#I wish I could have gotten the chance to tell him how much he meant to me

[amapolamystery]

8.5.2022

[maximoff-pan]

the ultimate deception | benedict bridgerton (part one)

summary: you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve?

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!(artist)reader

word count: 4k

warning(s): poor writing and dialogue (sue me, I'm rusty lol), very unedited so if there are mistakes, I apologize, misogyny, penelope aka Lady Whistledown's biggest defender

a/n: this is definitely going to be more than one part, but I wanted to post something after so many months. Let me know how you like it (or don't like it haha)...comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

• • • • • •

“I wish I possessed merely an ounce of your talent.” 

Benedict’s gaze seems to be wholly absorbing your latest painting, a depiction of the botanical wonders of London’s Royal Kew Gardens. 

You puff out a breath, blowing on the feathery end of one of your writing quills. In your haste, it had gotten loose, tickling your face irritatingly. Tucking it back behind your ear, you wave him off. “You have much more talent than you give yourself credit for.” You admit through squinted eyes, scanning your work. “You simply lack conviction. And you worry far too much about what others think of you.”

Benedict smiles, receiving your words as the highest of praise. He reaches out to take a better look at the piece of art before him. “You flatter me.” He mumbles in awe. “But I suppose there’s a chance you could be right.”

Chuckling at his words, you grin knowingly. You’re right. It’s more than a chance…you just are. He knows it too. 

You both continue to steadily eye the painting, you out of critical evaluation of your work, and him in sheer admiration of it. 

Benedict’s favourite part remains the beautifully bloomed magnolias that are scattered across the canvas. He’d been sure to tell you numerous times of their elegance while you’d been working on it, eagerly awaiting the finished product. As you’ve come to realize, Benedict loves watching you work. It’s one of the prices you’ve had to pay for his allowance of your workstation being at Bridgerton House, if you could even call it that.  

You are grateful, truly. You wouldn’t be able to make your own living without his kindness. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep to yourself in the way you prefer to. 

“When will Augustus Leighton be displaying his latest work of perfection?” Benedict’s question reminds you of your fate as an artist. 

Augustus Leighton is the pseudonym you paint under. Using his name, you have become a well known artist among the ton, even going so far as to have a painting hung at Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult, you must admit, pretending to be someone else. But it’s a necessary evil.

Painting as a woman would get you nowhere. Especially as a woman with no money (particularly at the time you began), no status, and no husband. 

Your mother is a seamstress with little to her name and your father was a servant to Violet and Edmund Bridgerton, before his heart became too weak. He passed away when you were thirteen, only a few years after the Bridgerton children had lost their own father. You’d grown up with little money, but Violet had been kind to both you and your mother, seeing how close you’d become with her children. 

You were raised alongside them, Benedict and Eloise becoming your closest of friends. At three and twenty, there are five years between you and the two siblings in either direction, with Eloise being freshly eighteen, and Benedict having turned twenty eight. To this day, they remain two of only three people who know of your true identity, outside of Penelope Featherington. 

You hadn’t exactly meant for Eloise or Penelope to find out about it, but once they had, it became comforting to have more than just Benedict to speak to about your predicament. Especially considering, although Benedict has been wonderfully supportive, he could never understand the struggle a woman must endure in a male dominated world.  

“Likely never. This one is a gift for Lady Danbury.” You answer Benedict’s inquiry after a bout of silence. “She’s spoken about her love of these gardens quite regularly, so I thought, why not have Mr. Leighton recreate it for her?” 

“How will you get it to her?” He questions. 

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I have my ways, lest you worry about it.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The next few days are interesting to say the least. You’d somehow managed to get the painting delivered to Lady Danbury, and as far as Violet had been willing to speak of her latest visit with the formidable aforementioned woman, you have been made aware that she adores it. 

You’d also heard more about it from Benedict, who’d mentioned something about her being at a loss for words, an ultimate shock to both him and his mother. They’d never seen her look so bewildered. 

According to Eloise, Lady Danbury had been surprised to receive such a gift, especially of something so near and dear to her heart. She’d said it reminded her of her time with the Queen, telling the young Bridgerton woman about the months just after her husband had passed, when a new independent lifestyle began to bloom for her. 

The painting itself reminded her that women like her could be free, and one day, they would be. That sort of metaphorical mindset had definitely appealed to Eloise’s sense of social justice. She’d been more than excited to tell you about the older woman’s reaction to your art, claiming it to be a wonderful revelation. 

Today though, as you sit in the Bridgerton’s common living room, the opposite representation of said female autonomy rests in your hands. The paper feels rough against your skin as you pass it to Eloise who’s propped excitedly to the left of you. You’ve never been a fan of Lady Whistledown’s gossip column, although you can admire her unabashed confidence. But despite her strong will as an author, which could be seen as an inherently empowering trait, you are of the impression that she goes about it in an entirely backward way. 

Women don’t need to put each other down to build themselves up. It accomplishes nothing, consequently acting as a source of nourishment for the patriarchy you find yourself trapped in. 

“You’re not going to read it?” Eloise asks as she takes the pamphlet from you. 

“I never do.” Is your instant reply. 

Penelope perks up at the mention of the column, eyes trained curiously on you. If you had known better, you’d say she was a little too interested. 

But at this moment you shrug it off, listening with no suspicion as she asks a simple, “Why?”

You don’t have the hindsight to understand why your stomach turns at her question, but you respond anyway. “I tend to think of Lady Whistledown as a poison.” It’s the first time you’ve voiced such an opinion. 

Penelope and Eloise turn to you in surprise. “Come again?” Penelope’s soft voice cuts through. 

“She is a poison.” You repeat before explaining yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I hold admiration for her bravado, but her words, the things she writes, they cause nothing but pain and conflict for those she chooses to sink her teeth into.”

“But she’s an independent woman.” Eloise interjects. “One who is doing more than any of us could dream of. She is making a name for herself!”

You try to think about your next words carefully, but your mouth makes quick work of a reply. “A name which she hides behind, casting stones through the guise and safety of anonymity.” 

Penelope lets out a scoff from beside you. She’s always been one to defend the infamous gossip columnist. “At least she does not hide herself behind the mask of a man.” That feels like a shot. “The people know full well of her gender, despite her true identity remaining a secret.”

You hear the implication on her tongue. The same cannot be said for you. 

And she’s not wrong. You do hide yourself behind the mask of a man. You’d never once denied that.

You sigh. “I know you must think of me as a hypocrite.” 

Eloise agrees hesitantly. “Only a little.” She admits. “It’s just that you do the same as Mr. Leighton.”

You soften at her honesty. Truthfully, you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help the urge you feel to defend yourself.

“I disguise myself as Augutus because I know that no artist or art critic alike will take me seriously as I am. I want to share my work with the world, that is simply all I want. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Does that not make you a coward?” Penelope inquires, although it feels less like a question and more like an opinion. This is what she believes. And she's entitled to that. 

“Perhaps.” You nod in acknowledgment. “But it has also made me uniquely successful. And I take great pride knowing that my work is highly regarded, in spite of the fact that I have to be someone else to succeed.” 

“Does that ever bother you?” Eloise persists. “Knowing that no one will know you for the work you have done?”

Before you can respond, Penelope chimes in with a query of her own. “Does it ever make you feel guilty, lying as you do?” This feels like a challenge. 

You turn to Eloise, answering her first. “No, I feel quite unbothered. I like the privacy it provides me.” Your gaze flicks between the two girls, a fire in your eyes as you speak. 

You answer Penelope’s question next. “Guilt is one of the last feelings to cross my mind.” You feel content with it. “Because of Augustus, I have my own money, my own independence. I do not need a man to survive or to be happy. I have choices. And that's a facet of my life I never dreamed could have existed. If there is anything more empowering for a woman than that, I cannot think of it.”

Eloise listens to your words carefully, absorbing them, reveling in them. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Independence is a sign of true equality. And you have that. Not because of the name you hide behind, but because you’d used the insecurities of men to your advantage. You’d played the game and won. 

“I suppose I have been quite short sighted.” There’s much less arrogance in her tone. Eloise sounds humbled. “You’ve given me a new perspective to think about.”

Penelope does not enjoy the direction this conversation has headed. “Surely you cannot think yourself above someone such as Lady Whistledown.”

Your face scrunches in thought. “Above?” You stipulate. “I do not think myself above anyone, gender aside. But I do think I have a much higher sense of self respect than she does.”

“And how could that possibly be?” Penelope has to bite her tongue. She wants to say more, defend herself more. But she cannot. 

Eloise cuts in. “Lady Whistledown has the utmost confidence in herself. I dare say more than all the women in London combined. As much as I have come to see your side, I cannot agree with that.”

“One’s high level of confidence is of little concern here.” You deliver. “Often, in matters regarding the human condition, such as these, it can act as a detriment.” Your eyes narrow as you speak. “Self respect and self confidence can coincide, but they are not the same.”

Eloise laughs out of confusion. She’s not used to being this clueless. “I don’t understand.” She says.

“Ah,” you decide to stop tiptoeing around the subject. “I merely think that no self-respecting woman would use the pain and suffering of other women, or any other person for that matter, for their own profit and entertainment.” 

Eloise’s smile drops. “Oh.” Again, she hadn’t thought of it that way. But what resonates with her most is that you’re not wrong. 

“Is that what you truly think of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope’s voice is calm and collected for the first time this afternoon. It almost scares you. 

“Yes.” You say, before voicing, “However, I mean no offense to either of you. I know how much you girls adore her column. I just want more for you than what she does. A life of gossip is dangerous, and you deserve so much more.”

If you had known you’d been talking to Lady Whistledown herself, maybe you would have kept those opinions to yourself. But little did you know how much your life was about to change, how dangerously you’d walked the line, and how much vengeance rests in Penelope Featherington’s soul.

Future note to self, do not play with fire if one does not wish to get burnt.  

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

“(Y/n), I think you need to see this.” Benedict holds up the newest edition of London’s famous gossip column. 

Your heart sinks at the look in his eyes. I’m sorry they seem to say. 

You haven’t even read it and you already know it’s bad. Handing it to you, Benedict looks hesitant, almost in preparation of what's to come. As you take it from him, you glance down at the ink on the paper, her handwriting etched in your brain. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to read:

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that a certain individual is playing an unforgivable game of deception within the world of classical art that this ton so highly regards. This artisan has gone to great lengths to keep their true identity from you, painting under a well recognized pseudonym. 

By now you may have guessed, this artist is a woman. One who has tricked you and lied to you by passing her work off as that of a man’s. What a horrid crime it is to keep such a secret from you, and a desperate one, I must admit. A woman so foul as to seek such attention for her art, far too greedy to be content with the life so many of the wonderful women of the ton lead. Instead, she parades around disguising herself so she can live a life she feels entitled to. 

This author asks you to consider the arrogance of it all. But the question remains, as I am sure you are desperate to uncover: who is the serpent who remains among us?

And so it is with great sorrow that I announce the once beloved Augustus Leighton is a fraud. A man never seen in the public setting, has given us a reason why. He is a woman.

And her name, ladies and gentleman of London, is (Y/n) (L/n). 

As I am sure you, gentle reader, are shocked at this revelation, I will take a moment to address the woman this particular entry concerns.

May I remind you Miss (L/n), I have ears and eyes everywhere. Or did you forget? It would do you a world of good to remember that the next time you think about besmirching me. And, as I write this, I must say, this warning goes for all. Heed it, live by it, breathe by it. I am not a woman you want to cross. 

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Panic crawls through your body. You want to cry, scream, maybe even simply die from the anxiety you’re feeling. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Your voice cracks, it sounds like glass breaking. Shattered, ragged, and tired, and Benedict can do nothing but hold you. 

Again, as your body shakes and caves into the pressure you think, what am I going to do?

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The moment Eloise enters the room with Anthony at her side, your mind is sent ablaze. Only three people had known about Augustus. Only three people could have possibly let it slip, and you know for a fact it wasn’t Benedict.

As much as you want to believe Eloise would never do something like that to you, you can’t help but feel like she might have offhandedly mentioned it to someone. Her mouth had always worked much faster than her brain.  

Benedict’s gaze meets yours in understanding. He hopes his sister hasn’t done this; he’ll be furious if she has. 

You’re about to say something when a certain eldest Bridgerton catches you off guard. Anthony smiles when he sees you, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically so. 

“I had no idea you could paint like that.” He says. “I must admit, I’m quite proud of you.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. Proud? In all the years you’ve known Anthony, he’s never told you he’s proud of you. 

“So you’ve read the column then?” Your head hangs in shame. Everyone in London has probably read it by now. 

“Everyone has.” Eloise pipes in timidly, confirming your suspicions. 

She’s nervous, understandably so, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. You assume when you finally catch her gaze that she’ll avert it quickly, but instead, she holds it well. 

We need to talk. 

Benedict, reading the room perfectly, coughs in apprehension. “Brother, how about we let these ladies be for a moment? I’m certain they have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” Anthony nods with a smile, not before reminding you how proud he is of you.

If anything good can come of this, it might just be that. 

Once alone, Eloise is eager to assure you of her innocence. “I spoke to no one.” She promises. “Blood be forgotten, you’re my sister (Y/n). I would never betray you like that.”

The look on her face is one of pure panic; she needs you to believe her. And despite everything, you do. It almost makes you feel guilty that you questioned her. 

“It’s alright.” You assure her. “I know you wouldn’t.”

But that only leaves one person…

“I think Penelope is Lady Whistledown.” You're taken aback by Eloise’s words, like a stab to the chest. Twisting the knife in further, she corrects, “I know she is.”

Moments of silence pass before you can collect your thoughts. “How long have you known?”

This is where Eloise loses her composure. Pure shame is etched upon her features. “I caught her a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks. A few weeks… A FEW WEEKS?

“Oh.” Your murmur is dejected and weak.

Eloise had known you’d been slandering Lady Whistledown in front of Lady Whistledown, and she’d done nothing to stop you, except defend her best friend’s honour. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to agree with you. 

“I wanted to say something.” Eloise stammers. “But I couldn’t. Penelope doesn’t know that I know.”

You inhale a staggered breath of air, face falling to your palms. “I’ve been such a fool. How could I have been so stupid?”

“You have not.” The girl beside you opposes before continuing, “Trust me, I am furious with Penelope. The things she’s done and said about me, about the people I care about, I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”

You scoff lightly. Trust her? How are you supposed to do that?

Sure, Eloise has certainly been burned by Lady Whistledown before, but she’s always had her name to fall back on. “You have no idea what it’s like, Eloise.”

“I’m sorry.” She slumps in apology, shrinking in on herself. Eloise likes to think she can understand where you’re coming from. She’s a woman, same as you, one who has the same struggles against the patriarchy, and yet, hers are much different.  

“Don’t.” You dismiss her apology in frustration. It feels harsh but necessary. “You always speak about feminism and the difficulties of being a woman. How it is impossible for you to hold title and rank, or to be recognized for your accomplishments. But you are a Bridgerton Eloise, and that comes with more privilege, more title, more rank, and more acknowledgment in society than you seem to understand.”

Eloise’s brow furrows. “More often than not, that name is a burden, something you could not possibly grasp.”

“And I should not have to.” Your lips pull into a thin line. This isn’t a competition, but you feel it necessary to defend your point wholly. “I am the daughter of a servant and a seamstress. I have no money, no control, and no future if I am not to marry. Since the day I was born, I belonged to someone else. You talk of struggle, but you have no idea what it truly means.”

Eloise doesn’t like what you’re implying. “You think I live a life of luxury? That I am a stranger to the adversities life has to offer? I can assure you, I know much more about the struggles of which you speak. My mother has prepared me for the purpose of my future; finding a husband is imperative.”

“You plan to remain unmarried, correct?” You ask her seriously.

“With every fiber in my being.” Is her scathing reply. And it only serves to prove your point. But you can see her side of things too. 

“El, you defy your mother with your distaste for society. And while I applaud your determination to fight for equality, your fault remains in your failure to recognize the entitlement that has been bestowed upon you simply by having that choice. Unlike so many women, you can choose to live your life as a spinster. For you, those options exist. For me, I have not one choice besides finding a well suited, at best, middle class husband, because that is all I am suited for.”

In this moment, her heart shatters for you. Is that really what you think of yourself? “You cannot possibly mean that.” 

“It’s how it has to be.” You affirm. 

“It’s not.” She disagrees. “There’s so much more for you than a husband.”

Both your defenses are down, walls have collapsed, and you’re starting to get through to each other. She’s starting to grasp the gravity of what this means for you. Your career is more than likely over, as is the steady source of income you’d managed to build. Except where before you’d had less than no money to your name, you now had a healthy dowry (that you’d earned no less) to find a more comfortable suitor. 

Eloise sees it now. What Penelope has done is monumentally life changing. 

However, as emotional as this circumstance is, you still feel the need to reach out. She’s your sister after all. 

“Eloise,” your eyes search hers. They tread in a sea of empathy. “I never meant to imply you have lived a life without misfortunes. I’m not trying to diminish your hurt. But I thought if you heard my side, you might come to understand mine.”

She softens at your admission, having gotten carried away in defending herself. Nodding, she smiles gently. “I do.” She says. “And while you may not bear the Bridgerton surname, you do have us. Every Bridgerton will stand behind you, always.”

Against every fibre in your being, you believe her. Somehow you’ll always have this little family of yours, somehow you hope you’ll be okay…

[lovely--lover]

"I am here, My Sweet"

I haven't written fanfiction in almost 3 years! So I hope this is good 😊 Enjoy!

Summary: Aegon needs an heir but his cock was left worthless after Rooks Rest. Aemond will have to do...only for duty. Aegon allows it and stays to support his sweet wife.

warnings: smut, talk of scars, the word cripple, sad Aegon

Aegon rested his head back attempting to keep the lids of his eyes open. The weight of them heavy, as was his gaze, which peered down at his sweet wife. The warm cherub cheek rested on his thigh as she lay in a pleasured haze. Soft moans falling from plush petal lips, a testament to her pleasure as they parted more and more, with each thrust.

That pretty wide open mouth, glistening with spit, was so welcoming and so close to his cock. That was left lying limp against his scarred flesh despite all the desire and yearning. There was nothing more Aegon wanted than to take his wife. Feel the warm, wet, love of her cunt squeezing around him. There would be no position, no place, he would not have her. But Aegon could only imagine that it was him fucking into her providing her pleasure.

Aegon kept his violet eyes on hers wanting to take in every moment of her rapture. If they were to drift up any further they would land on Aemond. Who was currently on his knees fucking into her from behind. One hand grasping a plush hip until the flesh seeped between fingers, the other hand pressing down on her spine, keeping her low and arched. The plump of her ass on display to Aemond as he slid deeper and deeper. The sound of flesh echoing off the walls, in Aegons skull, every time Aemond thrust forward. 

