#would mean that i would never find love again

[luveline]

Hey!! I love love LOVE your criminal minds content so much, especially the Hotch with unexpected daughter reader. Is there any chance you’re gonna write more for that series? I’d literally take anything, the comfort vibes are off the charts with your works and I need some Hotch comfort. But no worries if not, hope you have a great week <33

thank you for requesting! fem, 1.4k

Jack peers at you from over the furthest armrest. “Y/N. Are you grumpy?” 

“Do I look grumpy?” you ask. 

“Yes.” He pokes his eyebrow. “You do.” 

“My face is betraying me then, because I’m not grumpy.” 

“Mine does that to me all the time but mom doesn’t believe it.”

You give him a small nudge. “Your mommy probably knows you better than you know yourself, like, knows how you’re feeling before you do.” 

“But how does she know?”

“I think it’s because she loves you. She really loves you, babe. You’re lucky.” 

“So lucky.” He climbs over the armrest and onto the couch, smiling at you politely, like a friend he’s just found at school. 

You try to see the similarities in your faces. He looks more like Haley than he does Aaron. You look more like your mother, too. There are bits of Aaron in both of you, yours not quite as physical —Jack’s tame when it comes to expressing emotion, and you both talk in a measured tone. (Though your tone is coincidence or genetics, but not learned. You’d have to have known him growing up for it to be learned.) 

“Did dad tell you what mommy said?” Jack asks. 

You glance over his head but see no one. Aaron said he was going to get chips for movie night, and Haley tends to find things to do. “No.” 

“It’s a secret.” 

“Well, you don’t have to tell me.” 

“You can’t tell anyone,” he says. 

Your stomach feels not your own. “I won’t,” you promise. 

“Mommy says you’re here too much.” 

You nod slowly. Jack frowns at you as though waiting for you to be upset, but you’ve suspected she thinks so for a while. It’s not something you blame her for. 

Jack watches you. 

“Dad got really mad.”

“I’m sorry, Jack. That must’ve been scary.” 

Jack drops his face into your arm. “No. Dad doesn’t yell. But he slept in my room with me.” 

“Want a hug?” you whisper. 

Jack squirms under your arm. You pull him toward you and try to divide your feelings into boxes. Embarrassed and horrified and a little annoyed that Haley thinks you’re here too much. Sad and again embarrassed that Aaron defended you. 

This is Haley’s house, and she never signed up for you. She’s never made you feel unwelcome but that doesn’t mean she wants to see you every Saturday. You're a huge new wedge inserted in their married lives, and now you’re affecting Jack, making his parents argue.  

“I’m sorry,” you say, suddenly flooded by a wave of hot, awkward regret. 

You knew when you found out that Aaron was your father that you would change his life. You’ve always hoped it would be for the better, but maybe it isn’t. 

“Jack…” you say. What is it about hugging him that makes you feel like crying? “I’m real sorry, I didn’t mean for that to happen.” 

“It’s not your fault. I like you here. You’re fun.” 

“Thanks, Jack.” 

He looks up at you. “Will you stop coming over?” 

“I guess it’s up to your mommy.” You falter. “Jack?”

“What?” 

“I’m sorry if having a new sister isn’t as fun as you thought it would be. I don’t want to make things harder for you, but I guess I did.” 

“Mom says everything is hard now.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek in efforts to hide how you’re feeling. “I’m sorry. Um, listen, can I have a big hug? I just remembered I have to go help my mom at home.”

“You’re leaving?” 

“Sorry, Jack.” 

Jack gives you a hug. You gather your things and rush to the door to shove your shoes on, but your dad catches you before you can leave. 

“Where are you going?” Aaron asks, his smile falling.

“I–” He makes you nervous, and you know your stammer gives you away. “I forgot I had to do the laundry for my mom tonight, if I don’t do it she’ll be mad for days.” 

“I’m sure you can make it up to her tomorrow,” he suggests gently.

“I better go.”

“Honey, what’s really going on?”

“The laundry is really going on,” you say, unconvincing. “I have to go, I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay. Well, I’ll see you on–”

You open the door before he can finish or offer a hug, image of him in his loose t-shirt carrying a tray of sandwiches burned into your guilty conscience. 

—

You don’t see Aaron for three weeks before he corners you. You owe your great avoidance to his busy job, but it didn’t feel good to reject him, to refuse to make time for him as he does for you. 

“You!” he says, clearly kidding but not entirely where he’s waiting outside of your university building. “Beautiful young woman in the blue! I have some questions for you.” 

It’s so absurd for him that you immediately burst into shy laughter. “Dad, what?” you ask, hiding your face. 

Classmates part around you, seemingly unperturbed. 

Aaron retrieves his badge. “See this? I could detain you, but I won’t if you come quietly. In fact, if you don’t argue I’ll buy you lunch.” 

“You’d buy my lunch regardless.” 

He grabs you. Kindly, but grabbing all the same, like he’s worried you’re about to scarper. “Where have you been hiding?” he asks, giving you a quick hug. You feel tenseness in his arms you're unused to, hear a sadness in his voice that makes your throat burn. 

Putting a table between you helps marginally. Aaron pretends he doesn’t know why you’ve been avoiding him and the Hotchner house, and you’re more than happy to go along with it, until. 

“I have something to tell you,” he says. 

You press against a piece of soaked fruit with your spoon. “Okay.” 

“Haley and I are probably going to separate.” 

You bite your tongue so hard it makes you flinch, spoon scratching the bottom of your bowl. “What?” 

“We’ve been having problems ever since Jack was born.” 

You stare. 

Aaron is very still. He talks carefully. Not without emotion, but stilted, perhaps. “I’m not as good a father as I wish I were. And Haley sees that. Sweetheart, I haven’t ever wanted to burden you with the, uh, less than happy details of my life. I think you’ve suffered me enough. But I’m telling you because I know Jack told you about my most recent argument with Haley.” He smiles at you. “Honey, we fight too much. That day, it was about you, but it’s not all about you, and she doesn’t… Haley’s a good woman. She is. I’ve changed her life a hundred different ways and she hasn’t had many choices, and she…” Something vulnerable crops up, a wavering in his breath. “Sometimes I think she isn’t fair. She holds me to standards I can’t reach, no matter how hard I try, but we’ve stopped arguing about it so much recently, and I’m afraid that that’s… the death knell.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. 

“I’m going to keep trying. I don’t want to lose her.” He drinks what’s left of his soda and presses his napkin under the edge of his plate. “But I won’t lose you, you know? I just want you to understand that you’re not the problem, and you never could be.” 

“I don’t want to add another thing to your levy, dad,” you say, still soft. 

“Meeting you is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Well, tied with your brother, of course. You aren’t a thing to be added to anything, you’re my daughter, and Haley might not like it but my home will always have a place for you.” 

What if that’s the problem? From his perspective, you’re not a hindrance to his marriage so much as a separate issue, but from your own, it sounds like you’re just making things worse. 

You’ve missed him, though, and you can’t argue that his reassurances aren’t working. 

“It’s not that Haley doesn’t like you,” he adds, reaching for your hand, “more that she’s unhappy. I’m sorry that that’s something you had to carry.” 

You often think to yourself that Aaron talks like he’s telling a story. He’s so calm and steady, the same as the feeling of his thumb on your wrist. 

“I’m sorry I stormed out.” 

“I wouldn’t call that storming out,” he says. “You’re too quiet sometimes. I wish you’d be upset out loud.” 

“I just don’t want you to fight about me.” 

“Honey,” —he holds your eyes, giving your wrist a gentle squeeze— “I’m always gonna fight for you. That’s what fathers do.”

[p4ranormaluv]

ive been wondering .. which enha member wants someone inexperienced and which want someone experienced? and like, if they want someone experienced would they want to take care or her or to ruin her? or if they wanted someone experienced would they want like a brat to tame or her to top them? IDK IF THIS MAKES SENSE

ENHA: EXPERIENCED VS INEXPERIENCED . ݁₊ ♱

pairing) hyung line x f!reader contents) smut, piv, org.asm control, edgi.ng, creampie, brat taming?, a little degrada.tion in hee’s, praise, overstim, switch!jake xp, squirting, corruption/innocence kink

heeseung)

experienced; based on concert/fan service clips + him saying he likes sexy over cute + my hunch that he prefers slightly older women/girls his age, i’d say experienced. nothing turns him on more than if you’re confident and know what you’re doing— even if you’re more experienced than him, he would enjoy that because you can teach him ‘new things’ ;). he’ll also really enjoy when you get a little bratty. heeseung likes when his partner knows how to be playful, he finds the sultry teasing really sexy.

dominate you / dominate him; i think heeseung’s a switch with a dom lean, so he usually prefers to be the one in control— but that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t enjoy watching you test the limits, just so he can put you back in your place everytime.

“naughty— fucking— girl.” heeseung growls, punctuating every word with another merciless thrust into your aching pussy, yet to have cum as your boyfriend keeps denying you of release. “talked big shit and now you can’t even take it?” heeseung smirks, tone deep as he tries to hide how he’s losing his own breath from how long he’s been edging you, filling your sopping pussy up with his cum again and again. “that’s what baby gets when she’s a brat. you understand that now?”

jay)

inexperienced; honestly i think he’d like both, but if i had to say, it would be inexperienced. i think jay likes to feel like the main caretaker in your relationship and that translates into the bedroom too. he’d find it really cute and endearing if you didn’t know how to do something or were a little awkward. he really gets off on explaining to you how to do things, holding your hand if you get nervous and treating you like a princess.

care for you / ruin you; as i said, jay loves to make you feel loved and cared for. praising you in a sweet tone— practically baby talking you, caressing over your body in loving touches as you squirm in embarrassment and pleasure at what he’s doing to you? he’ll go crazy. (honestly i think simply praising you and watching you feel good is enough to make him cum untouched, but maybe we’ll talk about that another time.)

“you okay, sweetie?” jay asks once he’s fit all of himself inside your pussy. he can feel you clenching around him with need, and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

“yes, m’good. please— please move.” you beg quietly, already so turned on as jay hovers over you, looking down at you like you’re an angel— despite the very impure position you’re in, legs bent and pushed to your chest as you take his cock. jay starts pushing in and out of you just right, his hands moving just as expertly over your perked nipples. he groans out at your cute little sounds and how your body is already quivering. “fuck, it’s— it’s never felt this good before, jay. you feel so good.”

“shit, princess. don’t talk to me like that unless you want me to go ahead and cum inside of you.”

jake)

experienced; he wouldn’t mind if you were inexperienced but he’s just so horny and that can lead to him being impatient. i also think it would just make him feel really comfortable and freeing to be with an experienced woman. he’d get really turned on by how well you know what you like and how fast you can get to know his body and what he likes too.

dominate you / dominate him; i’m on my switch!jake agenda again 🤪. he loves fucking you hard and making you cry out in pleasure, withering and gushing around his cock just as much as he loves to be on his knees begging for you.

“hah— y/n, b—baby, please! oh my god, please don’t stop fucking me!” jake whimpers and moans as he’s laid down, you on top of him and bouncing on his dick like it’s a toy— like there isn’t a boy attached to hit being pounded into the mattress with each movement.

it doesn’t take long until your both reaching your climaxes, you moving to lay beside jake and catch your breath. but the man has other plans as he flips himself over top of you and plunges his cock inside of your warm walls again. “jake? b— baby, fuck! m’sensitive.”

“one more, love. can you give me one more? god, just can’t get enough of this fuckin’ pussy, baby.”

sunghoon)

inexperienced; similar to jay, he really gets off on your lack of experience. hoon definitely has an innocence/corruption kink. and if you’re looking up at him with your trusting yet slightly nervous eyes, waiting for him to take control of the situation and your body— letting him call all the shots— holy fuck, he might bust right there.

care for you / ruin you; he’ll never do anything you don’t want or rush you of course, but with your permission he will not hesitate to absolutely wreck you. he’ll literally go crazy at the opportunity to go where no one has gone before with you, make you react in ways you never thought you could.

“hoonie, hoonie! i— something’s happening,” you struggle to explain, a foreign sensation taking over your body as your pussy builds with pressure, sunghoon continuing to fuck his impossibly huge cock into your little body. “you gonna cum for me again? i know you got it in you, baby. my slutty little angel.”

“no, no!” you cry, trying and failing to push sunghoon away as the pressure finally becomes to much and the dam breaks, squirting all over sunghoon dick and pelvis.

“holy shit…” he marvels, watching how your shaking orgasm hasn’t even ended yet as he stills, watching how it covers himself and the sheets. you almost choke on your own saliva when sunghoon starts fucking you again— even harder this time. “hoonie, can’t.”

“oh you can and you will, angel. gonna make you squirt until your pussy is drained dry.”

[little-diable]

Crimson River - Tyler Owens (smut)

This came to me while overthinking a situation I'm currently stuck in lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader and Tyler have been chatting online for months, and now it's time for them to finally meet in real life. Porn with some plot

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, some spitting, full on fluff

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (2.5k words)

“So, when will I get to share these songs with you face to face?” Her thumbs were hovering over her keyboard, eyes flickering from his text to her calendar. (Y/n)’s heart was pounding, beating in her chest while her teeth tugged on her lower lip.

It could be easy, too easy almost. 

“How’s the weekend looking for you, you busy tornado wrangler?” Heat shot to her cheeks, leaving her to burn up while putting down her phone. This was crazy, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to back down, not when she could finally meet him.

Him, the guy she had been texting for months now.

Him, the guy she had first bonded over music with, sharing a similar taste. 

Him, the guy whose every storm chasing stream she had watched ever since he had shared more about himself with her. 

“If it means I get to see you, I’ll hold it free, sweetheart.” A chuckle broke out of her. (Y/n) deeply exhaled before shaking her head at her screen. This was crazy, but the best kind of crazy, something she desperately needed to rip herself out of her daily routine. 

“Count me in, I’ll book my flights now.”

……

Her thoughts were racing, just like her heart. (Y/n) moved with the big crowd, knowing that she was about to step out into the arrivals hall, where he was already waiting for her. She was unable to shake the heat sticking to her, still not fully realising that she was about to cross paths with the man she had been in touch with for months without ever meeting him. 

And then she instantly saw him, eyes drawn to him like a moth to a flame, a gravitational field that left her buzzing in excitement. His strong arms found their way around her, pressing (y/n) against him while she sank into the hug. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally here.” With a kiss pressed to her temple, Tyler let go of her to reach for her bag. She could only smile up at him, taking in the handsome face she had seen on her screen too many times to count.

“Thank you for picking me up.” (Y/n) tried to rip her gaze from him, eyes set on the crowd he directed her through with one hand placed on her lower back. Her mind picked apart every little detail, their height difference, the scent of his cologne she’d probably never forget again, the way his warm hand felt pressed against her back. All of it left her buzzing, tingling in excitement. 

Only as she found herself sitting in his truck did she allow herself to relax and breathe. Tyler had instantly managed to lure her into a conversation, making her feel as if they had met up numerous times before today. And yet (y/n) still struggled to realise that this was really happening, that she was so close to the handsome man she had fostered a crush on for quite some time now. 

“I thought tonight we could go for something slow, maybe watch a movie? And tomorrow you’ll get to meet the crew.” He shot her one of his signature smiles, hand finding her thigh for a second. The touch felt intimate, shooting heat straight to the spot while her mind hyper fixated on the way electricity kept pushing through her as if lighting kept hitting her over and over again. 

“That sounds perfect, thank you.” She could already tell that a weekend was not nearly enough, parting again would hurt more than she could even imagine at that very moment. 

……

The screen of his TV kept flickering on, casting shadows in the spacey living room. It had been a while since they had arrived at his place. Both had opted for some downtime first before they’d get to cooking and sharing a meal. Even though she was slowly adjusting to being around Tyler, it still felt somewhat surreal, like a dream she’d be ripped from too soon.

“Hey, are you okay?” She had her feet pressed against his thigh, eyes flickering to them as Tyler softly squeezed her skin. The touch made her sink further into the couch, hoping that the way he made her feel wasn’t all that obvious to Tyler. But the smirk slowly tugging on his lips told her that he was all too aware of the way she struggled to hold it together, unable to speak much. 

Only a hum broke through (y/n), a sound that turned into a quiet gasp the second he tugged on her feet to place her legs over his thighs. One of his hands found space between her knees, grabbing her flesh while the other settled on top. 

How in God's name was she supposed to survive this? 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” Tyler stopped the movie without taking his eyes off her features. She couldn’t help but wonder how he was already able to read her that well, how he managed to pick up on micro expressions even her closest friends would most likely miss. 

“It’s just surreal, all of this, finally talking to you and being close to you. I knew we’d get along well, but,” the rest of her sentence was lost in the quietness of the room. Tyler’s thumb stroked along the fabric of her trousers, patiently watching her.

“But this is different.” He finally managed to finish her sentence, unable to bite down the smile both couldn’t shake now. “I know what you mean, I was hoping it’d work that well like it does when we text, but this is so much better.” 

Another hum left (y/n), she pulled her legs from his grasp to shift around, finding confidence in the way he had just expressed what she had also been feeling. Slowly, carefully almost, (y/n) placed her head against his chest, instantly pulled closer by the arm finding its way around her. Tyler pressed a kiss to her hairline before he started the movie again, unable to see the bright smile she now wore, perfectly matching his.

……

(Y/n)’s legs were dangling off the kitchen counter, eyes following Tyler around as he cooked for them. Music was filling the kitchen, playing a playlist both had crafted over the past months, their own personal blend. Ever since their moment on the couch, both had been unable to shake their smiles, hearts racing in sync. 

