#and they put him on the last day?? despicable

[vitamin-zeeth]

Fabian new art losing my SHIT ABSOLUTELY GOING INSANE I LOVE HIM

[annievrse]

it's nice to have a friend

dazai x reader —ᡣ𐭩 fic summary: a slow morning with dazai turns into being late for work. but do you really care? w/c: 0.9k c/w: dazai puts his head under ur shirt but its not sexual, established relationship, ur shorter than dazai, kunikida slander!! (all jokes <3)

"get out of there," you slur, your brain still waking up. the sun warms your face, and you mentally scold dazai for not closing the blinds last night after you fell asleep.

without opening your eyes, you know where dazai lays his head—it's his favourite place. the head-shaped lump under your shirt moves, and you rub your eyes in preparation to open them against the morning light.

dazai presses kisses against your sternum, leaving goosebumps in his wake. "...no," the sound is muffled, but you hear it perfectly. "comfy."

"osamu," you laugh, vision bleary with sleep when you look down at your chest. tufts of brown hair stick out of the neckline of your shirt and tickle your collarbones. dazai has his arms wrapped around your hips, and his legs tangle with yours under the sheets. "we have to go to work."

his hair brushes against your skin when he shakes his head. his hands lay flat on your back and his fingers dance along your spine. you twist your body in an attempt to get away from his ticklish fingers, but dazai holds you tight.

your whines and giggles soothe his aching chest and messy mind. holding you this close is one thing, but being the reason you laugh so freely makes dazai's supposed rotten heart mellow.

"c'mon," you urge, rubbing his bare back. dazai groans. "i'll bandage you up."

your boyfriend slips his head from under your shirt with red cheeks and a bird's nest for hair. then he leans forward to hover over you, his hair falling into his eyes, and you push it back to reveal his forehead.

"i love you," dazai whispers, leaning into your hand on his cheek. you push up on your elbow and kiss him, swallowing the sounds that escape his mouth.

"i will love you if we get to work on time," you fold your lips between your teeth, gauging his reaction. dazai slaps his hand over his chest and falls to the side, his body bouncing off the mattress softly.

"you're terrible. absolutely despicable. i can't believe you've finessed your way into my bed."

rolling your eyes, you turn onto your side to face him. "'samu."

"hm?"

"this is my bed."

dazai lifts his head from the tangle of blankets. "your bed? we both paid for it with the hard-earned cash we get from being better at our jobs than kunikida."

"get up," you scoff, hiding your smile as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. "and don't slander our coworker so early in the morning."

dazai shrugs and lays back down. a bird sitting on the balcony chirps loudly like your personal alarm telling you to hurry up.

brushing your teeth, you make a mental checklist of your work for the day. paperwork, a trip to the police station to obtain a list of suspects for the case you're working on, more paperwork, and—

hands slide around your waist. dazai presses his cheek against the top of your head and you jump from his sudden appearance.

"why are we awake?"

"work."

"ugh."

after rinsing your mouth and washing your face with a man attached to your back, you turn around to face him. dazai's eyes are closed, his hair flopping lazily over his forehead. you feel a twinge of sadness for your boyfriend and sigh. reaching to his side of the sink for the bandage roll, you stretch it out before his eyes.

your hands move deftly, wrapping the white gauze around his torso with accustomed skill. you peck his chest every once in a while, and work efficiently, almost completely covering his body in under two minutes.

"thank you," dazai says, his voice low. he squeezes your hips in gratitude before allowing you to wrap them too. dazai brings your hand to his lips after linking them together, his eyes on you. you look to the floor bashfully.

"if we're late, it's your fault! let's go! move!" dazai declares, running out of the bathroom. the sudden change in his demeanour does little to shock you, but the switch in blame does.

you laugh and shake your head, hurrying to follow him to the closet. bumping into each other, pulling clothes off hangers and snatching shoes from the shelf, you share kisses between you buttoning up his shirt and him tying your tie—you've always been hopeless at it.

you spend a little longer in the bathroom, and dazai goes to the kitchen to shove snacks into your bag. with your hair finally wrangled and brushing out dazai's hair when he's not paying attention, you're ready for work with 30 seconds to spare.

"new record?"

you nod while fixing your earrings and grab the keys from the dish beside the door. "we totally deserve a prize."

dazai pauses in the doorway, his finger on his cupid's bow. "breakfast before we turn up? surely they don't expect us to be on time."

you check your phone for the time and contemplate your schedule again. wow, are you turning into kunikida?

nodding quickly to forget the thought, you grasp his hand and pull him out the door, the lock automatically flicking closed.

"pancakes, here we come!"

[yourheart-inmyhands]

I got one for you. Reader with long hair. Yan zhongli, Childe and Pantalone adore brushing it out or washing it for you, putting pretty (but not pointy) decorations in it. but you HATE them touching it. So one day, maybe when they slip up and leave smth sharp in your abode you grab it and lop off as much as you can before they come back (or stop you if they’re in the room when you do it). What happens afterwards?

Cannot wait to see what you cook with this, I adore your takes.

ah tysm! sorry it took so long to get to this, i took a little bit of a different twist from my normal writing style and did some headcanons and a short blurb! hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including implied being held against will, mentions of reader almost being hit, zhongli being a softie, delusional behaviors, obsessive behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Pantalone would be furious, as someone with hair of a decent length himself, he knows the time and dedication it takes to grow it out so long.

He also knows how much maintenance it took, which is why he never fussed about helping you with it, often insisting to do it for you.

He saw it as a bonding moment between the two of you, something to help him wake up in the morning as he did your hair and something to unwind to at night as he’d undo the intricate styles he had done it up in that morning. 

You cutting off your hair with a letter opener that he’d left in the room by mistake hurts him, upsets him to the point he almost strikes you. To him it’s as if you had cut him, making a statement that you’d rather give up on something you’d dedicated years to, than to allow him the comfort and satisfaction. 

Pantalone can’t even bear to look at you for the next few days, sleeping in another room or in his office. 

“How could you do something so despicable? Do you even care how this made me feel?” The way Pantalone speaks almost makes it seem like you’d given him an impromptu haircut. With the gorgeous hair that used to reach down the length of your back now sitting in choppy piles on the floor, it almost felt like you had in a way. Your hair was uneven, lopped off sporadically in case he tried to interrupt. You’d just taken off the last few locks when he had noticed the absence of his letter-opener, intending to merely pop into your shared bedroom to grab it. Instead he was met with the grueling sight of you, kneeling before the full length mirror, hand clutching the letter opened as your opposite hand released a fist full of hair, letting it float down to the piles that had formed below.

Yandere!Zhongli would be conflicted. Part of him is upset that you’d make such a hasty decision, not even weighing the outcomes and taking away something from not just yourself but from the both of you. 

The other side of him is hurt that you didn’t come to him first. That you didn’t feel comfortable expressing your discomfort with his actions and had taken it to the extreme instead. His heart aches at both thoughts.

You’d managed to pry a sharp piece of stone off the walls of the cave, using it to hastily take off chunks, only for Zhongli to catch you mid way through. His contempt at the situation settles with a sigh as me approaches you, gently prying the rock from your hands before disappearing, leaving you to sit on the floor, half of your hair lopped off just scattered around you.

He returns a short bit later though, bringing with him a large mirror and a sharp pair of scissors. Setting the mirror in front of you, he gently begins correcting your hazardous hack job, carefully trimming off all the missed areas to even it all out.

While his work wasn’t great, it certainly looked a little better than how it had started. Your hair now sitting a few inches above your shoulder, a simple all around cut that was, mostly, even.

Zhongli didn’t say a word as he approached, looking down at you with a blank expression, his calm eyes staring deeply into your wide ones as he gently pried the rock from your hands, leaving you to wallow in a pile of your own hair as he disappears. Upon his return, he places a large, ornate mirror in front of you. It was typically kept in the living room as a decorative piece but he required it’s services here. Pulling from his pocket a pair of sharp scissors, he gently angles your head to be straight before reaching for the areas you hadn’t gotten to yet. Quickly shedding the length of those pieces he gets to work on straightening the rest out, doing an ok job at making it all match up and look decent. “If you wanted me to leave your hair alone you could’ve always asked darling, you know I only want to make you happy in this life of ours.”

Yandere!Childe manages to catch you before the act. You had thought you were sneaky, tiptoeing out of bed early in the morning over to his work clothes that had been hastily shed after his return last night.

You knew he kept a couple different blades on him, having shown you them before. Yet as you checked every pocket, every hidden loop, all the little places he’d shown you that he could be keeping them, you continued to turn up with nothing.

Over and over you checked, an almost pleading in the way your hands silently searched through the crumpled clothing, desperate to find anything even remotely sharp at this point.

You could feel the frustration as well as tears welling up in your eyes, why couldn’t anything ever go your way? First you get stuck with that crazed lunatic, and now that he’s practically taken over your hair you can’t even take some control and rid yourself of it.

As you search, you failed to hear the bed creak, or the soft patter of footsteps behind you. The only two things that tell you he’s awake are his voice whispering in his ear and his hand flaunting the exact thing you’d been looking for.

“I thought you might go looking for this, so I hid it under the pillow. A little cliche but I thought you’d be too stupid to look there, guess I was right~” Childe’s voice comes out in a sing-song tone, almost as if he was bragging about outsmarting you. He could tell from the moment he took an interest in your hair that it made you uncomfortable, just another button of yours to push as he slowly molded you into the perfect spouse for himself. His nimble fingers twirled the simple knife around, flaunting it to you. You could try to grab it, lunge for it even, but it was no use. You wouldn’t be able to get even a strand shortened before Childe would have it back in his possession, especially when the distance between the two of you was so short. Short enough that you could feel his chest pressing against your back, his breath on your neck, and his soft strands of hair brushing against the back of your head.

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [17]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Warning: eMoTiOnAl DaMaGe

Part 16 | Fic Masterlist | Part 18

How dare he—

Jongho gritted his teeth, his fists tightening at the despicable tactics the fourth prince employed to disrupt your relationship with the general. Usually composed, the assistant struggled to contain his rising anger, feeling an overwhelming urge to resort to violence.

Meanwhile, all Eunsook cared about was your well-being. She empathised with your past, knowing all too well the horrors you endured in your old home. The idea of being married to someone potentially more ruthless than your previous abusers must have been terrifying. Despite understanding the reasons behind her master's actions, she acknowledged his moral ambiguity.

Her only wish was for you to accept that he would never hurt you.

Despite the whirlwind of emotions stirred by the revelation that Seonghwa might have been involved in more than just supervising your father's punishments, your expression remained unreadable. Yeosang held his breath, watching you intently, half-expecting a reaction of terror or betrayal. Whether it was shock, anger, or disbelief, he anticipated something negative.

Desperation clawed at the prince's heart as he clung to his last resort, willing it to work. Foolish as it might seem, the truth was he had no prior experience in wooing anyone, let alone a married woman committed to another. He fumbled in the dark, unsure of the right ways to win your heart, driven only by the conviction that he could be a better husband than General Park.

In his mind, he painted a picture of himself as the ideal partner for you, one who would treat you with the care and affection he believed you deserved. He saw himself as the only one who could truly understand the pain etched into your body, just as you might understand his. And so, he resolved to pursue you relentlessly, even if it meant resorting to drastic measures that could potentially cause you further trauma.

For the fourth prince, the ends justified the means. If it meant having you by his side, it would all be worth it. He vowed to spend the rest of his days showering you with nothing but love and kindness to make up for what he put you through today.

It's time you come to me now, darling.

However, he was in for a rude awakening if he believed you would run into his arms seeking comfort after learning the terrifying truth about the monster your husband turned out to be.

Instead, after a moment of collecting yourself, you lifted your head to meet his eyes, a newfound intensity burning within your gaze, "I'm sorry if this offends you, Your Highness, but what exactly do you hope to achieve by showing and telling me all of this? My husband acted as he did because those people deserved it. As for my father, if you could even call him that, he abused me all my life and killed my mother; he deserved whatever my husband gave him and more."

Though the revelations about the general's potential actions during those extra hours unsettled you, your anger shifted towards Yeosang for bringing them to light in such a manner. Clenching your fists to conceal your trembling hands, you remained resolute. Even if you didn't condone Seonghwa's actions, he was still your husband, and your love for him remained unchanged.

As you stood there, the annoyance toward the fourth prince simmered within you, each word he uttered adding fuel to the fire. From the very beginning, he had refused to acknowledge your new title as Lady Park, a small but significant act of disrespect. Then, he persisted in bringing up topics from your past, despite your obvious discomfort and desire to move on. Now, his deliberate attempts to tarnish the general's image felt almost like a personal attack.

The sarcasm laced in his words when speaking of your husband grated on your nerves. Seonghwa had sacrificed so much for the country, and the least he deserved was respect. It dawned on you now what San had meant about Yeosang's difficult nature. You finally understood why the prince's behaviour could be infuriating.

Jongho and Eunsook exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from concern to awe as they watched you stand your ground against the fourth prince's attempts to undermine your husband. At that moment, it became clear to them that perhaps their worries had been for nothing all along. They should have had more faith in your unwavering love and loyalty to their master.

Yeosang's confidence faltered as he observed your stern expression and heard the firmness in your voice. This was not the reaction he had anticipated from you. Perhaps he had underestimated the depth of your love and loyalty to General Park.

Could the Queen have been right all along?

Feeling a sense of urgency and realising he had no other viable option, His Highness took a deep breath and decided to come clean about his intentions once and for all. He couldn't risk angering you any further than he already had. It was time to be honest, even if it meant facing the consequences of his actions.

The smugness that had once characterised his demeanour now vanished, replaced by a palpable sense of shame as he lowered his head slightly, "I... gosh, I am sorry, my lady. I acknowledge that it was wrong of me to manipulate the situation like that. I'll be honest with you. There was no actual banquet planned. In truth, I haven't celebrated my birthday in years. It only serves as a painful reminder of my existence."

Your brows furrowed in apprehension as you listened, allowing him to continue with his explanation, "I take it you're wondering why I despise my own existence. You're likely unaware of my reputation, unlike others. You may have noticed the birthmark here," he gestured to the red mark on the side of his face, prompting a nod from you.

He offered a faint smile, "Throughout my life, I've been treated like a freak because of this mark. As a member of the royal family, I'm sure you're aware there's an expectation of flawless appearance. So, imagine the shock when they saw the fourth prince with such a conspicuous blemish, my parents included. Both within and beyond the palace walls, people have whispered about my birth, deeming it a curse, questioning if I should have even been born at all."

"Since reaching adulthood, I've rejected numerous marriage proposals. Every woman presented to me has regarded me with disdain in their eyes. But then I met you, my lady, that day in the cherry blossom garden. You were the first person to wear your own mark proudly, without a trace of revulsion. It was as if you saw beyond my appearance. I suppose you could say it was love at first sight for me. I'm in love with you, Miss Jang, and that's why I've brought you here today—to propose to you."

Everything suddenly fell into place.

The puzzle pieces of his behaviour over the past days and weeks finally clicked together, forming a clear picture. Empathy flooded your heart as you realised the depth of his struggles. You knew all too well what it felt like to be singled out, treated like an outsider even by those closest to you, and shown no respect despite your status.

However, you felt a pang of shock upon learning about his feelings for you and his pursuit. It was unexpected, to say the least. You hadn't imagined that he harboured such emotions, especially considering the complexities of your respective situations.

Observing your softened demeanour while listening to the prince's confession, Jongho and Eunsook felt a resurgence of worry. They understood Yeosang's struggles and empathised with his difficult life. Despite that, they couldn't ignore the fact that you were a married woman. Regardless of what His Highness may have gone through, pursuing someone who was already committed was inherently wrong.

The two of them exchanged a concerned glance, silently acknowledging the complexity of the situation. While they sympathised with the prince, they couldn't condone his actions, especially his attempt to come between you and your husband using such underhanded tactics.

Your chaperones would soon find reassurance in your response after a moment of contemplative silence. With a deep inhale, you attempted to offer Yeosang a smile, despite the earlier anger you felt towards him, "Look, Your Highness, I understand the hardships you've endured, and probably continue to endure. I genuinely empathise with you. I'm also truly grateful to have met you. I've never had any friends before, so meeting someone who shares similar interests means a lot to me."

His Highness grinned sadly, "Ah yes, I'm sensing a 'but' there."

With a light chuckle, you nodded, "But it's precisely because I see you as a friend and care about you that I want you to understand that whatever you think you might feel for me isn't love."

He stared at you with wide eyes, but you halted him before he could protest, "Perhaps you've mistaken the feelings of gratitude and joy from finally meeting someone who treats you sincerely for love," You gently explained, "My prince, love doesn't simply happen at first sight like that. It requires much more than that; two people must go through so much together before they truly understand their feelings. I've been through it myself, and I can assure you that what you're feeling is definitely not love."

"Lastly, please address me as Lady Park. I haven't gone by Miss Jang for a while now. While we can remain friends, I must insist that you respect my marriage and abandon any plans you may have. My heart belongs solely to the general, and that won't change."

You sighed at the pleading look in the prince's eyes, understanding that convincing him wouldn't be easy. But you had said your piece, and the rest was up to him to realise. Feeling the onset of a headache from everything, you bowed one final time, saying, "If there's to be no banquet as you've mentioned, we'll be taking our leave then. Thank you for having us today, Your Highness. I wish you happiness."

I'm almost there, my love.

Nearly two days had passed when Seonghwa finally arrived back in the city and approached his own estate. The journey had been one of the most challenging he had ever undertaken. He cursed his injury for slowing him down, as he had to make several stops to rest and change his bandages, mimicking the actions of the medical team soldiers who had tended to him. Despite his urgency to leave camp, he had taken care to pack enough supplies to last the trip back.

Regardless of the constant yearning to be with you again, he felt a twinge of guilt for leaving his army behind abruptly due to such personal matters. If his soldiers knew about his absence, some might consider him irresponsible for his actions.

Shaking his head, he recalled how he used to criticise some of his men distracted by thoughts of their loved ones during battles, viewing them as foolish for letting such distractions affect them. If someone had told him he would act similarly in the future, he wouldn't have believed them for a moment.

The things you do to me, my wife.

The mere thought of seeing and being near you again made his heart flutter. He admitted to himself that he had become one of those fools he once criticised, but he wouldn't change a thing. Experiencing love had shifted his perspective entirely, compelling him to do whatever it took to keep you by his side forever. Having saved you from a life of suffering, he couldn't bear the thought of leaving you alone again. He was determined to be the one to bring you joy, protect you, and stay with you for the rest of your days.

Or... was he really?

His conviction would soon waver as the ominous sensation in the pit of his stomach intensified with each step closer to his home. Alongside it, the pain in his abdomen escalated steadily. What should have been a mere graze now felt like something far more serious. In truth, the discomfort in his insides was becoming unbearable.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth as he clutched the area of his wound one last time, his breath catching in his throat as a sudden wave of pain coursed through him. With a determined exhale, he squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to endure the agony that surged within him.

At the entrance of his estate, the staff responsible for guarding widened their eyes in recognition of their master's arrival. He quickly straightened his posture, putting on a facade of strength to conceal any signs of his injury, "Master, you're back!" One of the staff members exclaimed, their surprise evident as they rushed forward to assist him down from his horse.

Within moments, Jongho emerged from the estate, his expression a mix of concern and relief as he hurried to the general's side, "Sir, I assume you've received my letter?"

Your husband nodded, "I did. His Highness also sent me one, mentioning his intention to propose to your mistress."

The assistant's eyes rounded in surprise, realising the extent of the fourth prince's confidence to openly declare his intentions to pursue you to the general, "Well, he certainly made the attempt."

Seonghwa's steps faltered at this revelation, and he turned to face Jongho, who seemed equally uneasy, "So, it's already happened?"

Nodding, the younger man blinked anxiously, "S-sir, it's not good. The mistress knows," The general felt his blood run cold at that, but he pressed on, "Please, be more specific."

Jongho swallowed hard, bowing his head apologetically, "She learned about the Jang family's punishments and what you've done to the former minister. The prince took us to the palace torture chambers as part of his scheme. While she stood her ground there, she demanded that I tell her everything that happened as soon as we got back."

Suddenly, Seonghwa understood the source of his ominous feeling. He should have known better than to believe he could keep the truth hidden from you forever. Surely, your compassionate heart would struggle to accept what he did. Taking a shaky breath, he asked, "Where is she now?"

"She's in the House of Lotus, sir. She hasn't left since we returned from the palace two days ago. But don't worry, Eunsook has been making sure she eats her meals." Jongho reassured him.

With a nod of gratitude towards the assistant, your husband made his way towards your quarters, passing by the head maid who was taken aback by his sudden appearance. She knew he should have still been at the warzone. However, a quick glance from Jongho conveyed that the master had returned because of their letter. Understanding dawned on her, and she could only hope for the best.

The general's breath hitched as he laid eyes on you again after so long. There you sat in the pavilion, your attention fixed on the lotus pond before you. You appeared just as radiant as the last time he had seen you. However, this time, instead of your usual lady etiquette books laid open, his heart lurched at the reports detailing your father's latest status beside you. These confidential documents, presented to Seonghwa monthly, tracked the former minister's movements. Biting back the wince that threatened to escape him, he ignored the increasing pain in his abdomen and called out your name.

As your head snapped up at the familiar voice, you gasped at the sight of your husband at the entrance of your quarters. Slowly rising from your seat, you cautiously approached him, unsure if this was a hallucination. For so long, you had imagined him here, in this very spot, so many times that you couldn't count. You hoped it was not your mind playing tricks on you again.