Aegon's eyes betrayed him as they stole a glance at Aemond they widened before finding their way back to her. Insecurity clawed its way through his chest, his heart, it ached deeper than any wound. There was not much to Aegon before the war. Before he was made King, an accomplishment that was placed upon him, not earned.  If he was the second son he would have been cast aside, worthless. Maybe even hidden away by his mother and grandsire never to be seen again, their disgrace.

But he was not. Most days he wishes he was hidden away never to be seen again. By the prying, pitying eyes that watched him struggle and heave himself throughout the halls. All eyes lingering on the scars that danced across half his body. Their crippled King. 

Aemond was scarred but not in the same way. The scars covered his body in the same way stars scattered the sky, shining, telling a story.  A fighter who commands men in battles, wins wars, and always comes out stronger. A true warrior. 

Aegon wanted him gone.

It was on the tip of his tongue “Fuck off Aemond! By order of your King” he would smirk. But he did not. Would not. They needed an heir that he could not provide.

The foul whispers of the keep had made their way to her precious ears. Aegon had wanted their tongues when he was met with his tear-stained wife, her dress, cheeks, and lashes all held the evidence of her sadness. Her voice had spoken to him so tenderly “ Aegon…it is my duty everyone says so...I know so” a weak smile presented on your lips “I want to give you a child, please, and not just for duty.” How could Aegon say no?

The day of their wedding had the same day as his coronation. Aegon could not become King without a Queen. So he was wed to her before they placed the crown atop his head. The following days meant to be spent together as newlyweds was stripped away. The war was pending and the following weeks were hectic, preparing for war, protecting the realm, fighting for a crown Aegon did not want. There was no oppurtunity  to put a sweet babe in his wife. And before given the chance Aegon had flown to battle as a drunkard. Gotten burned by Dragon-fire, destroying his cock, stealing away his ultimate pleasure. Left now as a voyeur to his own wife and brother.

When he returned near death it was her who stayed by his side day and night. Proving her unconditional love and devotion to him. Sweet wife, how he grew to adore you. The milk of the poppy daze could not keep him from finding her. Always a bright silhouette on the settee next to the bed, embroidering another intricate work for him to adorn. A gentle and warm smile always welcomed her face as their eyes met. “My love! You are awake..I am so happy.” 

“Aegon?” his thoughts were broken by the call of a breathless and sweet voice. He blinked away the memory and imminent tears. As his sight came back into focus, he was met with furrowed brows and doe eyes peering at him, examining him,  “Are you here my love?” The squeeze of your fingers on his good thigh caused a jolt of heat to go to his cock which remained soft.

His hand found the soft warmth of her cheek,  “I am here my sweet.” Both faces adorned with sweet smiles as she nuzzled into his palm. Eyes never leaving his as she allowed her lips to meet the skin. A tender moment between lovers. 

“As am I”  Aemond spoke for the first time that night. Ruining the precious moment while throwing a smirk towards Aegon “I hope you did not forget My Queen” Fingers delved deeper into your hip bordering on painful “The duty we must accomplish for Our King. ” 

The furrow of her brows asked a silent permission from Aegon, to respond. A slight nod was all she needed. He hoped the side of his thumb was comforting as her shaking voice spoke out “I have not forgotten my duty, good brother, I promise.”

Long white strands of hair fell over her face as Aemond caged in her body with his. The weight was crushing, breath hot against her ear “Good my Queen, I am close and I will breed you well…I promise” His thrust grew rabid the sound of flesh against flesh echoing off the walls. Aemond leered up at Aegon as he held her hips against his and let out a grunt. The duty was done.

A warmth filled her deep within, settling in her belly as tears started to form, it was over. There is nothing she wants more than for Aegon to be the one placing his seed in her womb. Wanting to fulfill her duty as his wife and Queen she took a breath and wiped away the stray tears. Pressing her face further into his thigh wanting to feel him against her and hide the shame.

“You are dismissed, brother.” A heavy breath left Aegon as he forced out the words “Thank you for your service to the Crown.”

Aemond’s lone eye remained focused on your nude body licking the smirk of his lips. “Of course, My King, It was a pleasure.” 

Aegon refused to look anywhere besides Aemond until he left the room. There was a tension hanging over the room and it was only broken when the door slammed shut. The sign that they were officially alone and Aemond was gone. 

“Wife…come to me.” Aegon strained to open his arms wide making room for her. A groan of pain escaped as she climbed into his arms putting pressure on his healing wounds. He would manage if it allowed her to be close. “I hope it takes…I do not wish to bed your brother again”

“You did not enjoy bedding Aemond the Fierce?....The sounds you made say otherwise dear wife.” He forced himself to smirk, a way of communicating, I am not upset although he was a little hurt. Her brows furrowed and nose scrunced the look eliciting a genuine laugh from him as he pulled her closer. 

 “I wish it was you ” spoken so gently and quietly “I only want you”

 “As do I but unfortunately my cock no longer works,” there was an empty humor to the words, he did not want to upset her. 

“It would still be better than Aemonds, I’d bet on it” 

Aegon could barely get out a laugh before it was replaced with a gasp. The soft feel of her fingers were on his cock stroking along the rough flesh. The pleasure was dull blocked by the thick layer of scar tissue. A ghost of a touch was all he felt. What he would give to feel it fully. “How does it feel?”

There was a brief pause as Aegon thought over all the different things he could say “Like nothing..”

The soft-touch was gone in an instant. Her hand tucked against her bare chest as if just burned. “I’m sorry I -”

“Do not be” Aegon’s hands came to rest on either side of her face using the pad of his thumb to stroke gently against her warm cheeks. There was a moment of silence as they gazed into each other's eyes waiting for the other to make a move. 

“My sweet wife, you love me, I know this. That is something…something I have never had but have always wanted. I love you” his hands dropped from her cheeks to rest on her belly “and I will love our child. As long as you continue to love me, do not feel sorry, this is all I need.” Aegons lips were soft and salty as his tears fell between their shared lips.

Please let me know your thoughts and comments ❤️ It is much appreciated!!

[suiana]

yandere hero x gn reader x yandere villain

"I love you."

"More than this country?"

"...I'm sorry."

You had expected this. Really. I mean, it would only be right for one person to die if it meant the lives of everyone else! Thus it would only make sense for a hero to sacrifice that one person, even if it was his lover. He couldn't be selfish, no. He had to place priority on everyone else. After all, that was the way of the hero.

Besides, there was a saying that a hero would sacrifice you for the rest of the world. You should've known better.

Yet you couldn't help but wish he would forget about his title of a hero just for a second.

You know how much being a hero was to him, you really do! Why else would you patiently wait for him to come home everyday to patch up his wounds? Why would you encourage him whenever he felt like a shitty hero? Why would you do what you did if you didn't understand? You loved him wholeheartedly, even if he didn't reciprocate it much.

However, it felt like you had made a mistake by choosing him as your lover. You should've left him when you had the chance. Caring more about the lives of civilians, he had stood you up on multiple occasions just for the sake of justice. You get it, you do! He's a hero, he's meant to help others. You can't be selfish and get mad at him when he's doing his job and not wasting time on a date with you! You tried to be accomodating. Tried to be understanding.

But he was still your lover.

He should've at least tried to make an effort. Not everything was meant to be about saving others when your relationship was on the verge of breaking. Yet you had never once gotten mad at him for his lack of attention and love, for you loved him with all your heart.

You tried to be delusional, that he would at least treasure you enough to not give you away to anyone else. If he didn't spend much time with you, so what? At least he wouldn't give you away! I mean, he did say that he would never allow anyone else to have you. He would at least honour that promise, right?

Wrong. He gave you up only after a minute of pondering. Oh... Your poor heart. Your poor, poor heart... You couldn't fathom what he had did, not in the slightest. Maybe it was a mistake? A slip of his tongue? You looked at him for comfort only to realise that he had meant what he had said. His guilty and crestfallen look was more than enough to tell you he had truly meant it. That he meant to gave you away.

You were absolutely heartbroken, devastated at the revelation. Clawing at his chest, screaming at him to take back his words, yet to no avail as he avoided your gaze. You felt more than betrayed by him.

You tried to understand his thoughts, his point of view. It was a rational decision. The world known villain had just threatened to blow up the country if he didn't hand his lover over. It was the right decision. But you just wished he had done anything to fight against the villain's demand. He was a hero after all and you were a civilian! He was supposed to protect you!

So why did he give you up so easily?

That, you could not understand. So all you could do was beg for him to reconsider. To hear him tell you that it was just a joke and that he would beat up the villain. Just like what he used to do. But nothing came from him. Only the quiet silence of someone who had already made up their mind.

"Well I guess I'll be taking you now darling~"

The villain suddenly chimed in as he tried to pull you away from the hero. His cold fingers gently tracing your bare shoulders sent shivers up your spine. You shook your head, still clinging onto your beloved hero's shirt as you wept and screamed at him to do something.

But nothing came.

"Please-?! Don't give me away! Don't you love me?!"

"I do... I really do love you."

"Then why are you giving me away so easily?! Is... Is this country more important than me?!"

No response.

You wept harder as you hit his chest, screaming at him to try and protect you against the villain who was amused at the sight before him. He retracted his cold hands from your shoulders, instead putting them in his pants pockets as he hummed softly.

"I'm sorry."

Your breath hitched as your lover softly pried your hands off his shirt. His shaky hands gently holding yours as his lower lip trembled. You could only stare in shock and hurt as he slowly handed you over, looking up at the villain in shame.

You wanted to laugh, you really did. But all you could muster was soft weeping as the villain gently cradled you in his embrace. You wanted to push him away, to curse at him and run back to the arms of your lover. But was it all worth it? The hero had already showed no intention of resisting the villain's demand.

You stared up at the villain with teary eyes, flinching at his touch as he stroked your face tenderly. Yet you couldn't help but lean into his oddly comforting touch that soothed you.

"What a shitty lover he is. Hah! Don't worry baby, I'll never do something like that to you~"

He cooed, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. This... You had never seen such a look from the hero. Even when he claimed to love you, that you were the only person in his heart.

Your heart skipped a beat, face turning slightly red as the villain them scooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style.

This was nice... It made you feel wanted, feel loved. Something that the hero you loved could never give you. Maybe you should just give in already. At least you knew he would never give you up.

For there was a saying that a villain would sacrifice the world for you.

part 2

[gay-dorito-dust]

hey feel free to ignore this if its too dark but could u do ford x reader where he comes back from the portal and finds out reader died while he was gone

The moment Ford uttered you name he should’ve known something was wrong, especially the way Stan eyes didn’t meet his, his face was set in a look that told him that whatever happened to you he still wasn’t in complete acceptance of it.

‘Stanley,’ Ford said as he stepped closer to his twin brother, who has evening uncharacteristically silent the entire time, ‘where’s y/n?’

Stan fiddled with his fez hat as he debated whether or not he should tell Ford a lie, or tell him the truth that to this day he himself was still very much in denial over, but he decided that his brother should know regardless even if it did hurt him to admit it. ‘Y/n’s dead Stanford.’ Stan finally said and could hear Ford gasp in the silence that followed afterwards.

‘What? When?’ Ford asked, looking over at his desk and at a framed picture of you and him in your youth with a hairline fracture on the glass cutting across your face. He wished this was some joke but Ford knew his brother well enough to know that he’d never joke about you or death in the same breathe, you were their friend since childhood, and his childhood sweetheart; So to find out thirty years later that you were no longer living hurt Ford in ways he couldn’t fathom, it was like his heart had been violently ripped out of his chest and smashed into a million pieces, the air left his lungs as quickly as the news came and he had to find something to sit down on.

‘They died last this day last month…they held out hope that you’d come back one day, said they had something they’ve always wanted to tell you but before I could ask what…they passed away…I’m so sorry.’ Stan told him as he went to sit next to his brother who had tears silently streaming down his cheeks. You and Stanford meant a lot to Stanley- and a hell of a a lot at that- you were the only person in New Jersey who didn’t give a shit about Ford’s six fingers, or being labelled as weird because of your association with them, you just didn’t care enough about those things and instead encouraged them to keep being who they were without shame.

Stanley also knew that Ford had a thing for you and still has from how he kept things you left at their parent’s house when you were younger, it was fun to tease him about it until he started actively encouraging Ford to say something to you, anything! Lucky you did go out for a bit but it wasn’t until everything blew up between and only then did your relationship fracture and fall off. With Ford dedicated all of his time and effort to his work rather than your crumbling relationship, it had gotten to the point where you just left without a trace, assuming that he’d be off in the woods on his latest monster chase.

Stan tried to keep telling you to hold on, just until Ford came home, but your health had rapidly declined so severely that there was nothing anyone could’ve done to prevent it. It hurt Stan to loose his best friend and his unofficial but in his heart of hearts official in law, he couldn’t help but think of how Ford would react upon hearing that the person he still longed for had died with a heart heavy with regret. You wanted to marry Ford, it was your biggest hopes for the future but unfortunately that future didn’t come nearly as soon as either you or Stan would’ve liked.

‘And we ended on less than satisfactory terms too.’ Ford said sombrely, feeling deep within his chest that something was missing, he felt hollow and empty knowing that he had missed out on setting things right with you. He had missed the chance to marry you happily like he saw his alternate self did in a dimension that he visited briefly, and looking back at it now only caused Ford more heartbreak. ‘There’s so much I have yet to tell them,’ he trails off as he looked to Stanley who had now started to tear up at this point, ‘I still love them Stanley.’ He admits and Stanley clenched the fabric of his pants within his firsts. ‘I know and they loved- no-still love you too, right until their very last breath all they could think about was you.’ Was all he said.

‘I wanted to marry them Stanley.’ Ford said weakly as all the future prospects he had for you and him slowly slipping from his grasp, one by one.

‘I know.’ Stan replied.

‘I wanted to spend the rest of my life with them.’

‘I know, they did too.’

‘I wanted them.’ Ford cried

‘And they wanted you just as much.’ Stan said as he brought his brother into his side as he wept while clutching at his chest as though his heart was burning him from the inside out. it hurt Stanley to see his brother in pain, such pain that it brought him to his knees, begging and pleading for a god that doesn’t exist to bring you back to him. Stan hated knowing that you and Ford could’ve had a happy ending, only to end up with a tragic one instead; So he remained by Ford’s side in solidarity as he cried and shouted until his throat was raw and he feel asleep due to exhaustion.

‘You deserved better,’ Stan said to no one in particular, ‘you both did.’

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 1

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

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“Jungwon, stop,” you cry out. This wasn’t the first time that things had gotten rough with your boyfriend, especially as of late, but something about his gaze this time in particular, eyes narrowed and looking at you with intensity causes a pit to form in the bottom of your stomach. 

His silence is eerie. Your boyfriend, when you had started dating him, was an exemplary gentleman. He was warm, charming, and polite, and you could go on for hours listing all of the traits that attracted you to him. He seemed like the picture-perfect boyfriend–he was chivalrous, he bought you flowers, and he seemed strong-willed and determined. He was also the leader of a powerful mafia clan. 

Of course, you didn’t know this when you had started dating him. When he first told you, you were incredibly surprised, as well as a little bit scared. He assured you that you had nothing to be afraid of, that nothing would change, and that you would be incredibly safe with him. He had such a way with words that immediately persuaded you he was telling you the truth. This was your boyfriend, after all. Yang Jungwon, that you have come to know and love. 

Should you have run that very first opportunity he had given you? You think back to the night he sat you down at his desk. For a second, you remember giggling and telling him that you felt more like you were at a doctor’s appointment than in your boyfriend’s office, and he had just given you a sweet smile before he proceeded. “Have you ever heard of ENHA?” he had asked you. Of course you had. At that point, everybody in the city had known about ENHA and SKZ, the two notorious and rival mafia groups that had control over the city. Though you didn’t know much about them, you had certainly heard of them. “I know this might come as a shock to you, but I’m the leader of ENHA. I want to lay all my cards out on the table for you, here and now. This is your chance–your out. If you want to leave, you can walk out that door right now and I will never contact you again.”

Two months. That’s how much time you had dedicated to your relationship with Jungwon before you found out the truth about him. You know your sister would have laughed in your face. She had told you from the very beginning that it wasn’t meant to be, that you were making a mistake with this one, but you had brushed her off. She had never liked your romantic pursuits, so what made this one any different? You didn’t listen to her. You didn’t walk out the door, and you made the decision to stay in your relationship with Jungwon. You wish you had; all of those traits that you had once admired in Jungwon had since become the downfall of your relationship. His overprotectiveness and desire for you to rely on him had caused you to become overdependent on him–and out of a job that you were actually incredibly passionate about. By the time you noticed that he was becoming more abusive, you relied on him for housing and income, and you had no way of contacting your sister even if you had wanted to. He had forced you to cut ties. 

That’s how you got here, really. You were too far in. While once you imagined spending your entire life with him, now you dreamed of a life free of him. Your boyfriend, Yang Jungwon, was a walking contradiction. He had a warm exterior to most, a bright smile that charmed his way through any conversation; on the inside, he’s an indifferent, cold and murderous machine. 

This is especially apparent to you now. His stoic expression contrasts scarily with the harsh words he spews at you. The intent in his eyes that bore into your skull tell you all you need to know. You’re on his shit list. 

“Stop,” you repeat again, louder and with more force behind your words. You’re slotted right between his legs, no method of escape, pushed up against the brick wall outside of one of the many clubs owned by ENHA. Though the wall is scraping against your skin, it’s also bitter cold, a welcome contrast from the heat escaping your body. 

You look rough. You know that you do without having to look in a mirror. Somewhere in the whole ordeal you had lost your shoes, and your mascara is currently running down your face in long wet clumps. Your hair is matted from where he had grabbed it, dragging you out of the club and caring less about your appearance. Your dress has more than one rip in it from when you had fallen onto the concrete, and your fingernails are steeped in blood from when you had tried to claw away. Thankfully, the ringing in your ears provides enough adrenaline to dull some of the pain you’re experiencing. They don’t ring enough to block out his words, though. 

“You’re going to come into my club and act like some whore who doesn’t know who she belongs to? What the fuck were you thinking, getting into a bar fight at my club? People are going to think I don’t know how to control what belongs to me. Fuck, you’re unbelievable, Y/N. You make me sick to my stomach, I can’t even stand to look at you,” he says as he pushes you harder into the wall. Your skin scratches harder against the brick, leaving red bloody marks behind from the contact. Your breath hitches–Jungwon has never been this violent or demeaning to you before. His expression is blank, as if he has no remorse for what he’s doing, and that scares you even more. This wasn’t like anything you had seen in your boyfriend–this is a snap. Like a shelf that holds much more than it can carry, piling more and more on it until it starts to concave and the wood splinters in the middle, Jungwon has decided that he is not going to carry your burden anymore. 

