#It took too long to gather all of them up | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

messenger-of-babel · 1 day ago

Note

Hello, I was hoping you take requests. If you do, can I please request one with Nightwing where the reader is his best friend and she gets kidnapped by the Joker and is badly hurt and how he deals with it? Thank you very much!

I Told You So

Summary: Dick remembers the risks of befriending civilians when you disappear one day.

Word Count: 2.7K

Notes: Dear anon, I hope that you still hang around my blog, and I'm so sorry this took so long to get to you after angstober. I had so many other ways to take the themes, but I opted for a more subtle approach. I hope it is close to what you were looking for. 💙

I'm working through my requests! I love getting these in my inbox so for everyone that has sent one, please know that I LOVE seeing these prompts and I plan to do all of them. Warnings for graphic descriptions of injuries and violence and a slightly shaky fic. Getting back into the swing of things! (Also want to say I went back through my blog and re-read every comment and reblog tags that people have left and I love that people love my work so much.)

Reblogging will summon Nightwing to be your Valentines this year! 💙💙💙

Love RiRi <3

━━━━━━━━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dick had told himself not to be friends with civilians way back when he had started being a vigilante. It had been a quiet sentence that he had uttered to himself in the depths of his mind, and one that was overshadowed by his personality at every moment from then. It was almost like a defunct rule that just sat there for the sake of playing on his conscious.

By nature, he was too outgoing, too eager to involve himself in the community and connect with the people that he fought for. He wanted to help the kids at the orphanage when he made trips with Bruce, he wanted to talk to those gathered around food trucks getting cheap meals because their apartments had been destroyed in last week’s bad clash with Scarecrow. He wanted that connection, which let him keep Dick Grayson away from the suit. The suit that called to him like a siren. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up just like Bruce, a shattered reflection unable to distinguish who was looking back at him at the end of the day. Another martyr who had sacrificed his soul and let the kevlar devour him wholly.

So, when he hung out with you, he was Dick. You reminded him that he was Dick Grayson, and the pressure that sat in his chest always eased. You had met when he took Haley in for her shots, a dimly lit vet clinic with underpaid staff and underfunded equipment.

"Sorry about that." you chuckle, head dipping down to nod at your own dog, who was pulling at the lead to get to Haley. Dick waved it off, laughing as he relaxed the lead in his hand. Haley ran circles around your golden labrador, tail wagging in excitement. Your hands brushed and fumbled with each other as you tried to awkwardly untangle the leads, pulling your dog’s apart when you could.

"Don't worry, Haley gets excited too." he smiles, crouching down to pet your own pup. He stares at Dick with black glossy eyes, tail waving back and forth as he tries to lick Dick's face, making him laugh. "What's the name?"

"Darty." you smile back, your companion turning his head back to look at you as he hears his name. "He's a good boy." you coo, rubbing his head. Dick scratches behind his ears before Haley gets jealous, nipping at the sleeves of his navy jacket with a whine.

"Ah, ah, gentle. I love you too." he laughs, a hand on each dog to keep them happy.

From then on you two had bonded over walks int he dog park and afternoon coffee while your canine friends played tug of war in front of your bench. It was hard to find people he considered friends, much less his best one. He was best friends with Wally still, and he was the person Dick went to when he was having troubles in his vigilante life. When he couldn’t take the stress of watching Bruce have another episode, something that was beginning to frequent more and more. He went to Wally when he needed favours called in, and he was stuck in bed with bruising so bad he looked like he’d picked a fight with a semi-truck (although Bane really felt like that at times). But with you, he could talk about things that annoyed him. He could complain about little things, like how the coffee shop on the corner near his apartment didn't taste the same now that they changed management, or the fact that the rain had brought even more potholes to the Gotham streets, making driving a nightmare. Sometimes Dick fell so deep into those conversations with you, wrapped up in the way that you laughed or nodded along, that some days he thought he himself was an ordinary civilian.

But there were times like these that the little sentence came back from the corner of his mind that he pushed it into.

Where it came taunting him in that sing song voice, saying 'I told you so'.

Where he was reminded why he had tried to make the rule against befriending citizens.

He had noticed when you didn't make the puppy play date on Thursday like usual, Haley sitting sadly like her owner as they both waited for their friends. He had sent a quick text, 'Are you ok??' but wrote it off that there was just a good chance that you were sick, considering the flu that had swept your workplace the week before.

So, the civilian in Dick gave it the benefit of the doubt.

The next day you still hadn't responded, despite Dick knowing that you didn't work the Fridays. He rolled over, checking his phone with blurry eyes to see no new messages on his notification centre. He had had a rough patrol the night before and his muscles ached from misjudging a rooftop and landing harshly, so he let himself sleep in. You would surely respond later when you had time, and if you really were sick then he knew you wouldn't be awake till past noon.

So, the civilian in Dick rolled back over and caught up on sleep from the night shift.

However, when Saturday hit, he got the notice from Bruce that he was needed. Dick had spent the day in increased worry, knocking at your door around lunchtime only to receive no answer. The road was bumpy as he drove the bike back to the manor, wheels hitting potholes too wide to avoid properly. His frown deepened when he finally made it back to the manor, spotting Jason's bike out the front too. He dismounted, shaking the light rain from his hair. The dusk was being quickly swallowed by Gotham's signature rain clouds, so he shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried inside, greeting Alfred on his way down to the cave.

The sentence popped up in the forefront of his mind as he took sight of everyone in the cave.

Bruce turned from the Bat computer, already in suit and cowl. Stephanie sat to his left; hip propped up against a table. Tim was suited up, still focused on the strings of numbers and texts flashing across the bat computer screen.

"Glad to see you could make it." Jason says gruffly, brushing past him. He was still in his riding gear, hair tousled from the helmet. Dick nods back, a flash of understanding passing through the two brothers.

"What's the situation?" he asks, coming to stand behind Tim's chair, next to Bruce.

"Mass kidnapping." Bruce says, eyes hard and trained on the computer screen.

"Culprit?"

"Joker." Jason fills in, voice distant as he changes on the other side of the room.

"It's pretty bad. Batman and I were investigating a disappearance, but it turns out there was a whole string prior. and now…" he says, tapping the space bar and the screen fills with faces.

"Now we've got twenty gone." Steph fills in, glancing sadly at the screen. "He's been playing a game, and we're losing."

Red crosses begin to flicker across some of the portraits floating in front of him, making him cringe. There were students, professors, and blue-collar workers. Some who seemed to work in an office, some who clearly worked outside. He scanned each face with an X, feeling the pain behind the implications. That's when he froze, and that's when that sentence came back stronger than ever.

I told you so.

He felt a slight tremor in his hand before he clenched it into a fist. His mouth was dry, guilt coursing through him. Maybe it was a rage, maybe it was a sadness. Dick honestly didn’t know how to untangle his emotions in this moment. He just knew that one of those faces up there was you, thankfully free from an X but there, nonetheless.

And the vigilante in Dick died a little inside.

"It’s not his MO." he says tensely. "Doesn't he want the attention of the Batman? It's not like him to do things in the background without announcing himself." he has to croak out, making Tim give him a curious side glance. His younger brother was always smarter than anyone ever gave him credit for.

"I think he's learnt how to self-entertain." Jason hums, appearing at his side with a sour expression. "He's gearing up for something big. Something to lord over the Bat."

"And we aren't going to let that happen." Bruce spoke up, voice stern. "Everyone here is to locate missing civilians while Red Robin and I track down Joker. We need to clear the field of potential casualties. Understood?"

Everyone nodded, but no one understood as painfully as Dick.

When the group broke up to get started, he called you again. It hurt twice as much knowing that the reason you weren't picking up is because that sick bastard had you somewhere. Because he had gotten too comfortable as a civilian that he failed you as a vigilante. If he hadn't given the benefit of the doubt, maybe you'd be here and safe. Maybe if he hadn't rolled over and gone back to sleep, he could have used that time trying to find you instead. If he had done his job, then none of this would have happened.

And maybe that would have been worth being consumed by the suit.

When he does find your signal, his heart nearly leaps from his chest. Everyone else had already entered the field, scouring buildings and known hideouts to just find anyone from the GPD missing persons list. Not Dick. Dick needed to get you back specifically. If there was any benefit to having a vigilante as a best friend, is that he would tear the city apart trying to find you. The downsides being that because of him you were lost in the first place. He sent the location to his phone and races from the manor, adrenaline making his head spin. He takes a car, not trusting himself to slow down on the corners enough to take the bike.

The GPS takes him to a building by the docks, normally active during the day but abandoned in the night. He parks a half block away as to not draw attention and slings his escrima sticks on his back, tugging them once to make sure that they were secure. He scales the shipping containers nearby and slinks out of sight of the security cameras, each muscle in his body primed to flex and twist on command. He balances on a high beam inside the main warehouse, pulling up his wrist where the red flashing dot of your phone blinked at him. He would probably have to buy you a new phone, considering the backdoor program he ran through your signal to track it made it virtually unusable.

He scanned the area, hairs on the back of his neck tingling at the lack of goons or suspiciously scarred individuals. With light feet he padded across the roofs of rusted shipping containers, feet as swift as his parents had taught and in the shadows like he had been trained. When he stood atop the rusted blue container in the left wing of the warehouse, his blue dot overlapped with the red.

He spun down, still glancing over his shoulder in case he was walking into a trap. The lock was newly purchased, indicating that you were indeed here. It popped open easily enough with the lock picks in his sleeve, the make and model a standard in many hardware stores. This could be easy, he could grab you, get you out of here and back into the apartment on the corner of fifth where you belonged-

it was you.

That's what he had to tell himself when the container door creaked open, and his flashlight sent a beam into the dark pit. He had seen bodies in the past, dead or dismembered or otherwise. Yet that didn't compare to the way that his stomach turned to stone in his abdomen just seeing you unconscious. HisHIHis feet thudded loudly as he raced towards you, gloved hands sliding down your bound arms to press against your wrist, his breathing as shallow as your pulse. He takes a deep breath and calms himself, cutting you from the chair you were tied to so he could cradle you in his arms and get a better look.