This isn't another dream, is it?

You didn't understand why he was back; there was no news about the war being over yet. It's not that you didn't want him here, you just didn't expect him to be here all of a sudden. Standing before him, you felt your eyes water and your heart pound from seeing him again. It took you a moment to process his presence before you whispered, "S-Seonghwa... what are you doing here?" When he did not respond, you noticed his gaze staring past you at the reports Jongho was forced to hand over to you.

Despite the intense urge to pull you into his arms and never let go, all he manages is to harden his expression, "So, I see you've found out." He said, his voice strained.

This wasn't how either of you had imagined your reunion after the tearful goodbye. With a deep sigh, you nodded grimly, your mind flashing with reminders of your family's physical punishments and the gruesome things he'd done to your father, momentarily shattering the loving image in your eyes, "Yes, I did. And if I hadn't, were you planning never to tell me? What happened to not keeping secrets between us, hm?"

Truth be told, you found yourself no longer harbouring anger towards him for this matter. Over the past two days, you'd taken time to reflect, understanding his perspective and somewhat rationalising his actions. While you weren't exactly upset, you simply desired to hear the whole truth from him directly and perhaps receive a plea for forgiveness. In any case, you were prepared to run into his embrace.

Your words to the prince in the palace were sincere. Your heart belonged only to Seonghwa, and that wouldn't change. You firmly believed in the strength of your love, likening it to the resilience of your lotus flowers, enduring despite the obstacles. This situation, you believed, was just one more challenge to overcome together.

But instead of giving you the response you expected, your heart sank at the cold smirk he wore before speaking, "That's right, I never would have told you the truth if it were up to me. You women are so troublesome; it was stupid of me to think I could actually handle one for the rest of my life. Besides, what difference would it have made? This is who I am, and you knew about my reputation from the moment you were promised to me. So, are you really that surprised?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned away from you, adding, "You've seen the reports. Now that you know what I'm capable of, I won't bother hiding anything from you any longer."

His words pierced your heart like daggers, leaving you reeling in disbelief. Shaking your head in denial, you whimpered his name, hoping for some semblance of the man you loved to emerge from behind that cold facade. This wasn't what you wanted from him. You wanted him to fight for you, to reassure you of his love, just as you had done for him. Confusion gnawed at your insides.

Why wasn't he fighting for you?

What was going on?

"Seonghwa, I-I don't understand—"

Before you could finish, he cut you off abruptly, his words laced with finality, "Yes, it was me. I did all those horrible things to your family. That's the kind of monster I am. But now, you're free. Your family is gone, and no one can dictate your choices anymore. You're your own person. You can do whatever you want and love whoever you want. If it's the fourth prince you wish to be with, you have my blessing. Maybe he's the one who can give you the companionship you desire."

With that, he turned and stormed out of your quarters, leaving you alone and bewildered, with no assurance of his return.

Once out of your sight, he released a shaky breath and clutched his wound, feeling the fabric already soaked with blood seeping through his bandage. Despite his blurring vision, he stumbled through the estate, desperate to depart before anyone noticed his condition. Seonghwa wasn't oblivious; he knew he must have been poisoned when the pain of his injury became too unbearable.

With a sinking feeling, he realised he didn't have much time left, and perhaps Prince Yeosang was right. Maybe what you truly needed was a husband who would consistently stay by your side and not cause you the worry he did.

I'm sorry, my love. This is for the best.

« Preview of Part 18 »

"Physician Jung, there's a letter for you."

Yunho furrowed his brows, pausing his work on his latest concoction aimed at alleviating all of your scars. Despite the challenges he faced in this endeavour, he remained steadfast in his commitment to helping you restore your skin to its original state.

Setting aside the herbs he was working with, he approached the entrance of his quarters to accept the letter from Jongho, "For me?"

The younger man nodded in confirmation, "Yes, oddly enough, it arrived via a military messenger. Initially, I assumed it was intended for the general, but it's specifically addressed to you. General Officer Song requests your urgent attention."

Blinking, the doctor processed the information, "Wait, do you mean General Park has returned to the estate?"

Jongho smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck, "Oh, yeah. He arrived unannounced just a while ago, thanks to our letter. I suppose the situation at the warzone must have calmed down if he's able to return so quickly. He's with the mistress now. Let's hope things will improve with him here."

Relieved, Yunho nodded and quickly unfolded the letter. His stomach dropped, and his eyes widened at the hastily scribbled words, "H-he's with the mistress, you say?"

"Yes, what about it?" The assistant furrowed his brows in confusion as he watched Yunho shove the letter back into his hands before bolting out. Reading the letter himself, he soon found himself rushing in the same direction, dread filling his being.

No, this can't be.

I was so excited that I got to writing this as soon as I completed all the assignments for the first half of my semester! Only three parts until the end of this story, how we feeling out there?🤧

Holy crap, thank you so much for 1.4k followers! As always, thank you so much for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[frogchiro]

Pls omg more slasher!Ghost omg

Bro def has a corruption kink.

A guy flirts with his future s/o?? ( they don’t know it yet )

He ends up missing.

His corruption kink is through the roof :((

Fem!reader, yandere themes, slight nsfw, mentions of blood and murder, Ghost is a slasher in this one so if you're not comfortable, don't read!!

He's big and burly from years in the military, standing at 6'4, broad shoulders and strong legs, biceps and chest bulging under the bloodied apron as he cleaves through meat and bone and his mind begins to wander.

His absolute favorite time of day is when you visit him to buy some fresh meat for whatever you're cooking tonight. He's always setting aside the best cuts especially for you because his heart flutters and cock jumps in his pants when you flush and praise him, complimenting him on the quality of the meat and how much of a talented butcher he is, and while all he does is nod a little or grunt at you in response, his mind is flashing him with little you under his burly body, panting and whimpering and flushed, begging him so prettily to make you his wife, to give you his babies-

But his thoughts are forcibly interrupted when he cuts up through the tough, hard thigh bone. Heh, for a guy that measly and gangly he sure put up a fight and he's a tough one to cut up, but it had to be done. He noticed it a while ago that this guy was making....unwanted advances on you, always talking to you and leaning far too close for comfort even when you politely albeit quietly asked him to please stand futher away, sir.

The last straw was when Ghost just happened to be strolling through your general neighbourhood in the dead of night and caught this creep red handed as he was trying to peep through one of your windows. Cold fury froze his veins, how dare this dirty swine do something as despicable as this? Stalking you? Terrorizing you? His girl? Not on his watch, Simon knew the guy had to go and he just happened to have the perfect solution♡

[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 8

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: oral sex f receiving, the Reverend Mother is a bitch, you get your period, incest, mentions of child abuse and pedophilia, depictions of violence and gore, cannibalism (the harpies), he chases you, strangling, dubious consent, p in v, no foreplay, fingering, inappropriate use of a ring, rough sex, no protection, creampie

A/N: Nothing like a visit from your evil grandmother to snap you out of your dick trance. And a nice…jaunt…through the woods to put you right back into it

“You should stay.”

Feyd gazes up at you from between your thighs, mouth glistening and slick. His pupils are blown, plush lips swollen from the attention he’s been giving your cunt. His fingers dig into the supple flesh of your ass.

“Is now really the time to discuss this?”

You consider. This seemed like as good of a time as any, especially since you had him essentially trapped: you kneeling over him, knees bracketing his head, holding onto the headboard while Feyd laid beneath you, hands keeping you from squirming too far away from his eager mouth.

“I thought it might bolster my argument,” you finally admit.

Feyd hums in response, using a finger to spread your wetness. You shudder involuntarily.

Feyd.

When had you started calling him that? Probably sometime in the course of the last few days, in which neither of you seldom left the bed. No matter how many times he had touched you, each one led you to the brink of ecstasy.

“I do have a hard time refusing you when you’re like this,” Feyd rasps, inserting a single digit inside you. “But I’m afraid I have no choice.”

You wiggle your hips, hoping to both coax him into staying and incite him to move his deft fingers. “Please.”

Spending the last few days is exactly what you’re arguing about — Feyd is insistent that that he must return to his duties as na-Baron. Other duties, it turns out, then securing an heir.

“I said no,” he tells you briskly.

A whine builds in your throat.

Three months ago, you would’ve been appalled at this. Hell, a few days ago, you would’ve been appalled at this. But that was before Feyd had spent nearly every second of every day lavishing you with his tongue and his mouth, fingers alighting on your skin and cock keeping you full with his seed. Without him inside you, you would feel despicably empty.

“Be a good wife and I will come back and reward you for your patience.”

“How will you do that?”

And he shows you: lapping at your cunt until you can hardly bear to kneel anymore, then taking you from behind. His hips snap mercilessly against your ass as he tells you all of the ways he’ll pleasure you when he returns. It’s really not fair — especially when he fucks you so thoroughly that you barely have any protest left in you by the time he slips out the door.

Later in the day when you’re moping, sufficiently disgusted with yourself, a servant appears to summon you from your dick-induced misery. They stand hesitantly in your doorway.

“na-Baroness.”

“Hm?” You aim for casual indifference, hoping the servant can’t smell the evidence of your rampant fucking. You had turned away any of the cleaning servants, halfway clutching onto the hope that Feyd would come back. He didn’t.

Asshole.

“You have a visitor, come to congratulate you on your wedding.”

“Oh?” You can’t think of anyone who wasn’t already in attendance that would want to meet with you. “Who is this visitor?”

“She claimed that you would know her.”

You narrow your eyes. “You believed her?”

“She-She refused to tell me her name.” The servant sheepishly shifts their weight. “The next thing I knew, I was here, na-Baroness.”

Ah, The Voice, no doubt.

There could only be one person who would want to see you and be strong enough to inflict such a power. The reality of the situation sobers you. “Tell her that I will be right with her.”

Quickly you dress, your thoughts turning from the prowess of your husband to more pressing matters. Disappointment stabs at you when you realize that your suspicions were right — Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam perches elegantly on a chaise in the room where you typically receive guests.

She’s swathed in gauzy black fabric, the only indication of her gaze being the slightest trembling of her decorative chains as she turns to appraise you. Rather critically, if you were to guess.

“Lady Y/N. Or should I say na-Baroness Y/N?”

“That is my title now,” you reply coolly, “you should know, considering that you were the one to ensure it happened.”

“I did not come here to trade barbs with our tongues.”

“Shame,” you say.

The Reverend Mother says haughtily, “I came here to congratulate you. And remind you of your responsibility. I trust that Jessica delivered the fertility necklace?”

“She did,” you grind out.

“It is paramount that you conceive a child with Feyd-Rautha as soon as possible.”

“How do you know that I haven’t already?”

“I know you haven’t,” she hisses, “otherwise I would smell it on you. Your blood will come soon.”

This creates a knot of anguish in you that you try not to examine too closely.

The Reverend Mother continues, “You have failed. We cannot dally, child, when it comes to the matter of the Kwisatz Haderach.”

“It’s not for lack of trying. He’s been fucking me regularly to ensure a heir,” you snarl at her, hoping to blindside her with your crassness just as she did with news of your upcoming blood. “Maybe you should’ve gotten a Bene Gesserit witch to do your bidding.”

The Reverend Mother scoffs. “Jessica failed to educate you in our ways just as you’ve failed to conceive. I would’ve chosen anyone else if it wasn’t for ten thousand years of careful breeding. But, alas, it seems you are my only option.”

“Right,” you retort.

“Now we must do whatever it takes to ensure that the Kwisatz Haderach is conceived,” says the Reverend Mother. Her tone takes on that of self-importance. “I will conduct a visit every month until then.”

You twirl your finger in a celebratory manner.

“You mock me, but you are just fortunate enough to be here. The mother to the Kwisatz Haderach — no greater title could be bestowed upon an individual. You will bear the fruit of our tedious labor, the one destined to shape the future of our world. And you do not even appreciate this blessing.”

“Oh yes, a blessing upon my unborn child that will inevitably seat him as your puppet.” Your hand flickers to your belly, above your empty womb as if you can protect the life that has yet to take root there. “What kind of mother am I to impose that?”

The Reverend Mother stands. “An obedient one.”

You storm furiously from the receiving room without saying goodbye — formalities be damned. You’re surprised she doesn’t beckon you back with The Voice. Perhaps she knows that you’ll be forced to take audience with her next month. The thought carries you through the fortress halls without any predilection of where you’re going, replaying the conversation in your mind and growing angrier by the minute.

So lost in your anger that you scarcely recognize the rasping growl of your husband’s voice, clearly attempting for a whisper but failing spectacularly.

“—those times are over,” you catch him saying.

You peer into a room, the Baron’s own personal quarters. You’d been here only once before, when Asha gave you a tour of the grounds. How did you even get here?

“Even so, you are still my charge,” the Baron replies. “I am your keeper.”

Folding yourself into a corner adjacent to the Baron’s quarters, you watch your husband stalk back and forth like a caged predator. “I am a grown man, Uncle, you have no more use for me as you once did.”

“Even still, I remember the day you would come crawling at my every order —”

“I told you. Those days are over. They have been for quite some time.”

You can’t see the Baron as well as Feyd, just sense his enormous presence, a storm cloud encroaching a sunny day. “Perhaps it is the matters with your new wife that make me long for the days of the past.”

There’s a sickening intimacy in his words.

“Don’t speak of her,” Feyd snaps, but you get the impression that this admittance has rattled him.

“I have given you everything,” the Baron continues, nonplussed, “your title, your fame, even this wife that you’re so quick to defend. In return I ask just for you to —”

“No. Never again.”

The Baron’s softness hardens, crystallizes. “I know that it’s you who chases away my boys. And yet you won’t even offer your own services to me.”

“I chase them away to keep them from your clutches,” Feyd fires back, incensed. “Not from jealousy as you so selfishly presume.”

“What am I to do then, nephew?”

Feyd stops his pacing. “Rot. I ought to just drown you in that tub.”

“I know you don’t mean that. Come here.”

Feyd hesitates. Your pulse hammers uncertainly, if the implications of this conversation are —

You watch your husband — your proud, inviolable husband — slowly make his way to the side of the Baron’s tub. You risk moving from your hiding spot to see him kneel beside it, his features neutral and dark gaze lowered. The Baron raises a fat arm, black liquid sluicing from it, and cups the side of Feyd’s face.

“My darling nephew. You will always be my favorite.”

Feyd stills as the Baron nears him, presses a chaste kiss to Feyd’s lips — the lips that only hours ago had been between your legs, on your breasts. As far as you can tell Feyd does not reciprocate the gesture, but willingly allows it to happen anyway. Your stomach twists.

You can’t watch this anymore.

You turn and flee back from where you came, sickened and confused and utterly perplexed.

The next morning, there’s blood on the sheets. You tear them off in frustration, more so that the Reverend Mother’s prediction was correct than the fact of its presence. Feyd never returned as he promised, and you spent the night tossing and turning, your nightmares torn between images of your doomed child and the Baron in his tub, reaching out with thick fingers to drown you.

That being said, you’re exhausted. You draw a bath for yourself and have just sunken into the warmth depths when you hear a commotion in the other room. Feyd steps in the bathroom.

His gaze goes to you, roaming over your naked figure before landing on your face. “What happened?”

“I got my blood.” You dip lower into the tub, submerging yourself. “I don’t want to talk about it. What happened to you?”

He traipses inside. “What do you mean?”

“You were supposed to come back last night,” you say. You don’t want to seem sadden by his absence, however, so you busy yourself with lathering soap on your arms and legs.

“I’m here now.” He perches on the side of the tub.

It’s eerily similar to the scene you saw yesterday. You involuntarily shy away from him. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” His voice pitches with disbelief.

“I-I need to talk to you,” you tell him.

Feyd’s smooth brow furrows. “If this is about your blood, it doesn’t —”

“I saw you. Yesterday. With the Baron.”

You expect him to flinch, to recoil. But there’s not even the slightest change in his expression. You swear you see a flicker of recognition in his eyes, but it disappears so fast that you’re not even sure you saw it. “You don’t know what you saw.”

“Explain what I did then.”

“I cannot.”

“The Baron —”

“I took care of it,” Feyd says.

His tone suggests that the conversation is over. You drag a hand through the water, swirling with soapy residue. “He hurt you.”

“He didn’t do anything I didn’t want him to do.”

“You were a child.”

“I haven’t been a child for a very long time,” Feyd says quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You finally meet his gaze. He’s watching you carefully, studying you like you’re something he’s never seen before. Your heart aches for him. While it’s impossible to imagine him so young, you know that at one point he was just a boy. Thin limbs and missing teeth. Dimples on his hands.

You touch his hands how they are now, scarred and calloused, fingers slightly bent from repeated breaks. He lets you.

“You’re starting to wrinkle.”

He snatches your hand, gazing in wonderment at your palms. You can’t help but laugh, though it’s pained, his admission fresh on your mind. “That’s what happens if I’m in water too long. Don’t look at me like that — do you not wrinkle?”

“Harkonnens don’t spend copious amounts of time in water.”

“Then what happens?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I don’t believe you.”

Feyd’s lips twitch. Before you know it, he’s removing his clothes and dropping into the bath behind you. He has to contort his long limbs but manages to settle in, pulling you back against him.

You tilt your head back to rest against his chest.

“I’m sorry —”

“I told you not to be.”

You close your eyes, throat working. “Not-Not about that. That I’m not pregnant.”

“I don’t care.”

“You don’t?”

He picks up your hand, runs his thumb over your wrinkled palm and the pads of your fingers. “No.”

Somewhat hesitantly, you tell him about your visit with the Reverend Mother. He listens, but with your back flush to his chest you can’t gauge his reaction.

“She said she’s going to conduct monthly visits,” you add sourly.

A rumble sounds in his chest. “Do you want this?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you retort. “If I had my way I would never see her again.”

“Then consider it done.”

You turn halfway, bracing yourself on the edge of the tub so you can face him. “You can’t just do that.”

“Do what?”

“The Reverend Mother always gets her way,” you tell him. “She won’t listen to you. And it’s not worth concurring her wrath.”

“Then we’ll have to ensure she won’t need to visit for a second time.”

You blow out a stream of air. “I wish it were that simple. Even if I do get pregnant, they’re going to be hovering over us until our last breath.”

Feyd doesn’t answer.

All you can hear is the sound of his heartbeat in your ear. It’s slower than yours. Due to the thickness of his blood, his heart doesn’t have to work as hard to get it through his body. At least, that’s how he explained it. You were still learning about each other.

You examine his hand. It’s as smooth as before.

“Strange,” you mutter.

He counters, “You’re the one that wrinkles.”

Later, when you’ve toweled dry, Feyd approaches you from behind. He cuts a menacing figure in the mirror, a charcoal sketch of blacks and whites. Pale skin, dark eyes. A phantom that presses his lips into the curve of your shoulder.

“I want to show you something.”

You frown. “What?”

“Come away with me. Tomorrow.”

“I will if you say where we’re going,” you reply. You spin around and he traps you against the vanity, hands at your waist.

“Just tell me you’ll go.”

You pause, although mentally you’ve already agreed. You’re desperate to leave the fortress. “Are you going to ask nicely?”

“No.”

“Then no.”

Feyd nudges open the panels of your robe, revealing a triangle of skin. “Very well. The girls will be disappointed.”

“What girls?” You close your robe.

“My concubines,” he says with a ghost of a smile. He knows exactly how to flay you, how to press his finger into the wound to make it hurt. “They will be going.”

“Then so will I.”

“I thought you wanted me to ask nicely.” His smooth brow raises.

“And I thought you were done with them.”

He skims his hands over your sides. “You have no need to be jealous, wife. They are nothing to me.” Feyd grins secretively. “This trip will satisfy a different hunger of theirs.”

“Dare I ask?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

The thopter crouches ominously in the distance. You trail after Feyd in disbelief. “You know how to pilot that?”

“Don’t you?”

You scowl. “No. I don’t like heights.”

Yesterday, after Feyd delivered his previous promise of rewarding your patience, he explained that you would be traveling to the far side of Giedi Prime. He wouldn’t give you many more details than that, but you were too curious to care. Anyways, as much as you loathed to admit it, and no matter how much you denied it, you were jealous of his concubines. If you were forced to marry him, then he should be forced to endure you solely without the benefit of other women.

Fortunately, they would be traveling separately from you, in what Feyd swore would be a relatively short ride. He helps you onto the thopter then climbs in after you.

The machine shudders as the insect-like wings snap to life. You grip the armrests of your co-pilot’s seat as Feyd guides the thopter into the air and away from the fortress, piloting it with the refined way he does all other things, with little worry or fear of failure. You wish you could exercise such confidence — especially now, as the thopter clears the smog scarfing the planet, and can you really tell how far up you are.

“Tell me something,” you say, eyes closed. “I need a distraction.”

Even though you can’t see him, you can only too clearly picture him grinning at you. “Anything?”

“Anything,” you grit out.

Feyd is quiet for quite some time. When he finally speaks, his rasping lilt obtains a softness that you’re unfamiliar with. “The Baron still…requests…the company of young boys. I do my best to intervene but I don’t always succeed.”

You peel open one eye. “It’s his disgusting problem. You can’t blame yourself.”

“But when I do,” he forges ahead, almost as if you never said anything, “I like to make sure that they won’t need to worry about him again. And that their captors will never see the light of day again.”

“Is that what we’re doing?”

“Or something,” he says vaguely.

Feyd goes on to say that, with their military schools segregated into males and females, it’s only too easy for captors to select boys that will please the Baron. The longer he talks, the tighter his grip on the controls are, until you fear that he might snap them in half and plunge you back down to the earth.