The first time he hit you, he had pushed you and shoved you around like a cold and calculating machine, no thought or purpose behind his actions. Minutes later, it was as if life had come back into his eyes. He got onto his knees and sobbed, repented for his actions and begged for your forgiveness. He reminded you of the fact that you were the only one who could ever love someone like him; nobody would be kind enough to let a mafia boss into their hearts and love them with all they had like you did. You’re all he has, he would remind you, you have to forgive him. He would get you the best medical treatment available, you would forgive him and it would be like it never happened. Until the next time, and the next. 

Now, given the circumstances, you’re not sure you can defend him. Not with the way he’s speaking to you like you’re less than scum, worthless and indecent to be around. You feel belittled and small. To be the direct target of his rage, though there’s a reason for it this time, makes bile rise up in your throat, threatening to spill out. You’re beginning to see why your boyfriend isn’t to be messed with and why he’s considered one of the most dangerous men in the country. To add to it, he had been drinking and the stress of the other mafia group closing in on them was adding unwanted pressure. You were also a little bit intoxicated, which is probably what gave you the bravery to do what you had. 

You were intentionally trying to rile him up. It was an innocent mistake, but you had the goal of making him a little bit jealous tonight. You were hoping things would take a different turn, after all. Your friend had told you about the time she flirted with another man in front of her boyfriend to get a rise out of him and it had worked, and he had taken her to the car and fucked the life out of her on the spot. She insisted it was the best sex she ever had. 

You really should have known better; your relationship isn’t normal and you will never experience things the same way your friends do. But, you had tried it out. You started flirting with a stranger at the bar, just some light conversation and casual touches to the shoulder. At one point you had caught Jungwon’s eyes and mistook his dark gaze for jealousy, not rage, which fueled your desire to continue. 

You had dragged the stranger out to the dance floor, and he was more than eager to go with you. He was much too touchy, sliding his hands up and down your hips and grinding his body into yours. That’s when his girlfriend was added to the mix–absolutely trashed, angry, and ready to start a fight she wasn’t going to win. You caused a scene, shouting expletives right back at her. You won, easily. But not before a hand was embedded in your hair and you were face to face with your very angry boyfriend. It seems like all it took was for one incident to completely change everything. 

You’re scared. Empty words rise from your throat to defend yourself, to plead with him and try to change his mind, but a hand snakes around and cuts you off. 

“Don’t bother coming back, bitch,” he spits. “You’re lucky if I keep you alive.” His hand tightens around your neck, leaving your vision to darken. Your hands come up around his, trying to yank his hand away to relieve some of the pressure to no avail. Your legs start to flail and kick in a last ditch effort of disparity. 

“Please, Wonnie,” you choke out. He repeats your words back to you, mocking. Your hands are hitting at his and you’re gasping for breath, hot tears streaming down your face. 

“Don’t call me that,” he seethes. “You should’ve fucking known better! You brought unwanted attention to yourself. You deserve to be taught a lesson for acting like such a fucking slut in my club. I bet you would’ve let him fuck you too, right?” You try to shake your head, wanting to deny and explain yourself when he suddenly lets go of you. You fall to the ground, your bodyweight now completely unsupported by him. 

You look up at him for a second, large doe eyes blinking away tears. He stares right back at you. One second passes by before you plant your feet into the ground, breaking into a rub. Your bare feet scrape against the concrete and you turn the corner, ready to shout but no sound comes out of your throat. Just as you make it two long strides, his lightning fast reflexes have already caught up to you. Jungwon grabs your wrist and squeezes it tight, and you feel a sharp pain along with the popping sound it creates. 

With the momentum he has, he slings you to the ground. Your face meets concrete and you feel warm, wet liquid on your skin. You blink and blink to realize that your vision has gone completely dark. You’re hit, again and again, but at some point you don’t hear his words anymore. You feel like you could throw up. You wonder if you do when you feel your stomach contract around nothing. Hit after hit and wound after wound, eventually you stop registering it. 

Deep down, you try to comfort yourself. He doesn’t mean it. He’ll take you back, and once he sobers up he will realize that he fucked up majorly. He’ll cry and grovel and really apologize, promising to change his ways. Sunoo will patch you up and stitch over the wounds that need it the most, just as he has before. You’ll laugh about the situation in retrospect, cry about it some, but ultimately end up in Jungwon’s bed. Where else would you even go? You have no money, no job, no way of contacting anybody, so surely, surely, he’ll accept you back. You crack a smile at the thought and wonder if you’ll have to beg him to take you back or if he’ll take you into his arms himself. 

You’re not sure how long you’re on the concrete for. When you lift your head you hear a loud, pulsing sound, accompanied by a sharp pain that encourages you to put your head back down. You do, comforted knowing that Jungwon will come back, he will come back, he will come back. 

Two sets of footsteps find your way to your field of view. They’re blurry, and for a second you think, those don’t look like Jungwon’s shoes, and you begin to hear muffled voices. The ringing in your ears is so loud, but their voices are louder too. Why are they speaking so loud? Are they really yelling or is it just this splitting headache? God, you don’t know, but as you open your mouth to speak and the voices get louder, it stops. Everything stops. 

You have finally lost consciousness. 

You recognize the sensation of being in a car, and you even smell cologne. It’s unfamiliar. You don’t fight to keep your eyes open, instead succumbing to the murmur of voices and warmth of the car that contrasts from the shockingly cold concrete, and let yourself drift off into sleep.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

When you wake up, you’re propped haphazardly against a wall. Your eyes crack open, and notice a well-furnished office, complete with leather chairs and a desk that was probably hand-crafted and expensive. You’re alone in the room, and your eyes flicker to the windows, the door, and then to your beaten and bruised frame. If you looked rough before, you certainly look awful now, and you feel even worse than you look. You are definitely sobered-up now, though, enough to realize that you are not at home, and definitely not at the ENHA base. 

Three figures enter the room, and you wonder if you should react or if you’re even in any imminent danger. You close your eyes again, wondering if you can get away with pretending to be asleep so you can feel out the situation. 

“Hyunjin, check her pulse,” you hear. Warm breath is on yours in an instance, and you fight your heart to stop beating as fast as it is. Two fingertips press against your neck, cold yet firm. 

“Good morning,” the voice whispers against your frame, loud enough for only you to hear. You don’t react outwardly, but your heart beats just a little bit faster. Is this man going to tell him that you’re awake?

“She’s fine,” the man says. “Her pulse is stronger than before. She’s lost a lot of blood but she’ll be okay.” The man’s presence leaves yours, and you rely on just your hearing to tell that he is back on the other side of the room quicker than your heartbeat. “So, what’s your angle here? I know you’re not keen on helping beaten and bloody women in alleyways too often, so I’m sure there’s some sort of play here.” 

“Yang Jungwon’s girlfriend. Or, I suppose you can say ex-girlfriend, if she’s smart” a man says.. 

“Are you insane? You’re just trying to get on his nerves!” says the man that checked your pulse, Hyunjin.

“I suppose you could say that. Binnie and I found her about a mile from the ENHA base, beaten practically within an inch of her life. If we’re smart, I think we use her as leverage against him. We keep her, use her to piss him off. If we had the upper hand before, we definitely have it now,” he explains. 

You try not to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. 

“You should have called me, for fucks sake! This was a major decision for you to make on our behalf and not consult me on. It’s my job.” Hyunjin is furious, evident from his rapid speech and loud tone, but he sounds professional nonetheless. “You don’t even know if he wants her back. She could be worth less than trash in his eyes, and that’s the best case scenario. He did beat her, after all. Worst case scenario? She could be bugged, or a spy! Did you think about that? Chan, this is unbelievable.” Your eyes shoot open instinctively, and you lurch forward, holding onto your stomach and fight yourself from hurling on the spot.

“Chan…” you rasp out. Your throat burns… You wonder if it was from Jungwon’s tight grasp or if you had been screaming without realizing it. Now you’ve realized the exact scenario that you’ve ended up in. Bang Christopher Chan is the leader of SKZ… the rival mafia gang. You had only heard rumors about the man since being involved with Jungwon, but they’re enough that you’re shaking involuntarily. You know he’s dangerous, and you find yourself wishing you paid more attention to mafia politics to really get a sense of what you’re getting yourself into. Chan is the one that brought you here, and now you’re defenseless, vulnerable, and in his territory. 

“Easy there,” a voice calls. A stranger approaches you and puts a hefty hand on your shoulder; when you meet his gaze, you immediately flinch. The man is very well-built with broad shoulders and large biceps that counteract his shorter frame. A black compression shirt hugs his skin, showing off his muscles. You don’t know anything about the man but everything about him screams bodyguard. 

Your eyes meet the man sitting in the leather chair at the desk, Bang Chan. You can tell just by the way he carries himself that he is an important man and he knows it. His gaze is intense but he smirks at you as if he’s amused. He is also fairly muscular, wearing all black but dressed nicer than the stocky bodyguard. His hair is dark brown and falls neatly around his face, parted down the middle with strands falling loosely around his ears. He is attractive like a magnet, you realize, when you know you should be experiencing repulsion. 

You realize everybody is watching your every move, and you feel pressured to say something, to perform, even. 

“Hey,” you say, and it comes out weaker and raspier than you would have hoped. Chan’s mouth lifts into a smile. “Y/N L/N, it’s a pleasure.” 

You rack your mind for the right words to say. “Are you… going to kill me?” 

He lets out a hefty laugh, one that makes you feel stupid. You feel like it was a valid question, but let out a nervous chuckle at his response. 

“If you give me a reason to. But we don’t want that, right sweetheart?” You nod in agreement, face turning red at the demeaning lilt to his words. The man finally rises from his chair and is in front of you in just two long steps. He crouches down but still towers above you, leaving you feeling even more defenseless and intimidated. His hand reaches to stroke a strand of hair behind your ear, and his thumb reaches to lift up your chin and meet his gaze. You want to look anywhere but, but you’re even more scared of the consequences. Your eyes meet, and his gaze is so intense that it makes your skin crawl. His expression is now devoid of any emotion, and he is dead serious. 

“You almost died,” he says. He tells you this as casually as one would talk about the weather. “Jungwon almost killed you. You would have died on that sidewalk if we didn’t find you and administer emergency medicinal treatment.” His fingers tighten around your jaw, keeping your gaze locked onto his, as if to say, ‘I am the most important person and you will listen to me when I am talking to you.’ 

“He wouldn’t… It was an accident. He was really drunk, and I–” You’re cut off when his fingers trail lower, reaching your throat. Your breath hitches, unsure of what he’s going to do and you feel terror overwhelm you from what you know the man has the capacity to do to you. Two fingers prod at your throat, poking at what is most definitely a very nasty bruise. You cry out, hands reaching to soothe the spot that he had just touched. 

“You don’t really believe that, do you? If so, you’re more stupid than I thought.” He stands, leaving your mouth agape. “You should look at yourself. You’re in really bad shape. We were able to stop some of your bleeding from that nasty head injury you got yourself, but damn. Do you even know how long you were out for? It’s been at least half a day.”

Half a day? You gawk at the man and say nothing. The other two men have decided to stay silent for the conversation, doing not much more than observing your sorry state. You decide you don’t want to speak much more on the subject, and change the topic instead. “What do you want with me?” you swallow. 

“You’re going to stay here, at the SKZ base while you recover. I’m sure you heard, but you’re going to help us get the ENHA situation under control. You’re leverage.”

“You’re keeping me? So I can’t leave? Please,” you start to plead. “You’re not serious.” 

“Dead serious,” Chan replies. “It’s not like you really want to go back, right? If you get beaten like this again, there’s probably not going to be anybody to save you. You might die,” he blinks. 

“It’s not going to happen again,” you all but spit out. You decide it’s time to test your body and stand up, and though your bones and muscles ache, you manage to get onto your two feet. “It was one time, a mistake. I’m sorry, but you’re out of line, and I would really like to get back home.” 

“Out of line?” Chan challenges.

“I’m sorry to say this, Y/N, but I don’t think Chan is out of line,” Hyunjin speaks. You finally get a chance to look at the man. His dark hair frames his face, resting just past his chin. At first glance he appears more delicate than the other two men, but his muscles are apparent the longer you stare at the fitted t-shirt he sports. He’s very pretty, a statement usually not used to describe someone in his profession. He has very full lips and a perfectly chiseled and angular jawline, sharp nose and long, feminine eyelashes. As he steps forward, he continues on his tangent. “Not only that, but this isn’t the first time Jungwon has hurt you, is it?” 

Your breath hitches as you find the words to defend yourself. You’re cut off by the man who is very adamant about what he is about to say.

“Your record shows that you have been in the hospital two times in the last year. Are you trying to tell us that a concussion and broken wrist are just coincidences?” You stay silent as the man’s eyes scan up and down your frame. You wonder how he knows so much, as someone that was arguing minutes ago about how your presence was a mistake. He’s done his research on you for sure, and you realize it’s probably his job to know everything about everyone. That’s probably why he was arguing with Chan about not consulting him. You try not to think about what else he knows.

“If you stay here, we can guarantee your safety. We don’t even know if Jungwon has plans to try to take you back, but if he does, we are sure that this will be the safest place for you. We know you don’t have a job or a place to stay out there, but here you’ll have a room and necessities. And you will be benefiting us as we get the chance to get a rise out of their group, and the opportunity to use this advantage to put them in their place.” Chan seems sure in his decision, and you find something reassuring about the firmness in his tone and his ability to make quick decisions, knowing that his leadership abilities are one of the reasons why SKZ is the top mafia group in the country, ENHA’s rival. You step forward and wobble, and strong arms steady your frame. 

“Okay,” you whisper. The decision feels wrong, like a betrayal, but you still feel dizzy and unsure, so you decide to put your safety first. 

“You still need some rest. We can escort you to your new room and give you some time to patch yourself up, shower, and get a change of clothes. We definitely suggest tending to your wounds,” Chan says.

“My room? Are you sure this is okay?” The bodyguard wraps an arm around your shoulder, allowing you to lean on his dependable and sturdy build, and you let yourself do so. 

“More than sure. Make yourself at home. You’ll be here a while.” Chan says. He finally returns to his desk and sits in his chair, hands intertwining with one another as if he’s deep in thought. “Changbin will show you the way. Don’t do anything stupid, and you and I will have a talk later tonight. Look forward to it, sweetheart. Hyunjin, call the others for a meeting. You’re dismissed.” 

And with that, you and Changbin, the aforementioned bodyguard, are left to find the way to your room. You stumble but he is strong, and with his arms around you the walk to your room is not a struggle. He does stay eerily silent, which you welcome so that you can think. You arrive at your room and thank him, stepping into the space and shutting the door behind you. 

The room is not huge but it’s comfortable. It’s definitely larger than any room you’ve ever lived in before, and it’s nice to finally have your own space seeing as you previously shared a room with Jungwon. The room is obviously set up to be a guest bedroom, with cream colored walls and a large bed in its center adorned with a white quilt and decorative pillows. It’s simple but you’ll certainly make-do. You look around and notice a large rattan wardrobe stocked with a variety of clothes in different styles and sizes. Some of the fabric looks like it’s large enough to swallow you while others would just barely fit. You hum, content, and pick out a clean outfit that suits your comfort levels, even if it's not the prettiest. On your way to the bathroom you're surprised to notice a small vanity, stocked with makeup. You realize this guest room is probably for guests of SKZ, maybe their family members if any of them had any that would come to visit, hence the women’s clothing. Either way, the makeup will come in handy later to cover your bruises when you need to. 

And on that note, you finally allow yourself to look in the mirror, and you gasp. 

You have never seen your hair so matted and disheveled, and your head is stained in your blood. A bandage covers the top left of your head, and you uncover it to observe a nasty scar that had been treated with some kind of ointment. In addition, your bottom lip is busted, and you are adorned with all sorts of scrapes and scars and bruises all over your body. Your throat is covered in nasty dark hues of purple and blue that are sure to only get worse. Your wrist had received the same treatment, sporting some nasty bruises, and you recall when it had made a noise that resembled a pop yesterday. You roll the joint, testing the waters, and groan out in pain. At best, it’s sprained. You try not to think about it, and finally get into the shower, noting the first aid kit on the counter. 

The water feels nice on your skin, though it stings most of your scrapes and wounds. You welcome it nonetheless. You allow yourself a moment to cry, letting your tears mix in with the shower stream, wondering if this is the only chance you’ll be able to show how vulnerable you are. You don’t know much about SKZ and their men, and you’re sure you should tidy yourself up and do your best to pretend you’re strong, showing no weakness. When you comb through your hair you decide that’s just what you’ll do. You already look more presentable than before when you step out of the shower, as you have rid yourself of the blood, sweat, dirt and grime that littered your skin. And as you step into the new clothes you had found for yourself, you really do feel much better. You take the time to sanitize some of your worse wounds, paying special attention to your head that met the concrete last night. You cover yourself with bandages and decide to spend some of your time putting on makeup. It’s the only way to cover the bruises, you decide, and you won’t let any new members that haven’t seen your sorry-state know that you’re here because you were beaten and weak. If any one of them notices your vulnerability, there’s no telling that they won’t prey on it. So after about an hour, your skin looks close to its normal self again thanks to your expertise in color correction under your layers of foundation and concealer. You smile at your handiwork – if you weren’t looking for the bruises and scrapes, you certainly wouldn’t be able to find it. Even your makeup-covered throat and wrist, which had gotten the worst of it all, really look fine. 

You leave your room at last, and it has been some hours since your previous meeting with Bang Chan and the others. You roll your shoulders back and make your way around the house. The intention here isn’t snooping, you tell yourself, but you desperately need to find food. You don’t have to look too hard, as you stumble into the kitchen. 

You make direct eye contact with two men that you haven’t seen before. Their eyes flicker to you and their conversation stills, and you know you’ve interrupted them. 

You’re going to be here a while, right? You suppose it’s time to introduce yourself. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

a/n: it's hereee (for real this time)! so excited to share this with you and what is to come! (if you saw me post this the other day by accident no you didn't) <3

taglist: @shuporanporang @purp13st4r @eurydiceofterabithia @heartsbyandra @thicccurls @rylea08 @the-sweetest-rose @oddracha @kapelover @goldenmellow

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about .. eh not much. But the thought of Logan trying to become comfortable in the X mansion again after his x men died keeps coming into my brain, some of the X men subconsciously doing things that THEIR Logan liked and honestly Worst Wolvie feeling so jealous of the love that the X men had for Logan, but not him.

