. When Charlie found something he liked, he tended to indulge in it as much as he could before his brain decided to give up rewarding him for it. If there was a button that he could have pressed for instant serotonin, Charlie would have mashed it to pieces a long time ago. 

Next to him, Shayne turned his head away, raising a fist to stifle a low belch. “Sorry.” 

Charlie put a hand on Shayne’s leg, his heart dropping. Had Shayne been waiting for Trevor and Ingrid to leave before burping? How long had been holding it in?  

“Are you okay? Are you feeling sick?” 

When Shayne didn’t immediately say no, it was usually because the answer was yes. And Charlie’s first reaction was a mixture of sympathy and indignation.  

Holy shit, he’s so cute; I need to cuddle him right this second. 

It wasn’t supposed to make his tummy hurt.  

“No,” Charlie keened softly, glancing towards Shayne’s empty hot chocolate mug. “No, no, no, we made it with soy milk so it wouldn’t –” 

“Ssshh,” Shayne whispered, his eyes pleading as he looked towards the door to the kitchen. 

Charlie wanted nothing more than to fuss over his boyfriend and forget everything else, but that was when his father came back to the conservatory.  

“Here you go,” Trevor said, arriving beside Charlie with his cup of hot chocolate, refilled. “Watch it, it’s hot.” 

“Night, boys!” Ingrid called out from the hallway. 

“Goodnight,” they both responded. 

“Jon said they’ll probably be here around eleven,” Trevor said. “So, you two’ll be up and about by then, won’t you?”  

Charlie’s heart sank again as he was reminded of the countdown to Jon’s arrival with his girlfriend and child. “Yeah, of course we will be.” 

“Now, Char, remember. If you want to open that window in your room upstairs –” That time, Trevor definitely nodded in time with the words your room. “It sticks sometimes. So, you have to lift the frame, pull it in slightly –” 

Even though he’d heard all of this twice before, Charlie smiled and nodded. 

“Okay?” Trevor said. 

“Can do. Thanks, Dad.” 

Trevor still looked unconvinced that Charlie had understood his instructions. “You’ll figure it out. Goodnight, you two.” 

“Night, Dad.” 

“Goodnight, Trevor, thank you.” 

And then they were alone. 

Shayne held his empty mug in his right hand, propping his arm on the side of the loveseat. His left hand rested on his belly now, and Charlie’s head was flooded with all the different ways he could take over that job. Each image made his own stomach flutter, made his head feel like it was full of glitter. 

He took a few mouthfuls of his hot chocolate, hoping to wash down the guilt and shame rising to his throat. 

I’m so mean. 

I’m so weird. 

It had taken a lot of trust-building for Shayne to feel okay with letting Charlie know he didn’t feel well. Would he still be holding his stomach like that if he knew what kind of thoughts it sent spiraling through Charlie’s mind? How his face was burning with heat, and not just because of the scalding hot chocolate? 

“Hey, I’m fine.” Shayne frowned as he saw Charlie's expression. “Will you stop worrying?” 

Charlie panicked, thinking his stupid face must have betrayed his guilty elation, but Shayne must have interpreted the look as one of concern. 

“Seriously.” Shayne tilted his head to one side. He pulled himself forward and sat up a little straighter, his torso turned towards Charlie. “Are you okay tonight? Why are you so jumpy?” 

“I’m not jumpy! Who said I was jumpy?” 

Shayne was leaning forward to place his mug on the coffee table. His eyes flicked off to the side, then met Charlie’s again. “Me. I just said it.” 

“Um...” 

“Here.” Shayne pried Charlie’s mug away from him and placed it on the coffee table too. “Hold my hands.” 

Charlie was horrified to find that his hands were shaking, but that didn’t seem to bother Shayne as he took them in his. 

“I know why you’re freaking out.” 

Shit. 

“I know you’re scared that Belle won’t like you,” Shayne said.  

Wait... What? Charlie blinked. His head felt like it had been hurtling down one road, only for someone to slam on the brakes and crash through a barrier onto a different road. How –? 