“You didn’t have to do anything about it,” you say finally, quietly. “But you do.”

Feyd’s dark eyes glint. “The Baron needs to die.”

“Why haven’t you done anything?” It seems wrong to casually inquire why he hasn’t killed his uncle — his abuser — but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Feyd shrugs. “I’m afraid that the baronship will be stripped from me if I kill him. And I can’t allow Rabban to take over.” He glances at you. “By the way, I didn’t know you were so close to my brother.”

“I’m not,” you grumble.

“Then why did he want to dance with you?”

“He wanted to warn me. There seems to be something happening that I could’ve prevented had I—” you trail off.

Were you really going to tell him? You didn’t know how he would react. The only reason you hadn’t said anything yet was because you didn’t want to anger him for no reason. You had no proof Rabban was actually planning anything but fodder to try and convince you to side with him.

Feyd must sense your unease. “Had you what?”

“He wanted me for himself.”

You swear you feel the thopter jolt slightly as Feyd works to regain his control. “Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I didn’t think it meant anything,” you explain. “I thought he was just…jealous. Do you know what he’s talking about?”

“No.” Feyd’s jaw clenches.

“So then maybe it’s nothing,” you say flippantly, though you’re no longer convinced.

“He can’t just corner you and —”

“I handled it,” you interrupt.

Feyd glances at you. “He doesn’t need to concern himself with you. You are mine.”

You might’ve rolled your eyes if he hadn’t chosen that moment to start your descent. You reclaim your grip on the armrests and don’t bother opening your eyes again until you feel the thopter safely grounded.

“I’ll speak with him,” Feyd tells you. Dust settles as the thopter’s wings fold in.

You frown. “You don’t have to. I don’t want him thinking that I need you to fight my battles.”

“I don’t want him thinking that he can just manipulate you.”

“Who said he was succeeding?”

Feyd smiles slightly. “No one.”

You both step from the thopter. The first thing you notice is the lack of factories. A band of barren land encircles you and, a few hundred yards away, the start of a forest. You squint at the trees — you hadn’t seen that many in one place since your time on Caladan. It’s a comforting sight, despite the eerie sight of the neon green leaves rustling in the stiff breeze. The black sun has begun to sink below the horizon, returning color to the land, but only in small amounts.

“Come, wife.” Feyd strides for the treeline.

“Where are we going?”

Your question is answered, however, when you spot the second thopter. Your muscles tense as you recognize the forms of his concubines, three women, standing against the machine along with four other huddled forms.

As you near, the shapes of the huddled forms come into detail — four men, hooded like the prisoners from your wedding, covered in grime. The concubines each hold one man, the fourth bleeding profusely from a wound; his entire right arm is gone. You feel bile rise in your throat.

“Did you start without me?” Feyd asks his concubines sharply, eyes flicking to the fourth man.

“No,” one of the concubines says, “he did that himself.”

“Y/N, these are the men who facilitate my uncle’s…bad habits.” Feyd steps up to the first one. The man trembles.

He removes his hood and then retrieves a dagger from his belt, pressing the blade into the man’s throat but only enough to draw a thin line of blood. In response, the concubines shift in anticipation. He’s bleeding them so that they’re easy to track.

You watch, wide eyed, as he repeats the process with the other men. You can hardly find any pity for them, these horrible, horrible men, but the ratcheting tension in the air sets you on edge. Your mouth feels dry.

“And now they will know what it’s like to be hunted.” Feyd steps back to admire his work. Then, speaking to the concubines, “These men shall make fine meals for you.”

Your stomach drops. A meal? Did that mean —

The concubine closest to you flicks the fork of her tongue over her black teeth.

Feyd grabs the chin of one of the men. His voice is sickly sweet, almost a purr. “It will be dark soon. You better run fast.”

The concubines release the men. The four of them linger, uncertain, afraid, before the tallest of the concubines lunge for them — the men scurry away, glancing periodically over their shoulders as they run for the treeline. The concubine giggles.

“I’m sorry it’s been so long,” Feyd says. “I know you must be hungry. But not for much longer.”

The women flock to him, kissing his neck, the stretch of skin exposed by his armor. But he holds his hand out to you, and you take it.

“Feyd —” you begin.

“This is what I wanted you to see,” he says. “I told you that I took care of it. My uncle will never touch another child again.”

You swallow. Your gaze sweeps outward, to the forest, where the men have already disappeared. There’s a trail of black blood on the ground from the man with only one arm. How would he survive in the wilderness?

“You didn’t tell me that they…” you glance at the concubines.

Feyd smirks. “They crave flesh. It only seems fitting that I can satisfy them while fulfilling justification of my own.” He tilts his head back, marveling at the darkening sky. “Plus, I so enjoy the thrill of the hunt.”

You don’t know how to reply, so you don’t. Just observe as the concubines grow more anxious until, finally, Feyd gives them the signal. It’s so dark that you can scarcely see, but the dome of their smooth heads glint in the remaining light, and a shiver dances up your spine as the forest swallows them completely.

“They deserve it,” Feyd says to you.

You turn to him. “I know it.”

“Then why do you look bewildered?”

“I didn’t know that Harkonnens enjoyed…flesh,” you admit, repeating his words from before.

“Not all of us do.”

“Do you?”

Feyd’s grin does something to you — runs a finger of desire up your thighs and to your core. He cups the side of your face. “I have my needs, just as everyone else. Why? Are you hungry, wife?”

“No, I’m not,” you answer, nose wrinkling.

“Hm. I am.” Feyd brings his mouth to yours but doesn’t touch it, his lower lip grazing your top. “I want to devour you. I want to feel your heart pulsing, taste it in your blood. I want to consume you.”

Heat pools in your belly. You raise your chin, body bowing to him as if pulled by invisible strings.

Your voice is low. “What are you suggesting?”

“Let’s play our own game,” he says, “I chase you, you keep away from me until the sun rises and avoid the others. Or not.”

“And if you catch me?” You ask, breathless.

“I will satisfy my own hunger.” The hand cupping your face brushes down your neck, your shoulder, over your breast.

“Is that supposed to be a punishment?”

“We’ll see.” A wicked delight smolders in his eyes.

Gone is the man who held you in the tub, who traced the wrinkles in your palm like he wanted to commit them to memory. And in his place is the man you know best, who terrified and enthralled you and had you questioning your sanity; every day drawing you further into his infuriating orbit.

And you ran from him.

You pump your arms as fast as they will go, legs cycling, the promise of him on your heels. This was the epitome of your game, the ultimate test, and you were determined not to fail.

You’d learned survival from your father and Gurney. And even though you had not taken to it as you should’ve, you had been taught the Bene Gesserit way of cataloguing every single movement and flash of light, every detail in perfect memory. And so you ran. And ran.

And you kept running until you stumbled upon your first body.

It was the man who had lost an arm in an attempt to escape from his imprisonment — at least, you thought. He was badly mutilated. Blood covered the ground and pervaded your senses, to the point that the combination of it and his shredded entrails made you nauseous. You were no medical expert but you were almost certain that he was missing organs.

That someone had feasted upon him.

You unwittingly absorb his torn flesh and the evidence of teeth marks. The white of his bone.

You fight down your repulsion. If you vomited, it would give Feyd and the concubines a hint at your presence, the latter who undoubtedly hunted down this man and ripped the flesh from him. So instead you turn and run in the opposite direction, hoping that you won’t meet anyone else.

The slightest of breezes has you flinching, certain that someone will descend upon you and ravish you — one way or another. The thought spurs you on, keeps you from lingering too long in one place. The ideal decision would be to stay still and wait until morning. But you know that Feyd will be as proficient of a hunter as he is a warrior, a lover, and this keeps you going.

Branches tear at your arms and legs, the pilingitam trees seemingly intent on ensnaring you and keeping you hostage. You wish you had a knife or a shield or something. You were left despairingly empty-handed and defenseless. The only weapon you had was your strength, your endurance, the cunning of your mind, which seemed insufficient in comparison to the next man you come across, who is unequivocally alive.

It’s an accident — both of you running in the dark and finally colliding in a burst of pain. You fall backwards on your ass. The man gazes at you in fear until he takes in your clothes, your hair.

“My, my, the na-Baroness,” he says, chuckling at his good fortune. “The na-Baron turned you loose, too?”

“He thought his harpies might need the help,” you sneer back, suppressing a wince as you stand to your feet.

“You don’t have their bloodlust,” the man observes. He looms closer to you. “You might not be the Baron’s typical type, but it must be awfully distracting to have you in the fortress with him. How lucky the na-Baron is.”

His voice is taunting. He’s sure that he’s got you trapped. “And how lucky am I to have found you first.”

The man launches at you. You twist to avoid him but his hand catches your side, spinning you and taking him down with you. His body lands on you, heavy and foul-smelling. Desperately you try to wriggle free from him but his actions are unpredictable. You jab aimlessly at him, hoping to find a weak spot — finally you bring your knee up into his crotch, and it’s enough for you to roll to the side and away. He glares at you.

The dark hinders your senses, but only slightly, trading blows with the man in rapid succession.

He grabs a rock from the undergrowth and raises his hand, intending to smash it down on your head, but there’s a sudden spray of hot liquid on your face. The man screams and falls to the side. You scramble away just in time to witness a blur of pale skin, a concubine with her teeth buried in his shoulder. It’s not long before his screams turn to whimpers as she bites and tears, pointed nails driving into his chest and stilling his heart.

“Thank-Thank you,” you gasp. You’re too stunned to move, unable to move your gaze from the man’s bloodied body.

“I didn’t do it to save you,” the concubine hisses.

Blood is slathered across her face and the front of her shift. Suddenly, you’re not so sure that you prefer her over the man.

“I —”

“You took him from us,” the concubine continues, taking staggering steps toward you. “No longer does he call on us in the middle of the night, mutters our names as we coax his orgasm from him. Now his lips only say your name.”

“I am his wife,” you counter, regaining the control on your racing thoughts, adrenaline subsiding. “I will secure him an heir, rule by his side. All you have to offer is your services.”

The concubine rushes you. It appears that you can’t catch a break. But this time you’re prepared for your opponent, dealing a swift jab to her jaw before she can even lay a hand on you. She reels. You take the opportunity to kick at her knee. She falls to one side. Maybe she knows how to wring pleasure from your husband but she’s forgotten that you, too, are a warrior.

You don’t want to strike her down, just as you didn’t want to kill Ze’ev. But circumstance has left you no choice. You will carve your place on Giedi Prime out of violence and bloodshed if that’s what it takes because that’s how you were taught.

You snap her neck. Her death doesn’t satisfy you, though, as Ze’ev’s did. You take a step back.

A branch breaks.

The harbinger of death melts from the shadows. “Not only have I found you, jewel, but I’ve found you with the blood of my concubine on your hands.” Feyd nudges the limp body with his foot. “They aren’t easy to train.”

“She attacked me.”

“I know.”

You grit your teeth. You’re covered in dirt and blood, both yours and not, sweat matting your hair to your skin. “You watched and you didn’t intervene?”

“No.” Feyd crosses to you. “And I didn’t need to, did I?”

“Would you have let her kill me?”

Feyd gazes upon your face, studying you closely. “Do you think I would’ve?”

“No. I don’t.”

He seizes you suddenly — grabs you by the throat and nearly lifts you off your feet. “If anyone kills you, it will be me. Do you understand? Only my hands can touch your body, steal your blood from it. Watch the light go from your eyes.”

Feyd releases his grip enough to steer you backwards, one hand bracing on the base of the tree and the other still at your throat.

“You are mine,” he growls.

Usually, a declaration of such a nature would ignite a flurry of anger within you. But coming from him, it’s nearly a love song. Possessive. Domineering. Fraught with dark devotion. His fingers on your throat a gift sweeter than any necklace of gold or silver.

Feyd pushes your pants down your thighs, then returns his hand beside your head. He captures your mouth with his. There’s no delicacy there, only fervent need, teeth scraping yours, your lips, tongue combating yours. And you kiss him just as hungrily. You lied earlier — you were hungry. You needed his touch. Needed the swipe of his tongue on your skin to subdue the darkness persistently lurking inside you, the one that he put there, the only person able to extinguish its flame.

He spreads your legs and spears you with his cock. His size, the lack of your readiness, causes frissons of pain to erupt through you and you cry out. Feyd grunts as he thrusts into you, tree bark scraping your palms as you clamor for a hold. He ruts into you with wild abandon, hips bucking, muscles tense as he foists his pleasure on your body.

You mumble your protest when he withdraws from you, just as you’ve stretched out to accommodate him. Feyd strokes himself, slick with your moisture, pre-cum gleaming on the tip of his head. He makes a fist and then presses his knuckles to your entrance, the cool metal of his ring bearing down on your clit. You yelp.

“Quiet, wife,” he rasps, “you’ll draw more unwanted attention. And I’m not done with you.”

He bites down on your lip, drawing blood. If he hopes to silence you, this does the opposite, and you moan into his mouth. Unperturbed, Feyd presses his knuckles against your entrance, the surface of his ring flattening on your clit, a wicked source of pressure — of pleasure — driving you to orgasm.

The coolness of the ring contrasts the heat flooding through you.

This time when he touches you, he twists the ring up his finger, and then, both into your cunt. It adds an extra ridge to his fingers, one that pitches your orgasm again as it slips in and out of you, each thrust of his hand causing you to jolt.

You come and your pleasure cleaves you, into what feels like nearly in half, splitting you down the middle. Feyd returns the ring to your clit until your orgasm subsides, then plucks it off. He offers it to you, pushing it into your mouth, and you eagerly suck it clean.

It tastes of metal, of your monthly blood.

Feyd hums his approval, then presses a kiss to the ring before slipping it back on.

You writhe. You need friction. You need his cock buried in you, his unrelenting pummeling.

Feyd fists the hair at the base of your skull and uses the grip on you to throw you to the ground, naked and quivering. He drops to his knees behind you. You gasp out as Feyd notches his cock at your entrance, grabs your hips to keep you firmly in place. Blood soaks your hands, your knees, the fresh smell of death enveloping you. You try to wiggle away from it but he secures you there with his cock, snapping his hips against your ass and himself snugly inside your cunt.

“Stay here,” he growls. “I want you bloody and spent, here where they can watch.”

You fight back a sob, a combination of desire and disbelief. The concubine and the man lie only a few feet from you, watching you with their glassy gaze, their blood coating your hands.

“They tried to take you from me.” Feyd’s voice is incensed, not entirely for you rather than for himself to hear. “My wife, my jewel. And now they can watch me fuck you amongst their bodies.”

Feyd increases the speed of his thrusts. You can feel him swell with his impending orgasm, fill you even further, deeper. A cry looses from you as he finally spills himself inside you, grinding into you as he finishes and his cock starts to soften. Feyd nudges open your thighs, ensures that none of his seed escapes.

He adjusts himself and leaves you to scramble to your own feet, filthy and, frankly, swimming in the fog of your post-orgasm.

Feyd examines you. “You look wonderful.”

You bark out a laugh, your throat bruised and sore, the sound scraping out of you. “Liar.”

“Of course, you always do, filled with my cum.” He turns you to him, picks a branch that’s woven into your hair. “My beautiful, full wife.”

He grabs your hand and tugs you into the surrounding darkness.

“Should-Should we wait for the others?” You ask.

“No.” Feyd glances behind you. “They won’t be pleased when they find out you killed their sister.”

Part 9

Taglist:

@moonsoulk @heartarianagran @torchbearerkyle @unicoreads @taleah @mamawiggers1980 @jovialeggsbailiffsoul @harkonnin @avidreader73 @unicorntrooper @beebeechaos @kamcrazy123 @wo-ming-bai @kpopnstarwars @m-indkiller @kpopnstarwars @dacreshoney

[jetblack4realz]

lake days ii - jake "hangman" seresin x reader

summary - jake is having a blast with your family on the lake, relationships grow - and so do certain tensions

pt ii to this one :) , pt iii , pt iv , pt v

warnings- nah

word count - 3.4k

______________________________________________________________

you found yourself laughing as jake took yet another tumble off the wakeboard.

"you've gotta turn it!" you yelled from the back of the boat, leaning towards him with a grin. he rolled his eyes, wiping his face free from the water.

"i know," he huffed.

"if you did you'd be riding right now," you said with raised brows. you smiled wider, nodding to the tugrope in front of him. "grab on, we're going again."

he breathed out a tired groan, following your instructions and laying back in the water, trying to keep the heavy board perpendicular to him on his feet. you turned around, walking back to where logan was at the wheel. you nudged him, grin returning.

"i got it," you told him. the man stepped out of your way, laughing lightly.

"be nice to him. it's his first time," he told you. you stood at the dashboard, hand on the throttle as you glanced back at jake.

"he'd had enough tries. this is it; all or nothing." your smile was despicable as you threw your head back. "ready, jake?"

when he spotted you at the wheel his eyes widened and his grip strengthened.

"turn and stand!" you instructed for what felt like the millionth time that day, pushing down on the throttle to increase the speed enough to get him out of the water. you glanced back to see him riding the waves well enough and pushed down again, picking up speed quickly.

the board attached to his feet skidded across the water as he tried to maneuver outside of the wake, but before he could, you turned the boat. it wasn't too sharp, you didn't want to throw him off too bad, just enough. he glared at you before focusing again, to which you turned the other direction. he yelled something none of you could hear, which only made you laugh.

"let him get out of the wake," your dad said, but the smile on his lips told you otherwise. you shrugged.

"he'll figure it out." another turn.

you kept up this routine until jake's board finally caught the edge of a wave on his way out of the wake, sending him face first into the water. you quickly pulled around, letting the boat drift up to him as he unlaced the boots, holding the board up for gideon to take.

"good job," you told him as he passed you. "you stood up."

"i coulda done a lot more than that if you woulda let me," he said with raised eyebrows.

"you were getting a little too cocky with everything else," you replied dismissively, waving it away with a small smile. "had to put you in your place."

"and i'm gonna put you in your place," logan said, standing next to you with his hands on his hips, a wide smirk on his lips. you turned to look at the back of the boat quickly, eyes wide.

"no," you breathed out.

"hell yeah," jake breathed, grinning as you both watched a small tube get blown up by a grinning gideon.

"i'll go with y/n first," darren offered, a wicked grin on his lips as he eyed you.

"i'll push you off before logan even has a chance to take off. i'm not riding with you," you told the boy, glaring at him sharply.

"oh why not?" he whined.

"because last time we went together you full on bodied me and i swear i left with a concussion," you answered. "i'm going with josh."

josh laughed quietly. "deal."

as you pulled your lifejacket off the clips on the side of the boat and began strapping it to yourself, logan took his place at the wheel, leaning over to whisper to jake, "she hates the tube the most. ends up hurt every year but refuses to get off."

"even though she hates it?" jake asked.

"you should know how she is by now," logan said with a shake of his head. "stubborn as a bull."

jake laughed, watching you as you laid belly down on the small raft, gripping the handle in front of you tightly as joshua joined you. your brother was naturally easy going, and normally so were you, but his laidback nature just made you look that much more tense.

darren and gideon pushed you two off the back. "ready y'all?"

as you two drifted farther back, jake watched you nod slowly. "ready."

logan glanced back at his brothers, his grin matching that of you when you started dragging jake on the wakeboard. "let's put 'em through it."

you expected him to start off slowly as per usual with water sports, but logan had no such intentions. jake had to catch himself on the windshield when he took off, watching you face drop in horror as the pullrope jerked forward, bringing you and josh with it.

your knuckles were white as you gripped the handle in front as well as one to the side, leaning josh's way when you began to skip across the water your direction. you were screaming something at the people in the boat, earning loud laughs from the men and brynlee. when logan straightened out for a moment, you held up the finger before screeching as he turned sharply again.

this went on for a few minutes before josh finally put a hand up, wanting to be done.

"you ready seresin?" brynlee asked jake as darren pulled his lifejacket down for him. "you're next."

"you wanna come with?" he asked darren with a grin as he zipped his jacket around him.

"nah man, you're with y/n," he answered. "no way in hell she's getting off now. this is just the beginning."

"what?" jake asked with furrowed brows.

"you'll see," gideon laughed as he pulled josh up from the water. josh smiled, gesturing a hand to the tube where you laid with a stoic expression.

"all you buddy."

jake joined you, laughing at the look of pure concentration on your face. "you good, darlin'?"

"we ain't falling off of this," you told him strictly. "promise me that."

"alright, alright," he laughed as darren and gideon pushed you both out. "any technique to it?"

"when it drifts your way, lean mine and vice versa. hold on tight, keep your body to the tube so you ain't hitting mine, and well, just buckle in," you answered.

"shouldn't be too hard. i mean, you did it," he told you with a smirk.

"that was easy. i have a feeling now that you're out here with me we're in for it," you told him, watching logan carefully. your eyes widened. "hang on!"

you both got thrown forward with a jolt, jake barely able to keep himself forward as he threw his head up with wide eyes. logan took a sharp right, making you skid your way. you leaned into jake, him leaning his way as to keep y'all from tipping.

"what the hell?!" he cried as logan turned the other way, requiring jake to dig himself into your side.

"exactly!" you yelled back. the waves were aggressive, but in the wake they were calmer, allowing you to breathe a bit as he straightened out. "oh shit."

"what?" jake asked quickly, looking to you. "he's slowing down. isn't that a good thing?"