“Here, do you like that?” Tyler found himself settling between her thighs, looking at her while pushing the spoon past her parted lips. The moment had something awfully intimate to it, pushing heat through both of them. (Y/n) could only nod her head, not noticing how her legs had loosely found their way around his thighs, keeping him close.

Tyler’s thumb found her mouth, brushing away a bit of sauce clinging to her skin, a touch that made her breath hitch in her chest. She kept looking at him, getting lost in the piercing eyes that had seen more tragic glimpses of this life than (y/n) could ever imagine, and yet they were filled with a burning longing. 

For a few more seconds they kept holding eye contact, torn apart by his phone timer going off. Tyler had to clear his throat before he could focus on finishing dinner, trying not to pay her intense gaze any of his attention. He knew all too well that he was close to snapping, close to crossing the last line between them to press his lips against hers.

But as much as Tyler wanted to kiss her, to taste her like he had done numerous times in his dreams, he knew that he should take things slow. He didn’t want to push things too far on their first night together, all Tyler was focused on was seeing her comfortable and happy.

“We could eat outside if you want, stars should be out by now.” Her heart was close to jumping out of her chest, freed by the heat his words made her feel. Months ago he had shared a picture of the starry sky he was fortunate enough to look at whenever he was home, a sight that had left her to confess that she desperately wanted to see them too.  

“Thank you, Tyler.” (Y/n)’s words carried more meaning than he picked up on, not seeing through the adoration swimming in her pupils. 

……

“Tyler.” (Y/n) mumbled his name, eyes set on his features. They were still sitting on the bench outside his home, sharing a blanket to keep them shielded from the cold night. His eyes flickered down to meet hers, patiently waiting for her to keep on speaking. “Will you finally kiss me?”

Her words drew a loud laugh from him, he shook his head at (y/n) who could only grin up at him. Tyler’s hand found her cheek, wordlessly asking her to keep on looking at him while his eyes wandered over her features, “And here I was trying to be a gentleman.”

(Y/n)’s reply was lost on the tip of her tongue as he dipped his head down. Tyler’s lips ghosted over her’s, drawing a soft whine out of (y/n) as he kept a small distance between them. Only as her hand found his jacket, tugging on the fabric to pull him closer, did he properly kiss her. 

The kiss shot shudders down her spine, making hairs rise on her forearms while shuffling closer. Within moments she found herself straddling his lap, front pressed against his to cross any distance still lingering between them like two lonely ships crossing the sea to find back to one another, guided by nothing but their need to be close. 

Their lips moved perfectly together, the kiss wasn't rushed, but it was fuelled by their longing which had grown stronger over the past months. Tyler’s hands settled on her waist, fingers toying with the hemline of her sweater, set on feeling her warm skin pressed against his. For a moment they broke apart, grasping onto new air to fill their burning lungs. 

“Stop me anytime you want, sweetheart.” (Y/n) searched his lips again, not giving Tyler a chance to speak another word while his hands found her burning up skin. Her wandering fingers found his hairs, brushing through them to draw a moan from Tyler, a sound that vibrated on her lips and through her whole body. 

He didn’t speak a warning as he suddenly stood up, holding onto (y/n) to carry her back inside. With her arms wrapped around his neck and her legs around his waist, she let him carry her inside and towards his bedroom. Both were heavily breathing after pulling apart, chests rising and falling while chuckles broke out of them.

(Y/n) let him pull her sweater over her head, exposing her bra to his wandering eyes. The groan rumbling through Tyler made her grin, letting her hands reach for his belt loops to pull him closer, expertedly undoing his belt, “I know we should take this slow, but I really need you to fuck me now after all these months.”

“You’re killing me, sweetheart.” Their eyes held contact as she freed his hardening cock, letting his trousers drop to the ground. Tyler’s moans spurred her on, allowing her to marvel at the handsome man while pumping his length a few times. But Tyler didn’t have the patience to drag this out long enough, he gave her a push back, tugged her trousers and panties down her legs while (y/n) undid her bra. “You’re the prettiest sight, fuck, I’m the luckiest man.”

“Says you, I mean look at you.” She could only stare at him as the rest of his clothing was dropped, exposing his abs and his muscular chest – all while his fingers began to wander up her legs. He pressed kisses to her soft skin, sucking on her flesh as his fingertips ghosted over her warm folds, feeling her arousal already sticking to her skin. 

Tyler kept his gaze on her features as he spat down on her heat, spreading his saliva on her warm skin. He circled her pulsing bundle a few times to draw soft moans from (y/n), needing to hear them as if they were his favourite drug, high on her sounds. For a second, he parted from her to find a condom, to roll it down his cock, and to brush his tip through her folds. 

“Look at me, sweetheart.” (Y/n) looked up at Tyler, feeling herself getting choked up from the way he looked at her. Something she’d only be able to describe as love swam in his pupils – a love so intense it only grew stronger as he pushed into her. Her eyes instantly fluttered shut at the sensation, fingernails scratching at his skin, walls fluttering around him. Tyler held still for a second, giving her time to adjust before he dipped his head down to kiss her.

Their bodies met with every thrust, allowing (y/n) to feel him deep inside of her, stretching her with every move. With every contact even more sinful sounds began to claw through them, reverberating through his bedroom like a song woven together from shared experiences and unspoken longings. 

“You feel so good, fuck, Tyler.” Her words left him chuckling, he kissed his way down her throat, finding the spots that made her arch her back while she tightened the grasp of her legs around his waist. Tyler was fully focused on making her cum first, needing to watch her fall over the edge while knowing that he was the reason for the sweet sensation she was about to get tangled up in. 

“Touch yourself, sweetheart, make yourself cum on my cock.” Tyler’s voice grew raspier and lower with every syllable he spoke. Both were staring at one another, wordlessly telling them that they were ready to let go any moment now. Her fingers moved fast, giving herself the needed push with his name bleeding from her lips.

Tyler found himself falling in love with (y/n) some more as she came, eyes taking in every inch of her pleasure drunken features. He gave it a few more thrusts before he came, letting go with a groan while (y/n) kept clinging to him. 

“Christ, you’re perfect.” He pressed another kiss to her lips before pulling out. And at that moment, Tyler knew that he’d have to confess his feelings soon. Not tonight, perhaps not tomorrow morning, but the love bleeding from the tip of his tongue like a crimson river would pave the way for their following time together soon enough.

[puppyplayhouse]

Step brother Hyunjin things

Warnings: puppy reader, degradation, blackmail, choking at some point, dub con, kissing.

Lil headcanon of mean step bro Hyunjin (who maybe is possessive) being a dick (it's so delicious tho)

Has known you since you were both little because your parents were family friends before their respective divorces, so he knows every button to push.

Constantly using Dad against you. It's a core part of his blackmail, really. Every time you're a little less than compliant, he pulls up one of the thousands of pictures he's taken of you during your times together and asks what you think Dad would have to say about it.

Calls you puppy when people are around just to get you flustered. He's amazing at playing it off so that nobody questions it because well, he's just a good brother and you've always been SO close.

Any time he sees you alone on the couch, he's tugging his pants down and tapping his cock against your cheek. Of course, you protest. You tell him that you don't know when your parents are getting back. He doesn't care, though. He tells you that you should shut up and get to work if you don't want them to find out.

He's not always mean, though. You'd even say he's somewhat nice when you've had a really hard day and you come to him reluctantly, kneeling in front of him because you just can't be in control right now, and he's the only person who can take that from you.

He rewards you so well for that. For any willing submission you offer him, he returns it by making you cum over and over again on his fingers before he fucks you nice and slow, rolling his hips lazily into yours to drag out the low, whimpered moans that you let slip. He's only gentle with you when you earn it.

He loves to make you cum. He loves it even more when your pretty mouth is objecting to it and telling him he shouldn't be doing it, but your hips are bucking against him and your nails are digging into his arm in a pathetic attempt to ground yourself.

And he takes pictures every time. Sometimes, he'll force you to pose and use his fancy camera. Those are the more tasteful shots of you in pretty lingerie with wide doe eyes. Other times he's using his phone to capture the tears that spill down your cheeks as you gag around the length of his cock. He loves both equally.

He always has to degrade you. He'll pin you down completely still the movement of his hips as he makes you beg, always something along the lines of "C'mon, puppy. You were all talk before begging me to stop and now you're panting like a bitch in heat. Tell me you want it. That's it, more. I know you can do better than that. Tell me you're my worthless slut."

He knows you like it because your pussy is always dripping and practically pulses around him.

He would never admit it, but after a while you become the only person he fucks. Sure, he could have his pick, but he knows nobody else would look as cute as you do when you're staring up at him wide, panicked eyes, and tear stained cheeks.

He fucking loves seeing you cry. He loves watching you bite your pillow when he finds you laid on your bed and forces your pants down without a word, easily sliding his cock inside of you because you're always soaked at this point.

At some point he starts making you tell him that you love him. He has a firm grip of your throat and you're overstimulated to the point of becoming delirious as he uses one of your toys on you, thrusting it in an out of your aching cunt. "Tell me, and I'll stop, yeah? All you have to do is tell me how much you love me."

And you do. You say it like a prayer. You say it over and over again even after he's stopped, and he's got your cheeks cradled in his hands, cooing at you because you took everything he gave you without a complaint this time.

He was recording it, of course.

Recording you is his second favourite form of torture. He has so many videos of you sat pretty between his legs, your hands in fist infront of you like little paws as your tongue sticks out of your mouth, drool dripping down onto his lap to create a messy wet patch on the fabric of his pants. Those are his favourite to get himself off to.

Sweet brother Hyunjin is always nice enough to let you know when he's getting himself off to you. Which is every time. He sends you videos and pictures of his gorgeous cock fucking up into his hand and it's the only time he seems out of control, desperate for it to be you that he was burying his cock into instead.

Very rarely does he lay back and let you do the work. He likes taking charge and making a mess of you, but very rarely when you're being a good dog and sitting patiently, waiting almost excitedly for his next round of abuse, he lets you do the work. He'll pat his lap and wait for you to climb on top of him, watching in amusement as you fumble with his zipper and shove his pants down, messily grinding yourself against his bulge until he quietly tells you that if you don't move on, he'll leave.

You always perk up at that, taking it less as a threat and more as permission to sink yourself down on his cock. This is when he praises you.

He tells you how pretty you look and that you take his cock so fucking well, looking up at you with something akin to adoration sparkling in his eyes. He might even kiss you. His kisses are the ultimately reward, always slow and sensual. You become ravenous when he kisses you.

Maybe he'll even tell you he loves you. That you're his favourite puppy. He knows he loves you, and he has accepted that. But maybe he'll let you know when your grinding down onto his cock like the well trained mutt he has made you into.

He doesn't make it too sweet though. More like, "that's it. Take my cock, baby. Fuck, I love you. My desperate little slut. All fucking mine, yeah?"

[allmoshnobrain]

After a bad date leaves you with a twisted ankle, your quiet but protective roommate steps in to help.

✦ on this fic: simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, fluff, mentions of alcohol and a twisted ankle

✦ a/n: alright so this may or may be not based on my weekend lol i do love the roommate dynamics so if you guys have any suggestions or ideas for this au feel free to send me an ask! hope you enjoy the read 🖤

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Tell me how much it hurts,” he says, lightly pressing his fingers against your swollen skin.

You suck in a sharp breath, glancing down at him as he kneels in front of the couch, his fingers brushing over your ankle. He’s not being rough, you’re just in pretty bad shape right now.

“It hurts,” you say, keeping it simple, and he scoffs softly at the obvious answer. “I think it’s kinda swollen.”

“You think?” your roommate lets go of your foot, standing up and raising an eyebrow at you. “Remind me again how this happened, sweetheart.”

You blush. It’s Sunday morning, sunny, with a soft breeze coming in through the living room window. A perfect day for a walk, to get some fresh air — except you’re stuck on the couch with a twisted ankle, thanks to last night’s drinking that got a bit out of hand.

“I was out drinking with a date,” you mumble, feeling your cheeks heat up. “But I didn’t really eat much yesterday, so I guess I… overdid it. He was walking me home, and I tripped and twisted my ankle.”

“And what did he do?” Simon asks, sitting down next to you on the couch. You let out a soft noise as he gently grabs your legs, putting them on his lap. One hand rests on your knee, his thumb lazily drawing small circles on your skin.

“He wanted to call an ambulance, but I thought that was a bit much. So I just had him help me up, and we walked back. We weren’t far anyway.”

“You had to walk with a twisted ankle,” he said in that flat tone that made it obvious he was annoyed — not with you, but probably with your date. “Why didn’t he just carry you?”

“I don’t think he could… I’m too heavy,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“I can carry you just fine,” he grumbles. “What are you doing going out with guys who can’t even carry you?”

You don’t respond, just lean your head back against the couch and close your eyes. You can feel Simon’s hand still on your knee — his skin is rough but warm. He’d come home from whatever he’d been up to on Saturday night, only to find you passed out on the couch with a very obviously swollen and painful ankle.

Simon was a quiet, reserved roommate, and he wasn’t really around much, but that didn’t mean you two hadn’t built your own kind of intimacy over the last two years of living together. So, when he saw you were hurt, he took it upon himself to check things out. You’d told him it was just a twisted ankle and a moral hangover. Nothing too serious. But clearly, he didn’t think it was as "nothing" as you made it sound.

“I’m sure he’s never gonna want to see me again,” you mumble, eyes still closed. Simon’s thumb stops moving on your skin, a clear sign he heard you.

“Who?” he asks. You open your eyes to find him staring right at you, eyes serious and focused.

“My date.”

“Good,” Simon mutters. “He couldn’t even take care of you after you got hurt. Should’ve carried you upstairs, helped you clean up.”

“I can take care of myself just fine,” you say, a little defensive, which makes him chuckle.

“Yeah? Then why are you still stuck on this couch instead of upstairs getting a shower and some proper rest?” He smirks, and you just roll your eyes without answering.

“Where would you even be without me?” he sighs, standing up. You let out a small, surprised noise as he lifts you effortlessly into his arms, holding you close. You feel his chest rumble with a chuckle, the sudden move and how close he is making your heart race. “You’re lucky you’ve got me, princess.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, but you can’t help closing your eyes and letting out a small, relieved sigh.

Because yeah, you know you are.

[magisland]

YOUR EXISTENCE

it was supposed to be another ordinary day. mingyu would get back from work with a tired expression, but hed still have a smile on his face, immediately walking towards you and peppering you with kisses while hugging you and telling you how much he missed you throughout the day.

however, this time was different. mingyu opened the front door with a devastated look on his face, which made your smile instantly drop when you turned around to look at him. even on his worst days of work he would never come back with such a bad facial expression. he didn’t greet you with a smile or a soft voice, just with a somber hum

“hey.. food’s ready, gyu” you said softly, but he just nodded and took a seat on the dinner table, not minding to look at your direction. hes never like that, so you were dead worried, was someone being mean to him at work? did his boss shouted at him?

the dinner was silent, you kept glancing at him while he still didnt even bother to look at you. it was almost like he was ashamed, or maybe pissed at you. the lack of information was killing you.

“okay,” you released the cutlery on your plate, “what is wrong? who do i need to kill?”

“me.” he said staring at his almost untouched plate.

“you? why? gyu.. what happened, love?” you rechead his hand and rubbed your thumb against it, making him start to hold back his tears, “come on, talk to me, please”

mingyu took a deep breath before finally looking at you, he then looked at your hands, your hand holding his in a gentle yet firm way, “i got fired,” he sighed and leaned back on the chair, his hands running through his hair in a frustrated way, “i dont know what to do now”

you looked at him with a empathetic look, “your boss is dumb. he just lost the best employee he had in that entire company” you took his hands once again, “its going to be fine”

mingyu shook his head in denial, it was so hard seeing him being pessimistic because he would always be the one to think in a positive way. at this point, tears were already coming out of his eyes while he looked at you with such a depressing expression, “i feel like i dont have reasons to exist anymore”

you immediately placed a hunk of meat in his mouth to shut him up, “im the reason of your existence and youre the reason of mine. this is not the end of the world because you’re such a hardworking person and you gave me. youll soon find another job because you’re good”

“thank you, love” he said while wiping away his tears, “i guess youre right, its not the end of the world. ill find another job”

“good, thats the spirit! now dont you ever say something like once again or else it will be the end of my world and i wont know what to do” he chuckled hearing your response, “got it.. i love you, yn”

you smiled, “i love you more, gyu”

[kyri45]

HIIII! It’s me again!

I know this is for asking about art but I wanted to use it to tell you about some of the things I noticed and some theories I have about the show.

One of them is that in the show Macaque and Sun are fighting and Mac says “None of us even knew he existed!”. Maybe this is common knowledge or people are talking about this but I just can’t find it. Do you think Mac is referring to the other monkies??? And this could mean that at some point Mac and the other monkies talked whilst the show was going on.

Another theory I have is that in the show Sun never shows MK how to use glamor, but maybe MK figured out how to use it, goes on to use it and Sun just thinks he doesn’t know how. Maybe MK uses it to cover up all the scars from the battles, because being human for so long must have an effect on his monkie ability’s, right?

The big explosion scar is from the amount of times he has been thrown into a wall/mountain:

By the way, binder coz I can 🙂

And the scars on his arms are from the nine-headed demon’s powers:

Here’s the full image btw:

He’s using Monkie King’s hot springs and Mac spots him. I am also proud of this drawing I made!! 😁

If you go to my account you can see the full mini comic.

(Love the binder btw) Aaahhh that would make for so much good angst chomp chomp. Also the drawing is lovely!!! We love some good comfort for our magical traumatised boy.

The phrase "none of us knew he even existed" is from.... S5 ep1 I think? Mac is talking about MK. It would be nice to see the other 2 primates as well though!