Kurt crawling into bed with him and automatically trying to cuddle him the same way he lays with most of the other x men but hasn't gotten to do with Logan in a long time.

"The fuck are you doing?"

"Oh... uhm... cuddling? Iz kinda my thing..i.. Im the cuddly elf??"

"What?"

"I-ill go if you-" but Logan just grunts and locks his arm around him, finally accepting the comfort of just being held.

So kurt, of course, lays all over him, his tail wagging or wrapping around his leg. I HC that worst wolvie didn't really have a nightcrawler so it's odd for him. I mean.. what grown ass man would want to cuddle? ... well... He did. But he'd never say that. Kurt tells him of the cuddle piles they used to do on top of Logan, and just lay on him for hours. How flustered and harmlessly upset he got. "Oh ja, He told us to get off at least 5 times before he gave up. Vas such fun."

It's now that this Logan decides hes never going to tell them to get off. Never going to push them off of him and storm off... he already did that before.. not again. This is his second chance.

So now, here they are, just.. laying here.. Logan's not even talking. He's learning so much about Kurt just from the way he smells, his heart rate changes, and running his hand down his back. He had tried to run it over his tail like one might a cat, but he only jumped up, and his fur was all fluffy. Did he scare him? Maybe he didn't like his tail touched..

One whiff says the opposite as he tucks it between legs.

"Sorry I... I didn't have a Nightcrawler so.. I swear I didn't know."

"Aah.. that makes sense.. Vell dont do it again mister! He's watching!" And plops back down, nuzzling into his shoulder.

"Who's watching!?"

"You know. Father?"

"....I killed my dad.."

"...." Blinking a bit, Kurt pats his chest with a sigh "Yeah.... our Logan did that too. But I meant God."

"Oh.... Kurt, I dont think a thousand baptisms could make him forgive me..."

The blue man gives him a look of pity and a small smile of remembrance. "Heh... That's funny... he said the exact same thing."

The silence that came after made him wish he would just say something. But he had nothing to say. Just how similar was this world's Logan to him..?

"Who said what? Hey peanut, Whatcha doing?"

The guilt that rushes over him makes Logan try to sit up, gently pushing Kurt off of him, but Wade puts his hand up. "Nah, it's alright."

"Y-you dont mind?"

"Mh-mh. You look comfy, Wolvie... It's a nice look on you. Also Jubilee and Kitty are coming. They told me not to tell you but I didnt wanna watch you accidently skewer some kids."

Yeah. Kids. As if they weren't already in their mid 20s, Wade. Though I guess you're almost 50 so everyone younger then you is a kid.

"Aye! I heard that!"

"... Eh.. Heard what, mien freund?"

"He does that. Don't worry about it." Logan mutters to him, his head snapping towards the door as the two girls burst in, Giggling and jumped in the cuddle pile too.

"Youch! Watch the fur!!"

Logan only grunts and groans from the weight and the fact he was being ambushed. "You girls are a lot heavier from the last time I saw ya" he states, because the last time he seen them, they were just kids. Kids that.. he killed.

"I can't believe you didn't invite us to the function, Logan!"

"Yeah, totally not cool."

Bringing them close, he held their heads in his inner elbows, nuzzling them both with a bit of a sniffle.

Watching them all, Wade smiles, seeing the girls hug back and not tell him off for his tight grip.

"Ewww! Are you sniffing me!?" Katherine complains, trying to push him away. The glossiness in his eyes slip onto his cheek as he playfully growls at her, his grip now a bit too tight for Wade's own comfort.

He observes the way Logan gently nibbles their cheeks, making Kitty gag and push his face away. "Ew! Whens the last time you brushed your teeth!?" She teases.

"Eeehh!!! Abort mission!! Call for back up!" Jubes yells, attempting to get out of the hold, a bit of her cheek a little red from the fang nipping.

Wade could tell that he was getting too excited. Those claws would pop any second. "Logan-" he starts, knowing these two were probably not the best for him to rough house with. Laura would have been a much more suitable play partner but she was far too truamatized to be held down like this without stabbing someone..

"I got you girls!" Kurt says, poofing away, making Logan jump and instinctively let go from the flash sound and visual. He blinks, sitting up and looking for him. "How did he.."

"Magic." Wade smirks, relieved that he let go. Logan would never forgive himself if he accidently killed them twice.

Seeing what he did to her, Logan frowns, running the back of his finger over her cheek. "...Im sorry.."

"It's alright. Didn't even hurt. Besides, You said we were smaller right? Is that why you were playing with us?" Now that he got a good look at them, it felt inappropriate to nuzzle and bite at their noses anymore... these weren't the little pups he used to give noogies and piggy back rides...

Kitty was married now. The ring on her finger suggested it. She wasn't that bratty sassy teen reading boy magazines. And Jubilee was... well.. she was kinda the same. Just bigger. More mature looking.. he bet she looked like her mother.

"Sorry.." he says again, deciding to keep his hands to himself, putting them in his lap.

"For what?"

"You haven't played with us in AGGESS!" Kathrine whined.

"I.. I shouldn't treat you like that.. you're grown now. I.. you're not.. my kids.. anymore."

"Oh bullshit. Rouges almost 30 and I bet she'll wanna rough house with you too!"

He shakes his head, those glossy eyes coming back. Wade couldn't say a thing but the things in his head were a mile a minute. He wanted to say so many things, but this was his moment. Logan's time. Being reunited with his original X-kits.

"No.. i-its alright.. I dont.."

"Nah we'll go get her."

"Oh and Ro too!"

"R-ro..?" He looked almost confused but before he could ask they were already gone.

He thinks now he should speak. "...Havin fun?"

Logan is quick to wipe his face. "Yes... thank you."

"For what?"

"For... giving me a second chance."

He smiles, leaning against the window. "I didn't give you that Logan. You did."

"But you brought me here."

"And you stayed with me. Which allowed me to bring you here. Your choice. Not mine."

"Oh come on you cant believe-"

"ELF ATTACK!" Appearing in the air, Kurt dropped down from the ceiling, swords in hand. Gasping Logans claws finally shown themselves, blocking the attack.

"Jesus Kurt! Are you trying to die!?" He shouts, hairs raised and on edge.

"It would be an honor to die at your hands, mien freund! The professor would have told us to go outside by now, but he's not here anymore. So we can fight in the house as much as we-"

"No fighting in the house!!" Scott calls from the hall.

Wade laughs. "Spoke too soon. Daddys home."

"He is not-" Logan blushes deeply, Grunting and lightly tosses Kurt off of him. "Shut the fuck up, Wade..."

Leaving the room, he grunts loudly, waving his hand at Scott. "We're going.. dont get your panties in a bunch..."

Kurt rolls his eyes, glancing at Wade. "And it begins.."

Sighing heavily, Wade follows them out, his hands intertwined on the back of his head. "I bet I could be Daddy."

"At least get married first before saying such crude things..." Kurt mumbles, tail holding a sword as they went down the hall.

[teencopandthesourwolf]

He freezes. Doesn't know what the hell else to do. 

He can't picture it: Derek can't remember the last time somebody put their arms around him. 

Was it Laura?

Of course it was Laura. How could he forget that? Derek has gotten pretty good at blocking things out—a little too good, it seems.

She didn't tell him anything before leaving New York. Didn't say a fucking word, just up and vanished. Derek had woken up one morning and she was gone, because she'd known without a shadow of a doubt that Derek would've only followed her if she'd have said a single word to him.

Nobody ever granted Derek’s wishes, no matter who he prayed to. Those desperate pleas where he asked to go back and get a chance to fix things, they all went unheard.

Laura left to go back to the place they both wished still existed just as it had; a place they were wanted alive, not dead. It wasn't fair that it was the very same place they would be hunted down if they did return, like the rabid animals the Argent's presumed they were.

Leaving the way they did meant they hadn't gotten the chance to see if anything was left at the house. They couldn't even mark graves, to grieve properly. 

That same place also happened to be the place they'd been born, the place they'd grown up and called home.

Derek had never wanted Laura to face all of that alone.

The burnt down house. The nothing where there was once everything.

The thought still haunts him. One of so many. 

Beacon Hills is home—but it's the home Derek had helped raze to the ground with his selfishness and stupidity. Everything he and Laura had ever known, everyone they'd ever loved, it was all gone, now. Derek had taken those things away from his sister and hadn't even had the guts to tell her. Tell Laura they were all gone because of him, tell her that everything that had happened to their family, to them, was all his fault.

In the aftermath of the fire Laura hugged Derek, and had kept hugging him, over and over in those weeks and months and years that followed. She would pull him into her arms hold him tight, whenever she could sense it was all getting to be too much for him again.

Alpha.

Big sister.

But Laura only knew about some of the reasons why it sometimes felt like too much effort for Derek to keep on breathing.

He never told her about Kate.

And Derek, the fucking coward, he'd allowed Laura to hold him, feeling the flames of shame on his cheeks every time, hot as those that took the lives of his parents. His family. His pack. 

Now, he remembers that last time. 

“I'm going out.” 

Laura stood up, walked around the two mismatched armchairs and stopped him by throwing both her arms around his neck, pulling him into her and hugging him, scenting him. 

It always took him a moment to respond these days, but Derek hugged her back. 

“What's this for?”

“You. Because I know whomever's bed you end up in tonight, you won't be asking for one of these.”

Oh, fuck no.

Derek couldn't handle that. Did she think he was out sleeping with people? Never again, not after…

He pushed his sister off him, gently; a stark contrast to the harsh words that followed. 

“Don't fucking coddle me. And fuck you, Laura—I don't sleep in anybody's bed but my own.” A single mattress on the floor of the lounge of their shitty one bedroom apartment. Derek had so many shameful memories, and crawling into his sister's bed every night for the first year after the fire was one of them. “Just—leave me alone.”

Laura was the one—the only—person Derek had left in the entire world, yet his guilt was constantly pushing her away. 

“Where do you go to, little brother? You might not be clinging to me anymore, night after night, nightmare after nightmare, but you're rarely in your own bed most mornings.”

She hadn't meant it as a dig. Derek knew that. She was his sister, and she loved him.

Maybe she thought he was making progress? Seeing people. Moving on.

Derek spent his nights waiting outside of dive bars, and hanging around in back alleys and dark places, desperate to find scumbags to taunt who were big enough and hard enough to at least attempt to kick the living shit out of him.

Derek hated being a werewolf, now. He wanted to get hurt and stay hurt.

“Just—out.”

Then Derek turned his back on Laura, leaving her to stand there and watch him walk away as he left her to go out looking for a fight, without looking back. 

That was the last time somebody put their arms around Derek—and the last time he saw his sister alive.

It was two years ago. Derek doesn’t think he has taken a full breath, since. 

Now here he is—standing in his stupid big loft that he bought for his betas, yet another pack he managed to destroy—having given away more than he should, with skinny yet strong arms wrapping as far around his shoulders as they'll reach. 

Stiles.

“You don't have to hug back. But you can, if you want to. I won't tell,” the kid jokes. It's his way to connect, his connection to the world. A coping mechanism, Derek thinks.

He knows all about those.

“I…” he doesn't have the first fucking clue of how to handle this. Or how to admit he needs it—to himself, let alone somebody else. He doesn't know how to admit that he wants it. 

But this is Stiles. The one person in Derek's life who seems, for some unfathomable reason, to give a fuck about Derek. To care about him.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek lifts an arm and awkwardly rests a hand on Stiles's upper back, feels the muscles jump slightly under the kid's baggy clothes as he tentatively spreads his fingers and finds the back of Stiles's neck. 

Stiles's voice hitches just a touch as he says, “These can be on tap, you know. If you want them. Stilinski hugs are the best hugs, dude. Believe.”

And Derek finds he does believe. For the first time in forever, Derek believes there could be something good in his life again.

More confidently, now, he brings his other arm up to wrap around Stiles's waist and hugs Stiles tighter, properly, and allows himself to be hugged back.

Derek wonders how he has gone so long without this kind of closeness. Lived without this kindness.

He decides to let the 'dude' pass. Because maybe—maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all, to be somebody's dude? 

Stiles's dude.

It's a fucking ridiculous moniker and yet Derek suddenly couldn't care less. 

“I think I'd like that,” he whispers into the forbidden place where Stiles's jaw meets long, pale neck. "Dude."

Derek can feel Stiles's smile as the kid squeezes him harder. And ironically, Derek feels as if he can breathe again. 

.

for @greyhavenisback bc i want to hug you in person and can't <3 (unedited, forgive me!)

[pluvialpoet]

bergamot

Summary: moments of quiet reflection reaffirm what you both already know to be true- he’s always going to come back, and you’re always going to be waiting with open arms

Pairing: dick grayson x fem!reader

Requested: no

Warning: idiots in love, friends to lovers, mutual pining, scarecrow's fear toxin, mentions of death and grief, slight angst, fluffy ending, loosely based off of batman: hush (2019)- but no major spoilers

Word Count: 3,930

masterlist

a/n: I know that dick has a tolerance against/is immune to scarecrow's fear toxin, but let's pretend he isn't...for the plot

Sleep is cruel in the way it continues to evade you when you crave it most. Mocking and teasing, exhaustion morphs into desperation. Even with your eyes shut dreams fail you, and nightmares taunt.

A siren wails, bellowing out into the night and echoing caution even after the initial cry has faded. Could be a police car, or an ambulance. Maybe even a fire truck. You try not to consider all of the possibilities, knowing it’ll only starve your slumber, further. With a huff, you adjust the heavy comforter, pulling it up until it bunches just under your chin.

In a few weeks, branches will be stripped of their leaves. Snow will fall, and the city will suffocate under a blanket of white. July was only yesterday, sticky and never-ending- infinite until finite. Now, January lurks around the corner- weeks away, but daunting, nevertheless.

The pillow tucked behind your back is a poor imitation of the brawn you wish feathers and fill could replicate, just as the one pressed to your chest acts as an imposter mimicking the body meant to be sleeping peacefully beside you. It’s impossible to tell feelings of loneliness apart from being alone, and deep down you know that reminiscence is merciless. Memory is wicked. But you can’t help remembering. It’s the only way you won’t forget- and even then, so much time has passed that you’ve begun to fade, and he’s begun to blur. Spiraling further and further away from reality and control, you drift towards hope, feeding each dangerous possibility until you have nothing left to give, but delusion takes and takes and takes…

Answers elude like comfort- and sleep. When, how, and why is lost upon you. He’s been gone for so long. Even so, your life has continued, evolving to accommodate the gaps he used to fill. Though, it’s about as effective as papier-mâchéing an open wound shut. Everywhere you look, everything you do, every time you shut your eyes, he finds a way to bleed into you, one way or another, and you welcome it every single time. All you really have are memories and a space in your bed which has always been his to come home to.

Outside, the wind howls. Angry and violent, the sound rattles the windowpane and you burrow deeper into the covers trying to block it out. Shadows dance across the ceiling, but none of them belong to the ghost you’ve been waiting for. Another frustrated huff fails to quell burning exhaustion, and you rub your eyes with the back of your hand before checking the clock next to you. Neon green flashes, all too pleased to report that it’s well past midnight and you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep. Already tomorrow, and you’re still mourning today.

Pushing the covers off, you shiver. There’s a chill in the air and little comfort to be found in the fact that the entire apartment feels cold and empty without him in it. At least it’s not just the bed. It’s the entire room, the hallway, and the kitchen, too. You reach for the light above the stove and begin to search the cupboards for a mug. If nothing else, at least a cup of tea will warm you up. Thanks to muscle memory, you act on autopilot, filling the ceramic with water and placing it in the microwave before picking a teabag and waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting, always waiting. Three monotone beeps call your attention back before it has another chance to wander away from you, and you retrieve the cup and place the teabag inside. Steeping time be damned.

You can’t wait any longer.

One leg curls under the other as you take a seat and bring the mug to your mouth. It burns the tip of your tongue, a small price to pay for your greed, and you swallow the too-hot liquid regardless of the consequences. The pain barely registers, anyway. With both palms pressed to the vessel, warmth finally finds you, and a barely contented huff passes your lips to blow the steam from the cup. It’s not always like this. It’s not supposed to be, but for so long, it has been. Never months, always weeks. You don’t know how to do this or how much longer you can put yourself through this torture when every sunrise twists the knots in your stomach tighter and tighter. How much longer until you snap?

You’re so tangled up in your suffering that you miss it the first time, until the hair on the back of your neck bristles. Did you imagine it? Silently, you wait, setting the steaming mug down to listen, and this time, you hear it. Faintly, but there. Real.

Tap tap. Tap tap. Tap tap tap tap.

I’m here. I’m safe. Can I come in?

Your feet move before the rest of your body does, and the chair scrapes loudly across the hardwood as you jump from it in shock. A cocktail of excitement, worry, disbelief, and fear bubbles and swirls through you when you spot a familiar glimpse of black and blue through the window near the fire escape.

“Dick?”

Crossing the room without any memory of doing so, you fiddle with the latch that keeps you from him, and him from you, until finally it clicks. With only one foot through the window, you reach for him, desperate to savor the illusion until mass, warmth and a heartbeat prove it to be real. Upon realizing, your breath hitches. He’s real. He’s real, and he’s here. No longer a dream. No longer a nightmare. No longer a vision only sleep can grant or mold, he stands before you. He takes a moment to properly slide the window shut behind him, returning the lock to its rightful position- keeping the rest of the world and the winter, out- before turning to face you once more. He can’t even get a word out before you’re pressed against him, wrapping your arms around him and holding yourself back from crushing him with the intensity of your longing. Overly cautious of injuries you can’t physically see- mindful of bruises, tears of flesh, and wounds that remain eclipsed by kevlar and moonlight- you embrace him with a hesitancy that severely undermines your fervor. Holding him gently- delicately, tenderly- the way you’ve dreamt about entwining with him on nights when sleep has been generous instead of cruel, you finally look up at him.

A sigh of relief dispels the hoarded tension in your neck, shoulders, and chest when you rest your head against his chest and inhale. Sweat and copper muddle his natural scent, but even when he’s covered in his victories, even when he’s drenched in his defeats, he still smells like home- warm, safe, familiar, and comforting.

He hesitates to envelop you with the same thinly veiled desperation, holding himself back.