"he's making bigger waves," you told him, eyes widening as you watched the water. "incoming!"

the tube went flying upwards and you screamed, hanging on tight. when you hit the water again, you nearly ended up with your face in jake's shoulder and an instant black eye, but you managed to straighten out before you gave yourself said black eye. you hit another, and another, and another before he stepped on the gas and you began skidding to the side, exiting the wake.

"this is crazy!" jake yelled.

"i know!" you yelled back.

"but fun!" he had a wide smile on his face as the wind whipped through his hair and for the first time in years, you began to see the tubing experience as maybe something other than a competition with your brothers.

"yeah, i guess so!" you called back through the sounds of the water. he yelled in delight as you caught some air again and you watched his smile grow again, his eyes wide in excitement.

you smiled as you hit the water again, skidding back and forth. on one particularly long turn, you had to grab onto jake's front handle, the man resorting to his two side ones. this put you two incredibly close to each other, both pretending not to notice as you held on for dear life.

you laughed when you hit another large wave, eyes on jake instead of the water as he whooped loudly, hand in the air excitedly.

logan turned the boat sharply as a nearby boat drove by, creating even more waves for you and jake to hit. you groaned as you went through what felt like a washing machine, your stomach hurting as you continually slapped against the surface of the tube. and then, you hit the biggest wave you swore you'd ever seen, earning a scream.

jake was laughing as your hands slipped from the grips and you both went flying, dropping into the water with large splashes.

you surfaced quickly, gasping for air and moving to pull your hair from your face. you choked up some water, coughing hard.

"jake?" you called, looking around for the man.

"right here sweetheart," he yelled with a laugh from behind you, already swimming in your direction. you were still coughing up water, having still been shrieking when you entered the water and causing you to breathe what felt like the whole lake in. his brows furrowed as he approached, grabbing you and holding you around the waist as you struggled to breathe again. "just focus on your breathing, i'm keeping you up," he told you. "yeah, just catch your breath darlin', it's alright."

after a few moments you began to breathe in shaky breaths without choking on water still in your lungs and you breathed out heavily, forehead resting on jake's shoulder as you did as he said. "catch your breath hun."

he had you perched on his knee practically when you finally were able to breathe again and the boat had pulled around completely.

"you alright?" joshua called with knitted brows.

"all good, just breathed in some water," you answered with a laugh. jake kept an arm around you as he swam to the back of the boat, hands on your waist as he pushed you up onto the surfdeck.

you stumbled onto the surfdeck, shaking your hands out from the pain your grip had ensured. darren held a hand out for tyler, pulling the man up next to you.

"you going again, y/n?" logan asked, turning to face y'all.

"nah, maybe later. all you darren," you said to the boy, taking off your lifejacket and sitting with a dramatic sigh onto the backseats. jake laughed, sitting next to you with an arm draped over the back of the leather seats.

"good run, y/n, that was fun," he told you.

"yeah, it was," you replied with a smile.

as logan took off with darren and gideon in tow, he and joshua exchanged wondering expressions with their wives who were lounging up front, kyrie having replaced your father after lunch. they only laughed and gestured to where you and jake were sitting.

you pulled your legs underneath you in a criss cross position, your knee jutting out over jake's thigh, the man sitting awfully close to you. almost instinctively, he rested a hand on your knee, his head tilting back as his eyes slipped shut.

you watched him for a few moments, a small smile pulling at one corner of your mouth, before leaning back into your seat and therefore into his arm. you tilted slightly, wedging yourself into the crook of his shoulder. jake seemed perfectly content with this, leaning his head on yours for a moment before leaning back into the leather seat once more.

"tired?" he mumbled to you, peeking one eye open.

"a bit," you answered with a small smile and content sigh. "thanks for keeping your promise and doing this all with me."

"easy promise to keep," he answered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. it sent a surprising jolt through your spine and your cheeks flushed, eyes flickering to where your sister-in-laws were watching with wide grins.

'told you so', kyrie mouthed to you.

you simply rolled your eyes in response before shutting them and leaning into jake's shoulder more, his hand coming up from behind you to mess with your tangled hair. he was not helping your case.

but you weren't sure you wanted him to.

by the time that darren and gideon returned from their tubing escapade, it was nearing dusk and obviously time to return to the beach, pack it up, and head home.

"tomorrow we'll try the murder tube," darren said with knitted brows and a dark grin as he looked to jake. the older man quirked his brow.

"murder tube?" he laughed.

"that one actually is fun," you told him, laughing. "you'll love it, i promise. you can fit like five people on at a time, it's huge and it's crazy fun."

"that's what the ladies say about me," jake mumbled so just you and apparently gideon could hear, your brother busting up laughing as you rolled your eyes.

"oh shut up, hangman," you told him, pushing him away before he pulled you back into his side. you didn't notice how his smile dropped a bit when you went back to his callsign or how it returned when you rested in his embrace again. of course you wouldn't notice. what you did notice, due to its obvious effect, was how his arm tightened around your shoulders and how he rested his cheek on your head again, squeezing your knee twice.

when you pulled up to the beach, you stood with a tired groan, grabbing jake's arm and pulling him after you.

"can you back up a trailer?" you asked as you caught the keys to logan's truck from where the man threw them before getting off and returning to his children who were busy playing in the wet sand with their grandma and barrett.

jake scoffed. "of course i can back up a trailer."

"listen for gideon yelling at you - he probably will. just listen and we'll be fine," you told him, pulling the boat off the beach and returning to the ramp. it only took a few minutes, your dad following you on the jetski with gideon behind him.

you floated by the ramp, handing jake the keys and sending him up to the black truck. he ran up and retrieved it, backing it down into the water.

it went surprisingly well given that it was his first time aiming a trailer into a large body of water, but anyone could tell that it wasn't his first time towing a trailer.

joshua hopped from the boat to retrieve his car and fetch his family, your dad doing the same after he and gideon got the jetski up into the back. you gestured your hand forward, telling jake to pull up the ramp. after you were farther up and parked in an extremely long spot, you retrieved your shoes and climbed down, jumping into the passenger seat.

"do we need to go pick them up?" he asked.

"no, josh and dad will just bring 'em back here and then we'll load up and head home again," you answered. "it'll probably be another fifteen minutes or so."

the silence that rested between you wasn't uncomfortable, but it wasn't exactly comfortable. finally, jake let out a breath, looking at you with a hesitant smile.

"i had a lot of fun today," he told you.

you smiled. "i did too. i'm really glad you came, jake."

"me too," he agreed, his smile settling comfortingly. "and we still have two more days."

"well, now that you know how to do everything we can get into the real competition," you said with a smirk, laughing as his face fell.

"what the hell do you mean 'real competition'?"

"i'm joking, me and you will probably chill out the rest of the time. a few rides here and there, but everyone else will wanna try i'm sure," you laughed. he let out a breath of relief, smiling over at you.

"i thought you were serious for a second. i like that your family is competitive, but i don't know if i could take any more of it," he told you.

"the hangman seresin scared of a little competition?" you gasped dramatically. "i'm telling rooster."

he furrowed his brows deeply. "how do you know rooster?"

"i've been on different deployments, seresin," you laughed. "i've heard about your little rivalry from the chicken man himself. haven't decided who's better yet, though."

jake smirked, leaning closer to you. "i think you know."

"do i?" you hummed, trying to hide your smile and failing.

"you will by the end of this trip," he promised. and if you weren't crazy - which you could be, his eyes flickered down to your lips for a moment. he leaned away again, his smirk changing into his average grin. "what are we doing for dinner tonight?"

"you and me are on our own, so i was thinking spaghetti?" you suggested. "or i've got some stuff for shepherd's pie."

"you really said spaghetti when we could have shepherd's pie?" jake asked, shaking his head. "let's do that."

"it'll take longer," you warned.

"all the best things are worth the wait," he hummed, eyes on you for far longer than you liked.

soon enough, everyone was piled back in their respective vehicles, you and jake in the bed of the truck once more, your head on his shoulder as you fought sleep. his arm wrapped around you snugly and he whispered for you to take a nap if you could, sealing your slumber with a kiss to the top of your head.

when you finally got back to your house, jake instructed you to go upstairs, change, and shower. you lazily listened, appreciating the warm water that washed away the grime that came from the lake.

when you stumbled downstairs in your american flag sleep shorts and shirt, you were surprised to find him still in his swimshorts and a shepherd's pie in the oven. he set the timer before sighing contentedly.

"did you seriously make dinner?" you asked, surprising the man and making him turn around quickly.

"yeah," he answered with a shrug. "feel better?"

you hummed a 'yes'. "you should go take a shower. i'll watch the timer."

"if you insist," he answered, pressing a short kiss to your forehead as he passed you on his way to the stairs.

now, you weren't a stranger to the occasional hangman kiss. it was his favorite way to show you affection in silly moments, but he'd never actually been serious about it. with all the touching that had happened over the course of the day, you began to wonder what his intentions were now.

in all honesty, probably nothing changed, but even the idea that something had stirred something inside you that scared you to death.

you scrolled your phone until jake returned, his hair clean and damp. he walked towards you with a smile, a top gun shirt over his torso and some basketball shorts completing the outfit. he rounded the bar, standing a bit away from you as he squinted his eyes to look into the oven.

"timer go off yet?" you glanced at the oven for the fortieth time with a shake of your head.

"i think the navy's conditioned you into short showers," you told him with a short laugh. "i haven't been so lucky."

"no, you take forever," he said, pointing a finger at you and copying your laugh.

"it's relaxing, okay? i need some me time after spending the whole day with you," you told him, a smirk pulling at one corner of your lips. he rounded the bar, passing behind you and stopping momentarily to whisper in your ear - "you love me."

just then, the timer rang through your kitchen and you rolled your eyes, willing the light flush on your cheeks to fade. "i can't wait for this weekend to be over."

[lovelyhan]

— starcrossed losers (a teaser) ⟢

at age fifteen, you’re betrothed to a prince named jeonghan. at age twenty-five, you’re set to marry him. so, when your father gives you a chance to find love all on your own, you immediately take it. now if only jeonghan would stop fucking sabotaging every relationship you’re trying to get into.

★ FEATURING; jeonghan x reader

★ WORD COUNT; 1k words

★ TAGS; princess!reader, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, emotional romantic and sexual tension all in one lmao, angst, smut (in the future scenes, this teaser is sfw!)

★ NOTES; so my blog won't die in my absence nd slight inactivity from writing, i decided to leave you guys a snippet of the third n last part of my royalty series <3 as always, content in my teasers are not final and can be subject to change so heads up on that!

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

It’s several hours past midnight when you hear three gentle but firm knocks on the door to your bedchambers. 

Annoyed, you stare at the collection of unopened gifts stacked high on your vanity. From delicacies from the neighboring kingdoms to the most expensive collection of cosmetics in Ancarra, your guests certainly knew how to curry your favor. But not even their lavish presents can dispel the pure vexation that’s been making your blood boil the entire evening. 

Not bothering to answer the door, you whisk yourself into the plush seat tucked underneath the dresser. There’s only one halfwit currently residing in the castle brave enough to disturb you in the dead of night, and with how terribly tonight’s festivities went, you’re in no mood to extend your hospitality to anyone—much less Seraphia’s exasperating, insufferable, scheming—

“Isn’t it a little too late to be testing out swatches, Your Grace?”

You try to ignore him. The way his silken dress shirt dangles half untucked from his trousers. The self-satisfied look on his face when he notices you fumbling with the cherry red rouge you’re applying to your lips. 

But try as you may, you cannot ignore Jeonghan when he reaches a hand in front of you, nimble fingers wiping off the excess color that you accidentally tinted just a few millimeters from your lip line. 

Not when his smoldering stare holds yours captive in the image reflected in your gilded mirror. Not when you can’t even find it in yourself to resist when he gently grabs your chin and forces your gaze to marvel at the man himself.

“Sulking again, Princess?” Jeonghan sneers and you want to hate him for it, but you can’t. “I saved you from a man charged with treason three times in a single decade. Why are you pouting at me like I took away the love of your life?”

“Because you’ve made it your life’s purpose to make mine miserable,” you snarl, putting as much venom into the words as you can. “Minghao isn’t a traitor. If he was, he wouldn’t be sitting on top of the Rènxìng empire. He wouldn’t even be daring enough to show his face here for the sole purpose of courting me.”

He sighs as if meaning to be sympathetic, but you’ve long seen past the ruse. “Poor little thing, still being played like a fool all because you abhor the idea of one day becoming my wife. Tell me, didn’t you find it odd, how persistent he was in pursuing a woman who’s already spoken for?”

“I am not spoken for,” you interject, trying not to crumble from how his thumb lightly dabs at your lower lip. “Not by you. Not by anyone. Father gave me a choice—”

“Yes, of course. Everyone knows the story of the Ancarran Princess who’s chained to a troublesome foreigner. So troublesome that she had to beg on her knees just to get the king to reconsider,” Jeonghan coos, face inching ever-so close to yours.  

“But as it turns out, all the other men you’re trying your damnedest to replace me with are even worse fiends than I.” 

Your lungs burn as if they’ve been set aflame and Jeonghan is merely adding more fuel to the blaze. “You’re despicable.”

“And you, Your Grace, are much too gullible,” he chuckles, each breath fanning hotly against your skin. “I’d say just give it up and surrender, but you’ve been fighting against me since we were children. Putting an end to our very interesting relationship in such a boring way wouldn’t make good for the history books, no?”

All of a sudden, you remember something that Soonyoung told you in passing. How Jeonghan is someone who cherishes his loved ones deeper than one would otherwise expect. He loves his homeland. He loves his family. Above all, he loves his people.

With how he keeps reeling you back from all your attempts to escape your engagement, any other person would assume that he loves you just as much.

But how are you supposed to believe that someone like him is capable of love when all he does is thrive off your misery?

“This new rouge you’re testing out,” he murmurs, as if it’s remotely acceptable to just shift the conversation after what he just told you. “It’s the kind that takes days to remove once it dries, no?”

“In what way does it concern you?” you grit. 

The despicable prince simply hums. “Oh, nothing. It’s just that I’m quite curious about its actual longevity.” 

You can practically hear your heart stutter to a stop when he closes the distance even more—only a hair’s breadth separating your mouth from his. You’re clueless as to how it happened, but you suddenly find your fingers coiled around the front of his shirt. Looking for purchase. For solid ground.

But you should know better than to anchor yourself to someone as unpredictable as Jeonghan.

“If someone were to ruin it in the next ten seconds, would you even be more furious than you are now?” he whispers and you can feel the ghost of a smirk against your lips. “Or would it garner the opposite effect? Would you finally melt into their arms? Would you let them tear all your defenses asunder?”

Your pulse is roaring in your ears and all of a sudden, you can’t remember how to breathe. His intense stare is pinning you in place no matter how badly you want to escape. The scent of expensive champagne lingers on his lips and you find yourself craving for a taste. 

But you can’t. You can’t want that. You can’t want him. 

This is the man who’s made your life a living hell for as long as you can remember. The man you’ll be cursed to sit beside in a throne room forever if you don’t do anything about it fast. 

You know these facts perfectly well, and yet…

Your eyes flutter closed as you hook your wrists across the back of his neck, letting your arch-nemesis fall deep into you.

this is part of the it’s complicated series.

want to be added to the taglist? leave a reply <3

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

I love your blog so much!! You're without a doubt my favorite writer on this app, you write yanderes so so well and you just manage to capture so amazingly the personality of EVERY character you write, especially Byakuya, i love him so much, and you just write him so well, i've been reading and rereading your works nonstop!

Could i please request yandere Byakuya with a Reader who's very kind and gentle and they like to follow him around (not in an annoying way, but in an attempt to try to befriend him and make sure he is okay during the killing game, since he is kinda excluded for being an ass). Better yet, how would he react to Reader actually leaving him alone after he went too far, or was too mean to them

Love everything you post so much, feel free to deny, remember to eat and drink water!

Thank you so so much! I'm happy i could make you happy! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Sweet ‘n Sour | Yandere Byakuya Togami

It’s honestly an honor

That you’re transmigrated into an anime/game

Too bad it’s the killing game of Danganronpa

And of course, with you thrown in the middle things are really unpredictable

So you’ll comfort yourself in being as kind to these characters as you possibly can

Especially Byakuya

A fan favorite and an intriguing ally throughout the game

Of course, you just gravitate toward him

Even though he sneers and insults you

Sometimes threatens

But you don’t mind…

…

Even though….

Those comments are beginning to hurt 

It’s one thing to love a meaner character through the screen but in person, it’s pretty hard

despite your inclination to maintain your usual smile and gentle actions

After a while, you just stop trying 

Too bad some may consider that your biggest mistake:

“Honestly I was hoping you’d turn up as one of the corpses during this farce; it probably would have made it even more interesting.”

That was it.

That was the last straw for you. Toko could have all his time and attention for all you care. The sheer fact you’ve put up with this for so long disgusts you. To hear your own life be spat on by the guy you’d been trying to extend a helping hand to–it was despicable. (Of him or of you, you couldn’t decide.)

“Ah, I see. Have a good night then.”

That was the last time you went out of your way to speak to him; immediately changing your schedule to accompany someone else. Since you’d been away with Byakuya you almost forgot how kind the rest of the group was. 

“(Y/n) I’m so happy you’re willing to hang out now! Let’s make donuts together!”

“After that I hope you’ll indulge me and Naegi in a puzzle of sorts.”

“I-if it’s alright with you..”

It was refreshing. 

To be told you were actually wanted around was somehow so fulfilling.

What terrible company you’ve been keeping.

“I’d love to!” Within a matter of days you are feeling the warmth of friendly interactions; whereas the man you’re avoiding is having a….less than stellar reaction.

Crash! 

Toko was excited that her Byakuya-sama had finally chased you. A rival weak enough to be effected by words wasn’t much of a rival at all! But upon your absence in only a few hours into his daily routine Byakuya had made an intense realization. 

That he desperately desired your attention on him.

He didn’t have to actually see you skirting your routine with him to know he hated the thought of you spending any amount of time with his classmates rivals. It literally made his skin itch and his throat close up with every minute away from you. Naturally he doesn’t care that even Toko is unnerved by the tantrum he throws. Books are strewn about, the shelves dangerously leaning against one another. All of it just an emphasis of the palpable malice emanating off of Byakuya. In the middle of the ruins he just stands still. 

Alarmingly still.

Like a predator looking out. 

Are they hunting? Scoping? Contemplating the ways to torture their enemies?

No one really knows.

Even when he pulls at his hair and belts out in an uncouth laughing fit. In an instant he stops demanding Monokuma show himself this instant. He needed to find you. Now. He’ll make it a point to inform the headmaster of his own teaching. 

Because apparently you–being the kind and gentle soul you are should be able to withstand all kinds of people. Especially him. Always him. So he’ll offer his own guidance by keeping you within arms reach at all times. 

He expects you to persist against anything he can throw at you.

How else are you going to rule the world as a Togami?

[allkordelia]

Keep Me Near Your Heart XXI

"This all such a mess...a big mess...Why...What were you hoping to accomplish when you brought that woman here, Alicent?"

Alicent stare ahead at the flames in the fireplace despair and bitter, ignoring the woman she considered to be her second mother, she and the rest of the family were in the great chambers, Jaenara and Aemond have been gone for five days and the due date was coming up close. And no one know where they are. Their dragon are gone, of course, and nobody from Mageonste or Dragonstone seen them. It's as if they disappeared off the face of the earth, and it's all her fault.

"I can tell you that, mother. She was trying to get rid of Jaenara, so the bastard can give her a real grandchild." Aeron accused glaring at his half-sister as she sat sulking in the armchair close to the fireplace.

"You don't know if thats true, Aeron." Valaena spoke up quickly to defend her sister, she walks up  behind her husband to stand next to him.

"No, it's true." Aegon announce, getting everyone attention expect for his mother as he tilt his goblet back, "What? We all know it is." He says when he notice everyone looking at him.

Rhaelle looks away from her cousin with distress look, she was so worried about Jaenara and the babe, when she went to her chambers that night in hopes to comfort her. The young girl and her prince were no where to be find, at first Rhaelle didn't think much about it, she knew how the young girl felt and she understood that she needed time away. But, that's didn't mean she had to like the fact that her neice was in the wind. 

"I still do not see why we can't go looking from them." Alys says looking over at her mother with her arms cross.

"They need to come home on their own, we can not just drag them back if they are not ready to come home and...and for all we know, maybe they don't even want to come back."

Alys frowns at her mother, before she look over at Alyssa to see her with a small frown too.

It was true. Everyone knew it. What happened at the dinner was despicable and cruel, it was obvious that Alicent wanted to get under Jaenara's skin. And they all knew why, after the private dinner that caused tension between not only Rhaenyra and her father but the king and his queen.

"Maybe, that's a good thing." Rhaenyra said.

Multiple pair of eyes glare over at her as she sat on the couch between her older and younger son, Luke look over at his mother with a deep frown.

"In why in the fuck would that be a 'good thing'" Alys hiss, rhaenyra looks over at her cousin with a placid look.

"I'm just saying, if she doesn't want to come back maybe there's more than one reason than what happened at dinner."

"Yeah, and we're looking at her right now." Baelon snips.

Rhaenyra ignore her cousin before looking at her lady wife and lord husband as daemon just walked in putting his hand on his wife back.

"You know I'm right." Rhaenyra says.

Rhaelle frown at her princess-wife before turning her attention to the queen, Jaenara didn't really talk much about the first couple of months of her marriage to Aemond. All she told us was she miscarried before this one and that's it, we probably wouldn't have known about the miscarriage if it wasn't for Alicent bringing it to light one night at dinner.