[i-hate-peas]

The Old Guard Fic Recs

So I've been a long time lurker within the fandom without ever getting particularly involved, but I wanted to show some appreciation for some of the super talented people who go here, because I have read a lot of incredible TOG fic.

Most (probably all) of these authors have loads of other amazing fics, but I've tried to just chose one from each, to keep the list a vaguely reasonable length. Although then I cheated and did some honourable mentions.

** just a note to say I started this list year (s) ago and forgot about it until literally today when I saw fic recs going round. Any of these fics I haven’t put a description for it’s because I didn’t do it at the time, and if I go back to reread them all this would never be posted, not through any lack of affection or enjoyment **

If any writers want tagging/ untagging etc please let me know! (i knew/ could find some blogs more easily than others lol)

Within Canon

Old Olives by aeli_kindara

Garden of Gethsemane mention = instant tears

Death in Her Hands by superblackmarket

Nile's growing relationship with Joe and Nicky. All of their fics are so beautifully written, but I especially love Nile's relationship with the boys and her facing her own immortality.

Honourable mention: Station to Station

Between the Hour and the Age by hauntedjaeger (@hauntedfalcon)

Andy! Nile!

Ouroboros by CypressSunn (@cypresssunns)

Set after the film, literally just read it.

compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience by Jack_R

A pair of early days Joe Nicky fics that reminds me of 'my wife is a bitch and i love her so much'

let's give them something to talk about by lacecat

When The Cherries White With Blossoms, Be Ready & Be Brave by chapstickaddict

Unearthed by merle_p

I think this is one of the most kudosed fics in the AO3 tag, but it deserves the hype!

Kidnapping for Dummies by Amiril

Similar to above, already very popular, but great and very funny!

The Last Man on Earth by Survivah (@optimismology)

I will admit I don't normally go for Booker/Nile, but this fic sold it to me. Looking at them and their developing relationship as the newer immortals.

Canon Divergent

Retrograde by Pinkninja

I mean this fic is the Big Bitch of the fandom for me, if you haven't already read this, where have you been? But also if you haven't already read this I am so jealous, read it and take your time with it and bawl your eyes out over it and appreciate the joy of reading it for the first time. The level of detail and planning in this fic is indescribable. It follows Nicky trapped in a Time Travellers Wife style life where he jumps back and forth throughout his own timeline, whilst Joe lives his life in chronological order. Exquisitely written.

If Never Again, If Every Day by gallifreyburning and takiki16 (@gallifreyburning, @takiki16)

Another absolute Titan of the genre. I know you’ve already been recommended this 500 times, what more can I say.

though I'm dying to (fall in love with you) by yusufsmoon (@babygirlyusuf)

Travellers from an Antique Land by kaydeefalls (@kaydeefalls)

Andy, not Quỳnh, trapped under the sea. I love all their fics.

AUs

Makes Me Want You More by Sixthlight (@sixth-light)

Perhaps not the typical favourite choice from Sixthlight, one of my absolute favourite TOG authors, but one that is funny and lovely and sweet that I keep coming back to. Shorter than many of theirs but perfectly formed.

pumpkin gnocci verse (series) by Liadan14 (@bewires)

I mean it's got estranged family, suspenseful chronological structure, cooking, spies, intimate and honest sex scenes, hilarious misunderstandings involving keeping halal, lovely found family moments, and the actual recipes used. What more do you want.

The Reality of Everything by Marbletopempire

One of the fics I desperately waited for each instalment for. Very funny, lots of sexual tension, plenty of Cate Blanchette spotting opportunities.

sine qua non by mellyflori (@werebearbearbar)

One of the first of their fics I read, with a very sweet build up of misunderstanding to friends to lovers, involving growing up, discovering sexuality, trying to be nice about your best friend's bad boyfriend, and a long suffering sofa.

The Brooklyn Verse (series) by GayLittleEarring, yusufsmoon, nicelytousled (@marwankenzarisgaylittleearring @babygirlyusuf @nicelytousled)

I saw the creation of this on Tumblr before it was a fic, and it lived up to every expectation. Very sweet and sincere, with lots of great discussions about art, whilst also very funny (Lamp the free loader, Joe sending thirst traps out of irritation) and hot. ItalianAmericanNickyfromBrooklyn and Joe my beloveds.

a good (eighth) impression by deaniker

I love a good hook-up to 'oh shit I have feelings' fic, and this is even more entertaining because Nicky is Lykon's ex, and Joe has very much seen him at his worst.

You do not have to be good by emjee (MerryHeart) (@emjee)

At one point a tumblr post about Joe the Professor and Nicky the Priest got very popular, and I'm not sure if this fic was inspired by that, but is one of the great fics with similar concepts. Such a lovely, gentle fic about love and also identity, featuring also Nile and a very sweet snail.

it's such an almighty sound (series) by raedear (@raedear)

A secret service AU that goes full enemies to lovers, with lots of tension, plotting, betrayal, frustration, and tenderness.

Honourable mention: take my hand (you got me rockin' and rollin')

fight 'til the day that i die 'verse by incurableromancer

Suspenseful, noir, super hero AU that has such a great writing style and is very atmospheric.

if you do take a thief by knoepfchen (@knoepfchen)

Cluedo style AU with lots of fun twists and slow building of backstories, with the whole gang.

Honourable mention: life is not the things that we do (it's who we're doing them with)

[avastrasposts]

Memories made, memories lost

Plot: Before Pero Tovar and his friend William Garin set out in search of black powder, he found himself doing something he never thought he would - falling in love. But what waits for him as he returns from his adventure after all this time?

Mercenary!Pero x female reader

Warnings: Angst and grief, loss of virginity (it's all consensual and it's not the main trope of the fic), explicit smut. No use of y/n, the reader is pretty much a blank slate.

Word count: 7.9k

This is written for @burntheedges Roll-A-Trope Wiriting Challenge where I requested a trope for Pero Tovar and got Amnesia A big thank you to @i-own-loki for the lovely banner! What would I do without my Canva Pro friends!?

Marriage was not something that was ever on the cards for Pero Tovar. 

He left his hometown while he was still a young boy, and after that he never stayed long enough in one place to put down roots. Let alone find a woman who would want to throw her lot in with a mostly penniless mercenary soldier who relied on powerful lords always finding a new enemy to fight. Who would want a scarred battle dog with a permanent scowl and dangerous look to his appearance? And even if someone did, how could he care for a wife? A family? He moved from town to town, from country to country, seldom returning to the same place twice unless the pay was very good. 

But then, one autumn in southern England, when the fighting season was over and the mud was too thick for both men and horses to march in, something changed. He was no longer young but in his fighting prime, hardened, and hard, by years of fighting other men’s wars. He had no other plans than to spend the winter in this small English town with his friend William Garin, wait for spring and the call to arms for another war or rebellion or crusade. He was going to fill his belly, hone his weapons, train the younger men and spend his evenings with a whore or two, and that was it. 

Marriage was not on the cards. 

But fate wanted a different path for him. And you quite literally fell into his arms as you tumbled from your horse on the outskirts of the small town. 

“Curse that nag!” you yelled crossly, struggling to free yourself from his strong grip, “let go, I can stand on my own legs!” You pushed at his chest as the dark haired man let go of your waist, stepping back with a chuckle. 

“And what fine legs they are,” he said, his grin wide.  

You sneered at his comment, “Too fine for you either way.” 

You glared at him as you brushed your dress, “I should thank you, I guess. You saved me from a much greater fall, that stupid mare is spooked by the smallest twig and throws me twice a week at least.” 

With a sigh you looked at your horse who’d decided that the twig wasn’t an immediate threat and had begun to graze the last of the summer grass just a little while down the country lane. 

“If that’s the case, you best go and claim your horse before she decides one of farmer Ned’s cows has fangs and means to eat her,” Pero chuckled. He liked your spirit, and the way your eyes blazed as you glanced at him. 

“I wouldn’t put it past her,” you said with a shake of your head, “I best be off, thank you again, sir.”

Tovar gave a small nod and crooked smile at your retreating back. 

Later that evening, as he’d eaten and gone back to the room he shared with William, he wondered why the chance meeting on the country lane wouldn’t leave his head. He felt as if he might’ve been bewitched, one moment walking down the country lane on his way out to the smithy for a repair of his armour, the next he had a woman in his arms as her bay horse bolted down the road. You’d smelled of apples, a rich, sweet scent clinging to your hair as it brushed over his face when you both landed in the dust. The soft yield of your flesh under the rough linen dress, it was as if he’d put his hands on the softest down pillow, he’d wanted to grab hold of it and not let go. 

As you rushed away from him, scolding your skittish horse, he’d watched the way your hips swayed with each step, bright hair bouncing with frustration. You gripped the horse’s bridle and pulled it around, even at a distance he could see the way your nose crinkled in annoyance as you berated the poor animal. When your anger trickled out as quickly as it flared up, your face softened and you gently stroked the animal’s nose, giving its neck a pat before swinging yourself up into the saddle again. You caught him staring and gave him a quick smile, before turning again and nudging the horse into a slow trot. 

He’d made his way to the smithy and then back to the rooms he and William had rented for the winter. And when he laid down on his bed, the vision of you filled his head, soft curves, sweet smile, quick temper and a sharp tongue. He would very much like to see you again, be that close to you again.   

The next day was a Sunday and he joined William at the church for mass with the rest of the village. He let the familiar Latin incantations wash over him, the rituals the same here as in his hometown as it was in every other town he’d ever visited, irrespective of the country or the ruler. The power radiated from Rome and although the churches looked different, the rituals were the same and it brought a strange, albeit dull, comfort to him. 

When mass was over the congregation filtered out of the church, slow in leaving, catching up with neighbours and sharing gossip. Pero tried to scan the crowd surreptitiously but William caught his wandering eye. 

“Who are you looking for? The mysterious horse woman?” he asked, looking around at the villagers and the mercenaries who were wintering here just as they were. Pero had told him of the encounter, not being able to hide how you’d remained on his mind as he returned to the rooms. 

“I don’t remember seeing her here before,” Pero replied, trying to appear unphased, uncaring, as he continued to scan the open space in front of the church, but without success. When he couldn’t see her, he followed William back to their lodgings. The Lord’s day should be spent in rest and was not wise to anger the local priest. 

But Pero found himself too restless to sit still, fiddling with a troublesome chainmail. He left William to it and ventured outside instead, vying to find a secluded spot in the woods to get some practice in without being scolded by someone spotting him working on a Sunday. 

The autumn forest was golden, the air crisp and clear as the sky stretched endlessly blue above the trees as Pero wandered further in than he meant to. It felt good to be away from people, from the crowded town and the small rooms he shares with William. 

The clank of metal on wood reached his ears and he furrowed his brows, no one would be out here felling trees on a Sunday unless there was some strange business. He moved silently through the underbrush towards the sound, and came upon a clearing, drawing breath at the sight in front of him. You had stripped down to just your slip and a pair of men’s breeches, your arms bare and glistening with sweat as you raised the heavy sword and parried an imagined attack, and hit the thick beech trunk. The sword lodged in the wood and with a grunt you pulled it free, backing up a few steps and repeating the exercise. 

Pero watched you for a few minutes, your technique was good, someone has clearly taught you the basics, but the sword was too heavy for you. 

“You have some skills with that sword, señorita,” he called, just as you dropped your arm, letting the sword hang by your side as you took a deep breath. 

His voice made you jump and swing around, the sword quickly raised. 

“Do not worry, I mean you no harm,” he said, walking towards you with both his arms raised, “We’ve met before, with your troublesome mare.” 

“I remember,” you answered, the tone of your voice betraying your wariness as his sudden appearance, “What are you doing here?” 

“The same as you, señorita, I think,” he replied, “seeking a place away from unwelcome eyes to hone my skill on a Sunday.” 

Unclipping his cloak and satchel and placing them on a log near the edge of the clearing, he then turned and nodded at the sword in your hand. 

“You have some skill, but the sword is too heavy for you.” 

“What do you care?” you snapped at him, the sword still lifted as he approached. 

“I train the younger soldiers, when a sword is too heavy for the user, the technique suffers. And I hate to see a bad swordsman. Or woman.” 

With a fluid movement he pulled both of his swords from his back, the left one spinning in his hand, the handle held out towards you. 

“Let me show you, borrow my sword, it’s more lightweight.”

You regarded him with suspicion, not lowering your own sword. 

“Why do you want to help me?” 

“Why do I want to help a woman become a better fighter?” he countered, still holding out the sword to you, “Because those without swords can still die upon them. I learned that a long time ago. So better the women know how to fight too.” 

You regarded him with caution, the dark haired, dark eyed man with a strange accent and a menacing scar across his eye. But something in his face, the way he looked at you with a cocked eyebrow, encouraging you to take the sword he was still holding out to you, made your trepidation waver. Slowly you sheathed your own sword, and grabbed the handle of his. He gave you a crooked smile and a quick nod. 

“Good. Now show me what you can do.” 

With a quick movement he brought up his own sword and attacked, and you just about parried in time, the two swords ringing out through the empty forest as they met. 

Marriage was not something that was ever on the cards for him. But sometimes fate wills it differently. 

And before that Sunday afternoon in the forest, you’d never considered marrying someone either. At least not for any other reason than your father telling you that a man was needed to run the farm when he was gone. But the dark haired Spaniard with the scowling face, menacing and imposing, he was the one who made you see that marrying didn’t mean settling for one of the local boys. 

His dark eyes glittered with mischief as he taunted your sword skills, easily smacking your arm with the flat side of his blade as you failed to anticipate his next move in the early days of your training. But it was the way he smiled with pride when you managed to disarm him and put your blade to his neck, that smile made your heart melt. He was proud of you for a skill any other man you knew would shame you for, even attempt to lock you up for. It was like taking a deep breath of air for the first time, the way he treated you like an equal in a way no ever had before. 

It was mesmerising how a hardened soldier with such a menacing scowl could transform into the most handsome man you’d ever seen. It stunned you, and locked you in place, the first time you stood toe to toe with him, his back against a thick oak, your sword resting against his neck. Surprise flashed across his face first, then he smiled, his eyes shifting from the hard concentration of battle to soft warmth as his lips pulled up in a proud grin. 

“I knew there was a warrior in you,” he said, holding his sword arm up in defeat as you pulled the blade away from his neck, “with my training, you’ll beat almost any man.” 

“Almost any man?” you replied, your eyebrows lifting as you moved your hand and rested the blade against his neck again. 

Pero chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he looked down on you, glancing down his sharp nose as you made him tilt his head back again. 

“Any man, guerrera,” he smiled and again the pride in his voice made warmth and elation shoot through your body. 

Sweat was dripping from his forehead, you could feel the heat of him against you, the rise and fall of his chest, your own short breaths against him as an errant drop slipped over his lips and his tongue came out to catch it. Your eyes drifted to the pink tip as he licked his bottom lip, watching it disappear into his mouth again. When you looked up, his smile was gone, replaced by something more hungry, his eyes darker as they seemed to study your face. There was no need for you to be so close to him still, the fight over. But as he brought his hand up and carefully pushed your sword away from his neck, you only let your hand drop, not stepping back. You felt rooted to the spot with his eyes on you, the warmth of his body like a magnet to your own. 

“Señorita…” he almost growled, a half whisper from the back of his throat, as he slowly leaned closer, his eyes moving to your lips before his gaze fell on you again. Dark and warm, it was like being pulled in by the last of the dying embers of a fire. Pero glowed and burned hot under your palm as you put your hands on his neck and pulled him to you, your sword falling to the floor of the forest with a soft clatter. 

He wouldn’t let you go, and you clung to him just as eagerly, the dry leaves rustling as you pulled him down, he rolled you over, caging you in under his strong arms.

“Señorita…” he growled again, it was all he could press out before your lips found his, soft, pliant and sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted, addictive in the way they felt against his mouth, his jaw, his cheeks as you found new places to kiss him, your fingers winding through his hair, keeping him locked in place against your lips, taking as much as you wanted from him and he never once stopped you. 

He was lost. So utterly lost. And he’d never felt more at home. 

You plucked last year’s leaves from your hair and cloak all the way home that day. Pero followed you to the edge of the forest as always. But this time you pulled him behind a tree and made him press his hard body against you, pinning you against the trunk. The way he groaned into your kisses made your body heat up, your need for him growing with every slow roll of his hips, hands roaming to feel as much of him as you could, his hands kneading your hips and caressing your curves.

If your lips were swollen and your hair dishevelled, your father said nothing of it when you came home. When Pero came by one Sunday after church and asked permission to marry his daughter, he wasn’t surprised. 

There had been no war or rebellion to pull Pero away from you that year. William left, serviced under a local lord, but Pero stayed and put what little money he had left into buying the small farm next to your father’s. When the time came, the two could be merged and provide a good life for the two of you and any children that followed. When the small cottage was his by law, only then did he go to your father, who said yes without hesitation to the large Spaniard. 

“As if I could deny you the man you’ve clearly set your eyes on, even if he wasn’t a great, big hulking warrior,” your father had said later that same night after Pero had left, “With him in your house, I know you’ll be safer than with me. And if you truly love him too, well then I have no objections.” 

“I really do love him, with all his scowls and menacing looks, he is a very good man underneath it all, father.” 

There had been strange looks from the villagers, but that had hardly mattered. You’d always gone your own way, and marrying a dark haired outsider with a thick accent seemed to be something that the gossiping wives had expected of you. Either way, when you exchanged your vows outside the church on the intended day, you were surrounded by smiling faces, the old priest beaming down at you as you entered the church with Pero by your side to be blessed by by God.  

The feast lasted most of the day but by the late afternoon, you both left your father’s farm and was escorted by the priest, William and a few other villagers, to your new home, the cottage that Pero had worked so hard to turn into a home for you both. His first home since he left the place he was born, and now the place where he intended to live out the rest of his life as a happy man. When the marital bed had been blessed too, Pero closed the door to the cottage and you were alone as husband and wife for the first time. 