Every muscle in his body carries the strain of battles fought and won. His head throbs with the force of his thoughts, and the inescapable dizziness that always accompanies crashing down from a high. Then again, he’s never been one to ease into things gracefully. Tiny cuts and scrapes, angry blacks and blues, and even gaping gashes that are still seeping and tender to the touch hardly register as anything other than a stinging, burning sensation. Everything is dull. Ferocity and intensity both subdued. Through the haze of everything that competes for his attention, you’re the one thing that’s clear. As always, the hold you have on him, both physical and metaphorical, brings him back to his senses, but doubt keeps him withdrawn.

Warily wrapping his arms around you, Dick returns the gesture as best as he can. Cages built of muscle, meant to keep you close, refuse to lock you in place, and he finds it increasingly difficult to resist surrendering to you entirely. Just as his nerves begin to settle they spike once more when the gravity of the past few months finally begins to sink in. As you continue to tremble in his arms, he swallows a lump in his throat and fights the urge to hold you impossibly closer. If he weren’t so afraid, he’d never let go again. But he’s not the same man he was the last time you saw him. Having seen too much, he knows that he can’t let this become something more. Fear is rotten. He’s seen the future, and if he keeps leaning on you then he’s only going to drag you down with him. Regardless of what he really wants, he won’t let this become something more, but then he looks down at you in his shirt and realizes it’s always been something more- and it terrifies him more than anything.

When pink swirls around the drain- a muted severity of soapy lather and remnants of crusted, oozing red- he rests his forehead against the cold tiles and lets out a deep sigh. He can’t remember the last time he’d had a proper shower. Under the trickling scorch, he allows his shoulders to slump forward, letting the too-hot water soothe his muscles like a balm, and it stings in a way he welcomes- a reminder that he’s done it again, he’s survived the worst and now he just has to survive the recovery.

He’s never been good with the after, always losing himself in possibilities of what comes next without taking a minute to catch his breath, but he’s trying to be better. He owes it to you. Not only you but himself, too- but mostly you. So, he tries to forget. He pushes memories too fresh to be forgotten somewhere else, banishing them to the far corners of his mind and locking them away until he’s ready to face his demons at his own pace, on his own terms, but his wicked creations fight back. Even when they’re crafted from delusions, mirroring real-life counterparts with a precision too exact to be a figmented replication, he finds himself engaged in an internal match that never crowns a victor. It’s a conflict that never ceases, even after his own surrender. Still, he’s found that the intrusions are less when copper is overpowered by citrus, and when red, inevitably swirls into pink.

Steam amplifies the smell of sweat and body odor, so pungent that the only word to describe it is bad, and he holds his breath while he reaches for your soap once more. He can’t believe you let him anywhere near you. It’s even more unfathomable that you sought an embrace, despite the remnants of battle that’ve woven themselves into his being- lingering, even long after. He’s repulsed by that which exposes him, a stench so strong that it serves as a testament to the fact that he reclaimed you as soon as he could, coming right back to this haven of sorts without any prior stops, and his stomach churns uncomfortably, the once soothing mist tainting each attempt at air, and a weight teases the aching muscles of his chest which breath does not alleviate.

Through the haze, he sees the truth- when reality remains undistorted by the tricks of his own want and longing, he recognizes fact without his own warped perceptions of fantasy- and he realizes just how careless he’s been. By allowing desire to suade better judgment, he’s put you at risk. Guilt punishes with an onslaught of emotions ranging from frustration to anger, sadness to grief, and even regret to sorrow. His own reluctance to accept how dangerous it was, and always has been, to lean on your affections as a crutch has finally caught up to him. After all that he’s seen, after everything he’s been forced to bear witness to over the past few months, coupled with a lifetime of loss, he’s no longer able to ignore the thought that’s broken free from the shackles of elsewhere. What was once dull, always there but never really forgotten, has become intense and persistent.

Every time he finds his way back to you, he invites peril into your life. He’s hazardous. Even if he’s not, being attached to him- in any way- puts you at an even greater risk of endangerment. Trying to justify something even as tame as a friendship is absurd. You’re so much more than that. Whether he meant for it to happen or not, you’ve found a place within his heart. Every beat echoes your name and carries secrets of his devotion. All that remains of the walls meant to protect both of you is rubble, and Dick stands alone in the epicenter of the aftermath, unsure and torn between chaos and order. Selfishly, he wants. Greedily, he craves. Morally, he knows that he should just walk away- but he can’t.

The scene shifts, ceramic tile falling away to reveal an eerie, yet familiar boneyard, and he shakes his head. It’s not real. It was never real- but it was so vivid. Cold fog obscures his vision, and he closes his eyes. This is a trick. This isn’t truth. He knows what comes next. Forced to indulge in his worst nightmares, the shrill, piercing sound of your terror renders him numb. He can’t move. Paralyzed, he fights limbs of lead, but he can’t act. It surrounds him, your agony, and he can’t do anything to save you. He can’t protect you. With each cry of his name, you plead, but there’s nothing he can do. When silence follows his ragged breaths, he refuses to look down. He hates this part the most, but he doesn’t have a choice. Crimson stains the black and blue weave, and he can taste metallic. He doesn’t have any control over this hallucination, born and bred from his greatest fear, and all he can do is witness the fallout of your shared torture- your blood on his hands, his body slumped against your tombstone, and the triumphant laughter of a clown, a scarecrow, a ventriloquist, and a hundred more that delight in your demise.

He can’t catch his breath. Drifting further and further away from reality, he struggles to claw his way back towards the light. When his vision begins to fade, he reaches for more soap. In for three counts, out for four. In for three counts, and out for four, again, Dick feels lightheaded. There’s no limit to how far he’d go to keep you safe, not a single rule or code he wouldn’t break to protect you from anything and everything- and that’s an entirely different threat, in and of itself. His loyalty has the potential to become his ruin, and he’d let it- for your sake- but would that be enough? Could his devotion be enough to keep you safe from the otherwise brutal fate that awaits you with, and without, his intervention?

The bite of a washrag leaves his skin raw. Lost to his thoughts, he’s been mindlessly scrubbing away at his flesh, dousing himself with bubbled distraction. Another breath fails to alleviate his unease. All he can think about is that which is out of his control, and he can’t help but wonder, is there even a chance for the two of you?

Every thought is a contradiction.

He could wax poetic to Bruce about love- how precious and fragile and conscious it is- but he can’t even bring himself to act upon his own advice. Even worse than following in a denialist’s footsteps is being a hypocrite, but there are just too many variables for him to take into account- too many what-ifs and maybe’s that enable him to cower behind words left unspoken.

In spite of this, he dares to dream of a future where you’re his and he’s yours, and nothing else matters. Lost to his delusions, a smile threatens to work muscles that’ve remained dormant for months of disuse. It hurts. Stretching, pulling, and manipulating his face to actually convey what he’s feeling instead of trying to veil it, hurts. However, the worst pain follows. As he reaches for the illusion, it slips through his fingers- so close he can almost hold it, yet just out of reach, simultaneously- and just like that, reality distorts the mirage. Pried from him, ripped away and sporting his claw marks, what could’ve been remains what could’ve been- and it’s all his fault.

Fear suppresses his love.

He’s already lost so much, he can’t lose this, too. He won’t. However glutinous, he craves more- even when he knows he can’t have it, he wants with a desire that’s almost too strong to ignore. Almost. Locking his feelings away, he throws away the key, but his ribs begin to expand with the intensity of his longing, and his chest feels tight. This isn’t like before. It seems as if his secrets have outgrown their cages, and he finds himself at a crossroads. His mind begins to drift and he wonders if this agony is why Bruce kept Selina at arm’s length…

A sigh, and a revelation- he’s not Bruce, and you’re not Selina.

Dick’s been going about this all wrong. Despite everything he’s been taught about love and loss, he’s allowed a life outside of a domino mask and kevlar. He deserves to cherish someone, to protect and devote himself to something other than his work- someone to fight for, someone to come home to- and he deserves to be beloved, too. Even if only for tonight. Even if tomorrow isn’t promised and all you have is right now, you’re here. On the other side of the frosted glass screen and plaster, you’re waiting for him. Another smile, less forced and genuine, feels like a relief instead of a burden. His skin pebbles under the frigid stream left in the wake of molten steam. With a shiver, he seeks your warmth, reaching for the faucet and stepping out of the enclosure.

A worn shirt rests atop the counter, the fabric faded from years of wear and wash, folded neatly beneath a pair of fresh boxers and socks likely left behind from the last time, or the time before that, or even the time before…truth be told, he thought he’d lost it, misplaced it, or given it away. Of course, you’ve had it in your care, all along. The corner of his mouth threatens to twitch into a smile. Slipping the towel from around his waist, he begins to dress, wondering when you managed to sneak in without him hearing you. The door used to creak, and he realizes that you must have fixed it while he was gone. It’s hard not to think about what else might’ve changed since the last time he saw you. Would you have stayed with him, if he asked you to? You always have. Six years and counting, he muses if you always will…

His hair is getting long, again. Droplets fall from the overgrown strands at the base of his neck down his back, making him shiver and reach for his towel once more. He pats his hair down, ruffling it with the towel a few times before wiping away at the mirror. Making eye contact with his reflection he’s the first to look away. He’s looked worse and supposes that's a small win in and of itself, though he can’t stand the sight of himself any longer than he has to. A deep exhale and a shake of his head diverts his attention to the countertop where a spare toothbrush has been left out for him to use. Of course, he already knows where the toothpaste is. He helps himself with a growing smile and places it in the holder right next to yours when he’s done. His chest expands with something he can’t quite name when he finds himself surrounded by gentle reminders of your care. A small cup of water and painkillers act as physical embodiments of your thoughtfulness and he revels in the knowledge that you’re letting him know you’re there for him while giving him space to come down from whatever adrenaline rush the past few months have spiked. It’s in those silent gestures of love that he hears it the loudest, echoing and amplifying all around him.

It must be killing you to act so selflessly, and he tries not to be selfish with your affections, but it’s difficult not to feel like a burden when you’ve rearranged more than just a spot on the counter, or a place for him to keep his toothbrush next to yours, for him- giving him a home without expecting anything else in return.

Down the hall, the mattress protests against his arrival, angry springs squeaking from months of disuse before welcoming his weight and warmth on the side opposite of yours- his side, from the very moment, years ago, when he found his way back to you after a night that left him bloody and beaten but not broken. Never broken- not when he’s always had you. Though most memory of the first evening spent beside you remains a blur, the ability to recall details and specifics stolen from him as his wounds wept crimson tears that stained your hands and upholstery, fondness prevails. Despite robbed recollections, tender warmth, and affection remain. Even then, he knew. Without really knowing, without certainty, he was certain- he loved you, and you loved him, and every gentle, devoted gesture has always reaffirmed the one thing he could never doubt. Every silent offering, every selfless sacrifice, and piece of yourself that you’ve surrendered to him further insists that your heart acts in favor of three words never spoken.

His arm finds your waist easily, and he’s grateful that he doesn’t have to tiptoe around his reluctance to accept what this is, anymore. Not when you’re here. Not when you’re waiting so patiently for him, and snuggle back into his hold the moment he reaches out for you. Some limbs tangle, but not yours- the two of you fit perfectly together, like you were truly meant to be, and the moment that you’re allowed to converge, you press your palm flat against his arm, holding him close to you.

Reacquainting yourself with him after is always your favorite part. Though, your heart cleaves when your fingertips ghost over a new scar- the skin still raised and angry, even if the wound has closed. With something akin to sympathy, an apology for the pain he’s suffered that you can’t take away, you gently trace the new mark in acknowledgment.

Tomorrow, or later today, when the sunlight illuminates the sky, you’ll ask him about it. Or, maybe you won’t. When the first glimpses of warm light threaten to spill over the horizon, you might get answers to the questions you’ve spent the last few months pondering. Or, perhaps everything unasked will remain unresolved. Either way, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is the fact that tonight, you’ll sleep- safe and protected, at ease and engulfed by all things him- and even if it only lasts for the night, you’ll cherish whatever small moments of intimacy the moon grants before the sun, inevitably, rips them away- a fate you’ve grown to expect, time and time again.

Still, you let your eyes flutter shut, basking in the silence for only a moment before it’s interrupted.

“I love you,” Dick confesses softly, words warm and whispered against your shoulder encouraged by a fleeting moment of courage- and the tender caress of your touch- that prompt the secret to spill from his chest, an accident he fears he may have to render excuses for to salvage whatever broken pieces are left of this unspoken relationship.

“I know,” With your back towards him he misses the stretch of a smile ghosting your lips, and finds himself tensing behind you. Could you have really known? All this time? Is that why he always comes back? Is that why you let him? “I love you, too,”

“No, I mean, I really lo-“

“Tell me in the morning, yeah?” You suggest before he can get too far ahead of himself. Torn between wanting to clarify his confession and realizing that maybe he doesn’t have to, Dick relents. He can’t really argue, anyway- having kept this to himself for so many years, another few hours won’t hurt. With a breath- of acceptance, not defeat or surrender- he closes his eyes and finally relaxes into your embrace.

It’s over.

For now, Dick can rest easy knowing that when the smell of bergamot fades, this tacit love will always remain, and he finds enough comfort in the realization to let it lull him into a peaceful sleep.

a/n: I love him so much!!! this has been rotting in my brain for nearly a year and I just found it in my drafts last night lol! anyway, this started as a challenge to myself where I wanted to see if I could write something with only five lines of dialogue, and I'm curious to hear how you all think it turned out! as always, requests are open! check out my request guidelines before submitting! and if you’ve made it this far, thank you so much for reading! 

everyone who requested to be tagged: @idyllcy @wicked-laugh @ul4lume

Send me some feedback, or request to be added to my taglist! (please specify which taglist you’d like to be added to- character or general) !Requests: OPEN!

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[r4fe-cam3ron]

𓍯 ִֶָ FEBRUARY FOURTH; side a — about you - the 1975 | d. lizewski x reader

w; dave & r is aged up (both in their twenties!), ‘old flames’ (really just best friends - who have lost touch but still remember everything about one another - to lovers) reunite, i sort of change the story about his dad (he’s still kick a—!) an; i had to change up his dad’s story about getting beaten </3 for the plot to work. i hope no one minds and everyone enjoys at least!!!!

mixtape here!

Your chin rests in the palm of your hands as your eyes glance around the restaurant, fingers slowly tapping against the table as you let out a small sigh. Leaning back, your eyes look down at your phone to check the time and to see if any messages have suddenly appeared. 

Nothing. And an hour late. 

Rubbing your forehead in embarrassment, you stand from your chair and ignore the looks from the many people who sit together with a stupid little red rose and stupid little candles. 

Slipping on your jacket, you quickly grab your clutch and make your way out of the restaurant without a single word to anyone. It’s eight now, and you’d gotten dressed up for nothing. 

You’re aimlessly walking around now — not quite ready to go home, yet not quite sure where to go either. 

Until you’re met with the sight of the familiar comic shop that you used to go to regularly with friends. You don’t go as much anymore — if you do, it’s strictly for a family member’s birthday or to stop by and get coffee, and maybe look to see what all has changed. 

Which, nothing has. It’s a bit brighter inside with new paint and new lights, but other than that, nothing else has changed. Stepping towards the counter, you smile at the teenager behind it. “One iced caramel latte, please.” 

She nods, putting in the order. “Anything else?” 

Glancing over at the case of pastries, you point at a muffin. “A blueberry muffin as well, please.” The girl nods once again, entering it before telling you the price. Handing over the cash, plus a tip for her being so nice — and for working on the suckiest holiday of the year — you step away after telling her your name. 

You walk slowly around the collection of comics, a small smile pulling at the corner of your lips. You wished you could go back to being a teenage girl — who had been constantly considered ‘weird’ — even if that meant figuring everything out once again. 

Part of you thinks that, maybe, if you would have the chance to go back, there’s a lot more you would’ve changed. Maybe admitted to others. 

The wave of nostalgia almost knocks you off your feet from the nausea it gives you suddenly. Shaking your head, you pick a superhero that you always gravitate towards — Spider-man. 

You pick up your treats from the counter and make your way towards a table, slipping into a booth and laying everything out before opening the comic book. 

You forget how much the silly little things can pull you in — you hadn’t realized the numbness in your legs, or that the ice in your drink had now melted, watering down the coffee and droplets had left a ring around it. 

Or that someone was in front of you. 

“I see you still get pulled into the pages.” 

Startled, you blink a couple of times and quickly look up at the man who stands in front of the table. Lips parting, your heart drops. “Dave?” 

He grins and nods. “The one and only.” 

Laughing slightly, you slip out of the booth and quickly pull him into a hug. “Oh, my god. Look at you!” You pull away, your hands gripping onto his biceps. “Your…hair! It’s gone!” 

He lets out a small chuckle. “And I hit puberty, finally. So you can’t laugh at me anymore about my squeaky voice.” 

You make a face at that. “Sorry about that.” 

“It was all done in fun,” His brow lifts slightly. “Wasn’t it?” 

“What? Of course it was,” You nod quickly, flushing under his gaze. “I’d never intentionally make fun of you.” 

His demeanor slightly falls before he lets out a soft chuckle. “I know that. I was only teasing,” His eyes fell into the red dress that you’d picked out specifically for today. “Hot date?” 

Looking down at the dress, you tug at the material. “No. Stood me up so I just left,” You shrug a bit. “It was embarrassing walking out to say the least.” 

“He stood you up? There’s no way,” He lets out a scoff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whoever it is, is clearly missing out.” 

“You’re just saying that.” You roll your eyes, collecting your trash so he wouldn’t catch onto the redness that caught your cheeks aflame. 

“I’m being serious!” He watches as you toss the items, picking up the comic book. He follows behind you, lips pursing a bit before clearing his throat. “Let me take you out.” 

You stop abruptly, causing him to stumble into your back, his hands quickly shooting out to stabilize himself on your arms. “What?” 

“Would it be so weird?” He shrugs as you turn to face him. “You’re already dressed up. Plus, we were best friends,” Your eyes drop down to the ground at that. 

“You can let me take you out on one date. Then you can pretend I never exist again.” 

You frown and quickly look at him. “Dave, I could never forget you,” You shake your head, pinching your brows together. “You were…” Trailing off, your heart skips a beat in your chest as your eyes linger on his blue ones. 

“You were special to me. We just…fell out of contact, is all.” 

Dave nods and glances at the comic in your hand. He reaches out and slowly pulls it from your hand, slipping it back into its designated spot before holding his hand. “Then let me take you out. Just this once.” 

Glancing down at his hand, you place yours into his. He smiles and grips your hand softly, pulling you towards the door without a second thought. 

“Where are we going?” You ask, curiously. If he were to lead you blindly into a burning building, you don’t think you would’ve cared. 