"I've got one at the docks, Wareson's shipping containers in Lower Gotham. They’re unconscious but alive." He speaks into his wrist, marking his channel as 'open' once more. It crackled to life soon after, Bruce's voice filtered through his earpiece.

"We've got a trace on a few others. Check for a calling card, Spoiler and Red Hood have found other hostages with codes attached, we might be able to get ahead of this." spoke the Bat, and Dick lowered you down gently to take a look.

His hands ghosted across your skin gently, so he didn't disturb any injuries, flashlight gripped in his teeth as he skimmed your clothes. Pulling a small square of cardboard from your blouse, he flipped the playing card over to reveal a bloodied joker and a string of numbers printed underneath.

"Sending an image now." He relayed, using his watch to take a photo and send it back to the cave. He shut his comm line off after that, his head reeling too much to focus in on the chatter from the rest of the team.

An injury to the right side of your head, against your temple. blunt force, left a cut on your hairline.

Your hair was normally a shade lighter than what it was right now.

Bruising around the throat, dark smears and indents in your skin. Evidence of friction marks.

Your necklaces never hurt you that way.

As he looked at you, your breath shallow, he felt that stone in his stomach grow hot. The way your eyelids were sealed shut with red crust, hair plastered to your head with the viscous liquid. Swelling around the lips that curved at him to smile or tell a joke. An arm that was folded the wrong way, the same arm that would tug his arm to hurry him up or reach out to his during sad parts in movies.

Right now, the vigilante Nightwing had failed you, but the one wearing the pain was the bent over form of civilian Dick Grayson.

His eyes tingled and burned, chest heaving before he knew it with scattered sobs. He calmed them down soon enough, the Bruce that lived in the back of his voice yelling at him to get it together, all while chanting over that same old sentence in tandem. 'I told you so. I told you so. I told you so.' The sadness didn't last long however, quickly being replaced with an anger that flushed the skin of his neck bright red. He lifted you up in his arms, beginning the slow walk back to the car so he didn't irritate your injuries. His steps echoed out in the silent warehouse, competing with the racing sound of his heartbeat. As he walked, he was so focused on counting the unsteady breaths you took that he didn’t notice the suit melding to his skin, consuming him with invisible teeth until the civilian part of Dick dissolved completely.

'I told you so.'

Dick wasn't made to be a civilian, despite how he wore their clothes and played the part of a happy townsperson. He concluded that you were bright enough to live the life of a civilian for both of you, revelling in the little moments of peace that his nighttime job had fought to preserve.

Dick was made to be a vigilante, Bruce turning his rage and anger at the world into a weapon, a tool to shape Gotham and carve out the parts that threatened the lives of innocent people.

Dick was about to show them just how well he had learned to wield that weapon.

119 notes · View notes

teal-fiend · 17 hours ago

Text

The predator lay sprawled in the clearing, belly swollen and taut, rising and falling with the slow, steady rhythm of deep slumbering breathing.

Even in repose, the creature exuded a languid dominance, of something that had eaten well and had no need to move. And who had nothing to fear

A small group of hikers had stumbled across the scene on accident

“Wow,” someone whispered, breaking the stillness.

“That thing is full.”

No one responded right away. The sight was shocking—a belly so round and heavy that it seemed almost unnatural, pushing the predator into a lazy sprawl. Their chest and belly rose with each deep breath.

A steady gurgling emitted from deep within the stomach.

The group exchanged wary glances. They alresdy had suspicions. Then one of them spotted it. Lying just near the predator’s outstretched fingers, half-buried in the grass, was a familiar bracelet. unmistakable.

“That’s—” The words caught in a throat.

The realisation sank like a stone. Their friend had worn that bracelet this morning. And now… now they were in there, sealed inside that large heaving gut, reduced to nothing more than a heavy, satisfying meal for a predator

The predator shifted slightly in their sleep, exhaling and letting out a thick, sleepy belch. No one spoke. There was nothing to do.

The predator stirred with a slow, languid stretch, their body weighed down by the sheer fullness of their gut. A satisfied sigh escaped them, followed by a low, sleepy groan as they shifted against the ground.

Their belly sloshed slightly with the movement, an immense burden to carry. When their eyes fluttered open, they were met with a small gathering of stunned, wide-eyed onlookers.

The predator blinked at them, sluggish with digestion, then yawned, rubbing at their stomach.

“…What are you all doing just standing there?” they asked, voice drowsy. “Watching me digest?”

No one answered right away. A silence pressed over the clearing.

One of them finally found their voice,

""You… you ate our friend.”

The predator furrowed their brow, still dazed by sleep, still hazy from the digestion.

Then their gaze flickered downward—to the still-prominent swell of their stomach, the noisy, kneading gurgles within.

Their expression remained unreadable for a moment, until Realisation settled over them, but there was no horror in it.

“…Ah,” they murmured, pressing a palm against their belly as if it were an afterthought. Their stomach let out a contented groan beneath their touch.

“That was them, was it?” the pred asked, unbothered.

The group tensed. The predator then gave a slow, sleepy nod.

“Sorry about that,” they admitted, “Didn’t realize they were your friend.” They gave their stomach an awkward rub.

“But, to be fair… they were delicious.”

One of the onlookers let out a horrified noise. Another took a step back.

The predator sighed, adjusting their position on the ground, still too full to move properly.

“I mean, They went down so easy. And—” They yawned, long and tired. “They’re settling just fine.”

The group gaped at them, expressions shifting between disbelief and unease.

“…Anyway,” the predator continued awkwardly, fingers drumming idly against their gut. “Thanks for checking in."

No one said anything, so the pred continued talking.

"I uh… I think I’ll nap a little longer. Takes a lot out of you, y’know?”

And just like that, they lay back anf let their eyes drift shut again, unconcerned, unbothered, sinking back into the grass.

After the pred had started to nod off again, one of the onlookers, cleared their throat.

“Um…” Their voice was tentative, carefully measured. “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could… let them out?”

The predator cracked an eye open, raising a brow. Then they exhaled mildly annoyed, then sat up, their belly pressing heavily against their lap.

They gave their stomach a gentle jostle. The response was immediate—a thick, wet slosh; the sound of something long past solid. The group stiffened.

The predator tilted their head, watching their reactions, although not truly concerned.

“I mean… I could let them out,” they said, voice low. They kneaded at their belly again, coaxing out a rich, heavy glorp. “But I don’t think you’d like what comes back up.”

The person who asked swallowed hard. Another light shake of the preds stomach sent a deep, sloshing sound through their midsection.

“Not much left to ‘let out’ in the way you mean.” Their tone wasn’t cruel—just matter-of-fact.

The group stared, a mixture of horror and reluctant acceptance.

“Sorry,” the predator murmured. Their stomach groaned again. They gave it an appreciative pat.

The group stared down at the predator. The predator looked back up at them. They werent leaving

“Look,” they started, their voice softer now, sympathetic. “I get it. It must be hard, seeing your friend like this—but—urp—!” the pred cleared their throat, "excuse me, uh, but yeah."

"having to see them in a gut, right in front of you—it’s gotta be—bboUUUrPP!”

The pred paused to lick their lips

"Its tough" the pred finished. "But I think you need to move on. And physically too, you should probably get out of here."

"I mean, Im full, I wont be causing any more trouble but there are others who are still hungry."

#v/ore #tw vore #v.ore

117 notes · View notes

dreamauri · 2 days ago

Text

♪ — 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗡𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗬𝗢𝗨 - four mafia! charles leclerc x wife! reader ( ??? ) series summary . . . after preparing your whole life to be married off to a mafia boss, you now have the difficult task of figuring out your new marriage and life, ensuring they don't turn out to be miserable.

( fic master list | general master list ) ( requests ) ( previous | next )

The atmosphere in the grand hallway was thick with tension, but you focused on Charles, straightening his tie with steady hands. You tugged gently at the lapels of his suit, smoothing out invisible creases, your eyes scanning him with quiet scrutiny. He looked every bit the part—powerful, composed, untouchable. But you knew him well enough to see the subtle weight pressing on his shoulders.

“You’re going to do fine,” you murmured, fixing a stray curl in his hair before letting your fingers trail down to his collar. “No one in that room holds more power than you.”

Charles huffed a soft laugh, tilting his head slightly as he watched you. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you said simply, eyes flickering up to meet his. “You’re Charles Leclerc. Your name alone commands respect.”

His gaze softened, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you just a fraction closer. “You always know what to say to me, ma ch��rie.”

You smiled, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he could get too sentimental. Charles, of course, was never one to settle for half-measures. Before you could pull away, he caught your chin between his fingers and kissed you properly—slow, deliberate, lingering just long enough to make his point.

When he pulled back, his lips barely brushed against yours as he murmured, “Stay close to me in there.”

You nodded, and with that, Charles pushed open the heavy doors, stepping into the grand meeting hall where Europe’s most powerful crime families were gathered.

The room was a spectacle of wealth—tailored suits, glittering jewelry, designer watches. Wives sat beside their husbands like living trophies, diamonds cascading down their throats. Every glance, every movement, every unspoken word was a statement of power.

The two Leclercs stood tall, unshaken by the silent battle of status being waged around them.

And then, he arrived.

Max Verstappen entered the room like he owned it, his presence commanding attention without him having to say a single word. He was dressed simply, no excessive displays of wealth, but somehow, that made him stand out more. He didn’t need to flaunt anything—his reputation did it for him.

Your stomach twisted uncomfortably as his sharp gaze swept across the room before settling, for the briefest moment, on you.

Then, he spoke.

“Apologies for the . . . inconvenience,” Max started, his voice smooth, practiced. “But Belgium had to be taken. It was necessary.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the room. “If anyone has a problem with that, now’s the time to speak.”