"Hard for me to say, but maybe she's right."

Rhaelle along with her kin look at Maekar with a mixture of expressions.

"Are you serious?" Baelon says in dismay, not believing what he was hearing, Maekar gives his mother a look.

"Sadly." Rhaenyra roll her eyes looking away, "But, I wouldn't put it pass Aemond to punish Jaenara for her brother's actions." Maekar looks over at Lucerys, who frown at his cousin making Jacerys glare at Maekar.

"This isn't Luke's fault."

"I didn't say it was, did i?" Maekar snip.

"Then, what are you trying to say, because last time I check. Aemond ran off with Jaenara and they seem to be  happy with one another."

"Well, if your self-righteousness wasn't blinding you, you would have notice how much your sister has change. How she doesn't smile as much as she use to or how she rather spend most of her time outside in the garden than inside the castle--" Romarn chuckles making Maekar stop to look at him.

"It sounds like you fancy her, cousin."

Maekar roll his eyes at Romarn.

"No, unlike you have a very keen sense of detail that helps me understand what's going on around me." Maekar snide, making Ronas snort.

"Sure you do, did your 'keen sense of detail' tell you anything when you were watching her and aemond cooing another that night." Ronas smirk.

Maekar swallow as he stare at his cousin, the look he was giving them was emotionless and some of the others in the room stood awkwardly silent at the tension that appear in the room.

"No." He finally answered, making Ronas raise a brow while his brother grin, "But, if you have any keen sense of a brain, I advise you to keep your asinine, which means foolish by the way, remarks to yourself unless you want to swallow all of your teeth." He threatened.

Ronas roll his eyes with a peeve look, unlike his younger brother, Romarn sneer at the older boy.

"No need to be so testy, Mae." Romarn ribbed, making Maekar flick his eyes to him,"You should learn how to take a jest, maybe then jaenara would find your company a little less intimidating." He chuckle.

Maekar narrow his eyes at his young cousin before he close his eyes and took in a deep breathe before reopening his eyes as he exhale, the rest of the clan watch holding their breath as Maekar turn his attention back to Romarn.

"Yes...Maybe your right, cousin." Romarn smirk as he raise his brow with a look, "Maybe that's why it was easy for you to get Alyaena into bed--"

"Maekar! You bastard." Alyaena cries out with a look of horror and embarrassment.

"I guess humor can be consider an aphrodisiac." He shrugs nonchalant before looking away from Romarn's shock expression, while Alyaena glare at her brother.

"Fucking pig." She mumbled making her brother look at her.

"Stop fussing. If you want to blame someone blame that idiot you let dump his seed into you--"

Alyaena growled balling her fists, she turns to Romarn who looks back at her with a fear in his eyes.

"I'm going to kill you--"

"No." Daemon was quick to around his wife and grab Alyeana's elbow before she could charge at her moronic cousin, her father pulled her back to stand between him and his wife.

"It slipped out." He said low with a sheepish look.

Alyaena roll her eyes angrily looking away from him and crossing her arms, Daemon kept a close eye on his daughter as another argument ensures. 

"Slip out? More like he projectile vomited it out, he wouldn't stop talking until he finally passed out." Aegon chortles from his seat besides Adrielle and Helaena, romarn glared at aegon.

"Shut up." He snapped, "Atleast I wasn't making a fool of myself. Oh where's my belove? Where Adrielle? Where is my beautiful wife, Adrielle? Adrielle, Adrielle, Adrielle." Romarn mocks with a annoyed look, aegon scowled him before he could say anything Adrielle spoke up.

"Don't even justify that with an response, Aegon." Adrielle said leaning against Aegon, "He is just mad that he doesn't have the type of relationship you and I have." Adrielle looks at her lover who gaze at her with a lovesick smile, Aegor stood behind his adopted sister with a shake of a head.

"A relationship build on empty promises and lies, why would anyone want such a union."

Adrielle snap her head around to glare at Aegor, he looks back at her with a raise brow with a look that made her look away with a bitter mood.

"Well, not all of us are bless to be born a boy, little brother. Not all of us have a say in what we can do in our life--"

"Stop it." Aeron interrupted.

"Don't you dare blame my gender for your shortcomings, big sister." He sneer, "It is not my fault that you can't learn to keep your legs close, or mouth for that matter."

"Aegor, that's enough! Apologize to your sister." Valaena chided with a displease look, Aegor look over at his mother before looking back at his sister.

He look at her for a minute, she had a brow raise high with a smug look, she mouth taunts at him as aegon looks at him with a sneer.

"I'll apologize when she pray to the gods for forgiveness."

"For what?" Adrielle gives him a offended look, Aegor tilt his head to the side.

"For killing your baby."

Adrielle's face drop along with Aegon, the room went quiet, so quiet that rhaelle could hear the rats in the walls.

"What is he talking about, Adrielle." The young princess drop her gaze to the floor, "...Aegor." Aeron turn his accusing eyes to his eldest son, who averted his own to anywhere that wasn't his family.

"Maybe, this should be discuss in a more private setting–" Rhaelle started.

"No! There's no need for that...I already got my answer."

Aegor and Adrielle look towards each other before looking at their father, Aeron stare at them with a coldness that they never been on the receiving end of before.

"Papa--" Adrielle start with tears in her eyes but Aeron raise up a hand stopping her.

"Don't." He drop his hand with an exhale, "I have allow you to do..whatever you want for the pass seventeen years, mainly because of your mother, but now I see I should have done more." He nodded to himself before he looks up at his daughter, he glance at aegon before looking at adrielle, "This decision hurts me more than you can ever imagine." Adrielle frown at her father's words before staring in confound as he turn on his heels walking away.

"What does that mean?" She asked once he left out the door, Adrielle look at her mother and grandmother, "M-Mama, what does father speak of?" She asked desperately, Valaena snap out of her thoughts before she looks at her daughter.

Valaena didn't say a word as she turns making Adrielle stand up from the couch, she called for her mother again only for it to fall on deaf ears as Valaena left quickly. Adrielle stood in the middle of the room feeling as if her world just came crumbling around her, Aegon glance at Helaena who stare at Adrielle with worry.

Alyssa was the first to move as she stood and walk over to her cousin, she touch Adrielle's shoulder gently as the other girl stare blankly at the door.

"Adrielle...Are you alright?" Alyssa whispered moving to stand beside her.

Adrielle didn't respond instead she starts crying, she covered her mouth before she stumble forward towards the door.

"Adrielle!" Aegon called after concerned before getting off the couch with Helaena in toe.

They left the great chambers to follow after Adrielle, the rest of the family stood still watching in utter shock. Again, Alyssa was the first to move and she turn to Aegor with a look, making the other boy sense his belove heated gaze.

"Don't look at me like that, she started--"

"Your an ass, Aegor." Alyssa snapped making Aegor roll his eyes.

"Spare me, please." He started, "She did it to herself, if she stop pushing me--"

"You could have walked away." Baelon said, Aegor look at him.

"Would you and Alys."

Baelon glance at Alys before shrugging his shoulders.

"Fair point."

Alyssa rolled her eyes at him putting her attention back on her nephew.

"You had no right--" She pointed at him.

"Gods! Why is it every time something happens between me and adrielle, im the one at fault and not her."

"That's not true, darling." Rhaelle said.

"But, it is, my mother has always taken adrielle's side and father only does what mother tells him to do." He says, "It's not fair she never gets in trouble...never." he looks at Alyssa before shaking his head and stalk towards the door.

Rhaelle touch his arm but he only kept walking, Alyssa goes after him not before giving her mother a look that she take care of him before leaving out the door.

"Can this day get any worse." Alyaena utter under her breathe before flopping down on the couch that was inhabited by Adrielle, Aegon, and Helaena.

Just as she said that Alicent gets up from her chair catching everybody's else attention, the queen turns slowly looking over towards rhaelle with red eyes and dried tears covered her flush cheeks.

"Do you really wish to know why I brought Alys River here?" Alicent said in a low and empty voice, rhaelle swallow eyeing Alicent, "I brought her here because I knew if jaenara saw her...she fall back into desolation, she would have shut herself out, stop eating, and slowly fade away in her room like before. She would have loss the baby but...atleast Aemond would have had Rivers and their child in the end." Alicent finish, she glance around the room fo Daemon along with his children glare at her with hate, while Rhaenyra and her son were unbothered by her words.

Alicent snap her eyes to rhaelle when the old queen took a step forward before walking up to her, Alicent straighten her back and she close her eyes, hoping the slap would be painful. She waited for a moment, but nothing came, she opened her eyes and she felt her heart crack in her ribcage as she stare back at the disappointed and unforgiving eyes of her step-mother.

Rhaelle gaze over Alicent's features trying to figure out what she did to make Alicent like this, all she ever done was be a good mother to her and love her like she birth her. But, love from rhaelle wasn't enough for the queen, or maybe there wasn't love in her at all, maybe Otto made sure of that.

Alicent held her breathe when rhaelle opened her mouth, but rhaelle stop herself and purse her mouth shut. She looks at Alicent with a tired a look before she turn away from her, Alicent watch with furrow brows as the rest of the family follow after the former queen.

Rhaenyra was the last to leave, she held onto the handle of the door before looking at Alicent. The queen stood there hollow as tears gathered in her eyes again, Alicent look at Rhaenyra finally, they stare at each other for a moment before Alicent was the first to look away and turn back to the fure. Rhaenyra watch as she sat back down again and went back to staring emotionless like statue at the fireplace, the older princess slowly closing the door behind her as a feeling she never thought she feel for Alicent again appeared.

[celiastjamesoscar]

Would That I

Pairings: Sam Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You accidentally ran into someone at a frat party, and she quickly became your best friend. But you fell for her sister, who wouldn’t even give you the time of the day (this is a shitty description)

Warnings: swearing, mentions of weed, alcohol consumption, small joke of role playing sex, jokes about getting salmonella and dying, slight angst. Let me know if I missed any!

My Masterlist

AN: Came from this request here!

Word Count: 6.8K

You could smell the alcohol and weed in the air before approaching the house. It was Halloween night, and you were going to a frat party with your friends, even though you had zero intention of staying longer than ten minutes. You were just here to ‘shake babies and kiss hands,’ as your friend Miles would say.

He was the one hosting this frat party, so of course, you had to show your support for your friend, even though you hated parties and drinking. He was one of the biggest recruiters for his frat house and very well known across the campus for his promiscuous activities, but he wasn’t your typical frat guy. Yes, he loved to drink, party, and sleep around, but he was a nerd. He had been his high school’s team captain of Scholar Bowl his junior and senior year, and led them to a state championship win. And he was also extremely socially awkward; it pained you to watch him interact with people.

“What the actual fuck are you wearing?” Anika questioned as you walked up the stairs to the house. She and Mindy were patiently waiting outside for you, and they both laughed at your outfit. “What? This is a vintage Gucci,” you stated as you did a twirl for the girls.

You were dressed up as Alan Garner from the hangout, and Anika hated to admit it, but you pulled off the cheap fake beard and wig. You also had a fake baby strapped to your chest with cheap sunglasses covering your eyes.

“You are really asking me that, Mr. Worldwide?” You jabbed as you eyed Anika up and down. The girl wore a god-awful bald cap, a black suit, and a white shirt with a shitty penciled-on goatee. “Haters gonna hate,” Anika replied as she pulled a pair of sunglasses out from her jacket pocket and put them on.

You scoffed at the girl before looking at Mindy, “I don’t even know what to say to you.”

“I’m going to have a BF if you insult me,” Mindy scolded as she stared you down. She wore a jean skirt with white pantyhose topped off with a jean jacket and a pink shirt that said ‘Dude, where’s my couture’ in red letters.

“Was this your idea?” You asked with an eyebrow raised.

Mindy scoffed at your words, “Of course not! I wanted to go as Vector but Chad wanted to match,” she said as she rolled her eyes, “So now, I’m from White Chicks instead of Despicable Me.”

“I think you would have made a very sexy Vector,” you admitted with a smile.

“Thank you. At least someone,” Mindy sent Anika a glare, “thinks it would have been sexy.”

Anika rolled her eyes at Mindy, “I told you I’m not having sex with you while you are dressed up like Vector!”

“Okayyyy, this just got weird,” you interrupted as you walked past the fighting couple but stopped just before the door, “you two coming?”

The two quickly stood up and followed you into the house. The smell of alcohol and weed was enough to turn your stomach as you opened the door. You saw partygoers dressed in all different kinds of costumes as you pushed through the crowd and made your way into the kitchen. “I shall have a bottle of Smirnoff, and what will my lady have?” Mindy asked as she dug around the cooler full of alcohol. “I shall have the same, my lord,” Anika replied, and you almost gagged at their conversation.

You politely pushed past Mindy and fished around for a bottle of water, and you quietly rejoiced when you pulled up the last bottle. “Seriously? Water?” Mindy questioned as she glared at you. “Yes, seriously. This is a frat party, and I only know three people here!” You exclaimed while holding your water.

Mindy muttered a quiet ‘whatever,’ and you were going to retort when you felt someone throw their arm around you and pull you into a hug. “How’s my favorite homo doing?” Miles questioned while ruffling your hair. “I’m fine, Miles. Thanks for asking,” Mindy butted in with a slight smile.

Miles let out a small laugh as he left your hair alone and gave Mindy a fist-bump, “I’ve missed you too, Mindy, and you as well, Anika.” Anika smiled at the man as she also fist-bumped him. “Well, me and Y/N here are going to go hunt for some Latinas to hit on, you two gay-bo’s have fun,” Miles said while pulling you off into another room.

“Really? We are going to ‘hunt for some Latinas?’” You questioned as you followed Miles into the living room. People were elbow to elbow, and you had to shout over the loud music to converse with the man. “Obviously! I know your three main things you look for in women, and I bet we can find someone here who is all three,” Miles replied as she slung his arm over your shoulder while scanning the room for a potential hookup for you.

You scoffed at your best friend’s words, “I do not have three things I look for in a woman. I only care about her personality and her thoughts on Dr. Pepper.”

A sound of fake gagging caused you to send a death glare at Miles. “I forgot you're a Dr. Pepper whore,” your friend joked as he started listing your three interests on his fingers. “Number one: you love Latinas, same here. Number two: you love emo chicks; same here again. And finally, number three, you love a woman older than you, and guess what? Same here too!”

“I hate that we are basically the same person in different fonts,” you mumbled under your breath as you shoved yourself off Miles, causing you to bump into a stranger accidentally.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you quickly apologized as you faced the woman. She was close to a foot shorter than you, but had a beautiful smile and seemed like she had a charming personality. “No, it’s okay,” the girl replied slurredly. You could tell this girl was hammered out of her mind, and you had seen the eyes of preying men on her.

Not knowing what to do, you asked her, “Hey, I know we just met, but would you want to go outside with me?” The question was an innocent one; you didn’t want to leave an intoxicated girl who was pushing five feet nothing to fend off men like Frankie. “Sure,” the girl replied with a smile as she grabbed your hand and pulled you outside. You sent Miles a scared smile as the man responded with a comical smile and a thumbs up.

You followed the girl out to a small wooden swing and sat down next to her. “So, what’s your name?” You quietly asked. You had no intentions on hitting on this girl even though she was your type; you were just in need of some new friends, and you thought she could be a good addition.

Not that Anika and Miles were bad friends, you just needed someone else to hang out occasionally.

The girl reached her hand over to you while saying, “I’m Tara; it’s nice to meet you.” You gently shook her hand and sent her a grin, “I’m Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The further the night went along, the more you talked with Tara. You two quickly discovered that you both shared a love for art and elevated horror, and you even exchanged numbers with the girl.

“Oh shit,” Tara quietly mumbled as she stood up from the bench. You gave her a puzzled look before standing up as well, “is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s just my sister is freaking out about me right now,” Tara replied as she texted someone back, presumably the sister in question. “You aren’t in any trouble, are you? Because I can try and help to get you out,” you offered, causing Tara to chuckle at your words.

“Thank you, Y/N, but I think Sam would kill you if she ever met you,” Tara joked while looking up at you before returning to typing.

A minute passed before Tara sighed and closed her phone. “Well, I better get back home,” Tara said as she moved in to hug you, but your fake baby got in the way.

You gave Tara an awkward smile as you pulled the girl into a side hug and whispered in her ear, “Babies, am I right?”

“Why do you even have that thing?” Tara asked while flicking its head.

You quickly wrapped your arms around the baby’s head and shielded it from Tara. “Hey! Do not hurt my baby Carlos!” You exclaimed.

“Carlos? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I am serious. Do not hate on his name.”

“Why did you pick such an outlandish name?” Tara asked with a smile as she crossed her arms.

You scoffed at the girl’s words, “‘Carlos’ is not an outlandish name, Tara. And besides, it’s from the movie The Hangover.”

Tara chuckled at your words, “Oh my god, my sister loves that movie; she watches it all the time.”

“Is your sister single?” You asked with a playful smirk.

“Ha! Yeah, right. Good luck with that. Sam is pretty reserved,” Tara stated as she slowly started to walk toward the road.

“How come? If you don’t mind me asking,” you asked while following Tara and stopping on the sidewalk beside her.

The girl shrugged while pulling out her phone and texting someone. “Her last relationship ended badly. And ever since then, she’s just been closed off to everyone except me and always stalking me,” Tara admitted while putting her phone away, “but you’ll get a chance to meet her; she’s on her way to pick us up.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, only if you want to come over. I know we just met, but I feel like we could be friends,” Tara admitted with a smile as a black car pulled, parked, and the driver got out.

Tara continued talking to you, but as soon as you saw the driver, you couldn’t hear anything else. She was, to put it lightly, the most attractive woman you have ever seen. She had dark eyes that captivated you and a stern look as she approached you and Tara.

“Who’s this?” The alluring woman asked, and you could only think, ‘You’re future girlfriend’ with a giant smile.

The younger sister beamed at her sister’s question and placed a hand on your back, gently pushing you toward the woman. “Sam, this is Y/N. She’s my friend,” Tara stated.

“Hi,” you breathlessly replied with an awkward smile as you stuck out your hand toward Sam. The woman looked you up and down before scoffing and slapping your hand away. “How come you’ve never mentioned her before?” Sam questioned while crossing her arms.

“Because, Sam, we just met tonight.”

At that, Sam’s eyes instantly widened as she stared at her sister. “Are you serious?! You don’t even know this stranger, yet you came outside to be alone with her?” Sam exclaimed as she checked her sister over for any injuries.

“I’m fine, Sam. And besides, Y/N isn’t that bad,” Tara laughed as she felt Sam’s hands check out of her body.

Sam stopped her movements and looked Tara in the eyes, “And how do you know that?”

Tara huffed at Sam’s question and turned to face you, “You aren’t going to murder me, Y/N, are you?”

“Yes, I am,” you joked with a playful smile, but Sam didn’t find it funny.

“Well, at least I get a heads up this time,” Tara chuckled, completely ignoring Sam’s bewildering expression.

Sam took in her sister’s words before shaking her head, shocked, “No, absolutely not. Come on, Tara, we are leaving,” Sam said as she walked to the driver’s side.

“Can Y/N come over at least?” Tara asked with puppy dog eyes and a small frown. Sam hated it when Tara did this, and her younger sister knew it always worked. Of course, Sam knew that Tara was only doing this to get her way, and Sam never denied her sister.

With a quiet ‘goddamnit,’ Sam allowed you to come with them.

“Thank you,” you said once you got into the back of the car and buckled up. You only got a small grunt in response, but you took it as a win.

The car ride was filled with low music and the occasional conversation between the sisters as you admired Sam. You were sitting behind the passenger seat, allowing you the perfect side view to look at Sam. Unbeknownst to you, Sam had caught you staring at her in the rearview mirror but made no verbal comment. ‘Fucking weirdo,’ she thought to herself as she quickly glanced at your love-sick eyes in the mirror.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arriving at the Carpenters' apartment, Tara gave you a quick tour of the place and introduced you to their roommate Quinn, who naturally took a liking to you.

While you were on the couch talking with Tara, Quinn walked into the kitchen and found Sam glaring at you.

“She’s certainly something, isn’t she?” Quinn questioned while twirling her hair around her finger. You had taken off the fake beard, wig, and sunglasses and left your baby and baby carrier next to the door, and Sam had to admit, now that she saw your entire face, you were undeniably attractive.

Sam side-eyes Quinn before looking back at you and then back to the redhead. “I thought you were strictly men?”

Quinn chuckled at Sam’s response, “How can I thoroughly enjoy sex if I’ve never been with a woman? They know the female body better than anyone else.”

Not being able to form an argument against Quinn’s words, Sam nodded her head in agreement.

“Wish me luck,” Quinn said as she gently slapped Sam’s back before entering the living room, sitting right next to you.

And for some unknown reason, Sam felt a tinge of jealousy shoot throughout her body, making her hate you all the more.

You and Tara stayed up watching movies while Quinn occasionally hit on you. And when it came time for people to start turning in, Quinn gave it one last shot.

“Well, I’m going to bed,” Quinn said as she rubbed her hands on her thighs before standing up, “you can always come sleep with me, Y/N,” she finished with a wink before walking into her room.

Once she was gone, Tara apologized, “I’m sorry about her. She’s like that with everyone.”

“Eh, I don’t mind the boost of confidence,” you replied with a smirk. Tara laughed at your words, and her eyes darted to Sam’s door as it opened.

Sam walked into the living room and glared at you before looking at Tara. “Alright, Tara, I think it’s time for Y/N to go home,” Sam stated as she crossed her arms.