He glances over at you, a small smile pulling at his lips as he shrugs. “For me to know.” 

“And for me to find out.” You sigh playfully, shaking your head. He chuckles and comes to a stop. 

“Wait here,” You watch as he jogs back, confused but you do as he had said, looking around at the busy street and sidewalk, smiling a bit at the loud laughter and singing coming from all around. 

Dave comes back five minutes later, hands behind his back. You turn and lift your brows, tilting your head. “Alright…you’re worrying me now.” That has him chuckling. 

He pulls his arm from behind his back, your smile dropping slightly as you stare at the flowers in his hand — that just so happens to be your favorite. 

He clears his throat a bit. “I remember you saying something about liking these. And I needed to start the date off right.” 

“I said those were my favorite in middle school, Dave—”

“Do you…not like these anymore? I can go and—”

You quickly cut him off. “No. I mean, yes. I still love them. I’m just…” You let out a small laugh, truly in awe about how he even remembered such a small detail about you. “I don’t know how you remembered those were my favorite.” 

He scratches at the side of his neck, shrugging. “I just remember.” 

You smile and gently pull them from his grip, the brown paper crinkling in your hands. “Thank you,” You stare at the petals before your eyes lift and meet his. “I can’t remember when the last time I got flowers was.” 

Never. 

The answer was simply never. No boy — or man, now — has stopped to get you flowers as a simple gift. Not that it’s a necessity to bring flowers to a date, but taking the time and showing you care… 

It’s something that, now you can admit, can make a heart skip a beat. 

He smiles softly and nods. “Yeah…” He clears his throat as he pushes his hands into the pockets of his coat. “Of course. Yeah. I just…I thought it’d be nice.” 

“This was very nice,” Your teeth sink into your bottom lip slightly, the action having his blue eyes drop for a second before looking back up. “Well, Lizewski, lead the way.” 

He smiles a bit and nods, beginning to walk down the sidewalk, your feet following beside him. 

After a couple of moments, he stops abruptly and turns towards you, causing your brows to pinch together in confusion as you look over at him. “Are you—”

“Close your eyes,” He nudges his chin towards you. A small playful smile spreads over his lips when he notices how confused you look at the request. “Just do it.” 

“You aren’t going to—”

“No,” He laughs softly, knowing what you were going to ask. Taking a step over to stand in behind you, his hand grazes your arm as he turns you a bit. Sighing, you give in and allow your eyes to slip shut. You suddenly feel his hands covering your eyes as well. 

“Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes,” His voice is soft and your breath hitches from how close he truly is. “Trust me.” 

You’re rendered speechless only for a moment before you quickly nod. “I do.” 

He smiles softly, allowing you to lead the way as you follow his instructions blindly. “…Okay, stop,”

Your movements cease and you feel the warmth of him disappear — slightly disappointed. “Open.” His voice is now coming from your left side. 

Your eyes slowly open, adjusting a bit to the change of lighting. Your lips part in surprise before a smile tugs at your lips. “It’s still here?” You look away from the treehouse, instead looking at Dave. 

He smiles and nods. “Of course,” He motions towards the house he grew up in. “Dad left the house to me in the will.” 

Your smile slowly fades, shoulders dropping slightly. “James died?” 

He nods a bit. “Sadly, that’s the only reason I’m back,” He clears his throat. “But after cleaning everything out and putting the house on the market—”

“You’re not staying?” 

He stares at you for a moment before shaking his head hesitantly. “No. I’m going back home.” 

I’m going back home. 

It’s not much of anything, but the words have your heart twisting in a painful way and your eyes drop towards the flowers as you nod slightly. He would be leaving you — again. 

But you will not be selfish. Even if you want to. 

“Alright, let’s climb up and see what we used to hide away, shall we?” 

Your eyes lift and a small smile pulls at the corner of your mouth but never fully expands to anything more. You nod and walk towards the tree, placing your flowers onto the chair next to it before crawling up the ladder. 

Pushing the door open, you push yourself up and crawl inside before standing and dusting off your legs. Looking around, the wave of nostalgia is suddenly hitting you once again, almost knocking you back onto the ground. 

Stepping closer to the carving you’d once done, your fingers trace over the initials, a small laugh leaving your lips as your head tilts. 

“Oh, god,” You quickly look over your shoulder, noticing the box Dave was holding. “The green and yellow suit.” You let out a laugh when he holds it up, shaking it a bit. 

You cover your mouth when you notice the look he gives you. “Sorry.” You quickly apologize. 

“You laughing at the super suit?” 

“Uh,” You glance at the suit that he holds in his hands once again, before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” You let out another laugh. He smiles and rolls his eyes, grabbing the mask from the bottom and tosses the box onto the wooden ground. 

He steps over and tugs it down on your head, grinning. “Mhm,” He nods. “You do look like a dork in this.” 

“Ha-ha. Funny,” You roll your eyes, despite the smile that remains glued onto your face. You tug the mask from your head. He lifts his hands and quickly fixes the strands of hair that had covered your face. 

You gulp quietly, feeling the pad of his thumb brush over your cheek as he does so. “Thanks.” 

He nods and pulls his hands away, now turning and sitting down on the small dusty blanket in the corner. Your face scrunches a bit when he does. 

He pats the spot beside him wordlessly. You make your way over and sit next to him, the mask still in your hands. Thumbing the material, you lean your head back on the wood. 

“Are you still…?” 

He bites his cheek slightly before nodding a bit. “I’ll always be,” His eyes linger on the mask in your hands. “Even if I’m not actively out and saving people like I used to when I was a…teenager — God, a teenager,” 

He lets out a small sound of disbelief as he shakes his head. “A part of that is still with me. No matter how much I kind of wish it wasn’t.” 

You nod in understanding. “You got hurt. A lot.” 

“That I did.” He smirks a bit — though, it’s not an amused one. 

You debate on what you're about to say. Tell him now and regret it later. 

Or never say anything and still regret it. 

Inhaling deeply, you will yourself to calm down before speaking. “I thought that first time — when you went into the hospital and your dad called me — that I had…” You pause. You can feel his eyes on you now, rather than the mask in your hands. 

“But, when I came to visit you, you were okay,” You smiled a bit with a nod. “That calmed me. Then, long story short, I found out why you’d ended up in the hospital,” 

You look over at him. “I remember asking you to stop because I didn’t want you to get hurt or worse,” He nods a bit. “You told me I didn’t understand and I never would. Then, Katie and you became a thing and suddenly…you’d listened to her,”

He frowns and looks away quickly. “I’m not mad about it. I mean, at first I was — because I had been your best friend and I thought maybe you’d listen to me, yet you just kind of shrugged me off. But when Katie asked you, you had no problem with the idea,” You shrug a bit. “I was also just a teenager trying to…navigate my feelings. I got angry at you, more than I probably should have.” 

“You never…told me. Or even showed it.” 

“That’s because I loved you, Dave,” He quickly looks back at you. You give him a weak smile and quickly look away when you feel the upcoming tears suddenly tingle and prick at your eyes. You laugh at yourself airly, shaking your head. “And that was a hard thing to feel because I was so…confused. I had never felt that way towards anyone before,” 

“And I was trying to figure out why I would keep letting you in when you’d get hurt and…” You’re now regretting dredging up the past. Because that’s exactly where it’s supposed to stay — in the past. “And I finally figured out when you had left without even really saying anything to me. Not that you had to, because I understand why you wanted to leave, but it still hurt all the same.” 

Dave blinks a couple of times at your words but remains staring at you as he does so. He clears his throat, mouth opening and shutting a few times before only saying; “You loved me?” 

You nod your head. “Yeah. Of course,” You tuck your hair behind your ear and finally place the mask down on the blanket next to you. “It wasn’t just because I grew up with you, it was just because it was…easy,” You shrug. 

“It was easy to love you and I always thought…” You trail off, eyes cutting towards the side to glance out the small window. 

“Thought what?” He asks softly. 

“I had always thought you and I both would’ve…ended up together,” You lean your head back. “It’s a bit silly now to say, especially when I know you had never viewed me that way back then. It was just the typical white fence, big wedding, two kids, type of dream I had.” 

“Why do you think I never thought of you in the same way?” He shakes his head. 

“Oh, come on,” You let out a small scoff, looking over at him. He genuinely looks confused and you lift your head from the wall. “You had gotten Katie. Katie, Dave. You would’ve never gone after someone like me.” 

“That’s not true,” He sits up, pointing towards you. Your brows lift slightly. “That is so not true. I used to try to get you to go on dates with me all the time.” 

“Asking if I wanted to go to the movies — like we always did, might I add — was not asking me on a date,” You let out a small laugh. “Especially if Todd and Marty were joining,” 

He frowns and looks down. You sigh and drop your hand on top of his. “Dave, it’s okay. Really. It’s over now and—”

“Do you still feel the same?” He cuts you off quickly. You stare at him as if you had imagined him saying it. 

After a moment of silence and a slight, silent urge of lifted brows, you speak. “I-I mean…” You purse your lips, your heart beating in your throat now instead of it staying where it needed to stay. 

“I don’t think loving someone ever comes to an end,” You shake your head. “Especially after loving them for so long.” 

Dave stares at you silently for a moment before surging forward and catching your lips with his, his hands cradling your jaw. The initial shock wears off quickly and your fingers are finally wrapping around his wrist gently. 

He slowly pulls away, still staying close where you could feel his breath brush over your lips and the top of his lip graze your own. 

“Did that just—”

“Yeah.” He cuts you off with a whisper. 

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Teenage me is screaming,” You whisper. He snorts, pressing another soft kiss against your lips before the corner of your mouth. “But you didn’t have to do that.” 

He pulls his forehead away from yours, tilting his head a bit. “I wanted to,” He nods. “I’ve always wanted to. I was just too scared to put myself out on the line for you. But I should’ve.” 

“You should’ve,” You nod, leaning into his hand the remains on your cheek. “Are you still going to leave?” You whisper. His eyes remain on yours, a small smile on his face. 

“I think I found a reason to stay.” 

𓍯 ִֶָ tags; @ali-r3n — @marchsfreakshow — @sstar-ggirl — @pretty-little-mind33 — @love-quinn

𓍯 ִֶָ thank you for reading! comments, reblogs, & feedback are welcome & greatly appreciated!

[blackbirdie1234]

Brothers Best Friend Pt.1

Sam Uley! x Fem!Reader!

A/N: Part one of a two-part series where Sam is your brother's friend. Slightly based on the plot of New Moon. Emily is Sam's cousin in this. I'll get part two out as soon as I can!

Warnings//: Profanity.

Summary: Sam is your brother's best friend. What happens when suddenly you start hearing rumors that they have joined a gang and gone off the rails.

B/N=Brothers name (make one up if you wish.)

You had heard the rumors, “Sam started a cult”, “They must be in a gang”, and "Did you know that Sam and his goons run around the woods shirtless and perform rituals" It was all over the town. In a town with less than three thousand people, rumors are bound to spread like wildfire. You didn’t want to believe it, more so because your brother was a part of it, and you could never think of him being involved in that. No matter how much you didn’t want to accept it you couldn’t help how your mind raced with anxious thoughts.

Could your brother really be in a cult? Could Sam really be the one to lead and start it? The evidence was a harsh reality, every single person in the group including your brother had cut their long hair short and gotten a matching tattoo, and that had to be something. You decided enough was enough, enough of hearing rumors, enough of your brother ignoring your existence, enough of your parents worrying, and enough of letting your feelings for Sam blind you from the truth.

You have known Sam since childhood. Sam and your brother were close friends, which meant him being around a lot and you two having general knowledge of each other. As the years went on you had developed a small crush on the boy, but you would NEVER tell him or your brother that. You always thought he saw you as his friend's annoying little sister, and he did at least until one day that started changing. It happened slowly, the lingering glances, the protectiveness turning from one of brotherly love to jealousy, the very structure of your dynamic began to change. You decided that you push those feelings down, no matter how strong they were. You couldn't handle the thought of your brother finding out about your feelings for his best friend or even Sam for that matter, you knew he wouldn't approve, and besides the chances of Sam seeing you as anything more than the girl who used to hang out with his cousin and annoy him is very slim.

You were on your way to Sam’s house, you didn’t have a plan and you didn’t even know what you were going to say but you had determination and that was enough for you. You pulled up to Sam’s house and immediately saw multiple guys without their shirts on staring at you, you got out of the car ignoring their gazes. Heading straight for the front door you barged in without knocking.

“B/N?!” you shouted, walking through the house.

You soon realized no one was inside. You ran out of the house, looking around until you saw them. You stormed down the hill towards the woods, where Sam and your brother stood facing the trees talking. When you saw them you couldn’t help the anger that rose in your chest as you got closer and closer.

"HEY!" You yelled to the two boys, who turned their heads to look at you immediately.

You saw the confusion on both of their faces as you continued to stomp towards them. You are soon face to face with your brother, who is looking at you like you've grown two heads. Thats when you started ripping in to him.

"You need to explain everything to me right here, right now. I am tired of hearing that my big brother is now a part of some gang and that Sam Uley is the leader of it. You've ignored me for weeks, cut your hair off, gotten a tattoo. Mom and Dad are worried sick and you couldn't even pick up the damn phone like a man and explain what you've been doing. So I'm here now. Explain, and it better be good because I swear to you B/N I wont sit here and wait for you to pull your head out of your ass and realize all of the damage you've done." You say frustration bleeding from the words. You take a deep breath after the tangent.

Your brother's face shifts from confusion to understanding. He lets out a deep sigh. He was about to start talking but something stopped him. He slowly turned his head towards Sam, who is staring at you now with more intensity than you've ever seen on anyone before. Your brother started switching back and forth between you and Sam, becoming angrier and angrier each time. You were about to tell them to stop staring at you like idiots and tell you what was going on, when suddenly your brother started punching Sam repeatedly.

You stood there in shock. Before your brain could even process what was happening, they were now on the ground throwing punches wherever they could land.

"WHAT THE FUCK?......B/N, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" you exclaim through a scream.

All you can do is stand there and watch as your brother and Sam continue to throw each other around. Until, suddenly they weren't human anymore. They were gigantic wolves. You scream and fall back in shock at the sight of the two wolves, fighting their way into the woods. You sit there staring in shock as they tumble deep into the trees. You sit there for what feels like hours but is more likely a few seconds, now only hearing the sound of snarls and yelps from the distance. You begin to hear running behind you, 4 other wolves the same size jump over your head continuing into the woods. They disappear and you are left sitting, completely alone, and feeling like you are going crazy.

That didn't just happen, right? That was all in my head? What in the ever-living fuck did I just see? Why the hell did my brother start attacking Sam? How could this even be possible?, that's it I am now officially insane. These thoughts run into your head before you hear soft footsteps coming from behind you. A big contrast to the ones you heard just moments before.

"Are you okay, ?" A sweet voice calls out. You turn around to see Emily, Sam's cousin, with a calm but concerned look on her face.

"Did... did you see that?" you say in a wavering tone, barely above a whisper.

She walked over to you and grabbed your hand, helping you up off the ground and softly dusting the dirt off of your back. She always knew how to comfort someone, her presence alone was warm and inviting. You two were closer when you were little, you are still friends but haven't spoken since you started distancing yourself from Sam. You were scared of your feelings for him and the hurt it might cause, so you pushed him away and by default Emily as well.

"Everything is going to be okay, Y/N," she said in a soothing tone, careful to not spook you even more. "Why don't you come with me inside, I'll get you some tea and a blanket and we can talk about it."

She led me up the hill, rubbing a comforting circle into my back. She made me tea and wrapped a blanket around my shoulders. All I could do was stare blankly into the mug, mind running faster than my body could handle, as we sat down she began speaking.

“Your brother is a werewolf, and so is Sam and the rest of the boys,” she said giving a small smile and holding my hand. “I know it doesn’t make sense, and when they get back they can explain it better, but you have to understand he couldn’t tell you. It’s a sacred rule, and Sam enforced it. Alphas orders get obeyed whether they want it or not.” She says scanning my face for my reaction as she continues.

" I do not want to cause you more distress than you've already had today, so I'm going to leave the rest to Sam and B/N," she said smiling softly at me. She took my hand in hers and rubbed it smoothly "Unless you have any questions to ask me"

I looked up at her and shook my head no. I loved Emily but this was all too much, all I had was one question for her.

"I only have one, why did my brother attack Sam like that? It was out of nowhere, I couldn't even react it all happened so fast." I ask with confusion trying to wrap my head around all of this.

She looked at me a bit stunned as if she didn't know that piece of information, and I had just said something totally bizarre.

"He what?" she said stuttering a bit. "Wait B/N attacked Sam? Is that why they shifted? I thought the boys caught a whiff of........ nevermind" she trails off at the end, not meaning to slip up.

"Caught a whiff of what?" I ask staring at her intensely. She looks up at me like a child getting caught doing something wrong by their parents, she avoids my eyes and stands up starting to clean up what I'm assuming was lunch, until the boys were interrupted.

"Of what, Emily" I ask a bit more sternly.

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

(Adam becomes a woman AU)

Adam was getting ready for bed crying, he had gotten back from the meeting with Hell. Only Lilith came this time and she spent the whole time bragging how loving and devoted Lucifer was to her. Adam slammed his fists on the table and declared that Lucifer was meant to be with him and someday Lucifer would realize it. This just made Lilith laugh and she told him that Lucifer only liked women and the only way that Adam would have a chance with him was if Adam was a woman. Adam lay in the bed as he cried.

Adam: I wish that I was a woman, if that is the only way Luci could love me then I would do anything to be with him.

Adam then fell asleep in the morning he woke up feeling different. He got out of bed and looked at his reflection in the mirror and gasped softly. He was gorgeous. He was a woman with knee length hair. He was chubby in a cute way, not gross in the gross way he thought he was as a man. His breasts were nice and big, even bigger than Lilith’s were. He placed his hands between his legs and saw he had a pussy instead of a dick. He had a woman’s body. Just then Sera walked into the room and looked at Adam confused.

Sera: Starlight, what happened?

Adam: This is the only way Luci will love.

He loved how his voice sounded as a woman.

Sera: Oh my poor Starlight, I will always love you no matter what. You shouldn’t have to change yourself to get love from Lucifer.

Sera held her arms out to Adam and Adam walked over to her and held him. They both knew that they would have to tell the council of Heaven that Adam was now a woman. But he was going to use this as a chance to get with Lucifer. When he had the chance to, he was going to sneak down to Hell and show Lucifer how they were perfect for each other.

First thing he did was get some bras and panties, if Adam was going to steal Luicfer from Lilith like she did him then he needed everything to be perfect.