Silence.

No one moved. No one dared.

Because they all knew the truth—Max Verstappen wasn’t just powerful. He was dangerous. Crossing him was a death sentence.

And as much as you wanted to look away, you couldn’t shake the feeling that, beneath it all, his message wasn’t just for the room.

It was for you.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The moment you stepped outside the meeting hall, the air felt lighter—free from the thick tension and unspoken threats lingering within. You exhaled, rolling your shoulders back as you approached the water dispenser, filling a glass with slow, deliberate movements.

A moment. That was all you needed.

But a moment was all it took.

You sensed him before you saw him. A shadow in your periphery, a presence too familiar, too heavy to ignore.

“Thirsty?”

The voice sent a chill down your spine, not from fear, but from something far more complicated.

You didn’t turn immediately, instead taking a slow sip, letting the cool water settle before acknowledging him. “Is that a crime now, Verstappen?”

Max chuckled, stepping closer—too close. “No,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “But some things are.”

You finally met his gaze, and it was a mistake.

Because he was looking at you like that. Like he used to. Like he still saw you as his, like he still believed you should be.

“You’ve been talking to Victoria,” he murmured, his head tilting slightly as he studied your face. “I appreciate that, you know. Not many people would bother.”

Your fingers tightened around the glass. “She’s my friend, Max.”

“I remember,” he said softly, and for a moment, just a fraction of a second, something unguarded flickered in his expression. “I remember everything.”

His hand lifted before you could stop him, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face.

You stiffened.

He noticed.

But he didn’t stop.

Instead, he let his fingers trail lower, his knuckles grazing your jaw before he held your chin—so gently, so carefully, as if he was afraid you’d break beneath his touch.

There was no malice in his gaze, no roughness, no anger. Just something far more dangerous.

“I could give you a place,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You don’t belong with him, schatje.”

Your breath hitched at the old nickname, and Max caught it.

He always caught everything.

“I know why you married him,” he continued, his grip still featherlight against your skin. “I know it wasn’t your choice.” His thumb ghosted over your chin, his touch achingly soft. “But this? Us? That was.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to steel your nerves. “There is no us anymore.”

Max smiled then, but it wasn’t a happy one. “There could be.”

Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs.

He leaned in just slightly, just enough for his next words to ghost against your skin. “Come back to me.”

Your lips parted, but nothing came out.

“Come back,” he repeated, voice smooth as silk. “Take your place with me. Where you should’ve been all along.”

You tried to step back, but his hand at your chin kept you still—still gentle, still careful, but firm enough to remind you of the power he held.

“You think he can keep you safe?” Max’s head tilted, amusement flickering in his expression. “You think he can stop me?”

Your fingers curled at your sides, nails pressing into your palms.

Max didn’t miss it. His smirk returned, amused. “I’ll take Monaco,” he said, as if he were discussing the weather. “You know I will. And after that?” He paused, letting the words sink in before delivering the final blow. “And then I’ll take Italy.” His thumb pressed lightly against your jaw. “And when I do, lieverd, there won’t be anything left for him to protect.”

Your pulse roared in your ears.

“I’ll give you one chance,” he continued, his voice almost too soft. “Make the right choice.”

Your breath felt too shallow, too quick. “I need to get back.”

Max didn’t stop you. He simply released your chin, his fingers lingering for just a second longer before dropping to his side.

You turned sharply, gripping the glass so tightly it might have cracked.

You didn’t look back.

You couldn’t.

But you felt his eyes on you the entire way back.

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The meeting had finally drawn to a close, the grand hall emptying as the various mafia heads and their entourages filtered out into the cold Monaco night. The tension still clung to the air, thick and unspoken, but for now, it was over.

You let out a slow breath, shaking off the weight of it as you turned to Kika, offering a small smile. “See you soon?”

Kika, ever warm and effortless, pulled you into a hug, her perfume light and floral as she squeezed you briefly. “Definitely. Text me, okay?”

You nodded, stepping back as Pierre gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his hand resting on the small of Kika’s back as they left.

Charles stood beside you, his hands in his pockets, his expression carefully neutral until they were out of earshot. Then, with a scoff, he rolled his eyes.

“Some New Year’s gathering,” he muttered, the irritation clear in his voice.

You huffed out a laugh, watching as he strode forward and opened the car door for you, the deep red of the Ferrari gleaming under the soft streetlights.

Before you could slip inside, something pulled at the edge of your awareness. A feeling.

Your gaze drifted instinctively across the lot.

And there he was.

Max stood near his own car, a sleek Honda NSX, his posture almost hesitant—like he wasn’t sure if he should leave just yet. His hands flexed slightly by his sides, but his sharp blue eyes were locked onto you, unreadable in the dim light.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then, as if deciding against whatever thought had crossed his mind, Max tore his gaze away, slipping into the driver’s seat and shutting the door. The low hum of the engine echoed through the parking lot as he pulled away, disappearing into the night.

You swallowed, turning back to Charles, who was already watching you with narrowed eyes.

“Let’s go,” you murmured, stepping into the car.

Charles said nothing, but as he shut the door behind you and rounded the front of the Ferrari, you could feel the shift in the air between you.

He had seen.

And he had questions.

113 notes · View notes

n0vazsq · 2 days ago

Text

Decode | Pedri Gonzalez x Reader

pairing . . . pedri x ex!reader

summary . . . You tried to forget him. Tried to move on, to bury the past. But when the storm hit, so did the memories. The pain, the longing; him. And just when you thought you’d break, his arms found you again and his lips were on yours.

request . . . yes!! based on this request!

word count . . . 2.3k+

warnings . . . angst but it turns into fluff!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . RAHHH this can be read as part 2 of the loneliest or as a standalone!! pls don't find me @bernalswifeyy !! BRO ITS SO BAD AND SHITTY BC IDK HOW TO WRITE ANGST TO FLUFF BUT I HOPE IT WAS GOOD ENOUGH

. . . Rain lashed against the window as the howling winds drowned out all the other noise, combined with the sound of thunder that shook the walls. The air was cold, biting against your skin as you quickly shut your living room window, the smell of earth slowly fading away as a dampness that clung to everything washed over you.

Despite it being early in the afternoon, the skies were dark and gloomy, creating a dark shadow over the neighbourhood outside. You shivered slightly as you took off your coat and scarf, wiping off the dampness clinging onto your skin and hair. The heater was whirring, but it deemed useless in this condition.

Your plans of going out today was thrown out the window as soon as you saw the grey clouds gather above you. Now, your house was the only escape from the storm, a silent sanctuary that felt heavier now, the tension of the past still filling it to the brim. You didn't like to stay here when you had the chance, it reminded you too much of the past, too much of him.

The clash of thunder and the glow of lightning snapped you out of your train of thoughts, sending a shiver of fear through your spine. You hoped the electricity wouldn't cut out, as it always did in storms like this when you were a kid, the floods and lightning striking down the electricity poles and stations.

Puddles of rain filled your backyard as you walked over to check it out, the droplets creating littles holes as they clashed with the still water. Letting out a small sigh, you noticed the water leaking inside your kitchen from the closed french doors. Hurriedly, you grabbed a few towels from the cabinet nearby and lined them up along the location where the water was gathering.

Your attention was pulled away from the leaking water when a knock on your door was heard. You weren't expecting any visitors, and none of your friends said that they'd be coming over. Worry washed over you, could it be an emergency? What if something happened to one of your family members? Or even a friend of yours?

There was a second knock on the door, followed by a deafening bolt of thunder. You shuffled slowly, careful to not slip on the wooden floor, whoever was outside would die of hypothermia if you didn't let them in now. The keys that were once laying on the table near your door were grabbed in a haste as you unlocked the door, letting out a sigh of relief as you finally opened it.

"Sorry it took so long, I was-" When your eyes met the person outside's eyes, you stopped speaking as your body froze.

It was him.

Pedri.

He was drenched and shivering, water covering him from head to toe. He gave you a weak smile, and you noted his shattering teeth. You remembered how he used to smile when he saw you, how that smile always made everything else fade away. Now, the smile felt like a distant memory; one you weren't sure you could reach anymore.

Hesitating, you slowly opened the door wider, what should you do? Are you willing to let him in, despite everything? Part of you wanted to scream at him, to demand answers for why he left, but another part of you just wanted to forget everything. The storm outside raged, but the chaos inside was worse.

You had spent so long convincing yourself that you were okay. But the moment you saw him, you knew nothing had changed. Sparing him a glance, your eyes met again in a quick exchange of glances; it was too much, too overwhelming, but as the rain hit the ground stronger and the winds howled louder, you considered letting him inside.

Weighing the decision quickly in your head, you decided to let him in, only to let him warm up for a few minutes until he called someone to pick him up. It's only ten minutes, you tried to convince yourself as he wiped his shoes on the carpet outside and finally stepped into the house.

An awkward silence took over, both of you standing there, not knowing how to bridge the gap between you. Everything felt different now, the air between you thick with unspoken words, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. You'd always been able to speak without words, but now... it feels like you’re strangers, no matter how close you once were.

He was soaking wet from the rain, but you couldn't help but let your focus shift; focusing on the way his jacket clung onto his frame, the way his damp hair covered his forehead, his eyelashes darker with the rain water, framing his brown eyes. You couldn't help but notice his slightly pink cheeks, a result of the cold biting at them, and the way his jaw was subtly clenched, as if trying to hide his annoyance at being in the same room with you.

You wanted to push him away, to pretend that it's just a fluke that he showed up, but the storm was real, but so were your feelings. You didn't ask for this. You didn't want this. But your heart can't lie about what it still wants. It wanted him.

Pedri was still shivering, and you swallowed the lump in your throat as you tried to not start crying right then and there. You wanted him, no, needed him. But he was gone.