“Come here, husband,” you smiled at him as he turned back from the door. You didn’t need to beckon him, nothing would keep him away from you tonight, but you liked the sound of his new title - husband.

“Mi esposa,” he grinned as he crowded you against the sturdy oak bed he’d built with the aid of the local carpenter, “my wife, finally.” 

His eyes went soft, his mischievous grin replaced by a tender look as he cupped your face with his warm palms, “Never in my life did I think I’d call someone ‘my wife’, I never thought this was the way my life would be, and then I found you,” he ran his thumbs over your cheeks, leaning his forehead against yours as your breaths mingled, ”Te amo, mi amor,” he whispered. 

“I love you too, Pero,” you whispered back, your fingers finding his soft curls as you wrapped your arms around his neck. Gently he pushed you backwards, making you lay down on the bed, your bed, as he moved to cage you in under his arms and wide shoulders. Many training sessions in the forest had ended this way, time slipping away as you kissed each other breathless, but it had never gone further. You’d feel the thick weight of him pressed against your thighs, felt how he sometimes rolled his hips to seek a brief relief, but he'd always pull back.

“Amor, I won’t take you on the forest floor,” he’d muttered when you asked him to stop caring so much about your virtue, “I want you in a bed, our bed, when I’m your husband and you’re my wife.”

Now here you were, in your bed, and you called him husband as he slowly removed all your layers, caressing every sliver of skin that was revealed to him. He pressed kisses to your soft breasts, moaning as he felt them pebble under his touch, his strong nose trailed across the downy hairs of your belly, and when you giggled at the way his beard tickled, he nipped at the warm skin of your thighs. The thick slide of his tongue through your heated centre made you arch your back and gasp, your fingers scrambling for purchase in his hair. You could hear him chuckle against you, the tip of his nose circling the epicentre of your pleasure, he seemed to know this part of your body better than yourself and he soon had you moaning his name as you fought to catch your breath. 

When he had you drenched and dripping, he rested his head on your soft thigh and tapped your leg. 

“Amor, look at me,” he invited. Through half closed lids, clouded with pleasure, you watched him slide a finger through your liquid, coating it before he slowly pushed in. It slipped in easily, and when he curled it, caressing your insides, your eyes fell closed of their own volition. Suddenly you wanted more, more of his fingers, more of him and you whined, your hips rolling over his finger. 

“Please, Pero…” you whimpered, your voice hoarse and pleading. 

“What do you want, esposa,” he asked as he moved his finger gently back and forth, making you gasp again. 

“More…I think…more…” you mumbled and Pero smiled. Seeing you fall apart for him, slowly showing you how good he could make you feel, how he intended to spend every long winter evening, it filled him with a happiness he’d never felt before. It was like a hot burning fire inside his chest and it would keep him warm when he had to leave, he knew these memories would be the ones he returned to on long cold nights alone. 

“More?” he asked, “I can give you more, amor.” 

The smile in his voice made you look up at him as he moved to lie at your side, putting his arm under your shoulders and finding your lips with his own. As his tongue slipped inside your mouth, he gently pushed a second finger into your heat. He felt you arch up against him, whimpering into his mouth, your fingers digging into his arms as he slid his own in and out, setting your body on fire with every slow drag. 

He moved so slowly, it was like your body was turning into molten metal, heat flowed through you, all coming from where Pero’s fingers sunk into you. Your hips rolled of their own accord, your core clenching hard around him and a tension was building up inside you. But just as you felt as if you were about to snap, like a thread pulled too tight, Pero slipped his fingers from you and caressed your side, his hand leaving a sticky trail on your skin.

“Amor,” he mumbled, moving over your body so that he once again was caging you in, his warm, dark eyes glowing as he looked down at you, “Amor, I’m going to enter you now, tell me to stop if it hurts, you are so tight.”

You nodded and made room for him between your legs, you knew this might hurt, you’d heard the wives talk and the gossip. But no one had ever mentioned it feeling this good to be with a man, this aching need to be filled up by him. It had you panting with impatience, your core clenching around the emptiness left behind by his fingers. 

Pero kept his eyes locked on you as he coated himself with your silky liquid and lined himself up. Your brows furrowed as he pushed the thick head inside, and he dropped his forehead to yours, taking a deep breath. 

“Does it hurt?” he whispered, slowly rocking himself back and forth, just the tip moving inside you, and you shook your head. 

“No, it was just a little tight, I want more,” you replied, spreading your legs wider for him. He reached down and hooked your leg over his hip. 

“Squeeze me, pull me in if you want more,” he said, gritting his teeth as he felt your contract around him, fighting the urge to push in harder, “you feel so good, amor, so good to me.” 

Your legs wrapped around his waist and Pero rocked slowly, pushing in deeper with each short thrust. His face was pinched with concentration, his mouth half open as he licked his lips. With your arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead against yours, each breath you took was his and your world shrunk down to only Pero. Only his warm body above yours, his hips heavy between your legs, driving himself into you and creating ripples of pleasure through every fibre of your being with each thrust deep inside. Your eyes wanted to close but you forced them to stay open, to see your husband as he looked at you, his eyes hazy with lust, dark and burning, every movement making him groan as your body pulled him in. The tight string started to pull taught inside you again, your body moving against Pero’s, making him pick up his pace. 

“Amor, can you feel that?” he mumbled, his forehead still resting against yours, “can you feel your body getting ready to fall?” 

You nodded, it felt like a lightning storm ready to break, just over the horizon. Tightening your grip around his waist, you pulled him in and he understood, driving himself deeper, a little bit harder into your tight core. 

“Pero…” you gasped, your nails digging into his shoulders, and he grunted in response, his hand grabbing your leg and finding a new angle. 

“Amor, let me feel you come around me, give me this…” he panted, “the first time…I want it-”

Before he’d even finished you cried out under him, gripping him tight, your body trembling as the string snapped and lighting coursed through you, Pero’s thick cock driving hard into you, pushing your pleasure higher as he gasped and grunted. With a cry he broke, a loud groan, and he spilled himself inside, your legs like a vice around his waist as he rocked himself deeper. 

He was heavy on top of you, the warm sweat of his torso gliding against your own chest as you buried your face against his neck and took long, deep breaths. 

“Pero…my love…” you whispered softly into his ear, his wet kiss against your own neck was his exhausted response as he slowly came down from his high. Your arms were still wrapped tight around him, as were your legs, locking him in place. Not that he wanted to leave, he would stay here, in this bed, between your legs, until moss grew on him like an old boulder that no farmer could move. 

He was home. 

Endless miles stretched out behind them, thousands if they cared to count them. Pero did not. All he could see was the white cliffs in front of the ship, like a beacon, a sign that their long journey was finally coming to an end. 

They returned, not as poor as they’d set out, but not as rich as they thought they’d be, but the only thing that mattered to Pero was that he was returning. He’d fought with his friend, felt betrayed by him, even abandoned him in the end, so strong was his need to return home. It had almost cost him his life, caught by the very army he was trying to escape as he left William behind, brought back and then thrown in chains. He thought he’d die there, locked up in a dungeon, never seeing you again. 

It burned in his chest as the chains gnawed at his wrists, to never see you again, to leave you behind in this world without a word. He could see your face as he closed his eyes, conjured it up in his mind and remembered the tears clinging to your lashes as he pulled back one final time and turned for his horse. Riches or not, he was a damn fool for leaving you, he should’ve been content with what he had. 

In the end it was only by the grace of God, or maybe by William’s good heart, that he’d been freed by the very friend he’d betrayed and allowed to leave and make the long journey home. 

Now he stood on solid ground again, readying his horse for the final stretch home. 

Home. 

A word he’d never thought he’d be able to say and for it to mean something worth fighting for. A woman he loved. A house where he could keep her warm and protected. A place to raise a family. 

Home. He was going home. He knew he never should’ve left. 

The last ride was easy and he drove his horse fast, the afternoon barely past its prime as he saw the cottage at the end of the path, tucked in among the heavy oak trees. It looked well kept, but the door was shut tight and no animals roamed around the yard. 

“Mi amor!” he called, spurring his horse on for the last few yards, “Mi amor!” he called again as he swung himself from the saddle. 

But the door was shut tight and wouldn’t budge and a lap around the small house showed him that it was indeed as empty as it looked. He mounted his horse again, not yet uneasy, and set a fast pace down the lane, towards your father’s farm a mile through the forest. 

Here there was life at least, chickens in the yard, a dog pulling on its leash and the door open. Again he swung himself from the saddle, throwing the reins around the gate post and striding forward. 

“Stay back!”

Your sword was raised. Your sword? No, his sword, the one he’d left with you. Held up by you now, threatening him to not take another step forward. 

“Mi amor, it’s me, Pero,” he smiled, spreading his arms wide and taking long strides to you, wanting nothing more than to pull you into his arms and feel your soft body melt against his after so many months. 

“Stay back!” you snarled, taking a step back and settling into the fighting stance he’d taught you and Pero floundered, stopping in his tracks. 

“Amor…Have I changed that much? Don’t you know your husband?” 

“I don’t have a husband,” you replied, your sword still raised, “Now, leave before I set the dogs on you!”

Pero felt a cold dread rise in his chest, confusion clouding his mind, he didn’t understand why you didn’t know him and he dropped his arms, his face a pained mask. 

“Mi amor, it’s me, I left a year ago on a foolish mission, you were my wife when I left and I have fought so hard all this time to get back to you and…” he trailed off as your eyes showed no recognition, no flash of relief. Just a hard stare at him. 

“Tovar!” 

A voice called out, an elderly man coming around the corner of the cottage, his white hair in tufts around his ears and neck and his face concerned. 

“Tovar, it’s good to see you safe after all this time, my boy!” 

The man forced a pained smile at Pero before he reached you. 

“Daughter, lower your sword, he is a friend, he just hadn’t been past here in some time,” the old man put his hand on your arm and gently made you lower the sword, “Go inside and make sure the stew is not burning, I will speak with Tovar and join you shortly.” 

Pero looked on in confusion as you sheathed the sword, smiled at your father and turned back into the cottage. 

“John, tell me what’s going on, why does my wife not know me?” 

“Come with me,” he replied and gestured towards the edge of the farm yard, the low stone wall serving as a seat as he sank down. Pero remained standing, glancing back at the cottage. Part of him wanted to storm into the cottage and grab you, shake you and make you see him, see him, your husband. But John’s hand landed on his arm and pulled his attention back to the old man. 

“It began not long after you and William left, her memories have been slowly going and neither the priest nor the physician know why or what caused it.” 

“What do you mean, her memories are going? She doesn’t know me?” Pero gripped the handle of his sword, not a threat, just a comfort, to hold on to something familiar as he rubbed his thumb over the pommel, “I am her husband, she loves me, how can she forget me?” 

“I don’t know, Pero,” John sighed, rubbing his weathered hand over his face as he shook his head, “she just doesn’t. And it’s not just you, she seems to forget most new things from one day to the next, a new neighbour, the cow giving birth to a new calf, selling a few of the chickens, she just forgets,” he looked over at the cottage where a thin tendril of smoke rose slowly from the short chimney, “She remembers her childhood, her brother and mother dying, after that it all becomes hazy.”

John looked up at Pero again and Pero could see the toll the past year had taken on his father-in-law as pain flashed across his face, his usually bright eyes sunken and dark. 

“I’m sorry, son, she doesn’t even remember meeting you, nothing of your life together, and not you leaving.” 

It hits him like a dagger to the chest, piercing in its pain and wrenching his chest open; he left, she begged him not to, but he left and this is his punishment. Her mind is protecting her from the pain he caused. With a groan he turns around, sinking down on the wall, his head buried in his hands, it feels as if his throat is closing up, a sob tearing its way up, like broken glass cutting him open. 

“I left her,” he groaned, choking around his words, “She begged me not to go, that last night before I left, and I thought I had to and left her anyway. I broke her heart and this is my punishment, her mind has removed me from her so she doesn’t have to live with my betrayal.” 

“Son…” John said, his voice choking too, but he put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “We do not know the will of the Lord, you did what you thought was best.” 

The hand on Pero’s shoulder burned like fire, guilt over taking him and he stumbled to his feet, shaking off the other man’s grip with a shrug. 

“I’ll leave, it’s for the best,” he replied, striding towards his horse without looking back, his jaw tight around his words, “Take care of her for me.” 

“Tovar, wait,” John called after him and hurried to his feet. He grabbed the reins of the horse just as Pero swung himself into the saddle, “She loves you, still. I know she does, she just needs to remember you.” 

“Remember how I broke her heart and left her? What kind of a husband was I? No,” Pero shook his head and gathered the reins, making John let go of them, “Let her have a good life without me.” 

The door of the cottage creaked as he spoke the last words, making him look up towards it. You were standing in the opening, an empty water bucket in your hand, your eyes on him. 

“Are you really my husband?” you asked, glancing over at your father, but finding Pero’s eyes again. Pero felt his throat close up again as he saw the way you looked at him, a complete stranger, not a trace of recognition. 

He just nodded in response, not trusting his voice. 

“He is, my dear,” John replied in his stead,  “Do you remember me telling you about him when your mind first started to go?” 

You shook your head at that, your eyes still on Pero. 

“I’m leaving,” he said, a deep furrow in his brow as he ruefully shook his head, “I caused you both enough hurt.” He nudged his horse to turn around, walking it through the gate and out onto the road, avoiding John’s look of pity.  

“Wait!” 

The call came just as he was about to spur his horse on, away from your empty stare. 

“Wait,” you called, hurrying after him, stopping as he halted his horse and turned in the saddle. You came up to stand by its neck, looking up at him, “Stay at least the night, I…I know I lost so many memories, but...if you’re my husband then you should stay, maybe something will come back.” 

“No,” he shook his head, looking away from you and down the road, “I caused too much harm, I don’t want you to have to relive the pain I caused you.” 

“Please, my life has been cut in half, I can’t remember it, but I know something big is missing. I will gladly take the pain again if I can have the rest of my life back,” you put your hand on his horse’s neck, tilting your face up to him as you waited for his reply, “Please.” 

He couldn’t resist looking down at you and he felt his resolve weaken as your eyes met his. Such a familiar face, the one he loved so deeply. The colour of your eyes was seared into his mind, the small imperfections on your cheeks that he’d mapped with his lips so many nights, the shape of your perfect nose that he’d traced with his calloused fingers when you complained that it was all wrong. So many long, cold nights, picturing this face in his mind’s eye as he tried to do what he thought was right, the desperate moments when he thought he wasn’t coming back to you at all. Facing monsters from nightmares in overwhelming numbers, even as he fought for his life, this face was floating before him. You were the one he was fighting so hard to get home to. 

Now you were looking back at him, pleading with him, and he knew he had no choice. The last time he denied your request, he’d almost lost his life and you’d lost your memories of him. He would stay. The pain he would feel at seeing you look at him like a stranger would be a small price to pay compared to the pain he’d put you through with his greed and stubbornness. 

He gave you a nod, a short movement of his head as you held his gaze. He searched in vain for a glimmer of recognition, a flash of the woman you were before he left, but there was nothing. Just a small, uncertain smile as you dropped your hand from his horse’s neck and took a few steps back. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled, glancing back at your father, “my father will be glad to have you with us too, he’s probably tried to make me remember you so many times.” 

Pero slid off the back of his horse and took hold of the reins as he turned to you. His rough fingernails dug into the palm of his hand as he clenched his fist, the familiar scent of your skin washing over him as he got closer. He could feel every bone in his body aching to reach out and pull you into his arm, bury his nose in the soft skin of your neck and breathe you in, feel your hands on him again. He could feel himself torn in two; the urge to bolt when you took a step back from him, the need to stay near and never leave again. 

“Amor…” he mumbled, tearing his eyes away from you as you took another step back, the pain and emotion plain on his face. 

“I’m…I’m sorry…” you whispered, “I don’t know what that means…” 

For a few moments you looked at him as he refused to meet your eyes again, his gaze wavering as his hand closed around the reins of his horse. His knuckles were pulled taught, the tension in his still form clear, and you took another step back. 

“Please, put your horse away and I’ll heat up water for you to wash. Father said you’ve travelled far, you must be weary. There's good stew cooking too,” you raised your hand and gently put it on the neck of his horse, “Come, please.” 

He followed you into the house once he’d put the horse away, your father leaving to bring the small herd of cows in for the evening. Water was heating over the fire and you mixed it with the cooler water from the barrel as Pero stepped over the threshold with his heavy saddle bags by his side. 

“You live with your father now,” he said, a statement rather than a question, but you nodded, wiping your hands and turning to the stew pot. 

“Yes, well, I don’t remember living anywhere else but he tells me the cottage down the road is where I lived before…” you trailed off, putting your hand to your temple as your brow furrowed, screwing up your eyes as if trying to search for a memory. Pero shifted by the door and you turned to him with a surprised look on your face. 

“I-I guess…that’s where we lived?” you asked and a look of anguish flashed across his face. 

“Yes….yes, we lived there,” he replied, still holding his heavy bags, looking like he was almost on the verge of leaving again. “We moved there on our wedding day and I… Do you ever visit it now?” 

You shook your head but hesitated, “Never…but maybe I have been back, but I forget from one day to the next, I know it’s there but if I see it now, it’s like I see it for the first time.” 

Pero dropped his bags on the floor and rubbed his hand over his face, his shoulders slumped as if under a tremendous weight. 

“Amor…” he said to the floor before looking up at you again, “I don’t know if I can do this. We lived there, you and me, they were the happiest days of my wretched life, and now it’s all been taken from us. You look at me like a stranger and I can’t stand it.” 