They were lacey and purple with gold, the thought of Luicfer removing Adams panties with his teeth made him excited, Adam felt himself getting wet at the idea of having Lucifer's thick cock inside him.

Should he refer to himself as he or she now? It'll take getting used to.

Once dressed in a lovely purple and gold dress Adam went to the council meeting and they were all confused as to how he was a woman now.

The second that meeting was over, Adam grabbed some fake horns to blend in with other members of Hell and went down.

Lucifer was at the hotel visiting Charlie, he needed to be away from the manor and by extension Lilith. She was getting to be a bit much.

Adam got down to Hell, she needed a new name and the only one that came to mind was Adaline. She saw Luicfer go to this hotel and her heart leaped. So what's where Adaline would go.

She knocked on the door and Charlie answered, she welcomed her in and Adam lied saying she was there to be rehabilitated.

Adaline looked over to Luicfer who was looking at her with stars in his eyes.

Lucifer knew that form anywhere, how was Adam a woman? Not that he cared, Adam was beautiful either way.

Adam went over and held out her hand: Hi, I'm Adaline.

Lucifer smirked, oh playing that way are we?

Lucifer: I'm Lucifer.

He kissed her hand and Adam blushed.

[dreamwritersworld]

tell me. (sully brother x reader)

y/n was the Sully’s family brightest friend. She was smart, witty, and kind hearted. These traits were the reasons why the Sully family loved her. Y/n lost her parents at a young age due to outsiders and instead of turning their back on her. Jake Sully introduced her to his children and opened his home to her always.

Being that she was alone, she grew to become very well trained. She was better than any warrior in the clan..well almost. Everyone but Neteyam. He was her equal. Of course highly trained warriors didn’t need each other but somehow they found a way to have that need. Neteyam needed her just as much as she needed him.

As serious of a warrior she was, outside of that she was an absolute goofball. She was almost as bad if not worse than Lo’ak. She didn’t have any limit or someone to keep her from exploring. Y/n loved every part of the forest. All corners of it were familiarized but she only dared to explore the forbidden parts with Lo’ak and Kiri. On any free day she made sure Lo’ak was up and out of bed, tugging on his leg singing a good morning song, giggling like an idiot while Lo’ak struggled to open his eyes and begging her to give him five more minutes.

It’s safe to say all siblings knew Y/n from front to back. As older as the children got, Neteyam denied her of anything more than a friendship. He couldn’t see himself going further when he believed Lo’ak was in the way.

To say it didn’t hurt Y/n would be an understatements she knew. She saw the way he separated himself slowly but surely and she never understood why. It broke her heart and yet she buried that pain. While the years grew, it was inevitable for Y/n to grow closer with Lo’ak.

“Lo’ak! Wake up! It’s my free day! You should be awake hurry-“

“Y/n! I could sense you coming from miles away! You do this every free day you have-“

“Oh Yea? If that’s so, why aren’t you ready for our day of…adventures.”

Y/n whispered the last part as if the rest of the family hadn’t known of their mischief but it felt better acting as though it was a secret. It meant they had this one thing to themselves and only meant for them.

“Can I come?”

Y/n nods quickly to Kiri’s request while Lo’ak turns his head to roll his eyes. Can’t he and Y/n have at least one free day to themselves? It’s been weeks since Y/n’s gotten a chance away from training. He needed alone time with her.

The trio ran through the forest and soon found a comfortable spot to relax in. The conversation was going fantastic until Neteyam was brought up. After hearing his name Y/n faded away into her thoughts. She couldn’t believe how distant they had gotten when they were so close as children

*y/n’s flashback*

Our last real conversation that wasn’t about work or the clan or his siblings was harsh and rash. I couldn’t believe he had done what he did. I was just so fed up with his silence I wanted to confront him…boy do I wish I hadn’t had the urge to.

For a couple of minutes, I had waited silently, watching and observing Neteyam. I waited for the moment to finally approach him. After a couple of minutes I couldn’t wait anymore.

“Neteyam, please we need to talk.”

“Talk about your training today? Or the clan?”

“Why must it be just about that Neteyam? What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?”

In that moment I wanted to curse myself for our horrible communication skills. When we trained, we understood each other but when it came to anything else these days..it was completely different.

“I mean..us.”

“Always one to confront Y/n-“

“Yes when it really matters to me I always am.”

“Matters? Y/n our friendship is just fine.”’

“No it not Neteyam. You barely speak a word to me unless it’s about work. I need you. I’ve always needed you and it doesn’t seem that way for you anymore-“

“It never was Y/n. What you need to understand is that there are plenty of friends you rely on and you can’t depend on me when im so busy-“

“Neteyam! Can you please help us serve the table? We can go fly together once we’re done!” Another women had called and he listened. He listened for her. He didn’t deny her.

“Of course-“

There Y/n stood in verbal silence but it was clear that her heart had shattered right in front of him and he hadn’t cared.

“Neteyam wait. Please just tell me-“

“I’m talking to someone!”

Neteyam had turned harshly and corrected her. It was as though he had already been Olo'eyktan. He ordered her to walk away and mind her own. This hurt Y/n deeply. She was such a strong person but her heart was truly gentle. This pain was written all over Y/n’s face. She had turned away from Neteyam quickly.

“Wait…Y/n im sorry..”

Y/n hadn’t turned back to spare him a chance of an apology and instead she kept walking further away from him. She couldn’t recognize him. For the first time in her life she couldn’t understand him or see him. He never raised his voice, he never corrects her the way he did.

What she hadn’t realized was that Neteyam watched her always. Such a skilled woman and she was blind to Neteyam’s ways. After the flying, he saw how Y/n helped clean up the area that the clan ate at with Kiri. Then suddenly he was pulled away when Lo’ak approached him.

“Neteyam! Neteyam! You have to help me.”

“Help you how?”

“It’s Y/n Neteyam. She is the light mom and dad always speak of!”

“Just talk to her like you’ve done many times before. Be yourself.”

Neteyam spoke of it as though it was so easy…because for him it was. Y/n constantly spoke to him with excitement and she cared his words and emotions as though it was hers. Lo’ak harshly sighed at this response stressed and frustrated.

“No Neteyam. You don’t understand! Myself isn’t good enough. Of course I’m good friends with her but it’s never been just us and when it is someone is always nearby..I need more.”

“Fine. Fine. Keep it simple. Ask her a question.”

“Right! A question…this is good.”

“Yea. Try to be confident, disinterested-“

“But im very interested!”

“Tell her about the flowers.”

“What flowers?”

“The ones she always takes Tuk to when she’s not running around the clan with work. They’re called sun lily’s. Long stems. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“Ok! Ok! Here I go!”

Neteyam watched Lo’ak slowly pick up and clean, walking beside Y/n. Never had he seen Lo’ak so nervous. He understood why someone like him could be intimidated though. Y/n stood tall and confident. He assumed maybe she was still upset after their dispute so he knew when upset she often liked to listen before she spoke shortly, leaving a gap of silence some may have trouble finding comfortability in.

“It’s very hot isn’t it?”

“Yup.”

“I-I love listening.”

“ok?”

“I’m listening right now.”

“To what?”

“What you just said.”

“You’re the one that’s talking.”

“I am? You smell like a sun-“

Y/n laughed at his abrupt statement, completely confused yet amused at his inability to speak

“What?”

“uh..a sun lily!”

“How do you know about those flowers?”

“I-I-..well I inhaled them with my nose..I can smell them!”

The panic was clear to Y/n. She couldn’t understand why. Lo’ak had always spoken to her but maybe it’s because this time they were alone? Or perhaps he’s trying to find a way to express his stress but doesn’t know how to? Either way, Y/n didn’t bother to push it out of him. In fact she was glad. He made her feel better after the whole incident with Neteyam, she no longer thought of it.

“That’s wonderful Lo’ak! I heard that only Olo'eyktan can do that!”

“Really?”

“Yes of course! Mhm you’d be great as one.”

“I-I don’t know maybe?”

“Oh without a doubt you would!”

“Well then perhaps until then we should go out more often”

“We always do silly!”

“Yea but I mean-“

“Y/n! The children want to hear a song!”

Kiri interrupted their conversation abruptly. Y/n smiled at Lo’ak thinking nothing of his kindness.

“I must go. But when im done let’s fly before eclipse!”

“O-ok! Definitely..”

“What were you doin?!” Kiri asked Lo’ak in a rushed quiet tone.

“I was trying to talk to Y/n Kiri-“

“In what way? Because you were going to embarrass yourself.”

“What? Huh?”

“Didn’t you hear? Y/n and Neteyam got into an argument earlier.”

“How so?”

“She tried confronting him on their friendship and he threw it in her face!”

“Oh..well she didn’t mention that.”

“Of course not. It’s none of your business.”

“Ok then what’s that got to do with me and embarrassment?”

“She clearly saw something with Neteyam. Lo’ak, don’t do this. Not yet. She just got denied from our own brother, her best friend.”

“Neteyam didn’t mention this either. I spoke to him and he sent me her way. Their dispute must have been nothing but a disagreement you Scknwang”

“Yes well he’s one to put you first. Tsk. You said she smells like a sun and you call me a Sckwang?”

Lo’ak laughed at his ignorance but he couldn’t help but watch Y/n while doing it. She was so good and proud of the clan. She fit right in.

“you like her don’t you?”

“maybe…I-i don’t know.”

“We’ve been friends for so long. We grew up together Lo’ak its natural.”

“Natural? What’s natural about this?”

“This is just a small crush. Right?”

“right.”

*end*

“Y/n! Pandora to Y/n!” (Lo’ak)

“Huh?”

“I thought we lost you!” (Lo’ak)

“Lose me? Tsk never that!”

“You went prettyyyy silent there Y/n” (Kiri)

The sister urged Lo’ak to look at Y/n’s actions when she was about to begin a questionnaire with the young warrior.

“Thinking of someone perhaps? Someone named Neteyam.” (Kiri)

“Kiri that is not your business or worries-“ Y/n spoke silently

“Oh Y/n. I know it’s not but I too can’t understand.” (Kiri)

“Understand what? Keep me involved guys.” (Lo’ak) urged them to finish their sentences urging them to admit whether Y/n still had a crush on Neteyam or not.

“Understand why Neteyam stopped speaking to Y/n.” (Kiri)

“It’s simply a misunderstanding. I don’t feel like talking about it-“

“Well you can’t ignore your frustrations Y/n. It’s only been a couple of months-“ (Kiri)

“Do you like him? Because no offense but I heard he was with uh…ma’eve.”

“Lo’ak you don’t even sound sure of that in your lie.” Kiri could see her brothers jealousy from a distance. She knew Lo’aks small crush was more than Y/n needed..or wanted. Y/n didn’t understand what she needed.

“It’s not a lie! It’s true!”

Lo’ak got up quickly urging the pair to believe him, putting a hang up swearing to it

“True? How could that be true-“ (Kiri)

“Kiri don’t act oblivious now. Mother and father had tried approaching him about a ‘queen’ to the future Olo'eyktan-“

“really?”

Y/n spoke in a low voice but her face didn’t show it. Lo’ak couldn’t tell if she still had feelings. He didn’t know how to read her.

“Yes! Yes and that’s why he’s with her-“ (Lo’ak)

“Oh please-

An eye roll and waved hand came from Kiri pushing past the idea of Ma’eve entering their family

“That girl doesn’t even know the basics of healing or being a warrior OR helping in the clan. She is nothing-“

“All that can be taught! Just like dad-“

“Dad had the patience and determination to work. She isn’t the type to-“

“She cleans before and after dinner!”

“So? Lo’ak she can barely prep a meal! She is not fit to be next in line with Neteyam. Listen we all have our place in the clan as father’s children but at least we know to make our mates valuable.”

“Well it doesn’t matter now! He seems to have made his choice-“

“But not with her!”

Y/n watched as the two siblings argued and she had wished for forgiveness from Eywa. She apologized for all the great warriors and men she sent her way. She apologized for denying them of a relationship or even the idea of them catering to her. All of them and yet she denied them for Neteyam. It was always Neteyam.

“It’s fine guys! Please stop treating me as though i like him or something.”

Kiri could see right through Y/n and her lies. As slick as it came out it was deafening. Lo’ak couldn’t see that. He was too ignorant and too excited to ignore her clear needs to love.

“You’re right Y/n! Completely right.” (Lo’ak)

Y/n laughed at his urgency and she smiled at him brightly.

“I’m serious! You’re beautiful, the strongest warrior, the best healer besides Kiri! You’re perfect and Neteyam is too ignorant to see that.” (Lo’ak)

“He is but we can’t trash his character for that Lo’ak. He’s our brother-“

“Then I shall be allowed to do whatever I please.” (Lo’ak)

“I don’t know about that Lo’ak. He’s still my friend-“ (y/n)

“Friend? Y/n he doesn’t treat you how I treat you- I mean how WE treat you.” (Lo’ak)

“Tsk Lo’ak stop.”

Kiri demanded it. He was trying to feed Y/n’s mind with ill intentions

“Stop why? Because im telling it how it is?”

“No because it’s wrong Lo’ak. He’s our brother. He cares about us and everyone in this clan. He’s far to busy about thinking what’s next. His worries isn’t about a partner Lo’ak.”

“But it is. How else would he find someone to take care of the clan with. All our mates are important.”

“They are but we shall not let our past define us.”

“This is present Kiri.” (Lo’ak)

“Yes well all the pressure he gets is part of both his present and past. He’s just too involved in his own world. We can’t judge him because of it-“

“Correct. Now that’s enough bickering. If he’s focusing on himself it’s only right. We all deserves a mate..” (y/n)

“So..are you looking for your mate-“

“Lo’ak! That’s not your place to ask!” (Kiri)

Y/n laughed softly at his foolishness. She always enjoyed how much Lo’ak was willing to ask and how free he was of responsibilities. He had a way of making people feel better and his jokes were always incredibly funny.

“It’s fine kiri. As of right now I am not looking for a mate. All though I should. I’m only getting older and wiser-“

“That’s true! And perhaps your future mate is right here in this very clan.” (Lo’ak)

“He has to be. Where else would I get a mate?”

“Oh..rightttt”

Kiri eye rolled every chance she got. Her brother always failed to talk to Y/n correctly ever since he’s got this thing for her.

“Time will tell-“ (y/n)

“And people will tell!” (Lo’ak)

“Oh! Lots of people will tell!” (Kiri)

“What do you mean?” (Lo’ak)

“Plenty boys in the clan one way or another see Y/n as a perfect match. She’ll be a person in a heard full of pululkan’s.” (Kiri)

“Plenty of boys yet I haven’t thought of that aspect of my life…settling down. I’m too young.” (Y/n)

“We are all too young for children but a mate is a perfectly great time. It catches you out of nowhere.” (Kiri)

“Right well as Lo’ak said. We’ll see.”

Y/n shrugged off the topic but Lo’ak grew envious at the idea of other boys liking Y/n. He knew of some boys his age liking the older girl. At least for him, Neteyam no longer showed interest and he kept Y/n at a safe distance.

🩵

hi!!! I’m sure no one reads avatar fanfics anymore but I was bored. There’s siblings rivalry here and Y/n definitely likes plenty of qualities Lo’ak has. But is Neteyam truly off her mind?

[moosesarecute]

Chapter 10: The Shadow to my Flame

Series masterlist

Masterlist

“So my mother asked to curl your hair?” Eris asked Ashe. He looked confused and also worried in a way. She couldn’t detect all the emotions in his look.

“Yes,” she answered him. “I was curtain I was getting fired and that she was only nice to me because of it.”

Eris let out a small laugh. He seemed tense, but Ashe knew he wouldn’t tell her why if she asked.

“I think she misses Lucian,” Ashe continued. “Have you heard anything from or about him?”

Eris shook his head.

“I only know he’s in spring. He never answers my letters. I’m not sure he gets them.”

Ashe was the only one that knew how much his youngest brother meant to Eris. Their family dynamic was hard, and all the brothers had been set up against each other from the start. However, Eris loved being an older brother. He loved seeing his brothers grow and learn. He just didn’t have any way to show it without being weak.

Eris looked very thoughtful, and Ashe realized it was time for a subject change.

“How was the ball?” she asked him instead.

Ashe hadn’t gotten the chance to speak with Eris since ball on Saturday. It was now Tuesday evening. So much had happened in the last week. Ashe felt like she had lived a new life. She had so much she wanted to tell him, but she knew she couldn’t.

She would wait until Sunday and then she could talk to Samli about everything. Especially the kiss. 

“Boring as usual. Only politics and dancing.”

“But dancing seems so nice,” Ashe told him with a small pout.

Eris was a very good dancer, but he never liked it. He didn’t like dance as a way of communicating. Ashe, however, would spent every ball she worked at as a way to look at all the different dances. It felt magical.

“How’s your back?”

“It’s fine. Almost doesn’t hurt anymore.”

With that, Eris pulled her up by her arms and laid one of them on his shoulder and held the other in his hand. His last hand laid at her waist.

“Do, ti, ti,” he sang the rhythm in the lightest voice he could, and then he started the dance.

Ashe couldn’t help but laugh. Both at the dance and at his ridiculous voice.

“You’re stepping on my toes!” Eris said. “I taught you better.”

That only made Ashe laugh even more, but she tried her best to not step on him again.

Eris had taught her to dance many years ago. He usually would dance with her before or after a big ball. And they always laughed their way through it.

Ashe didn’t mind being a servant. She of course wished they would get treated better, but she absolutely didn’t mind the work. But one ball. That was her wish. She just wanted to go to one ball. She had told Eris that, and her friend had since danced with her. He always said it was to prepare her for the day when her dream would come true.

They laughed and spoke for many hours. Even though Ashe’s live had taken a big turn the last week, at least the nights with her friend stayed the same. Or so she thought.

Azriel had read through the documents and the book three times. The book was rules for servants that he stole from Ashe.

Ashe.

Even thinking her name made him weak in the knees. Her soft eyes, calming voice and pretty smile.

“Mate,” his shadows sung.

“Shut up.”

Azriel was pacing back and forth in his office. He felt so stupid. And at the same time confused. And at the same time like he had the biggest crush in existence.

He couldn’t be right. He refused to be right. He felt everything at once.

Had she lied to him? Had he been blinded by the mating bond? Did Ashe at all know about the mating bond?

Please, be wrong.

He usually would just press down his feelings and pretend to forget them, but this. This was too much. He packed down the book, the hair colour, the small piece of hair and the two documents he stole from Autumn.

He felt almost his entire body shake as he made his way to the townhouse, where his brothers would be.

He walked silently into the living room and spotted Cass, Rhys, Mor and Amren. Seeing Mor made him even more nauseous. What had he done?