“But, like... god, how do I say this without sounding like an asshole?” Shayne muttered. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t even know that colours have names yet. You could be a murderer, and I doubt she would even care, as long as you made enough funny faces at her.” 

Charlie should have been relieved that Shayne hadn’t noticed the other reason for Charlie’s nerves, but his heart kept fluttering anyway. 

“That... probably didn’t come out right.” Shayne rubbed both of Charlie’s wrists with his thumbs. “Did I sound like an asshole?” 

“No,” Charlie laughed incredulously. “Take it easy on yourself.” 

Shayne arched an eyebrow. “Take your own advice, my love.” 

“Hmm.” Charlie’s smile faltered.  

Truth was, this had been weighing on him all week, ever since he’d gotten a message from Jonathan to say he, Nicole, and Belle would be visiting Trevor and Ingrid that Sunday. It hadn’t been an enthusiastic invitation; just a statement, left floating in the ether. It was like Jon had tossed a chunk of leftover ham between himself and a hungry dog, saying it doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me if you eat this or not, but it’s there.  

But that was how it’d always been between the two of them.  

Charlie had gotten on the phone to Ingrid – it had been the first time she’d heard of this arrangement – and half-hoped that she would say that she and his dad wouldn’t be able to put him up on Saturday night, meaning the trip wouldn’t be worthwhile. She’d been delighted to offer him the spare room, though. 

His last hope had been Shayne. He had been counting on him to decline Charlie’s offer to join him at his parents’, at which point Charlie could offer to meet him somewhere else instead. Sorry, Jon, he could have said. Plans with the bf this weekend. Catch you next time!  

But Shayne had agreed to accompany him as soon as Charlie had explained the situation. He hadn’t even hesitated. He’d made Charlie simultaneously the most grateful and most disappointed boyfriend in the world. 

Charlie blinked and fought to get the smile back on his face. His chest ached with guilt towards the part of him that resented Shayne for not giving him an excuse not to be here.  

“What if...” His voice wavered. “What if she doesn’t like me?” 

Shayne blinked in surprise. “I already covered that. Remember? My definitely-not-an-asshole speech?” 

“I-I know. I know she’s just a baby now, but –” Charlie licked his lips. He had the urge to get up and try to walk off some of the nervous energy, but he didn’t want to let go of Shayne’s hands. “Even if tomorrow goes okay, she’s... she’s always going to have me in her life, and I just... I don’t think I’m ready for that.” 

Charlie tried not to think too hard about the next part. He just talked.  

“I didn’t exactly have the most optimistic outlook on life when I was a kid, and... and I don’t know if I ever got over it, or if I just learned to live with the depression at some point? Coexist with it, just like I did with CT? But I’ve always – I've always needed things to help me get through the negative feelings, you know? Even just... little things.” 

“Like Mr. Teddy?” 

Charlie paused, surprised that that was the first thing that popped into Shayne’s head. “Vincent.” 

“Right. Vincent. Sorry.” 

“Not just him, but... yeah.” 

Shayne nodded sincerely.  

“But beneath all of that... effort I made –” Charlie fought hard not to cringe; did he think his own attempts to stave off his depression had been some noble act of service to the world? Was he a hero for finding ways to cheer himself up? “For a long time, I felt like there was nothing worth looking forward to. Sometimes, the world felt so harsh, so scary, so...” 

Shayne’s eyes glittered with sadness.  

“Empty,” Charlie whispered. He wasn’t even sure if it had come from himself or from CT, but that didn’t even seem to matter. 

Shayne sighed like he’d been holding his breath. 

“What if...” Charlie swallowed again, his throat drying up as his eyes became wetter. “What if Belle comes to me one day, and asks me what the point of everything is? What if she asks me if things get better, if everything will be okay, if the world really is as messy and confusing and infuriating as it seems?” 

A sob clawed at Charlie’s throat and he gulped against it, shuddering. 