You didn’t know what to say, the man in front of you was a stranger, nothing in his voice or face was familiar. The only reason you asked him to stay was your father telling you he was your husband, and that feeling in your chest of something missing, that empty space in your mind, a big piece of your life’s memories missing. 

“I’m sorry…” you said again, but he shook his head. 

“Don’t. It’s my fault, I did this to you. And I’m staying until you tell me to leave.” 

“I might not remember you in the morning,” you said, “I often forget meeting new people.” 

New people

It cut through him like the sharpest blade. He’s ‘new people’ to you now, not your husband, or even a friend. Just a stranger in your house. 

He nodded at the large bowl that you’d filled with water, “I’ll get cleaned up now, do you want me to go outside?” 

The cottage was familiar, he’d spent much time here before the wedding, and not much had changed in the year he’d been gone. It had only two rooms, and he presumed you were sleeping in the bed nook against the back wall, your father in the other room. The small cottage didn’t hold much space for privacy. 

You shook your head and turned back to the fire, “I’ll keep my back turned, I need to watch the stew.” 

He stared at you for a beat, the achingly familiar shape of your shoulders, your hips and the way you cocked one out to the side as you leaned forward over the large pot. How many times hadn’t he come up behind you, run his hands over your soft shapes, pushed your hair to the side and pressed kisses to your neck as you giggled at the way his beard tickled your skin. Now you stood with your back to him to not see as he pulled off his clothes, something you’d done to him almost every night. Unlaced his shirt, pulled it from his breeches and caressed his skin with your soft hands. 

The dirty shirt dropped to the floor with a soft sound and you heard him wring the washcloth as you added the last of the herbs to the stew. You couldn’t help yourself, you glanced over your shoulder and stole a look at him. He was a stranger, but supposedly your husband, and either way, he was handsome. Under that layer of grime and sweat, he was a striking man, unlike any you’d ever seen. Or, at least, unlike anyone your mind would let you remember. So you glanced back at him and was struck almost dumb by the sight. Broad shoulders, a muscular back tapering into narrow hips where his breeches hung low as he rubbed the washcloth over his abdomen. 

The back of his neck was tanned golden, his back lighter and marred by a long scar that shone bright in the dim light. It looked like a painful injury, old and long since healed over, and you wondered if he’d ever told you what had happened to him. Had you run your fingers over as he told you the story? You realised you must’ve spent countless nights next to this man in your marital bed, his hands on you, your hands on him. This man, this stranger in your father’s house, would know you better than anyone else, every inch of your body and your most intimate secrets. 

As if he could sense your eyes on him, he glanced back over his shoulder and met your eyes, and he seemed to hold his breath for a moment. Then he turned fully to face you, the washcloth forgotten in his hand. 

“Amor…” he whispered and you bit back a sudden sob. His eyes were so hopeful, you wanted nothing more than to remember him, to have all the memories of him flood back into your mind as he dropped the washcloth and took two quick steps across the floor. 

“I don’t remember,” you sobbed as his arms wrapped around you, “I don’t remember anything about you.” 

He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t let you go. Instead he let you sob against his chest, holding you close as he rested his chin on your head. His heart was beating wildly, thrumming so hard you could hear it as you pressed your cheek against him, and even though he was a stranger, his arms felt safe around you, the scent of his skin comforting and soothing. 

With a small movement he rubbed your back, slowly up and down, “It will come back, amor, it will. And if it doesn’t, I will make you fall in love with me again and tell you about all the memories we have.” 

You nodded against his chest, your sobs subsiding, but you didn’t pull away from him, and he didn’t let his arms drop. He held you just as tight, reluctant to give up the feeling of having you in his arms again after all he endured to get back to you. 

“Although…I’m still not sure how I made a woman like you fall in love with a reckless mercenary like me, how will I manage that again?” he said, a small smile to his voice and you looked up at him. He’d lifted his chin from your head and was looking at you with a sad smile, tears clinging to his dark lashes. 

“Promise me you’ll try,” you said, your voice low and broken. 

“Every day for the rest of my life, amor,” he whispered, “I will make you fall in love with me again and then we can make all those memories one more time.” 

A/N - I hope you enjoyed this bitter sweet little story! Bonus points to anyone who caught the LotR reference :)

Tagging some of my fellow Pero lovers:

@nerdieforpedro @din-cognito @harriedandharassed @morallyinept @inept-the-magnificent

@mysterious-moonstruck-musings @lady-bess @angiewatson @cozylittlepigeon @604to647

@survivingandenduring @for-a-longlongtime @gnpwdrnsnshine @wintersquirrel @grogusmum

[anyalovesu]

𝓐fter the Aftermath

 heeseung x medical school fem!reader

—you and heeseung are best friends and highschool sweethearts that broke up before you entered medical school. now one of your friends from your highschool friend group is getting married—and they want the whole gang back before the wedding.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

genre : angst with fluff ending ( slightly suggestive ending again lol )

pairings : heeseung x fem!reader

wc : 4.4k+ words

cw :

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ oc is mentioned ( ida )

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ non-idol!au

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ heeseung and reader were immature and dense asf

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ jake, chaeryeong, and reader casually refers each other as "bitch"

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ ( ft. en- & chaeryeong from itzy )

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ jay and mentioned oc are getting married

☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ not proofread ( yet )

song : already over - sabrina carpenter ( emails i can't send , 2022 ) & you're losing me - taylor swift ( from the vault , 2023 )

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“A fucking Darry ring! Jay, you romantic fucker!” Chaeryeong squeals as soon as she sees the ring. “I didn't know you had it in you!”

“The fuck you mean you didn't know I had it in me? I've basically courted all three of you because you gatekept Ida so much in highschool!” Jay argued. To be fair, it really was the case. You three were looked at like feral cats whenever someone took the other. It took a lot of warming up for Heeseung back then when he started dating you. Ida and Chaeryeong have always been hesitant to let anyone in your heart, after all you have always been a woman with a goal and god knows what lengths your girls will take to make sure you get to your goals. You're just the same to them, so it was never a question for anyone. You never hesitated to bite whenever someone tried to hurt your girls. You saw each other through all of your phases, it was something that you learned overtime. 

“But a Darry ring…” Chaeryeong trailed, holding Ida’s hand, admiring the shining diamond ring on her ring finger. You weren’t going to lie, the ring was beautiful, somehow, it really encapsulates the beauty of your friend just as well. You supposed Jay just knows her that well. “You’re gonna be stuck with this bitch for the rest of your life, Jongseong.”

“The fuck did you just say?”

“I don’t mind,” he replies lovingly. 

You couldn’t help but feel your heart clench. You feel as though it was just yesterday when Heeseung would promise the same exact things to you and now you couldn’t bear to look at him. He was your bestfriend too—before you even met Chaeryeong and Ida. How did it even come to this?

“You’re quiet,” Jake chuckles, finding a seat next to you from the garden chair where you sat with your tablet, seemingly reviewing your fill for the weekend—bullshit, everyone knows you’re watching Chaeryeong admire the sparkling stone on Ida’s finger when everyone expected you and Heeseung to be the first to marry. And you thought so too. There was no other future than the one you once saw with Heeseung and it seemed to vanish into thin air when he needed more from you and there was nothing more than you could give. 

“Do you want me to let the entire building know I’m here like Chaer is right now?” You playfully ask, trying to pull a grin for him to stop speculating. 

“I’m saying all you have to do is admit that it hurts you, and it’s gonna feel a bit better.”

“I don’t have it in me to be hurt that my best friend is getting married to the love of her life.” You replied quietly, pretending to look at your tablet once again to avoid looking at Jake, who seemed to suddenly develop a magical skill to read your mind. “Ida deserves all that. I’m not supposed to be hurt that she’s going to spend the rest of her life with someone she wants to be with.”

“Ida does deserve to have her happy ending,” Jake nodded. “But it doesn’t make your feelings less valid.”

“I don’t get to be hurt over something that I brought upon myself.” You hummed, gathering your things to leave. But Jake managed to catch your hand, stopping you on your tracks.

“If he bothers you, just tell me and Chaer. We’ll take care of it.” He smiled at you pitifully before letting go of your hand. 

“Thank you.”

It’s been years. You should’ve been over this long ago, and even though some days feel better than the others, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for how things went down with you and Heeseung.

You could still vividly remember how you cried in your study while Heeseung screamed and begged for you to say something—to fight him about something, that even just for a glimpse, show that you still care—but you tried to block him off, fully knowing that Heeseung was already ready to walk out of your life if you didn’t say a word and start an argument with him. But your medical admissions exams were coming up—you couldn’t fail your medical admission exams, your dad is already barely making enough to send you and your sister to school and your mom was sickly. You couldn’t fail and risk another year of hardship for your family. 

Heeseung packed his bags and left that night. You didn’t reach out—kept pushing making sure you arose to the top of your class to retain your scholarship. 

It’s been 3 years now. Your sister is in college and you were in medical school by means of your inheritance from your spinster aunt who had just passed away. While your father doesn’t have to work just as much because of your inheritance, he still has to make a living for him and your mom. What caused your and Heeseung’s drift was long resolved, but you didn’t have him anymore. You were on your own now.

“Are you okay, noona?” Riki points out as he reaches out to take your hand, pulling you back to reality as you stand in what you thought was an empty hallway.  “You’re breathing fast.”

“Y-yeah, sorry.” You took your hand, immediately walking over to your shared room with Chaer to avoid talking about it even more.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“Have you said something?” Jay asked curiously as he stood next to Heeseung who seemed busy playing billiards with Sunghoon and Jake. 

As if on cue, Sunghoon and Jake look up from the pool table to glance at Jay and Heeseung, who kept his eyes on the table, seemingly trying to ignore Jay. 

“Hyung, you can't keep on ignoring Y/N over something you were already aware of,” Jake sighed, looking at Heeseung intently. “You knew it was virtually impossible for her to give what you wanted her to give during that time.”

“Was it really that hard to give?” Heeseung spat at him, fuming that his friends are refusing to side with him on this one. “She could've said something!”

“Hee, you were asking her to marry you!” Jake argued. “Before M-DEET! You know how important that is for her! One point off on that exam and the scholarship is down the drain—and you thought it was the best time to propose? Heeseung, your best friend was about to break and you thought popping the question was a great idea?”

Jay was just as furious. How could Heeseung be that inconsiderate to you? You've been there for him in the best way that you could for more years than the rest of the group and never failed to give an answer to him in all of those years and the first time you failed to do so, he walked away and allowed you to blame yourself for it? He is insane to think that!

“She could've said no, Jongseong! She could've told me she didn't want to marry me—”

“Do you really think Y/N was no longer in love with you, that's why you walked away?” Sunghoon mumbles quietly. 

“Why else?” Heeseung rolls his eyes, staring at Sunghoon hard, slamming the cue stick on the table. “She was with Jake most of the time—she still is. Maybe she wanted to marry Jake!”

“Okay, foul—” Jake looked appalled at the accusation. “Number 1, maybe if you wanted to pursue medicine too, you would be in the conversation. Number 2, hyung, literally what the fuck—she spent the last three years wishing she said something because she loved the living fuck out of your stupid excuse of an existence. And number 3, if you don't get your ass together and make amends with Y/N, I swear to your stupid excuse of a living, God will ignore all your hopes and dreams like you are ignoring the truth right now.”

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You say quietly by the deck, feet dipped in the cold lake water, listening to the cicadas sing their song for the night. It's been a while since you've had this kind of peace to yourself away from books and hospital halls. Don't get yourself wrong, you absolutely have no regrets on pursuing your dream—it wasn't just yours after all, it was your family's too. So, you really don't find it in you to regret putting everything in the line to chase for your medical degree. But man was it sad.

“You've been so quiet, babe,” Chaer mumbles quietly, which startled you a bit, making her laugh lightly as she settled next to you.

“The guys spoke to Heeseung-hyung,” Riki follows, sitting on your otherside. 

“Why aren't you with them?” You asked. It's also been a while since all of you had a break, it was concerning to you why Riki wasn't spending it with someone he could relate to better and instead is preferring to sit here in boredom with you.

“I see them every time. It's been a while since I saw you and I wanted to make sure you were okay. You looked a bit shaken up a while ago,” the younger explains, reaching for your hand to fiddle with it. His hands were warm, unlike yours. You've always had freezing hands, you reckon it was the lack of sleep that caused your low-iron levels. A bit ironic to be unhealthy while pursuing a health-related program, but you suppose that's the way that it has to go. “Your hands are never warm.”

“They used to.” Chaer joked, before leaning her head against your shoulder. 

“I'm going to push you bitch, don't try me,” you playfully threaten.

“But seriously, are you never going to talk about it?” Riki finally blurts out. “It's obviously taking a toll on you to be around him.”

“It's not the place for that—”

“Oh it is,” Chaer snorted. “It's all Ida and Jay are worrying about. You're going to be Ida's maid of honor and Heeseung is Jay's best man. You two are going to do a heck lot together when you take your break from school and start to do the wedding preparations with and for them. So it's smart to do this and let you guys sort it out. But the both of you seem to not get a fucking hint. So here we are.”

You sat flabbergasted at Chaer's expected bluntness. She always spoke before she could think, it was so in character of her to just blurt that out like it was nothing. 

“Sweetheart, the way you and Heeseung ended isn't doing it good for the both of you—so whether you're going to get back together or close it off for good is going to be beneficial for everyone, especially you, once it's done.” She continued. “I don't understand why you're always so passionate to help and take care of people but never seem to take care of yourself. You purposely put yourself through shit and just expect yourself to live normally with it.”

“Do I really have the resources to not be in shit, Chaer?” You asked quietly, watching the calm lake and the moon sitting quietly on the horizon, lighting up the deck along with the light fixtures in the nearby gazebo. “I had a family to sustain and he was asking me to start a life with him. I couldn't do that and he knew it.”

“And I wanted to do just that. I wanted to marry him—but what about my family? What about Eunchae? Eomma? Appa? If it was just me, I would've said something. I would've just argued my entire night with him because I loved him more than I could ever possibly love myself but our future was on the line the next day. Did he ever think of that? He was my best friend! He should’ve known that!”

Chaer sat there listening to her, sloshing the water her feet were in. It was the first time in three years you ever talked about it. It was always hard for you and you drowned yourself in school to ever have time to speak about how you felt. And honestly, it felt lighter now. Your face was wet with tears and your chest was clenching but it was lighter now. 

“I totally understand why Ida and Jay wanted to do this. But is it really possible? When Heeseung still thinks I just left him hanging for school?”

“Get your ass right there and speak it out, you wuss!” 

All three of your heads turn to where the deck started, to see Sunghoon and Jake holding Heeseung by both of his arms, Sunoo and Jungwon following behind, making sure to catch Heeseung if he escapes the two holding him. Not too far away from the back door of the rest house, Jay and Ida stood with Jay's arm around your best friend's shoulders, laughing at the scene unfolding before them. They are sneaky motherfuckers for managing to pull this off, that’s for sure.

“Well, I think it's a conversation you two have to make now,” Chaer chuckled evilly at you, placing a soft kiss on you cheek before pushing herself up to stand on the deck and helping you and Riki.

Soon enough you and Heeseung were left alone. It was quieter now that everyone was dragged by Chaer inside the house to leave the two of you alone to talk it out. 

Awkward. That’s what it is. You wouldn’t even look Heeseung in the eye. Were you afraid to fall for it again? Or were you afraid that it’ll taste more bitter now that you’re going to hear from Heeseung how selfish you were? Either way, it hurts. To be there and to not have the courage to say or do something. You could walk away… yeah that’s sensible. You could walk away and just leave things unsaid—it was the easy way out. But you know it’s not going to make anything better. 

“In your entire lifetime, have you ever thought of kissing Jake?” Heeseung blurts out, sitting perfectly still. So still, that his feet weren’t creating ripples on the water it was dipped in.

Your eyes shoot wide as you sharply turn your body towards him, finding him looking at you intently, waiting for your response. 

You? And Jake?

For as long as you could remember Jake has pined for Chaeryeong and you saw them as children that would die if they hadn’t got you to rely on ever since you started your pre-med. Jake has always been just a friend and for most of the years that you were friends with him, you were with Heeseung—you never thought of kissing Jake. You’ve always had Heeseung to do that with, it was nonsensical to think of ever kissing someone else.

Also, that was he thinking about all this time? That you and Jake were going to be a better pair than you and him?

“Is that why you walked away? You thought you would lose me to Jake?” You asked, appalled as you feel your heart doing somersaults inside your chest, gnawing at your ribcage, going berserk as you connect the dots right in front of you.

“Is it stupid?” he asked shamefully as he let out a huge sigh, eyes diverting towards his feet now. “You were with Jake for most of your time. I only see you when I come home from work after university and wake up with you getting ready to get in his car to start your day. What was I supposed to think?”

“Jake is your friend, Hee.” You utter, brows still furrowed but you didn’t have it in you to be mad at him—after all he had a point and you were finally hearing it for the first time. “Why would you think I would do that to you?”

“I know you wouldn’t. But Jake could. He has everything I don’t and I was immature to think that asking you to marry me would somehow give me comfort that it wasn’t going to happen because that’s what you do when people are upset. You offer them comfort. So when you weren’t arguing with me to somehow give me what I was needing that time I took it as a sign that I have already lost you to Jake. And I walked away.” You watch him intently, trying to figure out if he was being forced to do this or if he genuinely wanted to fix this after quite some time. 

But Heeseung is Heeseung. He’s always been hard to predict. Was he really though? Or were you always too busy to notice what he was feeling that way?

You could’ve done something to mitigate the situation. You would’ve explained it better before you were in a tight situation where you physically and mentally couldn’t. How could you not notice? Heeseung is your best friend before everyone else. How come you never felt it?