Trying to fight the feeling, you busied yourself with something mundane; grabbing a towel so he could dry himself, giving him a blanket to make him stop shivering, preparing a cup of tea to warm him up. However, no matter what you did, your mind kept drifting back to him and the memories of you two before.

The unspoken tension reached its peak, and you could both feel it. Finally, Pedri spoke, muttering something that made the barrier in you break free, causing a dam of emotions to unleash.

"You never used to push me away like this," He stared at you, and you scanned his face for any hint of mockery, a hint that he was joking and didn't actually say that. But there was none, he said the thing you least expected him to say, and it was the thing that made the barrier in you break.

His fingers brushed against yours, a fleeting touch that left a spark. You pulled back, trying to convince yourself that you didn’t want this. But your heart was betraying you, pounding faster the closer he got.

You always told yourself you’d be fine. But the sight of him here, looking at you like he used to, it makes you wonder if maybe you've been lying. The feeling of being under his gaze almost made you go crazy, this was too much, too much for you to handle.

Not being able to fight it any longer, you moved closer, fingers brushing a droplet of water on his cheek so lightly, and for a moment you thought your skin didn't touch his. The emotional pull was too strong, pulling you against him without your will. Suddenly, his hand found your waist, gripping it tightly.

You inhaled sharply at the contact, your bodies flushed against each other, leaving no space for anything to be between you. No tension, no unspoken words, no memories. Just you and him. Just Pedri.

His eyes were staring at your lips, your faces so close, not even an inch apart. You could feel his breathing, the proximity causing it to mingle with yours. You could see him swallow, as if this wasn't supposed to happen, like he didn't want it to happen.

Without any hint, he cupped your cheeks and pulled you into a soft, desperate kiss. Your hands found his hair, as if they were meant to be there. You'd been pushing him out of your mind for so long, but now, with his lips on yours, it feels like no time has passed.

You broke off the kiss, inhaling a sharp breath as you stared at him with wide eyes, you were both breathing heavily, cheeks flushed and hair messed up. The kiss felt like both an end and a beginning; soft but heavy, releasing the tension but leaving behind unresolved questions.

His hand rested gently on your back, pulling you closer until there was barely any space between you two. His breath was warm against your lips, and you could feel his heartbeat racing beneath his chest, syncing with your own. When he pulled away just slightly, his forehead pressed to yours, and you both just breathed together for a moment, the weight of everything between you melting away in the intimacy of that small space.

Pedri smiled softly at you, the action sending a wave of flury to your heart. "I didn't think you'd let me back in. Not after everything." He muttered as he brushed his hand against your hair, moving it slowly towards your face as he got closer again, your noses touching.

"Let me kiss you again, please."

You let out a shaky breath at his words, hearing him plead to kiss you brought back a wave of memories and flashbacks, but you nodded slowly. You needed this as much as he needed it.

He titled your chin up so you could look at him, then his lips found yours. This time, the kiss was slower, but more heated, his hands wrapping around your waist while yours interlocked behind his necks. He pulled you tight against him, deepening the kiss.

The storm is still raging outside, but inside, things are quieter now. The storm outside mirrors the chaos inside, but for a brief moment, everything feels calm. After you two pulled away from the kiss, he glanced at you, eyes full of love.

You stood up to grab another blanket from the couch, but before you could, his hand caught yours. "Stay with me. Just a little longer," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as if the words themselves were too heavy to say aloud.

You sat back down, wrapping the blanket around him and pulling it tightly around your shoulders too. His head rested against yours, and you could feel his breath warm against your skin, a quiet reassurance that maybe this was all you both needed.

The rain was still coming down heavily, but the thunder had become a distant rumble, almost peaceful. The howling winds had quieted, and in the silence, you could hear nothing but the gentle creak of the floorboards beneath you as you shifted slightly on the couch. The room was warmer now, not just from the heater but from the quiet intimacy between you two.

And after a long comfortable silence, Pedri spoke, a smile on his face as he stared at you. "Remember the time we tried to bake that cake and it came out like a brick?" he laughed.

"How could I forget? I think we almost ate it anyway."

"I remember thinking we were so stupid," he smiled, glancing down at you. "But it was one of the best days."

"It wasn't the cake that made it great," you said softly, your fingers brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. "It was us."

He held you tightly, his grip trapping you in but not painful. You sighed in relief, this wasn't how you'd expected your day to end, but it was better than any other ending you imagined.

"You never left, did you?" you whispered, your voice barely audible, as if admitting the truth was too much to bear. His presence here, like this, felt surreal. The way his arms felt around you, the way he kissed you as if nothing had changed; it made you wonder if the last few months of silence had ever truly happened.

A small silence settled between you two, filled by his calm breathing against your fast paced one. You stared at him, his eyes full of something between love and regret.

"It's crazy how it feels like nothing's changed," you said, breaking the silence between you. "Like, even after all this time, it's like I still know you better than anyone else."

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. "Yeah. Feels like we’re both just... waiting. For what, though, I'm not sure."

You laughed, though it was laced with bitterness. "Waiting for the storm to pass?"

"Maybe." His voice was lower now, more intimate. "But I don't want to wait anymore."

"Maybe we don’t have all the answers right now," you said quietly. "But I think we can figure this out. Together."

Pedri looked at you with soft, sincere eyes, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. He laughed quietly, the sound revibrating through his chest, warm and low.

"I never realized how much I missed your laugh until I heard it just now," you said softly, tracing the edge of his jaw with your fingertips, feeling the familiar yet slightly different feel of him.

"For a moment, I thought I'd forgotten what it felt like to be this close to you," he whispered as he traced circles on your arm, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours, despite the cold weather. "I didn't know how much I needed this until now."

"Maybe one day, we’ll look back at all of this and laugh." He nodded, the smallest smile tugging at his lips. "One day, I hope we can look forward to that."

"You know, I never wanted to leave."

"I never wanted you to."

"Maybe we can start over," You whispered, running your fingers through his hair.

"I'd like that," he replied, pulling you closer. "I never wanted to leave. And I'm not going anywhere now."

"I'm here," you whispered against his chest, your hand resting over his heart. "And I’m not going anywhere either."

taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaaa ,, @notm4d1 ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @bernalswifeyy ,, @nngkay ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

63 notes · View notes

mightyray · 3 days ago

Photo

Saw this post and thought I'd write a little short story. Hope you don't mind. Time stood still. His mind hit pause in sheer panic. His body froze into place, unable to receive any orders from the command up top on what to do next. For a brief moment, Ray saw his older brother laying on the ground clear as day. Unable to look away, the dust had cleared, Mighty took the hit. A perfect bullseye. Time then became a blur. Sonic blitzed passed him, then Tails, Amy and Knuckles quickly followed. Ray could hear the pleas to wake up, to fight, to come back to them. Mighty could never abandon his friends, especially in their time of need, right? Mighty was the strongest, kindest man around. He'd carry the world on his shoulders if it meant his friends were safe and sound! Ray's fragile little mind immediately knew it was over. Mighty had died. No grace, no peace, just sniped from behind by the coward who saw his beautiful love towards all life as a threat and snuffed it out.

The darkness scoffed as Sonic yelled, Knuckles gnashed his teeth in unbridled fury. Amy and Tails backed the boys up, determined to turn their tears into weapons, weapons to fire back. At that point, Ray's mind tuned out the threats and noise. Everything became dark but Mighty's body. He saw it all now. Clasping his hands, Ray could feel the strength Mighty once had. His bright red shell shining like a garnet. It was as if the will of the world guided Ray. Letting the tears fall, he placed Mighty's hands over his chest before giving his older brother one last hug. Whispering in his ear that he promised to come back one day to be the very light Mighty was for him.

The darkness abated for a long time, Mighty's funeral was short yet touching. People gathered far and wide. The chaotix were the pall-bearers. Everyone wore their best and carried with them their favourite plant to plant into the ground to honour Mighty. Ray sat surrounded by people who loved his brother... and yet his mind struggled to process being unable to do anything... After it was all set and done, the ashes of Mighty set free by everyone, Ray realised it was time to leave. If he had any hope of keeping his promise, he needed to improve. Quietly he slipped away. It was surprisingly easy to do. No Mighty, no Ray. After all Ray was before Mighty found him and taught him the world he was just another nobody, all he had to do was flick a warp ring and just like that he was gone without a trace.

Few wondered where Ray went after Mighty died. Some mused that Ray gave up living, he was so attached to Mighty he might as well have been the armadillo's shell. Other's thought Ray was a little bit tougher than that and that he's just hiding somewhere.

Years had passed, and the darkness would strike again. Sonic took a massive blow, with everyone else in disarray... it would feel like history was going to repeat itself until a glimmer of light shone through, concealing a figure cloaked in the same darkness. His fingers stained black from the weight of grief, pain and torment carried with him an enormous guitar. One that looked far too heavy to lift. The shadowy cloak faded away once the figure started playing. Sonic's eyes widen in joy. His wounds were healed! He could rise again! Light flowed though all of Sonic's friends as the music brought them back, followed by positive determination.

The darkness froze into place, the light came back, and it had tamed the darkness with in.

"Not this time." Ray smiles.

Mighty died a long time ago and because of this no one has seen from Ray in years.

#mightyray does a short story #mighty the armadillo #ray the flying squirrel #sonic the hedgehog #short story #fan fic

109 notes · View notes

the-pen-pot · 2 days ago

Text

One More Day

The sun gleamed gold, spilling its wealth upon Camelot. Crimson banners flew high, splashing their declarations across a clear, summer sky. The streets heaved with people, all of them in festive cheer. It had been a long, cold winter, full of grief and uncertainty. Now, as the year turned towards its zenith, the time had come to crown their new king.

Some would argue that it was nothing but pomp and ceremony. Personally, Merlin would agree. After all, Arthur had been confirmed as the new ruler the moment Uther perished on the battlefield, but – according to every lord of the realm – a coronation had to be done properly, and such things took time. Technically, Arthur had been reigning for months: king in all but name. Today, however, it became official.