“What if she’s in pain, like I was, and she asks me to make it better, and I can’t?” 

“Then...” Shayne squeezed both of Charlie’s hands. “Her Uncle Charlie won’t lie to her.” 

Charlie took a deep breath, letting his mind wrap around that. He had been so lost in feeling and hearing his own despair that he had almost forgotten that Shayne could talk, too. “What?” 

“I was lied to my whole young life,” Shayne said. “I wish that I’d had someone who just... told me the fucking truth. Even if it was messier and more fucked-up than any of the lies they could come up with.” 

Charlie’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t sure that the psychological abuse Shayne had gone through fell into the same category as the little white lies that adults told children to preserve their world view. But he had a point, and the more he thought about it, the more he realised that if someone – anyone – had told his ten-year-old self that there was a name for the feeling he was so afraid of, maybe he’d have had an easier time of things. He could have gotten help. He could have sought out connections with other people who felt the same way. 

Maybe he’d have had a better relationship with Jon. Maybe he’d have a father who could look him in the eye and say I miss you instead of always dancing around the subject. 

“What?” Shayne frowned. “Was that – now am I being an asshole?” 

“No. No, you’re right.” Charlie shook his head. Teardrops started to run down his face. “You’re so right, lovely...” 

He lifted his arms, looping them around Shayne’s waist as he shifted forward to draw Charlie into an embrace.  

“I’m just so scared,” he wept into Shayne’s shoulder. “I’m so – so scared that she’ll – that I won’t be able to help her.” 

“You will be,” Shayne whispered to him. “Maybe not in the ways you want to, but... you’ll be the exact person she needs you to be.” 

Charlie loved his parents. They were wonderful people. But there were subjects that just weren’t spoken about in their family when he’d been growing up, and the person Charlie had needed was someone who wouldn’t pretend that things were normal when they weren’t. Who wouldn’t pretend that life was supposed to be unbearably stressful or you just weren’t doing it right. 

He’d needed someone who wouldn’t pretend that they had all the answers, just because they were expected to. 

He needed someone like the person he was now. 

Sobs quietly racked his body, dissolving into shivers. He tried his best to keep quiet; the last thing he wanted was for his parents to hear and to start worrying about him again. There was definitely a conversation he needed to have with them, but there was enough drama happening for one weekend already. 

For now, he just let himself be held. And Shayne held him until the trembling subsided, until Charlie could breathe steadily without triggering a shudder inside his lungs. 

“Thank you,” Charlie whispered, still not letting go. In fact, he held Shayne even tighter, turning the hug into an embrace that was for both of them, not just him. “I didn’t realise how much I needed this.” 

Where Charlie inserted a little extra force, Shayne seemed to let go of some. He let his head sag against Charlie’s shoulder and sighed. “I’m so full, Charlie.” 

Once again, the brakes on Charlie’s mind screeched – this time, the surprise was delightfully welcome. He felt goosebumps break out across his body, and a grin split his face, which he buried in his boyfriend’s neck.  

He’d completely blanked on the fact that Shayne had just comforted him through all of that while he had a tummy ache. It felt like a tornado of confetti had suddenly ripped through Charlie’s brain. He loved Shayne so much, and almost said so out loud, but realised it might sound a little out of place right now. 

Instead, he scratched the back of Shayne’s head and rubbed a circle over his lower back. 

“Aw,” Charlie said softly. 

Shayen let out a low groan of appreciation. 

“Mmph. Sorry.” He shook himself and lifted his head. He kept one hand on Charlie’s side but pulled the other arm towards himself to lightly cradle his stomach. “Are you okay, love?” 

“Yeah.” Completely okay, and outrageously normal. Charlie’s nerves fizzed with some delightful cocktail of adrenaline and dopamine and probably a million other things. “I feel so much better now.” 

“Really?” 

“Promise,” Charlie smiled. “Thank you.” 

Shayne’s eyes were still a little glassy, but his frown relaxed a bit. He was taking slow, deep breaths, as though inhaling too sharply would make the pain worse.  