“But I guess they were right. You had a dream and there’s nothing that could change your mind on that,” he sighed heavily. “It was immature. We were so young back then. Even I wouldn’t have known how I would’ve started that new chapter with you—it’s just that at that time, it was the only solution that I got. So I’m incredibly sorry for all the damage that I’ve caused.”

You didn’t quite know what to say. The confession was overwhelming that you found yourself speechless, just sitting there next to Heeseung, whom you know deep inside of your heart, despite all the pain he’s caused, you still loved so much. After all, you inflicted just as much pain to him when all that happened. But there were no words for the situation and it was eating you up that you didn’t know what to say. You felt like you were putting him in the same position as you did three years ago.

“I don’t know why I let my ego take so much of me in the past years to never reach out and try to fix this,” he continued. “It would be fine if you cannot forgive me right now. I can only hope that you do at some point in our lives—”

“Give me time to process it, Heeseung,” you blurted out, forcing yourself to say something. Even just for once, give it your all to never let Heeseung slip from your fingers again like you had done when you said nothing back then. “Give me time. That's all I want.”

“Take as much time as you want,” he smiles softly at you.

Oh you knew you were fucked when you saw that smile again. It’s like your demons were fighting themselves once again and not you anymore—you couldn’t explain it. You were happy and you haven’t felt that specific feeling of love and happiness for quite some time. How can it be so easy for Heeseung to do that to you?

On your third day out there, all of you found yourself sitting in a circle in the living room, with a couple of bottles of expensive sangria. It also turned out that you didn’t drink much because you were not blessed with the best alcohol tolerance that Chaeryeong and Jake had. After a couple glasses of sangria, you were already properly drunk off your face. But to your comfort, Ida was not any better. Jay had brought her to bed a good hour ago and the fact that you're still here, still sipping on your glass is an achievement itself. 

“I miss when Jake wasn’t a bitch and he actually did not have to rely on me on Chaer to pass,” you blurted out, laughing as you leaned against Chaer. 

“When was that? When wasn’t Jake a bitch?” Chaer laughed, unaware that she was actually sitting across from where you were instead of beside you. Heeseung could only smile as his heart swells at the sudden skinship. It’s been a while since he felt that way—or maybe he was just buzzed from the Sangria—or maybe he was falling in love. Either way, he doesn’t mind. Your hair smells nice, and you seem cozy resting your heavy head on his shoulder. “Jake is born a bitch and will die a bitch.”

“Why am I catching strays all of sudden?” Jake argues, sitting up straight as he pours Chaeryeong another glass.

“Because you’re a bitch!” You laughed continuously, completely off your face as you snuggled closer to what you thought was Chaeryeong. “I don’t even know why Heeseung thought I would choose you over him. The only thing I ever think of is whether or not it’s valid to pick a fight with you for giving me a headache all the time! Why would I even think about kissing you?”

“Y/N–”

“Girl, don’t even get me started—I have to call you so I can get up in the morning, I have to send you notes, keep up with your org work and your duty schedule because if I don’t you’d be a damned dead man walking! And why would I want to kiss you! Heeseung did that very well—”

“I do?”

You could feel the vibrations of his voice against the side of your head…oh shit.

Chaer… Chaeryeong… is sitting across you… next to Jake—

So then… who’s…. You sit up hastily and sharply turn towards him. You soon feel the alcohol washing out of you as soon as you realize that it wasn’t Chaeryeong you were leaning against all this time. Holy shit. You wanted the ground to open and swallow you whole right then and there— you couldn’t do it anymore.

“Tell me, baby. Did I kiss you well?” he asked again, watching as your eyes turned from shocked to dilated as you tilt your head slightly, smirking at him.

“You haven’t in a while. I wouldn’t dare to trust my judgment on that one,” you answer him. You don’t even know where it came from, liquid courage got the best of you in this one. Even Jay was sitting there, in shock of how risky you were getting.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” he dared.

“Okay, you’re both drunk—” Jungwon stands up, panicked, preparing to pull you away before you do something you will regret. 

“Oh let them be!” Chaer argues, pulling Jungwon back to his seat.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

You woke up with a massive headache. You daresay the world might be spinning before you as you pull yourself up from your bed. The sun was shining too bright—God you don’t remember having your bed across a glass door, what the hell.

And why doesn’t it smell like Chaeryeong lavender humidifier? 

You rub your eyes to try and get a grip on where you were. It didn’t take a few more blinks before you realized that this isn’t yours and Chaeryeong’s room.

“Fuck.”

Well, you were dressed at least. You weren’t hurting anywhere but your massive migraine to be so sure if you did hook up with anyone last night. Jesus, you couldn’t remember anything and every time you tried you were welcomed with a massive wave of headache.

“Well, at least you beat Ida too in waking up first.” Heeseung chuckled from the door, making you jump in surprise as you looked at him, shirtless with only his sweatpants on with a tray of breakfast.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” You yelled at him, looking away.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, Y/N,” he chuckled as he settled the tray in front of you. “Eat up. You were out of it last night, Chaeryeong had to fight you to get you to change into your pajamas.”

“What did I do last night?”

“Do you really want to know?” He chuckled as he moved around at the foot of his bed to make himself comfortable.

“I woke up in your room— I’m already in too deep, nothing could be more embarrassing.”

“Well, aside from fighting Chaeryeong to get you to change, you also fought Jake to switch rooms with you so he can room with Chaer and you’d be in our room.” He started. “You insisted we had a serious matter to talk about but as soon as you were lying on the bed you refused to sleep until I gave you a kiss.”

“So did you?” you asked, reaching for the cup of ginger tea on the tray.

“You did sleep, didn’t you?”

“Too bad I can’t remember it,” you hummed nonchalantly, closing your eyes as you enjoyed your tea. “Do you want to discuss the important matter now?”

“Do you even remember what the important matter was?” he replied. 

It was as if you could feel the room slowly turn cold as you peel your eyes open, seeing Heeseung look at you intently.

Of course you know what the important matter was. It was an important matter before you were drunk. It was an important matter before you were here in the first place.

“We were always an important matter to me, Hee,” you sighed. “I’m sorry I made you feel like it wasn’t three years ago.”

“It’s forgiven,” he replied shortly. “You had a lot on your plate and it took me a while to realize that. I should be the one asking for your forgiveness.”

“We both drew blood, Hee,” you said, softly, moving the tray to move closer to him. “And I fucked up just as much as you think you did. All I want to talk about is how do you want to move forward from this.”

“Would I be crazy to say that I want us to try again?”

You could feel your heart skip a beat as soon as you heard Hee asked you that. There’s nothing you wanted more than to have your Heeseung back. To have someone to hold and go home to. To be at home at last.

“It would be even more crazy of me if I declined that after years of manifesting fate would bring you back to me,” you smiled at him.

The next thing you knew he was moving the tray out of the bed, proposing something else for breakfast. You couldn’t care less, though. Your problems were all solved. Just have to survive medical school and everything else is in place—even if it wasn’t, at least Heeseung has you now—you don’t mind adversity, especially if it meant, Hee was there to hold your hand through it. 

—end.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

masterlist

a/n : hiiiiiii i'm so sorry for being mia ! internship and everything else with my personal life and school has been taking a toll on my mental health and i had to step back a bit which resulted into this ( along with the mob fic that i've been trying to write ) being pushed to the backburner but it's here now ! i would also like to thank u guys sm for the love you've given home race winner i genuinely did not think that fic would do well but i'm glad u guys enjoyed it ! i hope u guys enjoy this as much as that one !!

also if you have requests, or any plot ideas whether it may be for a part 2 of my other previous works lemme know here or dm me ! i'll try my best to write itttt ! ( might post my requests reminders later on but i'll let u guys know immediately if i'm uncomfy with the req, it's my first time doing this and i still don't have a concept of what i can and can't write so might still figure that out along the way )

tnx for making it this far <33

xo, anya ୨୧

[justatypicalwizard]

Katsuki doesn't believe in love at first sight

Katsuki never believed in love at first sight. How could someone meet eyes and feel as if a thunder ruptured down from the skies and struck them? To love someone means to accept every part of them and to be able to incorporate them into your everyday life. It means building a brand new everyday with that person.

In order to do so you need to know a lot about them. Who they are, what are their plans for the future, what is their character and so on. Then you need to see if you are compatible in many spheres. You need to invite them to your friends group to see if it’ll hit off, you should try living together, they need to get to know your parents.

There are simply so many things to check off the list in order to be able to say you love someone. Otherwise it’s just empty words. I love you here and there. I love you for a week. I love you when you do as I please. Bullshit.

Mina constantly pestered Katsuki that his definition of love feels more like a chore or a job interview than like something a human would be able to accomplish. It wasn’t his fault he had some standards everyone else seemed to lack.

So even now Katsuki doesn’t like to admit that he fell in love at first sight, because it wasn’t the first time when he looked at you.

A quiet ping of his phone tore him out of his work. A new message from someone he didn’t recognise. Without much thought he opened the text.

[Hi, you may not know me but we go to the same lecture on Wednesday at 1 PM. I heard you have neat notes and wanted to ask if it wouldn’t be a problem if you send me today’s ones. I  got sick and couldn’t come and I wouldn’t want to fall behind with the material. Thanks!]

Geez, was there a longer way to type it? Couldn’t you just write: can you give me notes? On the other hand he always complained about people being douchebags.

Clicking onto your profile Katsuki saw a cheesy photo and a few posts from your daily life and vacations. Nothing much to be honest. Yet, he could vaguely remember your face around the people who entered the lecture hall. It won’t hurt to help.

[Sure]

[File attached]

Pushing his phone to the far end of his desk he went back to work. A few minutes later there was another quiet ding and this time Katsuki felt irritation bubbling inside him. It was you once again.

[Thank you so much!]

[I owe you]

[If you ever need anything feel free to write]

Whatever.

It only took a week for Katsuki to be indeed looking for help from someone. Once in a while, during his hero training, he was forced to pair up with someone in order to work on his rescue skills. Usually they’d use dummies but some fucktard in the course planning team decided that it would be most helpful if the students could train with a real human.

Normally Katsuki would ask Mina. He’d swallow his pride and force himself to listen to her babbling for two hours. Just to get it done. Unfortunately, Mina dumped him today, leaving only a [sorry, not feeling well, find someone else]. Damned flu season.

Who was he supposed to ask now, Denki?

As he scrolled down his chats, your profile pic flew by making Katsuki halt.

If you ever need anything feel free to write.

Screw it, you said it yourself, might as well find a person already and move on with his day. He typed a quick explanation and pushed the send button. The day was nearing the afternoon when you responded.

[Sure, if it’s two hours I can make it. Send me when and where I should be]

He shrugged and gave you the address for today's training.

In the early evening Katsuki found himself trotting towards his usual fighting ground absentmindedly. He was thinking about something related to work at Miruko’s when the idea flew out of his head. You were there, he could see you from afar, walking in circles in front of the main door.

Were you an idiot? It was the middle of winter and the early evening cold tore through layers of warm coats to sink into your bones. Why weren’t you entering the building to warm up a bit.

That’s why Katsuki is so stubborn about the whole love at first sight thing. It certainly wasn’t that exact moment when his heart skipped a beat because of you. You were shivering, hiding your chin and red tinted cheeks deeper into the collar of your winter coat. When you spotted him you reached out a gloved hand and waved.

“What the fuck are you doing outside, get in there or you’ll catch another cold.” He persisted, ushering you towards the entrance.

“Wow, good evening to you too.” You looked at him from under your woollen hat, surprised to get yelled at first thing you see him. Though, you did hear the upcoming pro-hero Dynamite, who went to the same lecture as you, was rather intense. “I don’t know, this place just looks fancy. Didn’t want to stand inside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“So you stood outside like a dumbass not knowing where to go.”

“Exactly.”

He let you in and showed you around. After leaving your coat and getting a warm tea (his idea), you were ready to help with his training. The support students and university staff running around asked you to take off any unnecessary piece of clothing such as jewellery or sweaters that could get in the way. You gladly went through with their instructions.

You b-lined another student, a senior support course, who showed you the place where you’d be waiting to be rescued. The spacious arena was moulded into the shape of a city. Some buildings were fine, others rundown as if a villain attack rolled over them. There were paveways and roads, streetlamps and plastic trees. You even spotted a car, though it didn’t look like it could take off anytime soon. 

“It will look the same over and over. You sit or lie down in the place where I leave you and wait for your hero.” Your guide briefed the rules. “And every time pick out a different scenario and tie the band in the place that is put on it.” He handed you a dozen of ribbons with small notes attached to them. The first one you grabbed read: broken arm (tie around elbow).

“Sure.” You nodded your head and he left you on the second floor of a wannabe office building. There were a few chairs scattered around and a table that had a weird bite mark on it. You obediently wrapped the band around your arm and sat down on the floor, waiting.

You wondered how it’ll be, to get fake rescued. You were never in such a situation, always watching the villains from the comfort of your TV rather than first hand. What was Dynamite’s quirk? Suddenly you felt stupid for not knowing. On the other hand, you were never up to date with new heroes and all the popularity polls or colourful magazines. Guess you’d just have to wait and see.

Katsuki didn’t leave you for long. You were counting the pieces of shattered glass beneath your feet when a series of explosions passed beside the building. The small pieces you were meticulously adding shook and you let out a squeak when something heavy hit the wall behind you.

“Shut up, it's me.” Craning your neck, you saw Dynamite’s face, upside down, looking at you. He was halfway through the window. “What have you got?”

“God, you scared me.” You chuckled but quickly shut your mouth. The guide asked you to play the best victim you can. Victims shouldn’t laugh.

Dynamite hopped in front of you and crouched to read the note attached to your elbow. He mumbled something in the lines of fucking scenario and looked you straight in the eye.

“I’m gonna get you out of here.”

There wasn’t anything dramatic going on, it was even quiet outside save for a few shouts here and there. Yet, there was just something in a bulked man looking at you and promising you protection, one secured by his own arms. You felt like the guy from the firefighters video.

You couldn’t stop the giggle at the thought.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” Dynamite spat.

“Nothing, nothing.” You shook your hands in front of your still laughing face. “Oh shit, this one’s supposed to be broken. Okay, just save me already.” You really fought with the snicker but the cheesiness and awkwardness of the whole situation had you in a chokehold.

“Whatever.” The hero sighed, visibly annoyed, and scooped you into his hands like a sack of potatoes. “I’ll need you to wrap your legs around me. Push the broken arm into my chest and use your healthy one to hold onto me.”

You did as instructed and glued yourself to him as tight as you could. He still held you with one of his arms and just when you started to wonder how the two of you would get down from the second floor he jumped out of the window.

A scream escaped your lips but it was muffled by a loud explosion.

For the next two hours you flew through the air in Dynamite’s hands over and over again. He held you in different ways, depending on your supposed injury, but every time you landed into the safe zone, you realised you were the first or nearly the first. That guy was quick like hell.

The last scenario rolled over and it was a panic attack. You were supposed to be physically fine but otherwise unresponsive and difficult to work with due to your shock. Dynamite tried to take extra steps to calm you down, speaking about how he’ll take you to safety and how it will all be over in a second. It looked like he was having a hard time.

“I need to touch you to take you somewhere safe.” He said, wrapping one of his hands around you.

When you were both at the safe zone, with cardboard paramedics to take care of you, Dynamite did something different. Instead of leaving you in the place where the group of injured would grow, he carried you straight to the ambulance.

“She has a panic attack.” He said to the empty fake vehicle and you just couldn’t take any more of it. You erupted in a fit of laughter. Your body shook in his hands and you gripped the X on his uniform to steady yourself. “What the fuck?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You tried to explain but the laughter squeezed your throat. “I’m a shitty actor.”

“I see that.” Dynamite grumbled.

“Do you really need to talk to cardboard people and empty vehicles for two hours every week?” You asked, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“Is it really that fucking funny?”

“No, no! I get it.” You finally calmed down, letting go of the front of his costume. “It’s not that funny, maybe a bit but not that much. I think I’m just in a good mood.” You shrug your shoulders. “It was fun, flying with you, like a free rollercoaster ride.” You gave him a big, big smile. A big genuine smile. A big, genuine, lovely smile, with your eyes closed and teeth out and cheeks tinted pink.

People are stupid. That’s what Katsuki thinks. It’s not love at first sight. It’s love because of a single sight.

Even though Katsuki came to some fundamental conclusions in the topic of love he would get all defensive and intense when he was asked about how the two of you met. It would sound way better if he could say the two of you met, then started to talk more, then went on a date and agreed to meet each other and so on. He just felt so stupid, so awkward and silly when he had to admit that all it took for you was a single smile to make his heart skip a beat.

The worst part? It felt a little pathetic honestly, as if people never smiled at him, but truthly they didn’t, not like that. Not like you.

Katsuki still doesn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, every other piece of his meticulously calculated equation of love was torn down and rewritten, all of which he gladly took.

[stiltonbasket]

emperor!lwj au - I feel so bad for the staff, seeing this random young woman come into the emperor's quarters, call him by a pet name a bunch of times, and be very familiar with him. Also she's happily cuddling the prince and giving him a bath? the staff are (•ิ_•ิ)?

This ask made me laugh for a very long time, and since the fic is entirely from Wei Wuxian's POV, here's a short snippet from the staff's point of view!

--

"Steward Ling," a nervous young manservant from the Emperor's palace says one afternoon. "This one requests entry to the storeroom where Zeming zhang-gongzhu keeps the late Empress's belongings."

Ling Jun—the second chief steward of the present dynasty, and the son of the head of staff who served Emperor Qingheng upon his accession to the throne—glances up from his account-book to find two boys in their middle teens wringing their hands at the door to his office.