Tara let out a small groan as she threw her head back before standing up. “Alright, Alan, let’s go,” Tara replied as she pulled you off the couch and walked toward the door with you.

“What are you doing?” Sam questioned while watching you, and Tara put on your shoes. “I’m taking Y/N home?” Tara replied with a puzzled look.

“Nuh-uh, nope,” Sam responded as she walked over to the door and stood before it, “you are not leaving here this late at night with her.”

With a scoff, Tara looked between you and her sister, “Well, what do you want her to do then? Walk home?”

“Yes,” Sam immediately replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So it’s not safe enough for me to walk with her, but she can go alone?”

Sam took a few seconds to think about it before responding, “That is correct.”

Tara sighed; she knew there was no point in arguing with Sam, but she got a bright idea. “Well, since you won’t let me take her home, you can,” Tara suggested as she removed her shoes.

“No!” You and Sam exclaimed at the same time but for different reasons. Sam didn’t want to take you home because she did not like you at all. While you, on the other hand, didn’t want to be left alone with the woman because you knew for a fact you would be a blushing mess and wouldn’t be able to form a sentence.

“I’ll take her home,” a voice called from behind you, and you turned to see Quinn leaning against her door frame. The redhead wore a sheer white blouse, and you could see her red lingerie bra.

“I’m fine with that,” you replied too quickly with a smile on your face.

But Sam scoffed at your words before moving to grab her keys. “Absolutely not. Come on, Y/N. I’ll take you,” Sam stated as she pushed past you to open the door. You gave Quinn a small wave and told Tara you would text her as you gathered up Carlos, your fake beard and wig, along with your sunglasses, before following Sam out to her car.

“Thank you for taking me home. I appreciate it, Sam,” you commented as you buckled up. Sam huffed in response as she started her car.

“How do I get to your house?” Sam asked after a few moments of driving down a random street. You told the woman your address, and Sam wanted to scream when she realized it would take almost thirty minutes to get to your house due to traffic.

The car was filled with the heavenly voice of Lana Del Rey as you leaned your head back against the headrest and looked over at Sam. You couldn’t explain it, but Sam was exactly what you would imagine a Lana Del Rey song would look like.

“Stop staring at me; you’re creepy as shit,” Sam said once she felt your eyes on her.

You awkwardly cleared your throat as you uncomfortably shifted in your seat while staring at the floor. “So, Tara told me your favorite movie is The Hangover?” You questioned while fidgeting with your fingers.

A few seconds passed before dryly said, “Yes.” And even more, seconds passed before she added, “I hope Carlos had a fun night.”

You lightly chuckled at the woman’s words as you messed with Carlos’ plastic hands, “Yeah, he had a blast tonight.”

Sam responded with a small ‘mhm’ as she continued driving, enjoying the awkward silence that filled the air.

When Sam arrived at your apartment, she realized that you lived in the nicer part of New York, and she loathed you for it. Not only were you a nuisance, you were more than likely a spoiled rich brat, and Sam could not wait to get rid of you.

“This is me,” you quietly mumbled while getting out of the vehicle with your items in hand as Sam rolled down the window to talk to you, “Thank you for the ride, Sam. I appreciate it,” you said as you pulled out your wallet and handed the woman a ten dollar through the window.

She looked between you and the money before staring into your eyes, “I’m not having sex with you for money.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head. “What? No. No! That’s not what I was implying,” you quickly defended before looking at Sam, “Why would you think?”

The woman shrugged her shoulders before speaking, “Because all you’ve done tonight is stare at me, so you either want sex or want to kill me,” Sam suggested.

“Why would I want to kill you?”

“Because you’re being creepy as shit! And you told Tara you were going to murder her.”

“Okay, fair enough. But I was completely joking about the whole murder thing,” you replied with a small laugh that Sam clearly didn’t find funny. You didn’t know about the past traumas the sisters have gone through together, and Sam knew that you didn’t know, but it didn’t make her feel any better toward you.

“Whatever,” Sam replied as she took your money before driving off.

“Goodnight, Sam!” You exclaimed while the car pulled away, and you sighed before heading to your apartment. Sam might not be the biggest fan of you right now, but you vowed you would win over the woman’s heart, no matter what it took.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winning over Sam was much more challenging than you initially thought it would be. Every time you visited Tara at her place, Sam wouldn’t even acknowledge you, and anytime you would try to talk to her, she would quickly dismiss you. But you were ever the persistent type, and you knew you would eventually wiggle your way into her heart.

It had been exactly four months since you met Tara, and the girl was planning a memorable evening for you two to celebrate the milestone in your friendship.

You approached her apartment door and knocked thrice. Within a few seconds, the door slowly opened and revealed a grumpy Sam. “What do you want?” The woman questioned while looking up and down, her eyes moving to your right hand, “Why do you have flowers?”

“These are for you, actually,” you replied with a smile as you handed Sam her flowers. Sam studied you before reaching out and accepting the flowers, “Thanks, I guess.”

Now, Sam would never admit this even if someone held a gun to her head, but the way she felt knowing that you had gotten her real flowers and not some cheap fake ones from the Dollar Store, it was different. No one had ever brought her flowers before, and especially not in a romantic way, if that’s the game you were playing at.

The Latina studied the flowers and couldn’t help but chuckle at them: lavenders and violets; how subtle you were.

“So,” you said with a cheesy smile, “I’m here to hang out with Tara.”

“Tara! Your weird friend is here!” Sam shouted into the apartment before walking into the living room, with you a few steps behind her.

‘Sweet, that’s exactly how I like to be announced,’ you thought while moving to sit on the couch. You silently watched as Sam walked into the kitchen and threw away the flowers, and it pained you to see the beautiful blooms go to waste.

A few seconds passed when an overly excited Tara came into the living room and jumped onto the couch right next to you.

“Alright, here’s the plan: we order pizza, watch a movie and make some cookies, and then drink wine and paint. Deal?” Tara asked with eagerness and a giant smile on her face. “Sounds like a deal,” you replied while matching her grin. “Good,” Tara exclaimed while jumping off the couch and hunting for her phone to call in the pizza.

When the pizza arrived, you and Tara ate at the kitchen table along with Sam and Quinn. Naturally, the dinner was a bit awkward, as Quinn kept on hitting on you, and Sam would glare at you. You weren’t going to lie; you enjoyed the redhead's attention and were more than eager to answer her questions about your hometown and what you were majoring in.

Once you four had finished the pizza off, Tara set up a movie in the living room while Quinn left to go meet up with one of her many gentlemen callers, leaving just you and Sam in the kitchen.

The Latina watched as you pulled out some cookie dough and began preparing. “You know, you could always help,” you said while turning on the oven and pulling out a baking pan, and cleaning it off.

“I’m good,” Sam dryly replied as she crossed her arms and continued watching you work. You felt uncomfortable with her eyes burning into the back of your skull, “Stop staring; you’re creepy as shit.”

Sam huffed at your words before letting out a sound that sounded like a slight chuckle. “You’re one to talk,” the woman retorted while watching you eat a raw cookie dough bite, “you know you can get salmonella and die from that, right?”

You lightly chuckled at Sam’s as you finished eating the cookie dough, “Then I will be the first person in the history of the world to die from salmonella.”

You ignored the quiet ‘thank god,’ Sam muttered under her breath as Tara entered the room. “How are the cookies coming?” The girl questioned while eating a raw piece of cookie dough as well. “There wouldn't be any if you two keep on eating them,” Sam stated as she pushed you away from the pan and set the pieces of cookie dough on it.

“Why did you do that? I am perfectly capable of setting them out myself,” you said while watching Sam finish placing the cookie dough on the pan. “Because you and Tara would just eat it all,” the older woman replied as she put the pan in the oven and closed the door.

“If you say so,” you retorted as you entered the living room with Tara. You sat on the couch first and allowed Tara to cuddle up next to you as she pressed play on the movie.

You two enjoyed the peaceful comfort that had fallen over you when Sam called out, “Cookies are done,” while walking into the living room. “Seriously, you two? Shrek?” Sam asked while she watched the screen. “Yes, Sam. Shrek is amazing,” Tara retorted as she pushed off you and practically flew into the kitchen.

You gave Sam a tight-lipped smile as you walked past her and ate some cookies with Tara. And soon enough, Sam joined you two in the kitchen.

The woman stared at you as you finished your cookie and walked toward you. “You have something on your lip,” Sam said as she reached out and gently wiped away a piece of chocolate from the corner of your lips. You felt your heart explode at the contact and your knees weaken; you thought you would surely die if Sam kept this up.

She let her thumb linger on your lips before gently swiping it across your bottom lip with a smirk on her own lips before walking off to her room. She didn’t know why she did it, but it stirred something in her as she watched your shocked expression and lustful eyes dance across her face.

“What the fuck was that?” Tara asked as she shoved you once Sam was out of earshot.

“Huh uh,” you replied with a love sock grin as you stared at the hallway Sam disappeared into. The more petite girl gave you a look of disgust before pulling you into the living room to drink and paint, but your mind kept on drifting back to the beautiful woman who hated you as you worked. And before you knew it, you had accidentally painted a picture of Sam. In the painting, she was leaning against a doorframe wearing a skin-tight gray long-sleeve shirt that highlighted her muscles with jeans. A casual outfit you had seen Sam wear numerous times, but she still looked breathtaking.

Her eyes amused you the most in the picture; even though it wasn’t a close-up painting, her dark eyes still seemed to pull you in, and you could faintly see the monster she hid behind them.

You fell head over heels for Sam Carpenter that night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once every month, you would go over to Tara’s apartment for wine and painting, and it was probably the one night you looked forward to every month.

Not because you got an excuse to drink and stare lustfully at Tara’s controversial hot sister, but because you enjoyed creating the most horrific art pieces with the girl that no one should ever see.

“What the hell is that?” Tara drunkenly laughed one night after a few too many glasses of wine.

“I don’t know!” You said while watching Tara’s tone. You had created what was supposed to be your version of Sully from Monsters Inc but had made a giant blurb of blue and purple with the slightest resemblance to Ed Sheeran.

“Will you two keep it down?” Sam asked as she walked into the living room, wearing nothing but a bra and shorts.

You choked on your spit when you saw the woman and nearly fainted when a single drop of water ran down her defined abs.

“Sorry about that, Sam,” Tara replied with a drunken smile before returning to her painting, entirely ignorant of your lustful state.

One moment you were sitting next to Tara, and the next, you were in the kitchen next to Sam.

“Hey,” you husked out with a flirtatious smile and a nod as you leaned against the doorframe, trying your best to act sober and calm simultaneously.

“Hi,” Sam suspiciously replied as her eyes racked over your body and took in your drunken state.

“How you doin’?” You asked, and Sam couldn’t help but laugh at your shitty attempt to flirt with her.

“What do you want, Y/N?” Sam asked while getting out a bottle of water and facing you. You shrugged your shoulders as you pushed off the doorframe, “Would you like to come paint with us?”

At the mention of her sister joining in on the activity, Tara yelled from the living room, “Sam! Sammy! You have to come and paint with us!”

Sam sighed at her sister’s words before walking into her room, throwing on a random shirt and grudgingly sauntering into the living room and picking up a blank canvas as she sat beside you.

You three worked in silence as the soft sounds of Hozier filled the air. Sam would occasionally sneak a peek at your work, but you would always hide it. And when she finally got a good look at it, she wished she hadn’t seen it.

“Y/N. Why the fuck did you paint a naked lady?” Sam demanded as she stared at your artwork.

It was a sloppy picture of a woman wearing a white dress with one boob hanging out, and Sam had to admit, those had to be the biggest boobs she’s ever seen. The lady in the painting wore a faint black hat, and somehow, she looked familiar to Sam.

“Do not hate on my lovely wife, Samantha Carpenter. I shall have you know that Lady Dimitrescu is one of the finest women I have ever seen!” You defended while looking over at Sam’s artwork, “And what did you come up with?”

When you leaned over and saw what Sam had made, you couldn’t hide your disappointment. A frown pulled at your lips as you looked at a shitty painting of Sam stabbing you with a knife.

“It was a joke,” Sam whispered as her heart broke at your saddened expression. When she first started it, she felt good about it, and it made her happy. But now that she looked at your hallowed eyes and frowning lips, she wished she hadn't made it.

“No, it’s okay,” you replied as you cleared your throat and stood up, “Well, this has been fun, but I’m going to bed,” you finished as you walked off to Tara’s room and shut the door. You ignored the feeling of Sam’s eyes burning into your back.

“Way to go, Sam,” Tara scoffed as she stood up from the couch and went to her room to check on you. She knew of your feelings for Sam, and Tara tried her best to get her sister to warm up to you, but no matter how hard she worked, Sam refused to bridge.

But Tara didn’t know that Sam went to bed that night with regret plaguing her heart and mind as she went to sleep with the thought of you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After that awkward night, you stopped coming to the Carpenter’s apartment as much. At first, you would say that you would have homework to catch up on, which was true, but then after a while, you completely stopped coming over at all.

Of course, you would talk to Tara every day, but when she invited you over, you would miraculously have something else to do that prevented you from coming.

“It’s because of Sam, isn’t it?” Tara asked you. The two of you were back at another frat party for Miles, and you were enjoying a peaceful conversation outside when Tara finally asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for weeks. “Pshh, no,” you replied with a shrug.

“Y/N, stop lying to me; I know it’s because of that picture she made,” Tara stated as she stared up at you, “Sam didn’t mean it.”

You scoffed at your best friend’s words while rolling your eyes. “The fuck do you mean she didn’t mean it, Tara!” You exclaimed.

“I mean, she felt bad afterward.”

“Yeah, right. You’re just lying because you want me to come back over.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tara replied with a smile.

You two continued your conversation while occasionally people-watching until it was time to leave. Sam had slowly started to loosen up with Tara, so she was letting her sister go out more as long as she was there to pick up the girl. “Alright, Sam is on her way,” Tara commented when she read a text. You nodded at the girl’s words and tried to hide that you didn’t want to see Sam.

You hadn’t talked to the woman since that night, and you didn’t want to. Even though you were hopelessly devoted to Sam, you were hurt by how she treated you. You had been nice to her, and she would reject all of it, and weirdly, it hurt you to see Sam push you away.

Tara picked up on your pondering thoughts and reached a hand out, and rubbed it up and down your bicep. “Y/N, Sam is a grumpy asshole who is overprotective; don’t take it personally,” Tara said while reaching up to pinch your cheek with a smile.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Sam said as she approached you two. You quickly slapped Tara’s hand away from your face before looking at Sam. You had missed the dark-eyed woman and were glad to see her again, but you were still upset with the woman.

“No, you’re good,” Tara replied as she started following Sam to her car with you beside her.

The walk back to the vehicle was peaceful and filled with small banter between you and Tara, while Sam kept quiet until you ran into a group of drunken girls.

You could tell that they meant trouble before you were anywhere near them. The group was small, only consisting of three girls, but you could tell they were trouble as they stared down Sam when they walked past.

Sam pulled Tara into her side as the group walked by, and the woman said nothing when one of the girls shoulder-checked her.

“Come on,” Sam whispered while pulling Tara closer to her. You sent the group of girls a glance while walking, and you noticed how they stopped and turned around, and began walking behind you and the sisters.

“Hey!” One of the girls called, and Sam didn’t have time to react when she turned to face the girl and had a red slushie thrown on her.

The girls called Sam anything from a murderer to a liar, even to a whore, but Sam continued walking with tears in her eyes. She could handle all of the conspiracy theorist nuts, but she couldn’t handle having Tara see how she was treated.

So, when one girl called Sam a murderer again, you turned around and threw a punch. The sound of bone crunching rang throughout the air when your fist made contact with the girl's nose and was followed up by the girl's cries.

“You need to get your psycho girlfriend in check, you fucking murderer,” another girl cried out as she checked on her friend. You chuckled at the girl’s words and were getting ready to retort when you received a punch from the third girl.

You stumbled backward into Sam, and to your surprise, she caught you and whispered a quiet “I got you,” while you steadied your feet. “Come on,” Tara said as she dragged you and Sam away from the group.

The three of you walked briskly to Sam’s car as blood poured from your nose. When you reached the car, Sam opened her glove box and handed you some tissues, which you graciously accepted. You sat in the back seat while Sam drove, and Tara tried to talk to you.

“Tara, I love you so much, but I am in so much pain right now,” you choked out as you pressed the tissues to your bloody nose. Tara didn’t want to be the one to tell you this, but your nose was definitely broken, and she was not going to be the one to put it back in place.

“How are you doing back there?” Sam asked while quickly glancing back at you. “My nose is in my brain!” You exaggerated while holding your nose, and Sam chuckled at your response as she continued driving.

When you got to the Carpenter apartment, the blood had stopped pouring out, and you were thanking the gods as it had completely covered the tissues in crimson blood along with your chin. “Sit on the couch; I’ll be right back,” Tara said as she pushed you and Sam onto the couch.

Tara disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a first-aid kit before returning to the living room, and she laughed at the sight of you and her sister. The slushie on Sam’s shirt matched the blood that had dried on the tissues and stained your chin, and you both looked like you had gone through hell.

Tara moved the coffee table closer to you and started to work on cleaning it up when Sam stopped her. “I got her, Tara. Go to bed,” Sam softly spoke as she moved the first-aid kit closer to her. Tara gave her sister a questionable look before muttering, “Okay,” and walking off to her room.

You watched as Sam pulled out some alcohol wipes and gently cleaned up your nose, and you let out a slight hiss as the alcohol seeped into a cut on the bridge of your nose. “I’m sorry,” Sam apologized as she finished cleaning your nose, “It’s broken.”

“I know,” you groaned, and Sam lightly laughed at your response. “I can pop it back into place for you,” Sam offered.

“Hell no,” you replied, laughing, “I would need lidocaine with epinephrine injected into my nose and then lidocaine sprayed into my nose! Then you would need a device to basically reach my brain and put a shit ton of pressure on my nose with it and your fingers to fix it!”

“Well, I’ll take you to the ER tomorrow so we can get it fixed,” Sam asked as she got up from the couch and saw the backpack you had left over before you went to the frat party with Tara.

“Y/N, what’s this?” Sam asked as she moved your bag and pulled out a painting. You whipped your head around at the woman’s words and instantly stood up from the couch and moved to her side. “That’s nothing,” you quickly said as you tried to prevent Sam from looking at it, but it was too late.

When Sam picked up the painting, she felt her stomach do involuntary flips, and her breath hitched in her throat; it was a painting of her and not just a normal one. She noticed imperfections about her that you saw as perfect through the gentle brush strokes, and she felt herself fall for you.

“I’m not one of your French girls,” Sam joked as she set the painting back down, but you noticed the smile that threatened to appear and how her eyes bravely traveled to your lips before returning to your eyes. “Goodnight, Y/N,” Sam added as she gently placed a small kiss on your cheek before going to her room.

You had no idea how you did it, but you somehow managed to make Sam Carpenter fall for you and you could not wait to see where it would take you.

[visualtaehyun]

Pronouns, curses, and cake crimes 🍰

Finally here with the in-depth version of my rambles plain reactions from the other day. Title brought to you by @jeffsatyr cause I love that turn of phrase in his post here so much!

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏 color-coding characters again: Mut, Rak, Prin, Meena

Rak's lovely relatives

คุณเพิ่งด่าไอ้เด็กเหี้ยนั่นว่า เอาเวลาว่างไปหาอะไรใส่หัว ดีกว่าเสือกเรื่องของคนอื่น ผมไม่อยากเป็นคนเหี้ยครับ /khun pheerng daa ai dek hiia nan waa ao wehlaa waang bpai haa a rai sai hua dee gwaa seuuak reuuang khaawng khohn euun. pom mai yaak bpen khohn hiia khrap/ = You just told off that nasty brat, that [she should] use her free time to find and put something in her head instead of prying into other people's business. I don't want to be someone nasty.

My translation is probably too mild but I wanted to highlight these two aspects: 1) He continues to call her a child (เด็ก /dek/), even though Rak told him last episode that Prin is older than Mut lol and 2) he uses the same curse word twice (เหี้ย /hiia/), once to describe her despicable behavior and then to distance himself from it - and hilariously ends that statement with a polite ครับ /khrap/! -> เหี้ย /hiia/ is used as a curse word but originally refers to a type of lizard

แมงดา /maaeng daa/ = can mean pimp or (male) prostitute or gigolo; lit. a horseshoe crab

It comes from how male horseshoe crabs will cling onto a female's back during mating season, taking advantage of its mate, and is therefore used to disparage men who benefit off of women financially.

Pronouns galore!

Connor and Rak use ฉัน /chan/ and นาย /naai/ in both directions -

Kom uses ผม /pom/ and apparently just คอนเนอร์ /Connor/ -> polite formal 1st pers. pronoun as Kom is younger but he seems to call his older boyfriend just by name which could indicate familiarity, equal standing in their relationship, or maybe it's just because Connor is a foreigner and thus prefers having his name used??

with Rak, Kom uses ผม /pom/ and พี่รัก /phi Rak/ -> polite yet familiar

Mut and Kom use กู /guu/ and มึง /meung/ in both directions, same as Vi and Rak -> rude, familiar pronouns; they're around the same age and have been friends for ages

Mut calls the girls คุณ(ไข่)มุก /khun (Khai)Mook/ and พี่วี /phi Vi/ -> really shows the difference in closeness!