'This cloak is ridiculous,' Arthur muttered, and Merlin hid a smirk as the tailor barely managed to stifle his dark look of disapproval. 'I can barely move.'

'Hundreds of tiny creatures died to give you all that fur. You could at least appreciate their sacrifice,' Merlin teased, grinning when Arthur glared. He didn't envy him. Today was far too important to leave dressing Arthur in Merlin's notoriously clumsy hands. There had been a special bath, anointing oil, an hour of silent contemplation at dawn... Merlin personally suspected the councillors had made half of it up, just to see if they could get Arthur to balk. Now, he stood motionless as three men made the final adjustments to the regal ensemble.

Honestly? It looked less comfortable than wet armour: heavy and resplendent. Arthur appeared every inch the king, right down to the scowl gathering upon his brow. Merlin could admit he had been remarkably patient. Preparation had begun before dawn and noon was fast approaching. People would be gathering in the throne room, waiting for Arthur to take his vows, and right now, the last thing he needed was people fussing with his appearance until the last moment.

Someone needed to tend the man within, and that job had always fallen to Merlin.

'You're done,' he told the tailor, raising an eyebrow at the man's indignant squawk. 'Anything you've not finished will have to stay that way. Go.' He gestured to the door, watching the man gape like a landed fish. His brown eyes slid to Arthur, but he clearly found no support there. In fact, whatever he witnessed was enough for him to grab his tools and flee the room, his attendants in his wake.

'Thank you.'

'Yeah, well. It'd be a bit bad for you to murder someone on your coronation day. You might get blood on that nice white trim.'

Arthur groaned, stepping down from the dressing platform, his shoulders relaxing as Merlin reached out, straightening the collar of the sumptuous tunic. 'I cannot wait for today to be over. It's pointless.'

'It's not for you. It's for the kingdom and the people. One more day, Arthur.'

'One more day.' He repeated it like a mantra, his eyes drifting shut as he took a moment to collect himself. When they opened again, Merlin grinned, seeing right there the man who would forge a path of change through all of Camelot and beyond. 'Then we begin setting things right.'

Merlin snorted at that, because Arthur had been distancing himself from his father's rule since the moment he'd emerged from the vigil at his tomb-side. Inch-by-inch, he had peeled away the sharpest restrictions on magic and laid the foundations for the laws to be rewritten. He had taken his time, building the base he needed to make something unbreakable: to bring Camelot back to its former glory.

'One more day, and you need never hide what you are again.' Arthur's hand rested against Merlin's jaw, his brow pressing to Merlin's own. It was a moment of peace, the two of them sharing breath and space. Merlin could almost pretend it was just another morning, one where he had awoken at Arthur's side and the world was soft and new in the dawn, made for them alone.

'Some of your lords are going to hate it,' he pointed out. 'Bad enough that I'm your lover, but a sorcerer? I can already hear the rumours.'

'And we will be ready to face them,' Arthur promised. 'I'm not letting anyone take this away from us: not the restoration of magic to Camelot nor what we share. They can bray about anything they please, from me being ensorcelled to my need for a queen. They'll get nowhere, and there's nothing they can do or say to change my mind.'

Arthur's lips were warm against his own, sealing his promise, soft and tender. Merlin surrendered happily, barely remembering not to grip Arthur's hips too tight lest he crush the velvet.

It had been a long road to reach this point, one that had taken them through Arthur's anger at Merlin's confession of sorcery and led them through towards acceptance. Then, ever onwards, as those warm feelings oft-ignored flourished and strengthened. Something that started as the desperate rut of hips and cries of pleasure bloomed into the kind of love that never faltered: incandescent.

A knock on the door echoed through the room, and Merlin pulled back with a little gasp, shooting a glare at the threshold. It was Leon's voice that told them, quiet and calm, that the kingdom awaited Arthur's presence.

'Are you ready?' Merlin asked, grinning to see Arthur flushed and relaxed: a man as well as a king.

'Ready.'

And side-by-side, they walked into their future.

One more day, and all the rest thereafter.

#Merlin #Merthur #My Fanfic

46 notes · View notes

jsmelodies · 2 days ago

Text

I fell in love with the fire long ago

I'm back for day 5 of @sjmromanceweek! This is another nessian princess x knight AU, and I'm also adding some forbidden love in there!

Summary: Cassian has loved the princess, Nesta Archeron, for as long as he can remember. So when he's tasked with delivering her to her wedding, he's prepared to suffer through it until Nesta is out of his reach once and for all.

All he knows is that it would only take one word from her to throw his loyalties into a raging fire.

Read on ao3

Chapter 1

Two Months Ago

“Will you dance with me?”

Nesta’s eyes flicked to his, intense silver fire focusing in on him like a predator lazily watching its prey.

“I didn’t think you knew how to do such a thing.”

“I’m not that much of an animal, princess.”

Her eyebrow lifted, an indication that he recognized as her being playful. “Really? It’s rumored that you sleep out with the dogs.”

Cassian couldn’t help his snort of laughter, and he extended his hand out to her, a silent question in his eyes.

And, to his surprise, Nesta took it. For perhaps a second longer than they should have, they stood there. Watching each other, like this moment was inevitable.

Their hands touching, at long last.

He closed his around hers, leading her to the dance floor right as the music started.

Never in a million years would he be able to keep up with her on the dance floor. He could only hold on, as Nesta became a spectacle that the crowd gathered to watch. He spun her around, and around, and around, until she almost laughed across from him. Her face had turned a pretty flushed pink, and not for the first time, Cassian found himself wondering if that pink extended down into her dress to the rest of her body.

Her purple dress floated as she turned, making her truly look like a goddess reborn. And here, for a single dance, she was all his.

It ended. All too soon, the dance was over, the final cadence concluding the song in a blissful harmony.

She was breathing hard, and smiling at him. He’d been the one to bring joy to her face, and his heart involuntarily clenched at it.

“It’s hot in here,” she said, and he knew that she couldn’t fan at herself with her hands at risk of looking improper.

He had to restrain himself from looking at her chest as she breathed heavily, her front surely pressing against her bodice with every inhale. Instead, he extended an arm to her, his elbow bent for her to rest her hand inside.

“Come with me. I know somewhere you can cool off.”

It was years of trust that had her hooking her hand into his elbow, following where he led. He pulled her through the party, releasing her when they reached their destination: a private balcony overlooking the city beyond, the cooling air providing a respite from the crowded ballroom.

Nesta placed her hands on the railing of the balcony, leaning against the stone as she fell into a concerning quiet, that happiness gone almost as soon as it had appeared.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

Her hands tightened around the railing. “It’s nothing important.”

Everything about her was important.

He nudged her body with his own. “Tell me.”

She took another breath, then a second. “It’s hard to watch sometimes. This,” she said, gesturing outwards. “Knowing I will never get to see any of it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that my father is the king of an entire territory, and I have only ever seen a fraction of it. This place is just a drop in a bucket of the world, and even still, I haven’t seen it properly.”

The rules were different for her, he knew. While he could roam as he liked, going deep into the taverns and shops the city had to offer, it was a whole affair for Nesta just to walk down a single block.

“I’ve never even left the city gates,” she said, overlooking the sprawling streets below. Twinkling lights reflected back up at them, lamps and lanterns alike, all for the celebration happening inside. “My father promised me I could once, when I was younger. I think he figured I’d forget about it. But now, I doubt it will ever happen before I’m married. And after that…”

She didn’t need to say. Cassian was familiar. Maybe after she delivered a few heirs, whoever had been granted the luxury of calling her his wife would allow her the freedom to explore.

But it wasn’t guaranteed.

“I would take you,” he offered. In another world, in another life, he would take her anywhere she wished. He’d revel in her squeals as droplets of the ocean hit her face from the bow of a ship, ribbons fluttering behind her.

He looked over just in time to see the sad smile that spread across her lips. “I know you would.”

It happened again. Nesta touched him again, shifting her hand so it connected with his on the railing of the balcony. She didn’t stop him from interlacing their fingers, though her breath hitched from beside him as he did so.

He turned to her fully, and as if noticing his attention on her, Nesta did the same.

A stray hair had escaped from her pinned coronet, laying across her face. It had to give her a headache, he could only imagine, and he was tempted to just take those pins out one by one until she could sigh in relief.

She watched him, eyes wide as he brushed it off of her face and hooked it behind her ear.

“I would do anything you asked of me,” he said.

He should have pulled his hand back. But he didn’t, instead moving his thumb over her cheek in a slow motion.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and he stroked the underside of her jaw before lifting her chin up further.

She started shaking, trembling before he could lean in any closer. Then her hand was on his, and perhaps rather foolishly he assumed it was in an embrace.

“We can’t,” she gasped, ripping his hand away. “You can’t touch me like that.”

Then the air was cool against his palm, removed from the gentle heat of her face.

“I–” The look Nesta gave him fractured into his very being. “I’m sorry.”

She fled from his side, pulling her arm away when he tried to reach for it.

“Nes–”

“You can’t,” she said again, firmly, leaving him on that balcony with only the barest trace of her perfume lingering in the air.

Deep in his gut, Cassian knew. He’d always known.

***

Present Day

The news caused a week-long celebration in the streets. Barrels of wine flowed into goblets, and Cassian was no exception—drinking more than he had in years, though he did it in the privacy of his own quarters.

Because he wasn’t celebrating. He hoped that the red liquid would numb his mind, until he could forget the joyous cause for the festivities.

A peace treaty, between the Archeron monarchs and the Vanserras in the Autumn lands. One that resulted in a betrothal between their eldests.

Nesta and Eris.

Cassian told himself that he didn’t care, that he knew this day was coming eventually. That the golden hair that streamed down her back like a spraying waterfall would never be his to touch.