He sighs. His Majesty's servants are difficult to bear with—not because of any of them are overbearing, but rather because any extended span of time spent in the young Emperor's company seems to rob the boys of their wits.

"What for?" Ling Jun asks. "Huangshang and her Highness are both busy with the selection today, and Her Majesty's things are not due to be aired out until next month."

The elder of the two serving-boys shakes his head.

"Huangshang did not go to the selection," he whispers. "He is still in his room, with the little highness—and a woman. He asked us to fetch the cloak the late Emperor gifted to Her Majesty, so that he could give it to the lady."

Ling Jun nearly faints away on the spot.

The cloak that Xiao Yun is speaking of—a splendid garment made of thick wool, weighted down with pearls and shining silver beads sewn along the borders—was made for Empress Haoxian shortly after the young emperor was born. It delighted the late Emperor to see her in it, especially when the little taizi dianxia was with her; and after she passed away, the staff assumed that the cloak would be given to Grand Princess Zeming. But Zeming zhang-gongzhu laid the cloak away with the rest of her mother's things, insisting that it should be held in storage for his Majesty.

Since she would not wear it, Ling Jun expected that Empress Haoxian's cloak would never be worn again—and then, when it was made known to him that her Highness had given it to the young emperor, that it might be worn by the future Empress.

And if he was asking for it today, that meant—

"Who—who is the lady?" Ling Jun asks, bewildered. "The last I heard, the bridal candidates were waiting to be presented in an antechamber in the outer palace. Huangshang ought to have seen them by now, and if he is still in his quarters—is he with one of the maids?"

That would mean trouble in court, to be sure, but the nobles who sent their daughters to the selection would simply have to bear it. After all, Lan Wangji is only the second emperor of his line; and before Emperor Qingheng took the throne, his forefathers were known for disregarding all matters concerning rank when they wed. The late Emperor's own mother had been brought into the Lan estate as a nursemaid to one of his older cousins, and his father had stumbled upon her playing with the child in the Cloud Recesses' famed magnolia garden and fallen in love at first sight.

Perhaps it is one of Zeming zhang-gongzhu's maidservants, Ling Jun thinks hopefully. The Grand Princess's maids are sensible girls, and most of them have known his Majesty since they were children themselves: and though it might cause some difficulty if her Highness were to be suddenly outranked by one of her servants, such a girl ought to do well as Lan Wangji's Empress if she were properly educated for the role before her wedding.

"N-No, Lord Steward," mumbles the younger of his Majesty's serving-boys. "From what Xiao Tong overheard, the maiden is one of the xiunu from the selection. But she ran away and met Huangshang in his quarters instead of waiting to see him in the reception hall."

Ling Jun's vision blurs. "What?"

Xiao Tong nods furiously. "He called her Wei-guniang, so she must be a lady of rank. And—and Huangshang has her calling him by his birth name, just like Huanghou-niangniang used to! No one else has called him so since she died—even her Highness calls him by his courtesy name! He told me to fetch luncheon for her, and he wants to give her the mantle that the late Emperor gave her Majesty: so that must mean that she is the bride he has chosen."

"Wei?" There are no families of note called Wei living in the capital. "Whose daughter is she?"

At this juncture, one of the maids materializes on the threshold with a wild grin on her face. "Have you heard already?" she whispers, delighted. "About the girl in Huangshang's private quarters?"

"Gossip is forbidden, Xia Ye," Ling Jun snaps. "Do you have any proper business here?"

Xia Ye rolls her eyes at him. "He ordered her a fish clay-pot and braised zhusun with bamboo shoots," she says conspiratorially, before turning to Xiao Tong. "Guess what she's doing now, Tong'er! She's giving his little highness a bath!"

At this, Ling Jun nearly swallows his own tongue. His little highness—that is, his Majesty's ward, and a cousin of his on the late Empress's side—is a good child, with only one fault: a terrible fear of water, whether warm or cold. He suffers no one but his imperial father to bathe him, much to his nurse's distress—and if he had permitted a stranger to give him a bath less than an hour after meeting her, Huangshang might as well put the palace staff out of their misery and marry the girl tomorrow.

"And what's more, I know who she is," Xia Ye declares, before making a smug face at Ling Jun. "She's Jiang Fengmian's yang daughter. The older daughter is already married to Lord Jin's di son, so she couldn't attend the selection—but I heard that the yang daughter fits every one of the requirements Huangshang insisted on when he gave up trying to delay his marriage. She's older than Huangshang, I think—twenty-four or twenty-five, at the least—but Xie Li's mother is a cook at the girls' academy in the city, and she says that Wei Wuxian is the most brilliant scholar that the Grandmaster has ever taught."

All this means little to Ling Jun. The only noblewoman he has more than passing knowledge of is the Grand Princess, Lan Xichen; and his late Majesty thought it meet to educate her in everything from the six classical arts to swordsmanship and military history. Certainly the court found it absurd that Huangshang wanted a wife who was at least as well-learned as the scholars beginning their last years of study for the imperial examinations, but Ling Jun merely found it rather sensible.

"Then do you think he truly means to marry Young Mistress Wei?" he asks warily. "I suppose he must, or the lady would object to spending time with him without a chaperone."

"I don't know about that," Xia Ye says, shrugging. "He hasn't asked for Wei-guniang's hand, so who can say how matters will go?"

Ling Jun frowns. "What do you mean? She was invited here as a bridal candidate, and Huangshang clearly likes her better than all the rest, so—"

"Huangshang is currently pretending to be one of his little highness's attendants," Xia Ye informs him. "Wei-guniang doesn't know that he's the Emperor, and we're not supposed to tell her so."

"His—his attendant? Wei-guniang thinks that his Majesty is a servant?"

"Yes. And until he sees fit, nobody is to tell Wei-guniang otherwise."

With that, Xia Ye tosses her braids back over her shoulder and flounces out of Ling Jun's office, looking more gleeful than ever.

Ling Jun reaches into his desk with trembling hands and pulls out the key to the storehouse devoted to the late Empress's belongings.

"Here," he says hoarsely, handing the key to Xiao Tong. "Fetch the cloak and bring it to Huangshang. And mind how you speak to Young Mistress Wei; with any luck, she will be the new Empress before the year is out, and the first thing she will do after her wedding is choose which of the servants attending the inner palace are permitted to remain there."

"I wouldn't mind being dismissed, to be honest," Xiao Tong mumbles. "Huangshang looks just as much in love with her as the late emperor was with Empress Haoxian, and they've only just met. I don't fancy getting caught mistaking any of Wei-guniang's orders after she's married."

"Bite your tongue!" scolds Ling Jun. "Now deliver the cloak, and be quick about it. If there is so much as a speck of dust on it by the time it reaches Young Mistress Wei, I'll send you off to the laundry bureau before the madam has the chance to say a word about it."

Xiao Tong yelps and disappears, taking his hapless friend with him; and Ling Jun leans back in his chair with his eyes tightly shut, wondering if Wei Wuxian will change at all after she becomes the Empress.

"I am too old to serve such a spirited Empress," he mutters to himself. "Perhaps it is time for Ling Yan to take my place."

But it will be many months before Ling Jun's son can succeed him as the head steward. A change as great as that must wait until after Huangshang's wedding, and then for the new Empress to grow accustomed to her role as master of the inner palace; and all told, Ling Yan cannot hope to take Ling Jun's place before this time next year.

And if Ling Yun must remain until then, well...

"I suppose I might as well stay," he grumbles. "And by then, perhaps I will decide that there is no need to leave."

(Little did Ling Jun know that he would decide nothing of the kind. By the following summer, he would be driven half out of his wits by the newly-wed Wei Wuxian. But Ling Yan would have resigned his post and retired to the countryside under the duress of serving such a mistress; and as such, Ling Jun was forced—not too unhappily, for Wei Wuxian was as kind as she was flighty—to remain in his position as chief steward.

Xia Ye, on the other hand, would be swiftly elevated to the position of Wei Wuxian's chief maidservant: but the less said about that, the better.)

[aviiarie]

cws & notes: reader (and kaveh) are VERY implied to be aromantic or on the aromantic spectrum. mentions of kissing. lots of platonic affection. platonic kaveh & gn!reader. 1.1k words. wrote this for myself tbh

“So are you two dating?”

You wish you could say it's the first time you've heard the question. And you wish you could bring yourself to be annoyed about hearing it again, but you know there's no malice or spite in the words. Only a polite sort of curiousity, unaware of the way your stomach turns at the thought.

And maybe you wish you could tell Nilou 'no, we're not, why would you think that?' but you know your hand is intertwined with his, and his knee is touching yours, and you have his cheek leaning against the top of your head. You know how it looks, but that never mattered. It felt comfortable, like you fit together just right. Affectionate, with no strings attached.

That was the part that no one seemed to get. You and him were at an understanding that seemed to make sense to no one but yourselves; the squeezing hugs, and nicknames, and nights spent staying up until 3am didn't mean a thing. When you fell asleep on his shoulder, when he chastely kissed you goodbye before leaving on a work trip, it wasn't because you both harboured a secret love you were too shy to say out loud.

You adored him, of course. He was your best friend. But that was it; no strings.

There were always those who couldn't wrap their heads around the thought, the ones who insisted that they had to be at least into each other a little bit. So much time spent being friends, such closeness had to speak to a blossoming romance that just hadn't quiet bloomed yet, right?

What they didn't know was you had tried, your senior year at the Akademiya. It was after all of the comments about how odd it was that they were so close without being a couple finally started to get to them. During a party hosted by a classmate you don't remember the name of, when the teasing and jabs had gotten a little too much, you had found him taking a breather out on the front steps.

Conversation came easily, comfort came quietly, and soon the topic shifted to what people were saying. It was always talk, rumours, gossip. But he could see how they were weighing on you. He could see the look of doubt in your eyes, wondering if this was something you were supposed to want.

If you can't bring yourself to fall for the most important person in your life, then what was wrong with you? Was love a prize that you were never going to win, a lock that you're never going to find the key for?

“Will you kiss me?” You blurted out, and his eyebrows raise. “J-Just once. I just... everyone keeps telling me I'm supposed to like you, and you're supposed to like me, but I just...”

“You want to see?” Kaveh asked hesitantly. You swallow, and nod. “I don't want to do something you don't want to do.”

“I want to. Please, I... I don't want to ask anyone else.” You paused, before quietly adding on, “If there's truly something wrong with me, I want to know now.”

The pinch between Kaveh's eyebrows deepened, but there was a flicker of vulnerability behind his eyes. Some part of him was flashing with the same fear, wondering if there was something wrong with him too, all because he couldn't muster up enough emotion to see you in a romantic light.

Carefully, he placed his hand on your cheek, bringing your face closer to his. There was a pause, before he met your lips in an awkward kiss. There were no sparks that crackled against your mouth, no butterflies in your stomach. It was a unpleasant clashing of teeth together, with your cracked lips pressing against his soft ones for a second too long.

You pull away, face flushed with embarrassment more than anything. “I... I don't think I want to do that again.”

“Me neither.” Kaveh grimaced. He sighed, leaning back to give you a bit more space. “Why do you worry so much about what they say?”

“Because! I'm supposed to enjoy it, aren't I?” There were tears in your eyes, but you didn't care. If there was one person you could cry around, it was him. “What is wrong with me? Why can't I even fake it?”

“You don't need to!” Kaveh said quickly. He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Maybe... maybe some people just don't like that sort of love. I know I sure don't, and I've known you long enough to figure out you don't either. We don't have to be a couple to care about each other, right?”

You stared at him, slightly dazed. “...I guess not.”

And since that night, you've never been able to forget his words, and the way he said them. It was like your world got shifted around, and nothing seemed quite the same. All the stress about love, all the worry about whether people thought you were a couple seemed so insignificant all of a sudden.

Yet, your new lighter worldview never stopped that burning question, that followed the pair of you like a shadow.

“So, are you two dating?”

The question echoes in your head, sounding over and over. Nilou is still staring at you, waiting for an answer, although her gaze occasionally flicks to your linked hands resting on his lap.

“We're just friends,” Kaveh responds smoothly. He lets go of your hand long enough to wave away the question, laughing lightly. “Honestly, the amount of times I've been asked that...”

“O-Oh!” Nilou's eyes widen, and her cheeks turn pink. Part of you feels bad for making her look so flustered, but the uncomfortable twist in your gut reminds you that it was her question that started it in the first place. “I didn't mean to assume... you just look so close!”

“We are.” He smiles gently. “But I can assure you we are very happy as friends. Neither of us are interested in that sort of relationship, much less with each other.”

She nods, as if she understands, but there's still confusion behind her expression.

It didn't matter. People didn't have to get what was so special about the two of you. They didn't have to understand what you had, and what you lacked, and why it didn't make much of a difference at all.

You were friends, best friends. And that was plenty enough love for the both of you.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[just-a-ghost00]

You got mail 💌

Let’s find out what the person on your mind has to say to you. Pick one of the following emojis and discover your reading.

🌍 🩵 🌄 🤠

Group 1 🌍

I may not show it to you but I am really happy we met. Everyday with you feels like a new adventure. Though we are worlds apart and so different from each other, I really feel like we match perfectly. You make me feel like I belong. Every moment spent with you is so much fun. It makes me want to jump forward and explore. You are so sweet and generous, so playful that I can’t help but to play along. I feel so lucky being with you. There is so much I want to do with you. I want to hang out with you and get to know you more. Maybe we could have a couple drinks, play in a park, have a little date by the river… if you wish. I feel so boring compared to you. With me, everything is always black and white. But you, my love, are so colorful and bright. I wish we were a family. I wish I could wake up in the morning to find you sitting at the table, eating breakfast with a smile on your face. I wish I could share with you my favorite spots and take you to every place I get to see. I wish I could find a way to express all that you mean to me. I tend to see the glass half empty. But when I’m with you I want to believe everything is possible. You have filled my cup with your love and I am so thankful for that. I can’t find the words to tell you how much I owe to you. You’ve made me a better person and I feel like I could never return the favor.

Group 2 🩵

I may look like all is well and fine but to tell you the truth I feel hollow. And I could use some fun. I always seem so busy, always the life of the party, making everybody laugh and ensuring they have a good time. But deep inside, it’s getting tough. As the days go by, I feel my energy depleting and my motivation as well. I don’t even know why I do this anymore. I force myself for the sake of keeping appearances but honestly I’m not sure I like it at all. I’m afraid that if you dig deep enough, you wouldn’t like what you find there. I am much more fragile than I seem. Also much more mellow and soft when I get the chance. But lately I’m more of a zombie than anything. I don’t think I could bring you much joy nor comfort. I’m afraid I’ve turned bitter. It’s all about work and making sure the money gets in and less about enjoying what I’m doing. I need to pay the bills. There’s competition around. I can’t afford to lose. Everyone’s counting on me. People look up to me. I sacrificed a lot to get there. I can’t back down now. Who would I be if I did? I can’t disappoint. It’s all a masquerade but it’s for a cause. It might not look great to you but it means a lot to me. So, sorry if I’m acting cold but… it’s all for you baby. Don’t go thinking I found someone better. Believe me I don’t have the time for that.

Group 3 🌄

Hold on a minute ! I know what you’re gonna think. What the heck is he/she saying? But hey, let me explain you’ll get it ! I may not be the strongest, the wisest or the most impressive of them all but one thing that’s sure about me is that I only have good intentions for you. I am ready to fight for you if that must be done. Thought I’m not good at that. Listen, my point is I really like you. I want to be with you, have fun with you, chat with you. I want us to take our time and get to know each other and hopefully to grow old together but that’s another story. With you I feel like a kid again. Sometimes, I gotta say, the feeling can be irritating. But at the same time it is freeing. I don’t have to chose a side. I don’t have to act a certain way to be accepted by you or understood. And that’s crazy! I’ve never experienced that before. Usually I would try to conform and play nice, show my best side and stick to the plan. But ever since I met you I want to free myself of those restraints. I want to find my home. I want to express my full potential without fearing being rejected or not belonging. I know you’ll never kick me out. Because you are the same aren’t you? The things I’ve seen, what I’ve been through, you’ve been there as well, right? I want to make a promise to you. Whatever comes our way, I swear I won’t run away. Even though it is scary and seems impossible, I will always work hard and do my best to make it. I may not be exactly your type or what you imagined a partner should be, but I am willing to learn. I am willing to tune to your melody and shelter whatever we may build together, not matter how unstable it may seem. I want you to feel comfortable with me. I want you to feel as safe with me as I feel with you. So if you’ll let me, let me fulfill that promise. You won’t regret it.

Group 4 🤠

To be honest, at first I didn’t get the best of vibes from you. I was a little intimidated and didn’t want to get to know you. Especially considering what people were saying about you. But I tried to see past your exterior and once I got to know you I found out that you were very chill. Maybe it was because I didn’t know you. Maybe I feared the unknown territory you represented. Maybe I was just afraid of going deep. But curiosity got the best of me. And luckily for both of us I stayed around long enough to make my own opinion. And I have to say that you are quite surprising. I won’t lie, being with you asks a lot of efforts on my part. But every second spent with you is worth it. In your presence, I feel comfortable. Being with you reminds me of my childhood. I think of my mother and my family, of the days we spent together before I moved away and followed the wind where it took me. Every page of our story takes me deeper within. I see sides of myself I never noticed or didn’t want to remember. I remember the innocent days where doing something new weren’t as terrifying and meeting new people sounded like a thrill. Being with you I feel blessed and content. There’s a light heartedness and a warmth in my heart I wouldn’t trade for anything. When I’m alone at home you’re all I think about. When I’m at work also. There isn’t a single moment when you’re not on my mind. When I’m with you I feel hopeful. I think that maybe life isn’t as tough as I thought it would be. That maybe there is more waiting for me. Please, show me more of your different sides. Tell me more about what makes you happy. Let me in and let me see for myself what you are made of. I’m begging you don’t shut me out. I want more of you.