Special interlude

I've seen enough people talk about this inspired subbing choice here to figure it might be interesting to read about:

โคตรพ่อโคตรแม่รู้สึกดีเลย /khoht por khoht mae ruu seuk dee loei/ = It feels fanfuckingtastically good [...]

-> โคตร /khoht/ refers to one's ancestors or lineage but is used as a vulgar intensifier. Adding พ่อ /por/ = father, and แม่ /mae/ = mother, onto that just makes it stronger by swearing on both sides of the family tree I guess lol (A translation in the same vein might then yield you something like 'It feels so motherfucking good' but I love what MMY's translator went with!)

Rak's actually-lovely relative

ตาเค้าเอง /dtaa khao eng/

-> เค้า /khao/ is a cute informal 1st pers. pronoun, her friend Ing-Ing uses it as well For context, it's most often used in Thai QL by 1) characters who wanna be cutesy with their partner, like Sun once or twice in 23.5 or Tan, consistently lol, in We Are, or 2) by characters who are sweet and cute to begin with (mostly women tbh). Anueng in Blank or Pleng and Wan in the upcoming GL Affair also come to mind.

ว่าไง สาวน้อยของน้า /waa ngai, saao noi khaawng naa/

-> น้า /naa/ = uncle or aunt, specifically the mother's younger sibling 'Uncle' only shows up in the subs here but he always uses it as a 1st pers. pronoun with Meena. Also spot the sweet and soft tone he uses here with his niece uwu

แต่น้ารักห้ามเอาน้ารักตอนที่น้ารักอายุ 13 มาเทียบกับมีนาตอนนี้ /dtaae naa Rak haam ao naa Rak dtaawn thee naa Rak aayu 13 maa thiiap gap Meena dtaawn nee/

For her age, she is quite perceptive and clever and it seems her mom and/or uncle (and maybe grandma too?) made sure she understands the full scope of their family drama. Nina, the actress, is a few years younger than that and looks it too tbh so I'm glad she mentions Meena's age for us. She calls herself by name and him uncle Rak น้ารัก /naa Rak/ which, adorably, sounds close to น่ารัก /naa rak/ = cute/lovable, there's a difference in tone though!

พี่จะทำให้เขา ต้องรัก พี่ /phi ja tham hai khao 'dtaawng rak' phi/

-> ต้องรัก /dtaawng rak/ = must/have to love; Tongrak's name He's said this several times in previous episodes but it specifically threw me back to this scene from ep. 3 🥺

คนอย่างผม ใครจะไปกล้าขอคุณต้องรัก /khohn yaang pom, khrai ja bpai glaa khaaw khun dtaawng rak/ = Someone like me, who would dare to ask Khun Tongrak (/you). ...which could also be read as: = Someone like me, who would dare ask you to have to love [me?].

The word she uses is หน้าด้าน /naa daan/ = boldfaced, shameless, which is surprisingly rude lmaooo

The พี่ /phi/ came and went and now she addresses him exactly the same way as her uncle Rak - น้าหมุด /naa Mut/ hehe

Oh and hey, here's a crazy thought-- Mut and Meena have about the same age gap as Mut and Rak, he might even be closer in age to her than to Rak! In the novel, Rak is 30 going on 31 and judging by Kom being 19 in Love Sand, Mut can't be much older than 20, maybe early 20s.

Submission

วันนี้คุณว่าง่ายกว่าปกตินะ /wan nee, khun waa ngaai gwaa bohk-ga-dti na/ = Today you're more docile than usual.

-> ว่าง่าย /waa ngaai/ = docile, obedient, submissive, compliant, to listen If you've seen more than one Thai drama, I expect you've encountered the word ดื้อ /deuu/ before which is most often subbed as 'stubborn' but can mean 'to not listen, disobedient, obstinate, defiant, resistant' so this word here is just about the opposite of it!

อยากทำก็ทำ ผมเป็นของคุณอยู่แล้ว /yaak tham gaaw tham. pom bpen khaawng khun yuu laaeo/ = [If you] want to do it then do it. I'm all yours.

-> อยู่แล้ว /yuu laaeo/ at the end there can express certainty or completion so this could also be translated as 'I'm already yours' if that makes any difference to anyone but me lol

[literaryavenger]

Broken - part 5

Summary: You and Bucky keep bonding.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language. Innocent and broken Bucky. Mentions of Bucky's past and nightmares. A lot of fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.

Word Count: 2.2K

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

A/N: I decided on the ending for this story, and I have only one more chapter to go! Enjoy, the last one will probably come sometime tomorrow. Also, again, it's 4:30 am and I can't help myself lol.

Masterlist

Spending time with Cassie you couldn’t help but feel better.

The more you have fun and laugh with the little girl, the more you forget about your anger against the team.

It also helps that you spend most of the day away from them, eating lunch with Cassie and Scott, who you didn’t stay mad at for too long. To be fair to him you didn’t even know him when everything happened so you don't blame him too much.

As promised, Bucky comes looking for you as soon as he and Steve get back to the tower, finding you still on Scott's floor while you guys watch Despicable Me inside a huge blanket fort Cassie insisted on building in the middle of the floor of the living room.

Thankfully the other occupants of this floor, Bruce, Thor and Loki, are still in New Asgard. He’s just about to turn around and go back to his room when you notice him.

"Hey Bucky! Where are you going, how did it go?" he looks uncertainly at Scott and his daughter before answering.

"I was just gonna…" he trails off, pointing behind him towards the elevator.

"Nonsense, come here." you tell him, patting the seat next to you in the fort.

He’s a little hesitant, but slowly comes further into the room, sitting on the ground, leaving a little space between you.

You give him a smile that he shyly returns before you hear a little voice clearing her throat, which brings your attention to the little girl on your right. "Yes, Princess Cassie?"

"And who would this be, Queen Y/N?" Bucky’s a little confused by the interaction, but says nothing.

"This is Bucky. What title would you like to give him?" Cassie thinks about it for a second while staring very intently at Bucky, narrowing her eyes at him, and you can’t hide your amusement.

That is, until Cassie suddenly lands on a role for Bucky.

"He should be the King!" she says, looking from him to you a couple of times "You guys look good together." you’re about to say something, when Scott beats you to the punch.

"She’s right, I can see it." he says putting his hands up and looking through them to frame you and Bucky together, clearly much more amused than you are at the situation.

You sigh, knowing you can’t escape this. "Well, what Princess Cassie says goes. I’m sorry, King Bucky, you’re stuck with me now."

You turn to Bucky who's still very confused, and is now also starting to turn slightly pink, so you decide to explain.

"We’re playing make believe. Cassie is the Princess, Scott is the Jester and I’m the Queen. I’m sorry to inform you you’ve been crowned King of the castle." you gesture to the fort with your hands.

"And also Y/N’s husband!" Cassie feel the need to shout, making your head snap to her with wide eyes while Bucky turns even redder, your own face starting to change color now.

"He gets it, Princess." you try not to snap at her, she’s just a kid and doesn’t mean anything by it, but it’s still pretty embarrassing.

You see Scott snickering behind Cassie and glare at him as much as you can trying to go unnoticed by her, but Cassie's attention is on the super soldier now.

"You're going to play with us, right?" she asks him in a  sweet voice, making the biggest puppy eyes you've ever seen. She certainly knows what she's doing.

Bucky, who hasn't said anything until now, doesn't know what to do. He looks at you for help and you give him an encouraging smile.

He then looked at Scott, worried that the man might want Bucky anywhere near his daughter, but Scott simply nods his head with a smile.

Bucky relaxes a bit and turned his attention back to the little girl, trying to find the right thing to say.

"Of course I'll play with you. After all, the Princess’ word is law." Cassie starts giggling at the bow he gives her, and you're almost giddy at seeing this side of Bucky, more relaxed than he's been since he got here.

Granted, it was just a couple of days ago, but he seems to be making a lot of progress really fast, so far, just like Steve said after he hugged you yesterday morning.

You keep watching the movie, then the second one and you get halfway through the third when Maggie comes by to pick up Cassie.

So, with the promise not to finish the movie without her, you and Bucky say goodbye to all three and make your way to your shared floor.

"You were right, she really is adorable." Bucky says with a smile as you get into the elevator.

"I know, it’s pretty hard to stay mad at Scott when he lets me hang out with her." you smile back at him. "So, how did your meeting go?"

You see Bucky tense and feel a little bad. You really didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable, but you were genuinely curious and also wanted to support him. After all you know having a hearing isn’t certainly gonna be easy.

"I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to." You quickly reassure him and he seems to relax and gives you a nod.

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let it go. But Bucky had a question himself.

"Why are you ignoring everyone but me?" you sigh.

You don't blame him for being curious, you yourself are as nosy as they come. Always in a respectful manner, of course.

"I’m mad at them." You simply say. "They selfishly kept a pretty big thing from me. They made me feel bad, knowing they were lying to me. They’re my family, they should trust me more than this. I’ll get over it, eventually, but for now I’m happy avoiding everybody." you shrug. You know it’s kind of childish, but you also don’t care.

"Okay, I understand that… But why are you not avoiding me?" Now you’re confused.

"Why would I avoid you?" he bows his head in shame, not meeting your eyes as you exit the elevator and you already know you’re not going to like his answer.

"I’m the reason it all happened in the first place… it’s all my fault." You can feel the sadness in his voice, you can see he actually feels bad about causing this.

You, on the other hand, don't agree.

"Bucky," you start, stopping right in front of him, forcing him to stop too, looking up and quickly putting his hands on your arms to make sure you don't fall after almost colliding with you. "you can’t blame yourself for other people’s choices. Steve chose to help you, Tony chose to fight it, everybody else chose a side. None of it was on you. You didn’t ask anybody to do anything. So, please, stop feeling guilty."

Bucky looks at you silently for a few moments and you feel like he's searching your face for any hint that you might be lying, that you don't really believe what you were saying.

But he doesn't to find any so he nods and says "I’ll try." with his hands still on your arms and it's like you're suddenly registering just how close he is and how warm his touch is on your skin.

He’s about to say something else, when you hear someone clear their throat behind you.

Bucky drops his hands from you like they burned and you turn around, almost feeling like you got caught doing something wrong when you see Steve and Sam just standing there looking at you two.

Steve has that stupid grin on his face that he doesn’t seem to be able to wipe every time he sees you and Bucky together, but Sam looks more concerned than anything.

"Everything okay here?" he says and you can’t help but roll your eyes at his insinuation that something might be wrong just because you’re alone with Bucky.

You turn back to the brunette super soldier and smile at him "I’m gonna go to my room, I still have some reports to finish. See you later?"

You wait until he nods and then get on your tippy toes to give him a kiss on the cheek like this morning, smiling a little more when you back away and see a little pink hue coming back to his face, but with a smile nonetheless.

You turn around and pass the other two men without saying a word, hearing them sigh behind you as you walk away towards your room.

Maybe you’re being a little dramatic, but you don’t feel like forgiving anybody else just yet.

So that’s how you find yourself spending more and more time with Bucky.

It feels like you spent all your free time with each other, only being apart at night and when Bucky joins the team for dinner.

He tried to get out of it multiple times to join you when you would eat in the kitchen of your floor, but Steve insists that it would be better for him to be around the team, even if just for an hour a day, and you fully agree.

That, however, doesn’t stop him from joining you afterwards just so you won't have to eat alone, for which you're grateful.

Initially Bucky's pretty content just following you around like a lost puppy, a fact that Sam and Steve never fail to mention as it amuses them to no end.

But Bucky doesn't care, and neither do you as you enjoy each other’s presence, even in silence.

Bucky likes watching you go about your day, still amazed by everything you do and you like having him near you. It makes you feel safe.

Still, the more time you spent together, the more comfortable he feels around you.

The real turning point comes when one night you open your door to find a disheveled looking Bucky, and you know immediately that him knocking at your door at 3 am meant nothing good.

Which is confirmed when he sniffles and you realize he has tears streaming down his face.

Without saying anything you hold out your hand, which he instantly takes as he lets you guide him inside, shutting the door behind him.

You walk to the bed and sit down, hand still in his and, when he just stands there you tug on it, silently letting him know that it's okay for him to join you.

You expect him to sit next to you as he’s done countless times now while leaving a respectful space between you, always the gentleman.

What you didn’t expect is him crawling into your bed, taking you to lay down with him, and hugging you as tightly as he can without hurting you, his legs also wrapping around yours.

To say you're shocked right now is an understatement. You always made a point to keep physical touch to a minimum when it comes to Bucky, not wanting to do anything to make him uncomfortable.

But here he is, clinging to you like a scared little kid, crying his eyes out with his head buried in the crook your neck.

You wrap your arms around his shaking body, hugging him as tight as he is, rubbing his back to try and soothe him, whispering what you hope are words of encouragement in his ear. 

You stay like that for a while until he finally calms down and stops crying.

You don’t rush him to let go or to talk about it, letting him decide if and when he's ready to talk at all.

After a few minutes of total silence you think the poor guy cried himself to sleep, but he proves you wrong by moving his head away from your neck and placing it on your chest.

You feel him play with your necklace as he starts talking with a quiet voice that reminds you of the first day you met him. "I’m sorry, doll. I didn’t want to bother you, but I didn’t want to be alone and had nowhere else to go." and your heart breaks for him.

"Don’t apologize, Buck. You can always come to me, it doesn’t matter what time it is."

He looks up, looking at you like you hung the moon and stars just for him, and seems like he's about to say something else but thinks better of it, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times.

He settles for giving you a gentle squeeze and moving his head back to lay on you, but you don't need words to know he's grateful for your understanding.

He's seemingly unashamed of the way he's still clinging to you and you’d be lying if you said you mind being so close to him either.

You start running your hand through his hair, which he seems to appreciate, and, after a few more minutes of silence, he starts speaking again.

He tells you about the nightmares he’s been having ever since he escaped Hydra, and that tonight, after a particularly gruesome one, he just couldn’t stand being alone.

He doesn't go into too much detail about the dream but tells you enough for you to want to take a few firearms and track down every single person connected to Hydra so you can put as many bullets in them as you can carry, then light them on fire for good measure.

But, Bucky being your first priority, you stay where you are and try your best to comfort him, eventually changing the subject to keep his mind off the nightmare.

You talk until the sun comes up, birds chirping, but neither of you make a move to get up at any point, eventually falling asleep for a couple of hours in each other’s arms.

Part 6

Taglist: @aesthetic0cherryblossom @buchi91 @sapphirebarnes @ordelixx

[shovel-hooligan-frontera]

Lay your head to rest, just for a moment:

There was one thing about his master that annoyed Javier Asrahan. One thing that despite knowing the changed man and protecting him fiercely for two years, he had never seen. Javier Asrahan had never in his life seen Lloyd Frontera asleep. At least, sort of. He had seen him in a comatose state after Cremo, and had caught glimpses of him in the morning right before he woke up, but other than those times Javier had never seen him actually sleeping.

It only made sense, what with him needing Master Lloyd's "lullaby" to fall asleep, meaning he'd have to sleep before his master (a fact he was not comfortable with, but moving on), and Lloyd constantly working rather than taking any moment to rest. Still the fact bugged Javier anyway. He wasn't sure what about it bothered him but it did.

So, Javier came up with a plan. A simple one really, that would mean he could see for himself if his master actually did sleep, or if he was some nocturnal creature after all.

The first issue of the matter was the lullaby. Without fail it would knock Javier out no matter what he did, and waking up from it was near impossible until sunrise. There was no doubt Javier would have to work around that fact, and find a way to wake himself up after.

In the end he decided the best way to do so was the chair he slept on night after night. Despite rarely sleeping in a real bed he never had any issues with discomfort, but if he made the chair unbearable, then he'd have to wake.

So, one day when no one could notice, Javier broke his chair, causing a large wood splinter to crack from the back, right where Javier would lean against. It still lined up, instead of bending out, making it unnoticeable unless one sat down in the chair. Javier was almost proud of himself for this plan, before realizing he was as devious as his master, sending him into a spiral of disappointment and regret.

The first night with the broken chair Javier was woken, just like he had planned. But sadly when his eyes came into focus he realized the room was still lit, and the bed in front of him was empty, his master instead working late into the night at his desk, when Javier could not scold him.

"...Master Lloyd." Javier scowled at the man. He had deliberately said he wouldn't stay up to work, lying to Javier's face.

"ACK- Javier? Crap you scared me. Wait- why are you awake?" Lloyd gave his knight a confused look, the ridiculousness emphasized by the noticeable bags under his eyes.

"I could sense that I had been lied to, and willed myself awake to encourage you, once again, to go to bed." Lloyd was not as appreciative of Javier's sarcasm, glancing back at his work before deciding that he was destined to lose this fight.

Lloyd grumbled incoherently to himself, shuffling over to his bed to once again put Javier to sleep. Javier only hoped his master would actually listen to him this time rather than staying up once again.

I doubt the chair will be able to wake me a second time.

It took almost a week for Javier to awaken in the middle of the night again. This time however, his master was not sacrificing his health for needless amounts of work.

Instead in front of him his master laid, evidently on his side facing Javier. While Lloyd was unconscious after fighting the gigatitan he had been laid on his back the whole time, though it only made sense that he would find a more comfortable position when he properly slept.

What truly surprised Javier about the scene was his masters face. Javier had come to notice that when no one was around, Lloyd's hooligan act he spent the last two years perfecting would tend to drop, allowing him to take a less despicable face, almost nice when compared to the contorted expressions he usually sported.

The face he wore now though was different, however. Even when master Lloyd dropped his act, remnants of exaggeration would remain, not allowing any soul to forget. While he slept though, almost any trace of his crazed persona was no where to be seen. Of anything Javier's master looked...normal. So painfully normal. Like he wasn't the one to carve out mountains and build bridges. Like he could never dream of wielding a triple core manaheart, or summoning mythical creatures.

Maybe Javier was too engraved with his thoughts of guilt during Cremo to see it then, or maybe the circumstances simply were different enough to make him not look the same, but the face in front of him was not the Lloyd Frontera he knew.

Or maybe it was. And Javier simply had more to learn about his master than he thought.

link on Ao3

[1d1195]

Love and Dryer Sheets IV

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

~4.2k words

Warnings: emotional cheating, pining, angst, maybe some fluff if you squint

Now I know I have a heart…because it’s breaking.

Ava texted Harry to let him know she made it to the restaurant. She even apologized about the thing with her keys. There was even a heart emoji. Harry was spending the time she was out, face down on the sofa, trying not to scream. But it felt like he needed to. In fact, it felt like he needed to lay face down in traffic but obviously he couldn’t actually do that.

Harry’s conscience decided now was the time to give up on him. Maybe the little voice thought Harry was just simply too stupid to deal with right now. What was he even supposed to do? The voice in his head all but told him exactly what would happen. It tried to warn him. It was completely, totally Harry’s fault for fucking up so. Very. Badly.

Harry sat up about ten minutes before Ava was set to be home. He made a list on his phone of things he needed to do; there was no order to the list as the last item was probably most important…but his already broken, stupid mind didn’t have it in him to put it first, out in the open like that.

-Work portfolio -Gemma b-day present -Laundry -Tell Ava -Tell...

He didn’t want to finish the last sentence.

What were his options? 

He could tell Ava. But that ensured a blowout fight. They would probably break up. Would Ava leave? Technically Harry found this place. Naturally, she complained how her fifteen-minute commute to work was brutal every couple months (usually around holidays when the traffic would amplify to thirty minutes—not that she ever left a moment earlier to account for the time differential) and made sure to tell Harry that she didn’t like living here. 

But…Harry didn’t like the idea of breaking up. It felt like he was losing. Everyone had sympathetic eyes for him when Ava made him mad–especially in public. There goes the poor sap that can’t get out of a bad relationship. But it wasn’t bad. At least…it wasn’t always bad. Harry had to stay for a reason right?

What are those reasons? The voice of Harry’s heart was turning into his second conscience but almost entirely for the benefit of Harry’s happiness.

The sympathetic eyes would soon become I-told-you-so-eyes. That was the last thing Harry wanted. 

Maybe he needed to call Gemma. Gemma was like a compass. She always knew what to do to help her little brother and this might be the stupidest thing he had ever done. But he didn’t need to call her. He knew exactly what she would say. It’s not fair to you or Ava to be in a relationship that makes you both so unhappy. Gemma would be kind. She probably wouldn’t even say I told you so just to be nice.

But he would know.

He cheated. Plain as day. There was no if ands or buts. There was no way to deny it. No taking it back. He messed up.

But the little voice in charge of his heart wasn’t going down without a fight. This is a good thing. It insisted. You want to break up with Ava. You haven’t been happy in a while! Sunshine. You need Sunshine.

But Harry, now taking over for his conscience that abandoned him on the elevator ride back to their place, knew that it was easier said than done. It was way more complicated. Perhaps most importantly, it was so irreconcilably stupid on his part that despite how much he needed some sunshine in his life, he did it the very worst way possible.

Because even though what he did to Ava was despicable, the thought of hurting that sweet girl in the laundry room hurt his fragile heart even more.

*

Harry could hardly sleep beside Ava. He tossed and turned for the better part of the night. By the time six in the morning rolled around he was completely exhausted and restless. If he got four hours’ worth of sleep, he was lucky. It was Saturday. He wanted to sleep in. If he slept in, he wouldn’t have to deal with the shitty situation he got himself into for a while longer.

But instead, his restless mind was punishing his stupid behavior by making him wallow in it. Making him wake up at six in the morning on a Saturday so he could recognize his stupid, stupid mistake.

“Harry?” Ava sounded sleepy of course. “Y’okay, baby?” She asked.