He knew. He’d known for years, if only in the back of his mind.

The summons came well past dawn, though Cassian’s headache was still splitting his head in two. Still, though, he dressed in his court finery and made himself look presentable, for he was to appear before the king himself.

He was likely being called to slay some monster terrorizing a border town, as he always was. He’d proven himself dependable, accepting mission after mission from the king until he’d earned the man’s undeniable trust.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the king had other plans. It was no beast that he was being summoned for.

When he entered the large throne room, meant for receiving guests, he kissed the ring on the king’s finger before falling to one knee on the marble floor.

“Your majesty,” he said, bowing his head in deference.

The man hummed, and Cassian could only assume he was appraising him from his throne. “Sir Cassian,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I’ve heard that you have not been seen for some time.”

Because he was getting wasted in his quarters. Because he wouldn’t let anyone see how much of a wreck he really was.

“My apologies. I am, of course, available for anything you require,” Cassian said, keeping his head lowered.

The king didn’t hesitate for a second. “My daughter is to be married. If I recall correctly, the two of you are acquainted.”

Every ounce of willpower went into preventing himself from breathing in sharply, or revealing any of his inner turmoil to the man who commanded him.

Acquainted. What a mockery.

Nesta Archeron was his princess. He’d sworn his fealty to her father, promising to protect the realm. Promising to serve him, and his family, until his dying breath.

And they were well more than fucking acquainted.

“I have heard,” Cassian forced himself to say. “My sincerest congratulations on the good news.”

“It is a cause for celebration, isn’t it?” the king chuckled, luckily not picking up on Cassian’s discomfort. “That’s why I called you here.”

Cassian shifted uncomfortably, unsure about where this conversation was going.

“I require my most loyal knight to lead the escort into Autumn territory.”

Dread filled his stomach, like a lead brick being dropped into the middle of the ocean. Escort Nesta. To her wedding.

Would he be forced to watch her walk down that aisle, too? Would he be forced to keep guard over her until she was tied to someone else?

He opened his mouth to refuse. But he couldn’t get the words out of his mouth; he couldn’t deny this even if it destroyed him not to.

There was only one singular truth in his mind. One singular truth that was clear above the rest of it. Even if every part of his soul despised this, there was no one else Cassian trusted to watch over her. Deep down, he knew he wouldn’t settle until he knew she was protected somewhere.

So he would do it, at the expense of anything and everything. There was no other feasible option.

He answered, trying his best not to sound resigned, “As you command.”

“I trust you will make my daughter’s safety your utmost priority,” the king said, not unkindly, but with a firm voice that left no room for negotiation.

As if he would allow for anything else. “Of course, your majesty,” Cassian said, nodding his head once. “It is an honor.”

Well. It was supposed to be.

Cassian could remember the days when he was just a kid pulling on Nesta’s braids as he chased her around the castle. Her mother didn’t care for the display, and thus didn’t care for him, but at that age he didn’t care. He would’ve done anything to see that scowl gracing her features, and still would, if he was being honest.

But they’d grown up. Now, Cassian would trade ten of her scowls for one of her smiles. At some point, his loyalty had transformed into something deeper, something more dangerous.

He couldn’t put a word to it, lest his heart might get torn out of his chest more than it already was.

Nesta was always destined for great things—more than he could have ever provided. She was a princess, and her future would alter the course of nations.

Two months ago, he thought that might not have mattered. It was before all of this, when a boyish part of him still thought he stood a chance—a common knight that was the lord of nowhere, only granted a relationship with her by pure luck.

Two months ago, he thought there was a chance she might have felt the same. But he’d been rendered a complete fool. Ever since that day, they’d been cordial, and nothing more. Brief looks across the passageways, and even shorter words of acknowledgement when they crossed paths. The princess seemed content to keep her distance from him, forcing him to watch from afar.

It was her choice. He had to respect it, even if every bone in his body demanded otherwise.

It was easier if he reminded himself that Nesta Archeron felt nothing for him; that she’d taken one actual look at him and deemed him unworthy of her.

The king indicated for him to rise, and it didn’t take long after that to go over the specifications of the party. It was barely half an hour before they were finished.

“If that is all,” Cassian said, “I will start putting together the preparations.”

He barely registered the king’s words of dismissal, striding to the large, double doors at the end of the room and pushing them open.

Cassian spent the rest of the morning meticulously selecting the party of men that would travel with them. He picked men that he trusted—knights that he knew were loyal and would follow his command. Azriel and Rhys were among them, even though he knew Rhys would be nothing less than pissed at having to leave his flirtation with the youngest princess behind for a few weeks.

He could deal with it. Some things were more important, something that Rhys was well aware of, even if he and Nesta were often at odds with each other.

Azriel and Rhys were part of the twenty armed guards he accounted for, which were enough to cover Nesta’s ladies and the servants that would attend to them. And with that, he took the plans he’d put together and made his way to the grand hallway, to speak with her at last.

***

Nesta always knew that she would be a bargaining chip in whatever grand plans her parents came up with. Growing up, she’d always assumed it would be her mother pulling the strings. That was until the bitter woman died in her sleep. Her father allowed her her freedom afterwards, for a time.

But Nesta knew it would not last.

Her betrothal to Prince Eris did not come as a surprise. If her mother was still alive, this might be the moment she finally took Nesta’s face in her hands to tell her she was proud of her. Alas, she was dead in her grave, the words never uttered from her lips.

In just three days, she would leave this place behind to spend the rest of her days in a foreign land that she had never even visited. In just a month, she would be a stranger’s wife. His future queen. The mother of his heirs.

For her kingdom, she would do it. For the promise of peace.

Gwyn and Emerie flanked her on either side, speaking quietly amongst themselves about court gossip that they’d picked up that morning. Nesta listened in occasionally, but couldn’t find it in herself to chime in. She appreciated the upkeep in routine, though. Sure, her life was about to change in countless ways, but hearing her friends gossip behind her grounded her through it all.

Selfishly, she was glad they were coming with her. Even if it meant uprooting their lives to go to a foreign court, they’d agreed without question—the three of them having formed a bond that was deeper than blood.

They were returning from a stroll deep in the labyrinth of the gardens. Today was one of the last times she would see them, the sprawling lands partially the product of Elain’s handiwork over the years. The late summer sun had been warm, causing a slight layer of sweat to form beneath their day gowns. When that softer morning warmth shifted into an afternoon blaze of heat, they eventually ventured back inside to rest.

Up, up, up they went, around the spiral staircase that led to the tower of their quarters. It was something her father hadn’t denied her when she pushed and pushed him after her mother’s death. In fact, he’d hardly refused her anything, conceding to almost every one of her requests.

On this, though, she knew he would not budge. On this, she knew not to ask.

They reached the oak doors that distinguished her rooms in the hallway. Gwyn and Emerie’s were just down the corridor, on the other side of the tower such that they were close if she required anything.

“I would like an hour to myself,” she said softly to them, not yet reaching for the handle of the door.

A hand fell onto her shoulder. Emerie’s. “We’ll be in our rooms, if you need us,” she said, before the sound of footsteps behind her indicated that she had been left alone.

Nesta pushed open the doors, striding into her room with the intent of reading at the windowsill while she still could.

And stopped short, at the sight that was waiting for her.

Sir Cassian’s eyes lifted to meet hers, his body in a relaxed posture where he drew all the attention in the room towards himself, like the large spheres of mass she’d read about in her science books. She wasn’t supposed to have them. It was blasphemy, as her mother would say. A lady, a princess, didn’t need to learn about such things.

She’d never cared, sneaking them in like contraband.

He sat on the long couch in the center of the room, his feet slung up on the table before it as he took a slow bite of the apple in his hand. “Afternoon, sweetheart.”

She wasn’t going to fall into his orbit.

She turned, shutting the door, before taking only a few steps closer. “Need I remind you how you’re to address me?”

It had been an oversight, letting the formalities drop as she had. He’d gotten too comfortable, had gotten too close, and now they were both paying for it.

She remembered that summer solstice night as well as he did. He wanted to kiss her, that much was clear, and she’d had one too many glasses of wine. She’d become used to letting her guard down around him. If she’d had just another drop, she might have let him close that distance.

You can’t touch me like that.

If her heart was her own to give, it might have been different. She prayed that he understood that when she broke away, but the hurt expression that haunted her mind for days afterwards told another story.

Years of trust, fractured in an instant. A guardedness had risen in him, a look that she hadn’t ever seen directed at her.

She had to do it. It was better for them both if she shot…anything down before he got in trouble for it. Secrets, especially amongst royals, could ruin lives.

“Princess,” he said, his voice in a low drawl. He took another bite of his apple. His throat bobbed with his swallow, and Nesta forced her eyes to remain up on his face, not letting them lower. “I trust you had a spectacular morning.”

“What are you doing in my rooms?”

He motioned to the sprawling papers on the table in front of him, noticeably not in the same general vicinity of his feet. “I figured we should go over the details for our little trip.”

She stared at him blankly. “I don’t know what you mean, Sir Cassian.”

He paused mid-bite, lowering the apple from his mouth. “I assumed your father told you.”

“Then you wildly overestimate how much I speak with my father.”

They hadn’t spoken beyond that meeting over a week ago, when she’d taken his direction with her head held high.

Eris Vanserra. She could live with Eris Vanserra. They’d met at a ball once, when the prince and his family were visiting. He wasn’t kind, but he hadn’t seemed cruel, either.

She could live with that.

“I’m to lead the escort to the prince’s lands.” He picked up one of the folders. “Hence, this.”

“You?” she blurted out.

He looked up, taking a brief pause before he said, “Yes, me.”

“No,” she said, quickly. Too quickly. Cassian’s slow blink was his only indication that he heard her. “Find someone else.”

Pain flashed across his face, just for a second before a quiet rage overtook it. “I am more than qualified. And if I recall correctly, I am quite skilled at keeping you out of trouble.”