He looked quickly between Rhys and Cass.

“I need to speak to you two,” he said. He hated how shaky his voice was. And he saw how his brothers were going to make fun of him. They were smirking, however, they made their way to Rhys’ office in silence.

“Okay, brother. What’s going on.”

Azriel felt like he was going to throw up. He was crazy. He must have become insane. It was an insane theory, but at the same time, he found so many things that backend it.

“You okay, Az?”

He looked over and saw how both his brothers looked rather worried. He would just have to jump in and do it.

“You know Ashe?”

His brothers nodded.

“The servant you couldn’t stop daydreaming about in Autumn,” Cass said with an even bigger smirk. “You were basically drooling at her.”

“Shut it,” Azriel told him, even though he spoke the truth.

“What about her?” Rhys asked.

Azriel regretted that he didn’t write down what he needed to say. All the words got mixed up in his head. He should have found a better way to pack in the information. But he hadn’t planned this, so he just spoke.

“She’s a spy for us.”

Rhys and Cass shared a worried glance.

“We already know that.”

Right. Of course they did. He had told them before. This is so stupid, he just needs them to know.

“I think we should get her out of Autumn,” he said.

“Okay,” Rhys answered. “Why?”

“I’m not sure we can trust her any longer.”

Azriel felt like he was going to explode. Why couldn’t they just know what he wanted to tell them?

“What happene-”

“She’s my mate.”

Azriel froze when he realized what he had just said. He didn’t dare to look at his brothers. He had always planned to keep her a secret until they accepted the bond, but after what he had just learned, he needed them to know.

Ashe was his mate. He had known since the first letter. Or, his shadows had known. They would tell him all about her and tell him exactly what she was going through. They called her his mate, and Azriel didn’t know her by any other name until she introduced herself as Flame.

So yes, he had spied on his mate. But it was only to make sure she was safe.

And then when he first saw her in the dungeon, he knew for sure what she was.

He wanted to hold her then. To kiss her and touch her hair. Her beautiful…brown…hair. But he refused to do so. He was going to be strong.

That lasted about three hours, before he snuck into her cabin. He tried to figure out more about her. That’s how he found the brown hair colour and red hairs. His mate had red hair. Mother, he wished to see her with her natural hair colour. Even the thought of it made his heart dance. She would look so cute and sexy. Definitely sexy.

That’s also where he found the book for servants that told him that Ashe was forced to colour her hair.

He hadn’t meant for her to find him there, so he pretended it was a part of being one of his spies. He couldn’t stay away. He needed to know more.

That’s when he learned about all the abuse his mate had gone through. He learned about the pain she was dealing with as they spoke. Azriel wanted to do anything for her. He wanted to make the pain go away. If she had asked him for something, anything at all, he would to it.

Most of the harm had come from the High Lord himself. Why would he hurt her if she was…

After the conversation, he found it even harder to stay away. He needed to protect her. To make sure no one would ever hurt her again. He needed to see her eyes light up in a smile. He needed to feel her warmth and touch her. He didn’t necessarily mean touching sexually, even though he wanted that too. He just felt the need to hold her. Play with her hair. Hold her hand. Kiss her. He wanted to look deep into her amber eyes.

But now, he wasn’t sure he could look into her eyes without seeing…

When he saw her curled hair in the dining room, he lost all self-control. He almost drooled. His mate was so pretty.

He needed help to sneak into the office, but most of all he just needed to see her again. He hadn’t planned on kissing her. But she looked so terrified and when her hand gripped his tighter than usual, he couldn’t help himself.

Ashe had the softest lips he had ever kissed. He had to force himself to stop kissing her, before he went too far to hold back all he wanted to do to her. Her flushed face made him struggle to stand.

He let himself have one last kiss, and then he left.

But know, after he had learned what he had, he felt so stupid. How could he have trusted her so easily? But at the same time, what if he was wrong? Or what if he was right, but Ashe didn’t know? He just wanted her to be the kind, soft and wonderful female he thought she was!

After what she had told him and what his shadows had told him, Ashe had no clue.

However, if Ashe did know…then he had almost doomed the entire Night Court.

“That’s great Az! But why does that mean we can’t trust her?” Rhys’ voice pulled him out of his daydreaming.

Azriel looked at his brothers shocked faces. He saw that they were happy, but at the same time, neither one of them knew how to react. They soon begun to smile instead.

He took a deep breath and hid partially in his shadows before he spoke next.

“I have reasons to believe she is Beron’s daughter.”

Ashe was getting ready for bed. Eris had left a little of an hour ago, but Ashe had been too busy daydreaming over a certain winged male to do go to bed.

However, she was exhausted.

So, when a knock was heard from her door, she didn’t think twice. It was probably Eris coming back to say something or getting something he forgot.

If she had been a little less tired, she would know that Eris never came back to her room in so close intervals. Their friendship was a big secret.

Ashe walked over to the door and opened it. Fully expecting to see her friend or maybe Maria.

However, looking at her from the other side of the door was no other than the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

And he did not look happy.

Taglist: @tele86 @demon-master-zero @kbear8863 @atluky @mis-lil-red

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Dividers by @saradika-graphics

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Just Surviving | StepDad!Price & Reader

Summary: Price’s relationship with you, his wife’s daughter from another partner, isn’t the greatest, but he’s willing to try, and after a rough day at school, it seems he’s got a chance.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: mentions of cheating, infidelity, bad best friend, school sucks, anxiety, panic attack, mentions of fist fighting bears?? THIS IS FULLY PLATONIC

A/N: I wish I had a price to be my father figure😔

Requests are open!

Captain John Price had settled down during his mid-40s, finding a pretty missus his age, courting her for a few years, and marrying her.

It was soon into their relationship, that he realized he couldn’t keep a woman and the military in his life at the same time. He had to make a choice, so he finally retired, a stern word from Simon about “appreciating good things that come to him” putting the final nail in the coffin of the entire ordeal.

But after the marriage, came a teenager. A teenage girl, to be exact.

The child of an old boyfriend of hers, his stepdaughter now, he knew. He hadn’t known what to think at first.

He wasn’t a jealous man, he didn’t see you as a symbol of your mother’s past relationships or an accident or mistake, no, he just wasn’t sure how to handle teenagers. They were loud, brash, and not to mention emotional. Always thought they knew the best for themselves, when in reality, they were hardly even bordering on self-aware most of the time.

Being in the military at a relatively high rank in a specialized position meant he didn’t have to deal with many teenagers, all of whom were just recruits who’d just arrived and probably realized how much of a mistake they’d made by enrolling. But it didn’t mean he liked them.

There were the rare few who were respectful, but in general, all the emotions, and for girls, the hormones and drama, he didn’t really know how to handle it. Gaz was better with all the gossip than he was by far.

He’d tried to reach out, to make an effort to include you in his daily activities and habits. He knew your father was a total douche who didn’t care much about you, and he wanted to make up for it, even if it wasn’t his fault, or really his problem, either. He made breakfasts for you, invited you to watch shows with him, and tried to show you how to fix up a flat tire or how to work with wood in the garage, but you always seemed mildly disinterested, just trying to pay attention to not be rude.

You were in almost the same boat as him. You’d never seen a man who looked like the stereotypical dad, a little beer belly, muscles hidden by fat, and a scruffy beard with crinkles in the corners of his eyes. Your real dad was nothing like him, looks wise or personality-wise.

He was the provider type, you could tell. And you weren’t too sure how to handle it, considering you didn’t want to come off as needy.

You called him ‘John’, and tried to pay attention to him, if not just giving little awkward smiles, but at the end of the day, he was just that-guy-your-mom-married. She loved him, she was happy, and if she was happy then you would be happy for her.

It all changed one evening when he was sitting on the couch, sipping on a cuppa tea, with a dash of cream just how he liked it, watching a show about surviving in the wilderness for weeks on end with no outside help when you arrived home from school.

You’d gotten home a few minutes later than usual. He’d noticed.

Your eyes were red around the rims, and a bit puffy as well. You sniffled, hands shaking a little bit around the strap where you held your backpack. A smudge of what he assumed to be mascara was under your eyes, as if you’d wiped away a lot of it. You were visibly upset and unsteady, breaths a bit shaky as you let your backpack drop to the floor with a thud, going to walk to your room, right past him.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

He asked, sitting up, and putting his cup down as his brows pulled together in a worried, confused expression. Sure, you two weren’t the closest, but he wasn’t going to let you go to your room and comfort yourself. You needed a father figure at the very least, and he wouldn’t let you go without one.

You stopped, glancing at him, swallowing almost audibly as you opened your mouth, then closed it, a sniffle coming out as you just began crying.

“Come here,”

He spoke, standing up with an abruptness you didn’t even know he’d had in his sore joints and bones. You sniffled again, little gasps coming from your throat between silent sobs. He walked over, gently letting his arms just hover beside your body for a moment, until letting them close around you in a warm embrace once he was sure you were fine with it.

You stiffened up at first, pausing a moment to just breathe before the sobs began again and you melted into him.

“I—my, my boyfriend, he—“

You hiccuped, and he made a gentle hushing sound like one would do to subdue a baby, letting his hand rub soothing circles against your back. He slowly moved you over to the couch, sitting down first, and patting the spot next to him in invitation.

You hesitated, before sighing and plopping down. He hardly had to do anything until you were leaning against him, arms curling around your own torso.

“What happened?”

He finally asked, voice smoothed over with a practiced calm as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, holding you close until you moved to lean your head against his chest on your own accord.

“My boyfriend cheated on me.”

You almost whispered, sounding scared to say it, as if scared to confirm it as true. And as you said it, a few fresh tears began flowing, which he quickly wiped away with the calloused pad of his thumb.

“‘M sorry, hon. Some people in life just aren’t good, can’t blame yourself for it.”

He’d hardly ever heard of your boyfriend, only the sparing little things your mom would pull out of you. He’d seen him pick you up before in an old beat-up van, and seen him knock on the door before and ask where you were. You had been texting him constantly, calling him too. But Price hadn’t heard much of the lad other than what he managed to overhear and see.

“A-and, my best friend knew, and she didn’t tell me, ‘cause she said she didn’t want to hurt my feelings.”

That made him angry more than anything.

Cheating was a betrayal of trust in your partner that you’d shared almost everything with, but your best friend was objectively worse. You’d shared everything with a best friend, the good, the bad, the ugly, and they weren’t as easy to cut off as a partner. He could see how devastated you were and held you closer.

“That’s awful.”

He murmured, trying to soothe you as he saw your breathing pick up again, bordering on panicking. He’d been there before, and seen his men get to that point.

It wasn’t pleasant.

“I’m gonna have to see them every day, and she’s my partner for my science project—and I’m already behind on my science—and I have an entire essay that I haven’t even started on and I still need to research for it—and, and—“

Your sentences trailed off into incoherent mumbles as you couldn’t help but almost cry from the pure anxiety you were experiencing. John remembered how much he’d hated school when he’d been a kid, which was why he’d joined the military as soon as he was eligible. The school system was fucked, and it wasn’t helping that you had a shitload of responsibility placed on you so young.

“Hey, listen here. I’m gonna email your counselor, or whoever I have to, and you’re taking the day off tomorrow. We can work on your essay and projects together and finish ‘em, but for now, let’s just relax and leave all that for later, alright?”

He kept his sentences simple and short, taking proper care to enunciate each word clearly in his British accent, watching as you slowly began breathing deeper, nodding as if to convince yourself that what he was saying was true.

He pulled you just a bit closer into his chest, letting your entire body weight lean on him, one hand sneaking up to lightly run his fingers through your hair, which greatly resembled your mother’s. He grabbed the remote, and hit the play button for his survival show, watching, but more focusing on you.

He saw how you zoned out quickly, that glimmer of worry remaining, so he gave you a little nudge, jerking his chin to the TV.

“You think I could survive all that?”

You refocused, taking a good long look at the man surviving alone in the Alaskan Wilderness, squinting your eyes to see (he made a mental note to ask your mom about getting your eyes checked later), before replying.

“Yeah, probably.”

You said, letting the words hang in the air for a moment, before adding onto it.

“I could last longer, though.”

He raised his brows, a grin forming on his face.

“Yeah? How you planning on doin’ that?”

He didn’t bother mentioning that he was a former SAS Captain and would absolutely last longer than you in the wilderness. He’d rather you at least talk to him and get into a better mood, even if by making fun of him.

“I’d steal all your stuff, then make you fist fight a bear.”

He let out a low chuckle at that. It was an answer incredibly reminiscent of something Soap would say, or Nik, on second thought.

“I think I’d win.”

You raised a brow at him, a look of clear doubt on your face, before you both burst into little fits of giggles. When you finally managed to refocus on the show, he grabbed a blanket from the side of the couch, pulling it over both of you before taking a sip from his cup.

You both slowly got comfortable, eyelids growing heavy as you yawned quietly. Before falling asleep, you managed to murmur one last thing.

“Thanks, John.”

And maybe it wasn’t the ‘Dad’ he’d been hoping for, but that would come with time, or maybe not at all, and he found that he didn’t care as much as he initially thought he would. He’d finally realized that not all men who were fathers were called ‘Dad’, and that was just fine with him, as long as you were safe and comfortable.

[baby-yongbok]

hiii since you were asking for suggestions, may i request bf!chan being pissed by bumping into their s/o chatting with their ex? i’ve been thinking about this scenario for a while since i don’t know if he would play cool and then be mad for a whole week or would alfa the situation

Thank you for the ask, bestie! When I think of Chan seeing you talking to your ex my first thought is Jealous!Chan. I feel like he's a bit of a possessive person even if he doesn't really mean to be but he does it from a place of pure love and a bit of fear. I feel like he wouldn't know what to do with his emotions until some time has passed... You'll see what I mean lol anyway, Hear me out...

Jealousy, Jealousy

Word Count: 1099

Genre: Fluff with a sprinkle of angst? like just a tiny sprinkle

✨Masterlist✨

Chan wanted to surprise you. You had been having a rough time balancing work and classes lately so he wanted to do something special. He had it all planned out, he was going to get food from your favorite place and your favorite flowers to make you smile. He knew that if he went to a particular strip mall that he could pick everything up in one go and get home before you got back from studying. He crossed the busy street stepping onto the curb when he saw it. Honestly, he wished that he was hallucinating, he wished that maybe it was just a girl that looked a lot like you - too much like you. 

Unfortunately, his wish wouldn't come true today. You stood there with your backpack hanging on your shoulder as you casually chatted with your most recent ex. The two of you didn't end on bad terms but that didn't matter to Chan, he didn't like the way your ex looked at you and ghosted a touch to your shoulder every time you would say something the slightest bit amusing. Everyone knew that Chan was a bit possessive but what he felt in this moment was a bit more than that, there was a small pool of anger bubbling inside of him that he couldn’t seem to control. 

Before he knew it he was stalking towards you, shoulders back and chest slightly puffed out to assert his dominance. He reached the two of you before you even saw him coming, his hand possessively finding a home on your shoulder and pulling you back into him. He took you by surprise and from the look on your ex’s face he was quite taken aback too.

“Baby, I thought you were coming home after studying.” Chan says not completely looking at you. His gaze was semi fixed on your ex and the way his eyes scanned Chan’s frame, he hated every second that the two of you stood in front of him but what he hated even more is that you welcomed it.

“Oh, yeah I - uh just ran into an old friend. Chan this is -” You’re cut off by Chan’s voice, his tone assertive and uninterested.

“I know who this is.” He looked down at you with burning eyes and you knew exactly what that look meant, he was angry. “We should really get going, come on y/n” 

Without another word or glance from Chan he tightened his grip on your shoulder and guided you away from your ex not even giving you the chance to say goodbye. It’s not like you would anyway, you knew better than to get on Chan’s bad side and since you already seemed to be there you didn’t want to push it. 

“Chan what was -” He glared at you and you stopped mid sentence deciding not to try to talk to him just yet. This was a conversation to have at home and nothing in the world could explain how much you dreaded what was to come. 

“So we just talk to our exes now?” Chan asked as he closed the door behind you both. You hadn’t even gotten to take both of your shoes off yet and the dreaded conversation was already beginning. 

“Baby, we just ran into each other as I was leaving the cafe. He was literally telling me all about his new girlfriend and I was telling him about you, my lovely and very jealous boyfriend.” Chan’s face twisted at your statement. His arms crossed and his gaze was fixed on the hardwood floor for a second before he spoke up. 

“I am not jealous, y/n” He stalked past you and took a seat on the couch avoiding eye contact with you. “I’m angry, I’m not jealous.” 

You followed him, taking a seat in the free space next to him. “What exactly are you angry about?” You ask with furrowed brows. You lay a hand on his shoulder and smooth reassuring circles into it.

“I’m angry that you were speaking to him! I’m angry that he looked at you, that he smiled at you. I’m angry that you were standing there with him instead of being home with me… I’m.. I’m just..” Chan’s voice got smaller and smaller as he processed the words that were coming out of his mouth. A small sympathetic smile ghosted your lips as you allowed him time to process his emotions.

“Fuck.” He whispered sharply before laying his head back against the couch. “ I am jealous… aren’t I?”

“Yeah, baby, I think that you are.” You lay your head on his shoulder and his hand finds its way to your thigh giving it a tight squeeze that you know is meant to be apologetic. You appreciate it as the two of you sit in silence for a minute or two. 

“I’m sorry…I’m not usually the jealous type I just… when I saw you talking to him it felt like all of my defenses went up and I just couldn’t stand the thought of him trying to get you back. My imagination went wild and I just didn’t want to lose you.” You shifted a bit, placing yourself in his lap and snaking your arms around his neck as he lifted his head to look at you. His lids were low and you could sense a bit of shame in his voice. 

“I understand, Channie. I probably would’ve gotten a bit jealous if you were talking to your ex too, but that’s okay cause you know what that means?” He looked up at you with furrowed brows and shook his head. “That means that you love me and I love you too, more than you will ever know. People get jealous sometimes, it’s natural, we just have to make sure that it doesn’t consume us and we have to trust that our other half won’t hurt us.” 

Chan shakes his head, taking in your words and processing them slowly. “ You’re right, y/n… I’m sorry for all of that. I trust you with all of my heart and I promise I’ll get better with that.”

“I forgive you, Channie, everything is fine.” You lean down, resting your head in the crook of his neck as the two of you hug and share some deep breaths. 

“But like, next time I’d rather you walk right past him. Kinda like he’s invisible ya know?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Chan. We were getting somewhere.” You smile against his neck and he lets out a faint chuckle. 

“Okay okay, I’m just kidding… kinda.”