“Lie back,” Charlie said. They were both still sitting near the edge of the loveseat, which Charlie realised was unnecessary. He twisted into a comfier position, looping an arm around Shayne’s waist as he joined him.  

“Do you feel sick?” he asked, realising that he’d never gotten a proper answer earlier. 

Shayne shook his head. “Not sick, but I can feel everything just... sitting there, though.” 

His hand was now splayed over his belly, and Charlie couldn’t take his eyes off of it. He couldn’t help himself. It was practically an invitation, right? 

He slid his hand across the top of Shayne’s stomach, his heart fluttering as his boyfriend let out a sigh and moved his own hand to the side. Charlie happily smoothed his hand downwards and slipped his fingers beneath Shayne’s jumper and t-shirt, glancing at his face for confirmation that this was okay. 

His eyes were shut, and his frown was no deeper than it’d already been. 

On the sweeping upward motion, Charlie could feel the extra pressure and tension around and above Shayne’s belly button. Charlie’s hand lingered, and he tried to figure out whether Shayne’s stomach was actually taut and spasming, or if his muscles were just clenching from being touched. But the longer he spent running his fingers back and forth, the more certain he was that Shayne’s tummy was pushing out a little further than it usually did. 

Charlie felt a shifting motion under his hand, and a few seconds later, Shayne was turning his head away to let out another low, rumbling burp.  

Shit. Charlie had to restrain himself from smiling. 

He reckoned he must have still been gazing at him a bit too intensely though, because he instantly frowned when he met Charlie’s eye again. 

“I – sorry.” His voice prickled with defensiveness. 

“What? Don’t be sorry,” Charlie grimaced. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“You’re fine, except your stomach hurts.” 

“I – yeah.” 

“So not fine,” Charlie pointed out. He let his hand glide a little lower, enjoying the warmth and the softness until it was abruptly cut off by the top of Shayne’s jeans. “You should probably take these off.”  

Charlie’s throat clenched as he heard himself a second later. He buried his head against Shayne’s shoulder, still cupping his belly under his shirt.  

“Shut up. I know that sounded like such a line." 

“Didn’t say anything,” Shayne said. 

“What I meant was that you should take your jeans off so they’re not hurting you.” 

Shayne narrowed his eyes.

"So... I can get you some of my spare pyjama bottoms..."

“What are you getting at, Charlie?” Shayne's voice was only lightly seasoned with sarcasm.

Charlie rolled his eyes as he lifted his head to look his boyfriend in the eye. “I’m not getting at anything, lovely, except that when you're too full, your tummy can get a little bit bloated... and that’s when you should change into something looser or softer, to keep the pressure off.” 

Shayne lowered his head, his mouth tilting into a sulk. Charlie pressed his lips to his cheek, wishing he could kiss away the look of muted discomfort on his boyfriend’s face.  

“Hey. It’s completely normal.”  

Oh, and really fucking adorable, but let’s not say that part out loud. 

Shayne let out a little hum – though whether it was a response to the kiss or the verbal reassurance, Charlie wasn’t sure. His stomach had just gurgled while Charlie had been absentmindedly rubbing a few light circles into it, so maybe he'd just been humming to try to cover that up.

"So, do you want those pyjamas?" Charlie asked quietly.

“Did you actually pack spare pyjamas for a one-night stay?”

Charlie frowned. "Yeah."

“Did you pack some for me?” 

“Yeah...” Charlie blushed. “We don’t have our own bathroom here. What if one or both of us needed to pee in the middle of the night? We can’t just wander around the house in our underwear.” 

Shayne let his head rest against the back of the loveseat, eyes closed again. “I would have just put my jeans back on, gone to the bathroom, came back, took them off again –” 

“No. No. No boyfriend of mine is putting his jeans on at four in the morning," Charlie said. "That...” 

Shayne opened his eyes.

“That... goes against my religion." Charlie's voice wavered and he bit back a nervous grin. "What are you staring at me for?”