[websterss]

ABOVE EVERYTHING ELSE — TYLER HARRISON

SUMMARY: Tyler has everything to lose especially when Weyland Corps has you in their hold, so why wouldn't he follow through with his orders in order to get you back.

WARNING(S): angst, fluff,

WORD COUNT: 2,844

PAIRING: Tyler Harrison x fem!Reader

A/N: I hope you enjoy it! Feedback is always welcomed!

MASTERLIST

Tyler sat rigid and on edge as he waited in the west wing of the ship's infirmary bay. The cool metal bench seeped through his pants as he bounced his knee for five minutes. The long wait agitated him and made him uneasy. He clocked his three o'clock and then his nine, both ends of the hallways vacant and deserted apart from him and his need to see you. They usually were sporadic with being on time and persisting he be there on time for his debrief before he was allowed to see you again. That was Weyland's leverage over him, holding you high over his head, out of reach, and using your status updates as a means to get him to cave into doing their dirty work.

This new task made him feel like a snake. Made him hate the way he was going to have to betray those he cared about. Rain. How she and Andy were his first step in getting you back to him. This was the last of many debriefs he had been given before, many tasks where he had to carry out and commit crimes that plagued and haunted his dreams. Everything he's done, everything he was about to do was unforgivable. There was also that slight voice in the back of his head weighing all the possibilities where you would find out about his assignments and leave him. He at times thinks you should but you never do. You don't leave because if there was one thing that was keeping you here, still being with him, it was the undying love you had for one another.

"Harrison." A nurse calls out, pulling him out of his spiraling. He straightens his back and stands up. "Follow me."

Tyler nods, not one to question orders, and follows the nurse down the hallway quietly.

Tyler follows the nurse through multiple lefts and rights. He reigned in on the fact you weren’t easily accessible to reach. The facility was large and sterile, cold and unsettling. The nurse leads him down to a large room that looks more like a high-tech lab. They reach the closed door, where she swipes her badge across the scanner, a beep is emitted from the device and before he knew it the door was swishing open in a slide. The second his foot crosses the threshold, he meets your gaze. He takes no time in rushing towards you, wrapping his arms around your fragile state. He sighs, breathing in your scent, the oxygen cords inserted in your nostrils colliding with his chest as he hugs you gently but firmly.

"Ty!" You breathe out, a smile dawning on your tired expression.

Tyler feels himself at ease at the sound of your voice, his arms tighten around you as if you would disappear if he let go. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, taking his time to drink in the sight of you alive in front of him.

"Hey, sweetheart." He greets you tenderly, pulling back to get a proper look at you. You look so small and fragile in comparison to the massive medical bed you're lying in. The oxygen tubes in your nostrils and the plethora of wires that run from you to the various pieces of medical machinery make you look more like an experiment than a person. It breaks him to always see you this way. His gaze never falters from you as he calls over his shoulder to the nurse. "Leave us." Once he hears the swish of the door open and close again he looks back and then faces you once again. You look back at the door, feeling at ease now that you have him all to yourself.

"I've missed you. You weren't here last week. T-they said I'm getting better." Your breaths are slow and labored.

"I know. I couldn't come." A pang of guilt makes his stomach twist as he remembers the real reason he hadn't shown. "But I'm here now, alright? Sorry, I couldn't be here earlier." The words felt like bile in his mouth, but he pushed past the feeling as he squeezed your hand in his. "I had a meeting to attend to, but all's well and said now. I'm here and I'm all yours." He reaches forward to tuck one side of your oxygen tube behind your ear.

"I-I like the sound of that." You hum in delight, melting into his gentle caresses.

"Of course you do. You're pretty easy to please, sweetheart." Ty teases softly, his thumb rubbing small circles against the top of your knuckles. He studies your features, noting how tired you look, he can also see that your hair is getting long and unkempt. The sight of your hair growing back gives him all the hope he needs to push through.

"I missed seeing your smile." He murmurs, his hand continuing to stroke against your temple and hair. A beat of silence passes. "I think the treatments are starting to pay off. We were right to start you on them. I mean you're glowing compared to how you were these last two months." He beams. "How have they been treating you here? Is everything okay? Have they been too harsh or rough on you? I'll get Captain Mayfair to provide you with better nurses if they are. I won't hesitate to–" He inquires, his voice lowered slightly.

"Ty, baby, it's okay. They've made sure to make me feel as comfortable as possible."

"Promise?" Ty probes, staring earnestly into your eyes. "You would tell me, right? If they have been harming you? You'd tell me."

The way Tyler's looking at you lets him know there's a good chance that if any of the staff here have been making you feel uncomfortable you wouldn't complain. He knows you'd be too nice to even consider it.

"You'd kill anyone on sight if you so much as saw a bruise on my skin…I'm okay." You reassure him. Squeezing his hands. He looks down at your grip, amazed by the strength you've garnered again.

He chuckles, looking down at your intertwined hands, a soft breath of relief passing through his lips. The slight squeeze of your hand does little to soothe his fears, but for the moment, he lets himself bask in the fact that you're okay. It's more than he can hope for given the circumstances.

"You don't know the half of what I would do for you." He murmurs, slowly bringing your hand up to his lips. He plants a light kiss on your knuckles. "You're my top priority, infinitely."

"Infinitely?" You try to mask your chuckle, but he hears you anyway. "Two weeks ago you said I was a top priority, yet eternally."

"Forgive me, my love, for thinking you're the most important thing in the entire goddamn universe?" He smirks, rolling his eyes playfully as a scoff bubbles from his lips. He gives you a lopsided smile, bringing your hand to his cheek to nuzzle his face into it. He shuts his eyes and relishes the feeling of you against his skin. "You're top priority every single day and that's not going to change, you know. But when I say eternally…" His eyes open, looking back up at you. "I mean eternally. Until I die, or if you give out on me, and I no longer have you, the one thing keeping me from jumping into space without a suit. You're my top priority, no matter what. It's you above everything and everyone!"

"Well…I-I wouldn't go as far as to say above everyone, surely there are others that trump me-"

Ty pulls back slightly, a small frown playing at his features as he cocks his head to the side to look at you more directly.

"No." He asserts, his voice firm. "No. Don't even go there. You're top prior, my love. You are above all of them. You'll always be above everyone. I wouldn't be where I am today without you by my side. I wouldn't still be breathing if it weren't for you. You're the–the center of the Milky Way, my love. You are a…" He pauses, searching your eyes for any doubt, glitching when his brain farted.

"A black hole?" You quipp.

"Hush." He teases, grinning down at you. He playfully jabs your side with his index finger, watching a small smile grace your features. Seeing that smile makes his heart leap into his throat. He'll never get used to it. "You cheeky thing." He mutters, grabbing your other free hand. He takes it in his, intertwining the other hand that was there. He brings both your hands up to his lips again and gently kisses your knuckles. "You're more than a black hole. You're a supernova that's going to explode everyone's galaxy." He pauses, his smile never leaving his lips. "Including mine."

You flush under his warm eyes. You bite down on your bottom lip, your demeanor evolving into one of timidness. He had got you with that one, that was for sure. And he seemed to notice the fault in your composure. His smirk only grew.

"Really? That's the one that gets you?" He coos, grinning at the lovely flush that was spreading to your cheeks. It wasn't often that he was able to render you into a speechless blushing mess but when he could, my god did it fill him with an incredible amount of pride and love for you. His fingers gently squeeze your knuckles. "I'll remember this for next time, my love. Duly noted." He remarks slyly.

"It was good…" You laugh.

"It was pretty good, huh?" He teases lightly, his thumbs slowly starting to rub soothing circles against your knuckles. He chuckles, bringing his gaze up to your eyes again. "You don't make it too hard, my love. Just mentioning anything with a celestial connection and you're blushing like a school-aged teen, practically eating right out of the palms of my hands."

"It's the accent." You shrug. Blaming his pronunciation of his words and delivery. Mostly the delivery.

"Oh, now you're just grasping at straws, sweetheart." He quips again, grinning at you. "Now, I admit, my accent might be one of the finer things about me, but it's not exactly the primary reason you get all flushed." He hums, letting his thumbs press a little harder into your knuckles.

“You’re right, it’s all your hotness that’s making me swoon.” You feign a sigh.

"Yeah right, you big fibber." He calls you out, but there's a hint of a smirk that forms on his face. "You're swooning because you know who I belong to." He replies, his voice taking on a lower, gruff tone. "You swoon because you know I'm yours." His voice is just above a whisper, his eyes darkening. "Only yours, sweetheart."

You avert your gaze down to your lap. A faint smile displayed on your lips. But it slowly fades as Tyler tilts his head to meet your eyes. "W-what did they tell you?"

Tyler's face quickly morphs from playful to apprehensive. His thumbs had stopped their motion and now rested against your knuckles as he looked into your eyes.

"Let's not. Let's not talk about that right now." He says carefully, his dark eyes narrowing.

"Tyler, I can see it practically eating at you. What is it this time? What are they sending you to do?"

Tyler's jaw clenches, his eyes closing briefly as he lets out a soft sigh. He had been praying to anyone that you weren't going to mention his work for Weyland-Yutani. He should have known better. You were never the type to simply ignore the big elephant in the room.

His lips form into a thin line as he averts his gaze away from you. His mind is in an internal debate, contemplating whether to be honest with you or not. Tyler bites at the inside of his cheek, hesitating before he decides to speak.

"There's something new." He pauses, trying to organize his words. He looks at your face, noticing the growing sadness in your expression. His eyes soften as a wave of sadness mirrors over his own features. "They…" He pauses again, his jaw clenching slightly. "They told me it would be a retrieval."

"A retrieval for what?"

"Some sort of substance called Plagiarus Praepotens?" 

"Plagiarus Praepotens? What's that?"

"They didn't tell me much just that it was extracted from a xenomorph and combined with human DNA to perfect humans, whatever that means."

"A xenomorph...what the hell is that?"

"From what I’ve been told. I don't want to know."

"Tyler maybe this one isn't such a good idea. I mean from the sounds of it, it doesn't feel safe."

"I don't have a choice, my love." He mumbles, his head lowering in shame and guilt, the reality of the situation hitting him like a truck. He releases your hand from his grip and turns his whole body away from you. It pains him to feel weak but the truth is that is exactly what he is in the grand scheme of things. "I have my orders so I have to do this. I'll get them what they need, but not only that…" He inhales deeply. "I found a way to get us to Yvaga."

"Yvaga…Tyler what are you talking about?"

For the first time since you've known him, he looked desperate. In the years you'd been together, you've never once seen a crack in his confidence. He was always the strong and steady shoulder for you to lean on, but right now, in this very moment, that facade he usually wore was cracking. The facade he'd tried so hard to keep up for you was crumbling.

"I-" He pauses, swallowing thickly. "I have a plan."

"Ty…" You warned.

His eyes flicker around your face, his fingers twitching against his pants. His features shifting from desperate, to guilty and then finally to pleading. "There's cryostasis chambers on that spacecraft." He murmurs, licking his lips nervously. "I-I just need you to trust me."

"You're gonna go rogue…"

"No. No, I'm-" He stops himself short and he sighs deeply. "I-" He hesitates. His eyes are locked on your face and a wave of guilt washes over him as he sees the look in your eyes. "Damnit." He mumbled under his breath, his shoulders slumping.

He leans forward from where he sat on your bed, bringing his head close to yours. He tilts his head down and presses his forehead against your shoulder, his hands coming up to rest on either side of your waist. "Sweetheart…" He mutters, his voice hoarse. "I'll tell you everything. I swear. But, you have to trust me." He pleaded. He could feel your body stiffen against him, whether it was from the pain of his grip or from what he was asking of you, he didn't know. "I just want to get you out of here."

"Yvaga was always just a pipedream for us…It always felt so out of reach." You shake your head.

"It's not, my love." He whispers against your shoulder. He tightens his grip on your body ever so slightly. "It's not out of reach. I know it's not. I-I just need you to hold on for a bit longer. Can you do that, for me?" He murmurs, his head slowly pulling away from your shoulder, so he can look you in the eyes again. His expression had changed to one of almost desperation. "I meant every would I said about getting you out of here and I intend to keep my word."

"I know you do Tyler, but what are the risks huh? What's the catch in all this?"

"I-" He cuts himself off short, his eyes flickering away from your face for a moment. He knew he couldn't lie to you, you wouldn't accept that. But the truth wasn't going to make the situation any better. Instead, he slowly drags his hand up from your side to wrap a piece of your hair around his finger. He gently rubbed the strands between his fingers. He took a deep shaky breath before he was able to answer you. "Honestly..." He began, his voice low. "I need Andy to be able to access the entryways onto the ship."

"Andy? But that would mean you'd need to talk to Rain about him."

He nods his head slowly. "Yeah…I-" He pauses, hesitating. "I-I'll have to talk to Rain." He replies, his tone sounding reluctant. He didn't want to get anyone else involved in the situation, especially since he was essentially putting them on the line in the process. But what other choice did he have?

"Y-you're not gonna tell her about all this are you?" Your voice grows shaky.

He shakes his head slowly, his brow furrowing. "No." He murmurs in response. There was no way in hell he was going to drag anyone else into this. Putting you at risk was the last thing he wanted to do, but there were no other options. "It's you above everything and everyone else."

[wystiix]

"love is sour grapes"

❥ pairing: arlecchino x fem!reader ❥ synopsis: It's a rainy night and you're snoozing. Arlecchino just watches over you while thinking about your time together, and how far you both had come. ❥ cw: n/a ❥ additional tags: second pov perspective, reader is not traveler ❥ word count: 804 ❥ notes: hi hi so like ya i haven't played her story quest, but i wanted to write this dedicated to my bae (vel)!! i hope this isn't too inaccurate.. erm yeah. i was cooking this shit at 2am in the morning so take what you get. ❥ taglist: @honkai-freak (for u bbg) @mikashisus @tragedy-of-commons

According to the books, love is an intense feeling of deep affection. It is often portrayed as a positive feeling, from the butterflies fluttering in your stomach to the overall warmth that spreads throughout your entire being.

It can elevate you to the heights of bliss. At the same time, it can cut deeply enough to leave scars.

Arlecchino has experienced the latter. Her heart, if it still could be called that, had long been hardened like stone. What is love, if not a knife carefully pressed to her heart? She had avoided it for so long. The thought, the concept itself—it never dawned upon her.

Yet, here she was.

You slept soundly, snuggling in the sheets as you took off to the land of nod. Arlecchino simply observed you on the other side of the bed, watching your chest rise and fall to the sound of pouring rain outside. 

How would one describe such a complex feeling? Why did she feel all tingly whenever she thought of you?

She leaned in and brushed a few strands of your hair to the side, showing your peaceful, sleeping face. A slight prickle met her fingers and a warmth seeped through her chest as a result. There it was again.

It was almost hard to fathom—and pathetic—that people would go to any lengths for the sake of their beloved. However, now she understood. Now that you were here, she’d willingly hurl herself into a pit of barbed wires if you desired.

The faint warmth of your body coaxed her closer, unable to pull her gaze away from yours. Her eyes traced over your sleeping form, memorising the shape of your face that she so adored. She felt so… alive. Alive in a way that almost scared her.

What does it truly mean to deserve love? Is it something that must be earned like a hard-earned gift, or does it simply come to you?

Honestly, she wasn't sure herself. She didn't know why you had chosen… her out of all the people in Teyvat. Arlecchino didn't have to work for your love, no? She had already earned it according to you.

Deserving. That word left a bitter taste in her mouth. What did she do to deserve this peace, this unwavering affection? What did she do to deserve you at all? Nothing, she thought. And yet, you still chose her. Despite the amount of blood stains she had and the rough calluses on her hands, you still intertwined your fingers with hers, bringing them to your lips and pressing a tender kiss on each one.

Is love a blessing or a burden?

It was like a sour grape, once thought too sharp to swallow. Though, the grape turned out to be much sweeter than expected the more she chewed.

Perhaps, she'd be willing to bite the pain as well.

She scooted closer to you, her breath warm against your skin as she gently brushed her fingertips across your face. You stirred in your sleep, instinctively reaching out for her warmth, and she let you find her.

Silence enveloped the dark room as Arlecchino lay there, staring up at the ceiling. The rain pattering against the window mirrored the steady beat of your heart, grounding her in the present at this very moment. She stroked your hair lovingly, relishing the softness of it.

Soft, like fragile threads of silk. Her mind raced. That leaves her to ponder: what if she hurt you? What if the same hands of a Harbinger that had caused so much pain to others couldn’t hold you as gently as they should?

“I don’t deserve you.”

You didn’t seem to hear her. She felt you shift slightly once again, a soft mumble escaping your lips as your hand blindly reached out and curled around her fingers. Her fingers grazed your cheek again, gentler than the first touch as if she feared you’d slip away if she wasn’t careful. She pressed a fleeting kiss on your hair.

Arlecchino wanted to say so many things to you. How thankful she really was for someone to walk into her life.

She swallowed hard.

“Even then, I'm quite content it was you, I…” she paused, processing her thoughts.

The words were foreign on her tongue. She'd never spoken them before. However, the truth radiated from within.

“I love you.” 

The words slipped out, softer than she intended, but they felt right. They didn't have a bitter, sour aftertaste to it. It rolled off her tongue so, so easily. She wasn’t sure if you heard. If you didn’t… perhaps that was for the best.

She didn't deserve you. She never would.

But with the way you held onto her like an anchor, she knew one thing for certain—she would never let go of the one she cherished ever again.