It was true, but she wouldn’t admit it.

“I don’t care. Tell my father that I won’t have it.”

Even still, Cassian remained firm in his resolve. “I have a direct order from your father. I have been told to keep you safe, and so that’s what I’ll do.”

“I don’t want you there.”

She didn’t want him delivering her into the hands of another man. She didn’t want him there as she said her vows, she didn’t want him within a mile of it.

She didn’t want anyone finding out how weak she really was, how close she’d almost been to giving in. Cassian’s touch had been warm that night

“If anyone finds out–” she started, but she was cut off by Cassian’s scoff.

“You really think I would do that to you?” he asked, incredulously. “Don’t worry, Nes. I won’t tell anyone what happened that night. I know you wouldn’t stoop for a common knight like me.”

She flinched at the tone in his voice, the self deprecation.

He wasn’t done. “I’ll make sure you get to your prince safe and sound, then you never have to see me again.”

He…was angry. And she couldn’t blame him, not after she’d thoroughly avoided him for months.

But still, the words struck deep in her chest, past all the shields and defenses she’d put up around it.

She parted her mouth to speak, but no words came out, leaving the room in a heavy silence. He just shook his head, letting out a long breath before rising to his feet.

“You can read through those. You know where to find me if you have questions about it.”

Cassian walked past her, taking care to ensure he was nowhere within her reach. He was gone in a blink, his footsteps receding down the long hallway, leaving Nesta alone.

The silence was made worse by the fact that if she called, she knew he would be back in an instant.

***

It shocked Nesta how quickly her life could be packed away into trunks. Over the coming days, servants bustled up and down the steps with them, until her quarters were nearly sparse and empty.

She spent her time with Gwyn and Emerie, hoping that her time reading and talking with them might take her mind off of what was to come. The long journey, which would take nearly two weeks, and the wedding afterwards.

All the while, she tried to maintain normalcy. She tried to do more than merely pick at her food, but it didn’t entirely work, and it caused Gwyn and Emerie to look over her with worry. Every day she grew quieter, retreating into herself as she anticipated her departure.

Only three days later, it was time to leave. Her face was white as a sheet the final time she looked in the mirror before making her way downstairs, meeting her sisters at the bottom of the palace steps.

She didn’t look back towards it. She couldn’t.

“You don’t have to do this,” Feyre said, wrapping her in a tight hug. “Say the word, and I’ll…”

Feyre stopped, drawing a complete blank. It was fine. There was nothing to be done, anyways.

She couldn’t remember the last time they embraced like this. The two of them were so often at each other’s throats that she genuinely couldn’t remember the last time they’d done something as simple as hugging each other. The feeling was foreign, but the familial affection was there all the same. Nesta hugged her back, savoring possibly the last time she would see her sisters in a long while.

“It’s what I was raised for,” Nesta whispered. “You know that.”

“That doesn’t mean I like it.”

Feyre had always been idealistic, abandoning all acts of practicality for blind heroism. When they weren’t fighting, it was perhaps one of the things she loved most about her. She only hoped the world wouldn’t beat it out of her over time.

Maybe, if her sisters were lucky, they would get to marry who they loved. Nesta prayed for it.

As much as she clashed with the man, she hoped that Rhys would return and get on his knees before her sister, and that Elain would find someone who truly made her happy. And she hoped her father would allow it.

“I’ll be alright. You know I’ll give him hell if he turns out to be a prick,” Nesta said.

Feyre hummed, the words seeming to placate her, for now. She broke away, giving Nesta’s hand a final squeeze before dropping it.

“We’ll write, then,” Elain promised, when it was her turn to hug her.

“We’ll write,” Nesta agreed, before looking at her sisters for the last time. A moment was all she allowed herself, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to convince herself to turn around if she looked at them for too much longer.

“I love you both,” she said in parting, before turning to the gilded carriage that would be her near-constant companion for the coming weeks.

All she could think about was that she should have said it more, those three words that she could only manage to say when there was no more time to say it. Suddenly she regretted every fight, every petty squabble that meant nothing over the years.

She wondered if they felt the same.

He was standing by the door to the carriage. Ever the knight in shining armor, he was there waiting for her with her ladies, who had given her the privacy to say goodbye to her sisters.

He watched as she approached, a playful smile resting on his lips until she got closer. Until he saw the tears she was trying to stop from swimming in her eyes.

He helped Gwyn and Emerie into the carriage first, only offering polite touches to ensure that they wouldn’t fall on the steps. Then it was just him and her, and he missed absolutely nothing as he evaluated her closer, any semblance of his earlier mask dissipating with the shifting breeze.

He’d always been able to read through every emotion she tried to hide, even when they were children and his favorite hobby was tormenting her every chance he got. His smile softened, concern entering his brow as he noted her paleness and the thin line of her mouth.

“Alright, princess?” he asked, offering his arm to help her into the carriage.

Her hand brushed against his forearm, unable to feel the muscle beneath the armor he wore as she accepted his offer. “I will be,” she forced herself to say.

She pretended that she didn’t feel him stiffening underneath of her, that her words had no effect on him at all.

Nesta only dared to look again when she’d made her way into her seat, across from Emerie and Gwyn. His hazel eyes scorched through her, not-so-subtly assessing every single one of her movements until he was seemingly satisfied.

He held that stare for seconds longer than he should have.

“I’ll be riding in the front, if the three of you require anything,” he said at long last. “Simply say the word.”

He closed the door with a quiet click. Emerie fixed her with a questioning look when Nesta turned her head in their direction, which she dutifully ignored.

Only minutes later, the carriage jolted as the horses pulled it forward, driving them out of the castle gates and into the city, away from the only home Nesta had ever known.

Tag list:

@unlikelypersonalknight1 @c-e-d-dreamer @kale-theteaqueen @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk @xxvalkyriesxx @wishcamper @podemechamardek @moodymelanist @burningsnowleopard @scarlettrose80 @underneath-the-sidras @allchaosallthetime @jmoonjones @bobanna81 @shortandcrass @presskmewleroux @theemfingbleachgotmic @misswonderflower @pham-tastical

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #cassian

47 notes · View notes

scoupsakakitty · 22 hours ago

Text

Chapter 8: Lean On Me

It had been a week since Y/N had broken up with Se-hun, yet the weight of it still clung to her like a storm cloud that refused to dissipate. The members had done everything they could to support her, but she had withdrawn into herself, shutting them out. Every day, they left food and water at her door, relieved whenever she took even a single bite. They didn’t push her, didn’t force her to talk just waited, hoping she would find her way back to them in her own time.

That evening, the members gathered in the living room, their expressions a mix of concern and helplessness. They had all visited Y/N, all except one.

Dino, who had been sitting in thoughtful silence, suddenly turned to Seungcheol. “Hyung,” he said hesitantly. “You can help her.”

Seungcheol blinked in surprise. “Me?”

Dino nodded, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to find the right words. “Yeah. I don’t know why, but I just have this feeling. She needs you.”

The others exchanged glances before nodding in agreement. “You should go,” Joshua encouraged. “Just try.”

With a nervous breath, Seungcheol got to his feet and walked toward Y/N’s room. He knocked gently but received no response. Slowly, he pushed the door open, stepping into the dimly lit space. She was curled up on her bed, facing the wall. Her small frame seemed even smaller under the weight of her sorrow.

“Y/N,” he called softly, but she didn’t move.

Carefully, he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Come here lean on me,” he said in a soft tone. “Talk to me tell me everything what’s on your mind, don’t leave anything out. Even if we talk through the night. I’ll be on your side.”

A shudder ran through her, and for the first time in days, she turned to face him. Her eyes were red, her face stained with dried tears. Slowly, hesitantly, she shifted forward, resting her head against his chest. The moment she did, a strange warmth spread through both of them a quiet flutter in their stomachs, a feeling they didn’t quite understand yet. And then, she broke. Her body shook with quiet sobs, and Seungcheol wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly.

“I’m not crying because of Se-hun,” she whispered between gasps. “I’m crying because I let it happen. I let him play with my feelings. I wasted so much time on him. Time I could’ve spent finding my real love.”

She tilted her head up slightly, eyes meeting his. There was something raw and vulnerable in her gaze, something that made his heart tighten. That unspoken feeling lingered between them, but neither of them dared to acknowledge it.

“You didn’t waste time,” he said firmly. “You learned. And now you know what you deserve something better.”

She gave him a small, broken smile. “Then why does it still hurt so much?”

“Because you cared,” he answered simply. “Because you’re human. But you can’t let him have that power over you anymore.”

They sat in silence for a while, her breathing gradually evening out. The warmth between them remained, a quiet electricity neither of them quite understood. Finally, he pulled back slightly, brushing her hair out of her face. “Come on. Go to the bathroom, freshen up a bit. You’ve let this bring you down for too long.”

Y/N hesitated, but the steady resolve in his eyes gave her strength. She nodded slowly and got up, disappearing into the bathroom.

As soon as she was gone, Seungcheol looked around the room. It was a mess blankets strewn about, empty water bottles, untouched plates of food. With quiet efficiency, he set to work, straightening the bed, opening the window for fresh air, and tidying up. By the time he was done, the space looked more like Y/N’s room again, rather than a reflection of her heartbreak.

Satisfied, he made his way to the kitchen. The moment he stepped in, the members swarmed him with questions.

“How is she?”

“Did it work?”

“Is she okay?”

Before he could respond, the sound of soft footsteps interrupted them. They all turned to see Y/N standing in the doorway. She looked like a completely different person. Her hair was brushed, her face washed, and there was a spark of life in her eyes that had been missing for days.

The room fell silent before breaking into quiet murmurs of relief and joy. They were careful, though watching her closely, as if she might break again at any moment.

She offered them a small, appreciative smile. “I’m starving,” she admitted.

The tension broke instantly. “Finally!” Jeonghan sighed dramatically, making everyone laugh. They quickly set the table, filling plates with warm food.