"Nothing. You're just an idiot sometimes."

"Okay?"

"For not realising how fucking brilliant you are."

Charlie let the grin win. "Okay."

[winterabrams]

writing 01: hellooo! i want to post my writings on here! this one is not a fanfic or based on any characters, other than the ones in my head. my default character names are christian + jane, for future reference!

there aren't any trigger warnings for this scene. it's based on a prompt by @whump-galaxy where jane cleans up christian's injuries. i'm always open to suggestions or recs that you want to see me write.

side note: i haven't exactly proofread this scene, since i just wanted to get it done and publish it here! in the future, i will obviously go over it and read/proofread to make it better. happy reading + please don't steal my work.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

“Hold still.”

Christian’s response comes out as a grumble. I’m not entirely sure that he’s even said anything, to be quite honest. It sounds like more of a grunt than a grumble, really. I focus my attention back on him, wiping his bloodied lip with a moist cloth. I, then, proceed to wipe his right cheek, which has been slashed somehow. The blood here is dried up, but he still winces when I swipe the red liquid away.

My guess is a bar fight, but I don’t think he’s in the particular mood to talk about it. Or talk about anything at all. Not that he ever talks about anything with me in general. So, really, what’s the difference? If he doesn’t want to answer the question, no one’s forcing him.

“What happened?” My voice comes out a bit more timid and shaky than I’d like.

He doesn’t respond, of course. Just stares at me like he’s plotting my murder. AKA, the usual.

I grab a gel ice pack from the freezer and press it to his bruised eye. It’s already turning black. Wonderful; just wonderful. Why couldn’t I have married someone who’s a stranger to violence? I’m not a nurse. I shouldn’t be cleaning up his face because he let someone else have their way with it.

I tilt his chin up, assessing the damage. Black eye, bruised face, blood seeping down his lips, and… is that dirt? How the hell did he get dirt on his face? Did he wrestle someone in a barn? Really, Christian? Really?

Just then I notice something. As I’m tilting his head to get a better look at it, his eyes flutter closed—no really, they flutter closed—like a butterfly. I can see the exhaustion seeping through his features in a way that I hadn’t noticed before. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to notice. I didn’t want to see that he’s human, just like I am. If you cut him, he’ll bleed. He’s not untouchable; no matter how much he claims to be.

His head relaxes in my hand and his breathing starts to even out. I place the ice pack on the counter beside his legs and continue wiping the blood off his beautifully bruised face. I enjoy the fact that he’s letting me do this without complaining. Without pushing me away. I kind of wish he did push me away. I don’t want to see him weak; it makes me feel things I shouldn’t.

“Bar fight,” he mutters underneath his breath.

I nod once. “I see. And what, pray tell, brought on this fight? I mean, I get it. You’re a naturally frustrating person. Who wouldn’t want to fight you? But, like, did you go to the bar specifically for a fight or did it happen randomly? God, please tell me you didn’t walk up to the biggest guy there and pick a fight with him. You’re smarter than that. Usually. Wait, is this about the argument we had yesterday? I told you—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he interrupts. “No, I didn’t go for a fight. It happened on its own.”

I press the ice pack back to his bruised eye, using my free hand to wipe some dirt off his forehead with my thumb. I feel like a mother bird, cleaning her child. And whoa, that’s not where I want my brain to be headed. Because I’m not a mother bird. I’m his wife. Sure, it was an arranged marriage and we’ve never really had a real conversation before, but still.

“Why is there dirt on you? Did you fight in the desert or something?”

“No,” he sighs. “It was a cowboy bar.”

I try to hold in my laugh; I really do, but it bubbles out nonetheless. “You, tough guy of the century, went to a cowboy bar? Did you wear a hat? Oh my God, did you buy some boots? Maybe wear a buttoned-up flannel? Did you—”

“Jane. Stop talking. Please.”

“Right. Yeah, okay. My bad. But did you?”

“No, I didn’t wear a Goddamn hat, or boots, or flannel. Can we drop this now?”