Harry felt the warmth of her kind voice seeping through his whole body. Especially with the name baby on her lips.

Shit.

“M’fine, love,” he lied.

“S’early,” she slurred tiredly.

“Can’t sleep,” he shrugged, starting to roll out of bed. “I’ll go to the other room,” he mumbled. She frowned and Harry couldn’t help but notice how cute she looked when she wasn’t at his throat for every little thing. Her concern made him warm over a little more. The guilt he felt ached a little more.

“Okay,” she sighed. “Hope you feel better,” she murmured. He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. It was like he was on autopilot. As if he had done it thousands of times before. It was moments like this, the quiet, gentle ones, that made him believe in the reasoning behind staying in a relationship that drove him crazy most days.

Moments like that made him understand he had to tell his laundry partner the bad news.

*

Ava wasn’t stupid.

She had a degree, a job, and two eyes that told her Harry was happy. Happier than he had seemed in a really long time.

Of course, his happiness didn’t involve her.

And that made her mad.

She wasn’t quite sure what had changed about Harry specifically; why he got so happy so suddenly. As far as she knew he went to work and came home. But with the way they argued and how irritated she felt just looking at Harry some days, she knew something was off in his demeanor.

It wasn’t that she wanted Harry to be unhappy. It was more of the fact that she was unhappy. Ava knew very well that misery loved company. Seeing him happy set off some kind of switch in her head that Harry was in fact her boyfriend and they were supposed to be happy. Seeing him get joy from something else, especially when she wasn’t part of it, irked her more than the way Harry snapped his gum while they watched TV or how he left socks outside the laundry basket and forgot to put the toilet seat down (consistently) late at night.

Harry was a wonderful boyfriend. He always had been from the moment they started dating. Her mom even teased him saying he was too good for Ava. Ava didn’t see it that way. Ava enjoyed her personality and herself and didn’t think anything needed to change. She didn’t see anything wrong with the way she behaved or acted—as her mom put it. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, and how she wanted.

Right now, she wanted Harry right where he was.

“Do you feel better now?” She asked him as she entered the sitting room.

“Yeah, a bit,” he nodded. “I’ll try t’nap later,” he shrugged as he continued reading the book in his hands without looking up.

She pressed a hand to his forehead. He wasn’t warm. He seemed fine. For a moment she gazed in his eyes and noted how green they looked. There was no denying Harry was beautiful—even though the constant fighting made her irritable with him. It was a face she fell in love with because he was so pretty. Soft skin, gentle smile, deep dimples. He was simply dreamy. Someone would have to be blind not to fall in love with him.

Part of her thought someone had fallen in love with him because of the way he looked so happy after the many months of the mutual feeling of misery that flooded their apartment. That simply wouldn’t do. 

It wouldn’t take much, she knew it. Harry was a romantic. A few gentle smiles, a bat of her eyelashes, and some light touches and Harry would be putty in her hands again.

His lips parted slightly like this was the first time he had seen her in ages. He didn’t know how to speak. It was so unlike her to worry about him even a little these days. In fact, it was so shocking, he thought he was transported to the laundry room and the gentle touch was coming from the girl that made his heart skip a beat and had the little voice in his head shouting to be heard.

“You don’t feel feverish or look very sick.”

Harry knew he wasn’t feverish. He knew he wasn’t sick either. Maybe lovesick. But that wasn’t something he could tell Ava.

Or maybe it should have been the exact time he told her.

“I can get you medicine if you want while I’m out,” she said softly.

“Oh...uh...thanks, love. That would be good, thank you,” the words felt weird in his mouth, he hadn’t thanked Ava for anything in ages. What was there to thank her for? Hours of worrying and fighting? “You’re going out?”

“Yeah...laundry at mom’s,” she reminded him.

“I could do your laundry y’know,” he offered quietly. He noted the way the slopes of Ava’s face curved so beautifully when she wasn’t scowling at him for the littlest of things. She was a beautiful girl. No question about it.

“I don’t like the way the washers make the clothes smell,” she said, wrinkling her nose in distaste.

It was as if a shadow cast over her at the very moment she spoke. A backhanded comment for sure—whether she meant it or not, knowing full-well that Harry washed all his clothes in the apartment washers. He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right,” he murmured. “Well, tell her I said hello,” he returned to his book.

She nodded silently. 

Returning down the hall, Harry thought it was awfully mature of her to ignore the eyeroll. It was an instinct and he knew he shouldn’t have, but it was hard to feel—

“The eye roll was unnecessary.”

Here we go. “Ava, y’know I do m’laundry down there. Y’basically said I smell.”

She returned the very same eye roll dropping the laundry bag at her feet. “Harry, I didn’t say that.”

“Y’may as well have,” he grumbled.

“It’s too early to argue.”

“M-hmm.”

She would be better later. It would take a lot of active reminders to not fight with him. Sighing, she headed out the door.

For a fleeting moment, she was Ava, the girl he loved and had dated for so long. The little bit of kindness she showed didn’t deserve Harry’s infidelity. It was all his fault and Ava wasn’t that bad.

So, Harry made his way to the laundry room, knowing he would find her there because it was Saturday morning, and it was her favorite time to do laundry—before anyone else was there.

Except Harry. She seemed to make every exception for Harry.

He hoped she would make one this time too.

*

“Hey munchkin,” she smiled sweetly as Harry got down to the laundry room. He didn’t tell Ava. He knew he should have. Of course, he should have. But there was something about the sunshine that lived in the laundry room that made his brain short circuit. There was something in the air that made him lose all train of thought. All rationality escaped him when he thought about this girl obsessed with The Wizard of Oz.

But it was a mistake on his part. He didn’t tell Ava. Especially after her kindness this morning. The kind of kindness that made him love her—like when they first started dating. Why didn’t he go after her?

“I have t’tell y’something,” Harry said. He looked exhausted. His eyes were red rimmed. His face paled as he spoke.

She frowned. “Uh...okay?”

They weren’t a couple. They weren’t even...anything. Maybe she could say they were friends. Harry owed her no explanations for anything. Maybe kissing was a bad idea. It would ruin their friendship. Or maybe it was worse…

He closed his eyes. “I have t’jus’ say it, Sunshine. But y’have t’let me explain.”

She felt totally rattled. It was obviously a mistake. Completely. Thank God they didn’t have sex in her apartment. Thank God he asked about the picture frame; that they spent nearly an hour talking about music, books, and recipes.

Thank God, they stopped. It was so obvious he regretted it. Was she a bad kisser? Maybe she could convince Niall to help her out. Niall had a lot more practice than she did. No, there was no way Niall would help her with something like that. He would get all grossed out. He would probably lie and tease her and say she was a terrible kisser regardless. Or maybe he–

“I have a girlfriend,” he whispered.

The words hung in the air for a moment in suspended animation. It was like the clocks had stopped ticking, the world stopped turning, the washing machines stopped spinning.

If she was attached to a machine, her brain would show zero activity.

No.

She felt her stomach turn violently and felt her whole body tingle with heat. Part of her thought she was going to throw up.

No, no, no, the voice in her head shouted. No. He’s supposed to be mine!

But there was no reason for her to think like that. Harry wasn’t hers. This was just proof of what she already knew back when she felt that connection to him so instantaneously. She knew he was too good to be true. Her voice stopped working. She wanted to cry but she didn’t want to do that in front of Harry. If she was going to have a breakdown, she couldn’t do it here. She left all her stuff and bolted past Harry, taking the steps two at a time to get away from him without even a word.

He hurried after her. “Kitten,” he cooed gently. She shook her head and continued running for the elevator, grateful it was there, open, when she got there. She rapidly pressed the button to shut the door, but Harry had much longer legs and trapped himself inside the small space before it closed the pair of them in. She turned to the back of the lift and pressed her forehead to the cool metal. “Kitten,” he tried again.

“No,” she sniffled. “No, you can’t call me that.”

“Sunshine, y’supposed t’let me explain.”

“Explain what exactly, Harry?”

He grabbed her arm. Immediately, she yanked it away from him with a shake of her head. “No, you can’t touch me.”

He ran a hand over his face, and she exited quickly as soon as the door was barely open enough to fit her through the space. Naturally, he followed her. “Please let me explain.”

She wheeled around so quickly Harry nearly bumped into her. “Explain what?” She whispered. If there was any more volume in her voice, she would lose complete control. She would cry. She would sob. She would lose any sense of herself because even though she was mad at Harry and how she had foolishly kissed him without knowing she was ruining some poor girl’s relationship because of their kiss...

She was selfishly thinking about how unfair it was that she couldn’t have him.

“Love.”

“Harry. Stop calling me names.”

Closing his eyes, Harry thought he might explode. This was so unfair. He was breaking her heart. All he wanted was to hold it in his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?!” She gasped. “I...I don’t...I don’t even know what to say to you,” the tears were about to spill over her lash line. She couldn’t hold the emotions she was feeling much longer.

He dropped his gaze to the floor. He didn’t want to watch her cry. It felt private. Plus, it made him feel guilty that he was the cause. “If it means...anything. M’relationship isn't...good a lot of the time.”

She glared at him and his horrible betrayal. Of her trust. Of her belief in him. In hurting her reputation. “That’s not a reas—”

He put his hands up defensively. “I know, love. I know. S’not an excuse. M’jus’ trying t’give y’details. M’sorry. S’my fault. All my fault,” he promised. Harry felt like he would start crying if she did. “S’nothing...you didn’t do anything wrong,” he promised her. It was a little comforting that he seemed to know what she was feeling and maybe part of her was grateful that he knew she would feel so down on herself about it. “I lead you on. I made the mistake.”

It felt like Harry had taken a steak knife and stabbed it right through her heart with the word mistake coming from his mouth. She thought he would say it when he first entered the laundry room. But it felt so much worse hearing it out loud. Knowing truly why it was a mistake.

“I don’t think we should be around each other… for a while.”

Harry deflated, his face paling. “Love,” he whispered. “I know I messed up...I know...that...” he rubbed his hand on the back of his head. “I want to be friends.”

She wanted that too. She wanted more than that. “Sometimes we don’t get what we want, Harry,” she whispered quietly. “I’m sorry too.”

He deserved this. He didn’t even want to hear the I told you so his conscience was probably singing and dancing in the back of his mind. If he could focus on anything other than the terribly sad girl, and how his heart was breaking at the thought of not chatting with her over laundry. This hurt worse than any fight he had with Ava by a long shot.

That seemed like damning proof more than anything.

“Okay,” he murmured taking in her expression one more time. He wished it was happy. Somehow, some way. He wished he hadn’t broken her heart like this—even if her heart wasn’t his to break. He didn’t want the last time he saw her for a while, was her feeling sad and upset. But it was his fault. Completely. There was no question about it. “M’sorry, love,” he whispered.

She nodded. “Me too, Harry.”

God, he wanted her to call him munchkin. He wanted it to be okay. More than okay. He wanted it to be...different. If only he hadn’t fought with Ava. He would have told her. Telling Ava first meant that she would have screamed and yelled and left.

Harry could rationally explain the situation to the girl before him. Explain that it was bad. He wouldn’t get tongue tied. He wouldn’t get his ideas mixed up. He wouldn’t mess this up as well the way he messed up everything else.

“See you around...I guess...” he mumbled and backed toward the elevator.

“Bye, Harry,” she whispered as the elevator slid close.

*

She had to get her laundry but the idea of going down to that room made her nauseous. Once alone in the comfort of her apartment, she released the sobs she didn’t want Harry to see. There were so many things she needed to think about; she needed a list. A list of things to do. She typed them into her phone.

- Laundry - Pay bills - File paperwork - Harry’s…

It hurt to think about the end of that little chore. Taking deep breaths she closed her eyes and ignored the feeling of more tears that she wanted to fall.

Of course, he had a girlfriend. He was gorgeous, funny, sweet…why would he be single?

As much as she hated herself for hurting his relationship with someone else, she couldn’t help but think about how he mentioned his relationship was bad. The thought made her…sad. She couldn’t help it. The idea that someone as sweet as Harry was in a bad relationship wasn’t…fair. In school, she did rounds of different counseling methods and practices to see which ones she liked best. If she didn’t have her current job, she would strongly consider relationship therapy of some kind. The complexity of staying in a relationship that didn’t make sense was hard to navigate for anyone. She couldn’t imagine the stress and anxiety that Harry was going through on his own. Part of her wanted to recommend a therapist for him despite how he had changed her heart in the last hour.

I wouldn’t let our relationship be bad. She thought to herself.

Shut up. She whispered to the voice that was getting independent thought.

This was horrible.

The thoughts rolled through her head so quickly, she didn’t know what to deal with first. Laundry usually calmed her mind but she thought if she went down there she might go crazy. It wouldn’t be calming knowing they kissed in the very spot they had chatted for the last few months while Harry knowingly had a girlfriend. While they shared secrets, banter, recipes, and all things that people who flirt share.

She hated him.

No you don’t. The voice in her head sounded like it was rolling it’s eyes if it were capable.

But I want to hate him. She responded.

You don’t want to hate him either, you idiot.

Fortunately her phone rang with Niall’s picture taking up her screen. Good. Niall would ground her, help her.

“Hey princess,” he said softly.

That didn’t sound good. With an even heavier heart she swiped the tears away from her eyes, took a deep breath and frowned. “Oh, Ni, what’s wrong?” She asked.

“I…” he sighed. “You know how I was helping with the new office for those two weeks?”

Her heart dropped. She already knew. Part of her wished she didn't even finish the conversation. She knew where it was going. Lay on the heartache. The theme for the day. “Yeah…”

“They…can’t find anyone competent to run it.”

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t tell Niall. Not now. He had his own stuff to deal with and adding to his stress was the last thing she wanted to do. “So you’re competent now?” She asked lightly.

He chuckled softly, grateful that she could make him feel better. “Feels like the worst thing, darling.”

“How long?” It was the most important question. How long would she be without her best friend? How long would they be thousands and thousands of miles and plane rides away from each other? How long would he be gone? How long would she have to hide the horrible thing she did? The horrible thing Harry did? Niall would threaten to kill him. For hurting her heart. She knew it in her bones.

The silence was deafening. He didn’t want to say it. It was going to kill her.

“Just say it, Ni.”

“A year,” he whispered quietly. “Longer if they can’t find someone.”

Fortunately, she was already so heartbroken it was easy to combine her sadness of Harry and Niall together without Niall suspecting a thing. There was so much devastation in her head and heart in such a short amount of time. “A year?” She whispered.

“I’m sorry, princess.”

“What about…the missus?”

She listened to Niall’s deep sigh. “I haven’t told her yet…she can work from anywhere…so I’m hopeful. I wanted to tell you first.”

Her heart fluttered with so much love for her best friend. He told her first. She couldn’t tell him about Harry or the kiss. He would worry and change his career all for her and that wasn’t fair.

She already hurt one relationship today. She wouldn’t hurt another.

She needed a trip to the Emerald City like never before. She had to be brave and strong for him. It felt like she needed courage and a brain for not seeing so many obvious signs before. “Now I know I have a heart…because it’s breaking,” she whispered, quoting the Tin Man. She was going to need a heart too.

He chuckled. “Well m’gonna call every day,” he promised.

She nodded. “You better,” she sniffled and giggled. “When do you leave?”

“Next week.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. This was a good distraction. At least for a little while. “Well, we better make the most of it,” she whispered.

“M’glad you have Harry,” he said. Like a knife to the chest. “You can’t replace me with him, though.”

“Never,” she promised. She had to tell him something. “I…actually have some news on that front,” she sniffed.

“Oh princess,” he said, hearing the crack in her voice. “What happened?”

“He has a girlfriend,” she croaked.

“Oh, darling,” he cooed.

“I knew it was too good to be true,” she shrugged.

“M’sorry, still. I was…I mean…I still think he’s your soulmate. What kind of person quotes The Wizard of Oz like a lunatic?”

She smiled through her tears and nodded. “Yeah…”

“Let me talk to the missus. We’ll do dinner, yeah?”

“Please.”

“See you later, princess.”

What a twister of a day.

-

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[pearlywritings]

Sunday's deal

synopsis: you just want your husband to stay in bed with you on your day off.

prompt: 5

requested by: a lovely anon

pairing: Zhongli x fem!reader

tw: fluff, established relationship, domestic moment, modern AU

word count: 1.1k+ words in total

a/n: check my Token of appreciation writing event!

Sundays are both long-awaited and despicable. 

Sundays are the only days when you and your husband get to spend entirely together. 

Sundays are just like any other day when Zhongli wakes up disgustingly early (without an alarm clock!). 

Sundays are full of reading together, occupying the kitchen to try out new recipes, laughing at the stupid jokes in one of his newspaper’s pages, going grocery shopping for the week where you get to pick the stuff and your beloved to push the cart until there is something you can’t reach. 

Sundays are the days when your man sees and hears the most of your pouting, your playful glaring, your dramatic and exasperated sighs and huffs.

All because his dignified ass doesn’t laze around in bed on a day off.

When your eyes crack open and a palm smacks against the mattress - where he is supposed to be - your mood immediately turns sour. You love your husband, you absolutely, heart-clenchingly and gut-wrenchingly do. But would it kill him to drop his prim and proper habits once a week?

Ah, right, those qualities were part of the reason why you fell for the charming gentleman in the first place.

With a quiet groan you force your body to roll onto the back and lay in a starfish pose with eyes once again closed. You know he’ll eventually return to the room, because breakfast in bed is an every Saturday tradition and you can smell the fine brew of the tea and fresh pancakes from the kitchen. So, you stay just like that, savoring the last remnants of drowsiness while plotting the ways to get him back in bed for more than just eating breakfast.

Now that you think of it, Zhongli actually let go of many of his ‘prim and proper’ antics. For you. He no longer shakes his head at the probability of crumbs getting onto the sheets when you share the morning meal or the evening snack in bed. He stays up late on nights before days off just to spend extra time with you, which was foreign to him a couple of years ago when he stuck to the same schedule every day. Despite having so much to tell you, he learnt to simply stay silent, basking in the communication through touch and fond gazes rather than words (oh you remember the times when it was impossible to shut the knowledgeable history professor up).

And there are so much more of the little things he’s done for you. You have been having this conversation with yourself almost every Sunday for years, always debating between “It wouldn’t hurt him to drop one more habit, right? My morning embraces should be tempting enough” and “He is already so perfect, why am I being so harsh on him for something so silly?”

That is why it’s always a guessing game for Zhongli in which mood you will be when he eventually comes back to the bedroom with hands full of your breakfast.

“Are you awake already, my gem?” The silky voice interrupts you mid-deciding the verdict for your upcoming attitude, making your eyes snap open and blink owlishly. “Awake, I see. Wonderful.”

There is a smile in his tone, and there is one on his face when your head turns to look at him putting the tray down on the bedside table and then digging his knee into the mattress. He reaches to where you are still sprawled and leans down to press a soft kiss to your nose, chuckling when you scrunch in cutely.

“‘Wonderful’, you say? Is there really anything wonderful in waking up and not witnessing the face of my husband?” There it is, the first huff of the morning. How many there are to come, the man thinks in amusement.

“But you’ve just witnessed it, no?” He is still hovering over you with slightly squinted eyes and a content smile. You scoff. Ah, here is another one.

“Not the same,” you mutter, but allow him to kiss you on the lips, not being mad enough to rob both of you of your every morning ritual. You never truly are. “I’ve been waiting for this Sunday, you know.”

“Oh?” He draws himself back when you start sitting up, averting his eyes, trying to remember if you made an agreement to go somewhere. “Did we have something planned today? Pardon my forgetfulness if that’s really the case.”

Straightening your back, you lift your arms high and give yourself a good stretch, squeezing your eyes shut and letting out a pleased yawn. Zhongli can’t help but stare at you, enamored, wistful and lowering his guard.

“Mmm, no, nothing, my love. In fact…” Abruptly turning to him, you throw your outstretched arms around his shoulders and fall backwards, pulling his body with you. Zhongli unceremoniously slumps on top of you with an obscene groan, face tucked into your neck and ass sticking out. You nearly laugh at the sight of that. 

“In fact, let’s think about it in bed.”

Your husband sighs against your shoulder and accepts his defeat, folding his legs to the side and lying down more comfortably, still in your embrace.

“What were you waiting this Sunday for though, dear?” His fingers bury into the fabric of your pajama. You hum, running yours through his dark hair, coaxing a pleased gasp from his lips, provoking the eyelashes to tremble in the eyelids’ attempt not to slide close.

“To spend the day with you of course. Hoping that I’ll get that rarest, basically non-existent moment of you lazing in bed upon waking up.”

“You’ve been at it for years, Y/n,” his chest vibrates with laughter to which you roll your eyes.

“Could’ve succumbed at least once.”

“How about this,” he rolls onto his side, bringing you with him, so you both could hold each other in your arms and look directly into each other’s eyes. “Since we don’t have any date planned, don't need to fill the fridge and all the other activities can be transferred here - how do you look at spending the whole day in bed?”

“You mean it?” The gleam in your eyes is contagious and his shine with adoration upon gazing at your elated expression.

“I mean it. But first we’ll eat breakfast. Then I am all yours, you can cuddle me to suffocation if you so desire.”

“Don’t complain if I actually do.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So, do we have a deal?”

You kiss him. Slowly and delicately, your lips move together, sealing the unwritten pact with a supreme seal, meeting in a couple of more dances just for the good measure, until there is no breath left.

“Yes, Li,” you murmur, pecking his chin and sighing happily. “We have a deal.”