I nod profusely, probably too much. I definitely look like one of those bobbleheads. I’ll shut up. But there’s no way I’m not bringing up the fact that Christian went to a cowboy bar, like, every single time we have company for the foreseeable future.

Embarrassing him will be my new job. That’s what wifes are for, isn’t it?

I get distracted and start carding my fingers through his hair. It feels very tangled. I don’t even notice that I’ve dropped the ice pack until my brain connects the fact that both my hands are now in his hair, combing through the strands. Why is it so tangled? Doesn’t he own a brush?

“What are you doing?” His voice cuts through my thoughts. More specifically, the sound of it does. Deep, raspy, hoarse. AKA, the hottest way a man can speak. Granted, the hottest way Christian can speak is to not speak at all, but this is a close second.

“Hm?”

But he doesn’t respond. Instead, he tilts his head back, making no move to stop me. His breathing sounds ragged at this point and I can’t tell if that has anything to do with me or if I’m imagining the entire thing. Maybe this entire encounter isn’t even happening. Maybe I’m daydreaming again. Or worse, I’m asleep. Dreaming about him would be catastrophic for my brain. My thoughts are chaotic enough. I don’t need to confuse them even more.

“Jane,” he mumbles.

“Yeah?”

I’m scratching his scalp at this point. A rather intimate gesture, but I can’t stop myself from enjoying the quiet tenderness of the moment we’re sharing. He doesn’t seem so scary when he’s relaxed like this.

“Take the pack off?”

It takes me a second to figure out what he means. What pack? You expect me to think of anything but the way you’re relaxing under my fingers, Christian? You expect me to think clearly right now?

Then, I look down and notice that the ice pack I had dropped at some point in the last five minutes is resting on his lap. On top of his dick, to be more precise. And it’s cold. Which can feel nice there, I guess. It’s not like I haven’t experimented with that. But maybe that’s not what he needs right now.

I pull the pack off his lap and step away to put it back in the freezer. When I turn around, Christian’s standing directly in front of me. Of course, I slam right into his chest. Why wouldn’t I? Firstly, there’s my luck with, oh, I don’t know, anything ever. But then there’s the fact that he moved right in my way. What did he expect? I’m not a psychic. I can’t tell when he moves. He’s a ninja. My husband is a ninja.

“Thanks,” he grunts, like it physically pains him to say that one word to me.

“Yeah. No worries. I mean, you were hurt. What was I gonna do? Let you bleed out? I suppose I could’ve done that. Really, I would have no problem doing that. You’re very capable of taking care of yourself. I’m also very capable. I’m sure you’ve figured that out. Yep. So, I’m gonna shut up now. Goodnight.”

He grabs my wrist before I can make any move to walk away.

“I hate sleeping alone.”

I’m so shocked by the words, I have to pinch my arm to make sure I’m not dreaming. Nope. Not dreaming. And that hurt.

“Oh. That sucks. Really, that’s… unfortunate.”

He stares at me, dumbfounded. “Now is the time where you minimize your word count?”

My eyes widen. “Oh, was that an invitation? Do you want me to sleep with you? In your bed? I can do that, I guess. It’s just that the whole time we’ve lived together, you’ve never once asked me to, so I just… um, didn’t. Obviously, I have no problem sleeping with you. In your bed. Under your sheets. That smell like you. Not that you have a distinct smell. I definitely didn’t notice anything like that. Well, since we’re bringing it up, I might as well—”

His hand claps over my mouth.

“Stop talking,” he sighs. “It was more of a statement than an invitation, but you’re more than welcome to sleep in my bed. Especially after you… took care of me tonight.” He pauses. “Would you like to?”

I open my mouth to respond, but he interrupts me. Again.

“Nod or shake your head.”

I nod in response.

“Great. Just don’t kick me in your sleep.”

I push his hand away. “How do you know about that?”

“I have my ways.”

He then leads me to his bedroom, our hands intertwined together, which feels even more intimate than me taking care of his face in the kitchen.