They decided to watch a movie together, keeping the atmosphere light. Laughter filled the room, and for the first time in a week, Y/N laughed with them. It wasn’t completely healed, but it was a start.

Somewhere in the middle of the film, Y/N’s eyelids grew heavy. She fought to stay awake, but the warmth of the room, the comfort of her friends, and the steady presence beside her made it impossible. Her head lolled to the side, landing softly on Seungcheol shoulder. The moment her head touched him, his heart skipped a beat. That strange, unfamiliar feeling returned something both exciting and terrifying.

He glanced down at her, then at the others, who all exchanged knowing smiles. Without a word, he carefully gathered her in his arms and carried her back to her room. He laid her down gently, pulling the blanket over her. As he did, he brushed a strand of hair from her face and whispered, “I won’t let anyone hurt you like that again.”

As he pulled back, he felt it again that flutter in his chest, the way his fingers tingled where they had touched her skin. He didn’t quite understand it, and neither did she.

26 notes · View notes

bewaryofpity · 1 hour ago

Text

IT'S NOW OR NEVER - L. HUGHES

[3.9k] luke was raised a gentleman and by the third date you are worried why he hasn't kissed you yet or three times luke was too scared to kiss you and one time you took matters into your own hands.

warnings: none ! this is so corny; unedited

When Luke asked you out on a date, you were expecting something more traditional for a first date — a movie, maybe a dinner in a cute restaurant, even just a cafe date. But this?

“A baking class?” You couldn’t help but mutter to yourself this morning, eyebrows furrowed as you reread Luke's text. It had taken him a lot of courage to ask for your number a few nights ago, his awkward stance endearing, and he seemed like a guy who would choose a more practical option. Maybe you took his shy personality for granted.

Now, standing in the intimate studio filled with the hum of conversation from other couples gathered around their cooking stations, you weren’t sure what to think. It made you laugh a little because everyone around you already seemed to be a couple, and you and Luke were not… yet.

“Thought it might be fun. I hope you’re ready to be amazed by my baking expertise.” He smirked, his voice playful as he was standing by one of the sleek stainless-steel countertops beside you, finishing tying his apron.

You glanced at him with a smile. He was already rolling up his sleeves and looking at the recipe card in front of him with determination. There was something sweet about how out of his element he looked and you had a feeling his “baking expertise” was going to be revealed as a lie very soon.

The instructor introduced the recipe for a lemon tart which was slightly more challenging than you expected for a beginner’s class. Soon, you took the lead, carefully mixing the dough for the crust while Luke squeezed fresh lemons, their tart aroma filling the air. When it came time to roll out the dough, Luke tried to help, but the dough stuck to the rolling pin and tore when he tried to lift it into the pan.

“Let me show you,” you said, after noticing his frustration, your tone gentle but amused. You guided his hands, showing him how to roll evenly and use a bit of flour to keep things smooth. Luke nodded along your words as you explained your moves, but he was more focused on the way your fingers brushed his than on the technique.

While the crust baked, you left it up to Luke to make the filling. He whisked eggs and sugar with ease, his biceps peeking through his sweater, while you worked on zesting lemons and occasionally stealing glances at his cute concentrated face, though his arms were really distracting.

The filling came together quite nicely for your first attempt. It was a sunny yellow mixture that smelled like summer, and when it was time to pour it into the crust, you handed Luke the bowl so you could spread the filling evenly. The tart was finally ready and you placed it gently into the oven, before you started cleaning up your station, working side by side with an easy rhythm.

It wasn’t long before you dished the tart to start decorating it. As you reached for the thin slices of lemon to arrange them on top, Luke gently ushered your hand away.

“Leave the decorating up to me.” He said with a grin. You raised an eyebrow but stepped back, curious to see what he’d come up with. He placed the lemon slices with a deliberate precision that made you smile, adding sprigs of mint and finishing it off with a dusting of powdered sugar. He did have some baking expertise after all, you thought.

By the end of the class, the instructor encouraged everyone to take a bite of their creations, and you and Luke found yourselves amazed by your work. The crust was buttery and crisp, the filling perfectly balanced between tart and sweet. Your eyes widened at the first bite, and Luke couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride.

“This is actually pretty good.” You admitted. Luke grinned, savoring his own bite and the way your amusement seemed to radiate off something so simple.

You bid your goodbyes to the instructor on your way out, taking the leftover tart with you, leaving half to Luke.

“Thank you for tonight. I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “Where did you park?”

“Oh, I took a cab here.”

“I’ll drive you home then, if that’s okay with you.”

You tried to wave him off, not wanting to bother him since it was getting late already and you knew he had practice the next morning. But he insisted, and you didn’t have it in your heart to say no one more time, not when he gave you those puppy eyes.

The drive back to your apartment was quiet, the radio playing softly in the background. When he halted the car at the stoplight, Luke stole a glance at you as you gazed out the window, your profile illuminated by the streetlights. You looked peaceful, yet he wished he knew what was going on in your head, because turmoil had started to rise in his. Doubts started to cloud his thoughts, what ifs and maybes worried him, and he truly couldn’t mess this up because he already knew you were the woman of his dreams.

When you pulled up in front of your building, Luke turned off the engine and hesitated. He wanted to say something meaningful, something that would let you know how much he’d enjoyed the evening, but the words felt clumsy even in his head. You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to him, your expression expectant but soft.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He wanted to reach for your hand, to bridge the small space between you, but his fingers stayed gripping the steering wheel. You lingered for a moment, your gaze dipping to his mouth and then back up to his eyes. He felt the air shift, a subtle invitation, but his nerves got the better of him.

“Goodnight,” he said instead, his voice steady but quieter than before. You blinked, a flicker of something unreadable crossing your face, and then you smiled, small but sincere.

“Goodnight, Luke.” You said as you stepped out of the car. He waited until you’d reached your door and waved at you before driving away, his chest tight with both satisfaction and regret.

Inside your apartment, you set down the box of leftover tart and leaned against the door. The evening had been lovely, better than you’d expected, really. Luke had been sweet and playful, your laughter easy and unforced, which was a rare occurrence after many past failed dates with other men. But as you replayed the moment in the car, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. You’d wanted him to kiss you, you felt the possibility hovering between you, but nothing happened and maybe you read this all wrong.

Still, you reminded yourself that first dates were just testing the waters, the first step towards something more and if your intuition about Luke was right, then there was nothing to worry about. After all, the best things were worth waiting for.

A message asking you for a second date came much sooner than you expected. You were looking forward to seeing Luke again, but hockey kept him busy and you were stuck with texting, which was fine, except for the fact that you missed him a lot.

After the baking class, you had spent days replaying moments in your head — the way he smiled at you, the way he hesitated when he dropped you off. Something about him intrigued you, and you couldn’t wait to peel back another layer of him.

And that was how you found yourself walking to Central Park on a Tuesday afternoon, the air crisp and golden, autumn leaves falling delicately from the trees. Luke stood by the entrance, holding a picnic basket in one hand and a rolled-up blanket in the other. He waved as you approached, his face lighting up in a way that made your heart skip. Oh, this can’t be real, you thought. You loved parks, picnics even more so and how Luke figured that out, you didn’t know. This was just your second date and he had already done more than any guy you ever dated.

“Hi.” You said shyly.

“Hi! Let’s go before they steal our spot.” He grinned, grabbing at your hand, not really leaving time for conversation.

You walked together through the path leading towards the open patch of grass, the sounds of the city muffled by the rustle of leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby.

“This okay?” He asked, spreading out the blanket. He busied himself trying to lay everything nice and neat to calm his nerves, but you could see the flicker of nervousness in his movements.

“It’s perfect.” And you meant it. The secluded spot he brough you to was beneath a sprawling oak tree and it felt like a little world carved out just for the two of you, despite the other couples around you.

Luke unpacked the basket with care and you were stunned by how thoughtful he had been. The sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, the container of pasta salad, fresh fruit, and the small box of cookies, were all things he prepared himself. You could tell, they weren’t perfect, but the fact that he took the time out of his already tight schedule to do something nice for you made your heart flutter.

“You’re really raising the bar here,” you said, taking a seat, legs criss-crossed. “Future dates are going to have a hard time living up to this.”

“Well,” he said, sitting down across from you, “I figured I should go big early on. Keep you interested.”

You giggled, and the sound seemed to relax him. The two of you settled into an easy conversation, eating and talking about everything and nothing. Luke told you about hockey, or at least tried. You weren’t familiar with the sport and what he was explaining didn’t make much sense to you, but he looked too cute to interrupt his nerd moment. You learned he played with his brother on the same team, something he wasn’t expecting on his draft day. You on the other hand, couldn’t say much about your boring 9 to 5 job, but when you mention your love for books, the conversation went lively again after he admitted Harry Potter was the last book he ever read.

“You’re lying!”

“Am not! I just can’t find anything interesting to read.”

Luke leaned back on his elbows, his gaze drifting to the trees overhead. The sun was starting to lower, the afternoon melting into evening, and the golden light deepened into the rich hues of a sunset.

After a while, Luke suggested a walk to stretch your legs, and you strolled along the park’s quieter paths, your shoulders brushing occasionally. When the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, you both stopped by a small hill to admire its beauty. The city’s skyline stood silhouetted against the glowing horizon, and the moment felt almost too perfect to break with words. He sat beside you, close enough that you could feel his warmth, but he didn’t reach for your hand or lean closer, and his hesitation was endearing but also maddening.

As the sky darkened, you realized it was time to head back. The walk to your apartment was quiet, but not uncomfortably so, though the silence felt loaded, as if you were both aware of the unspoken undercurrent between you. When you reached your building, Luke paused, his hands in his jacket pockets.

“I had a really great time today.” He said, his voice steady but soft.

“Me too.” You replied, wishing you could find the words to tell him how much.

The moment stretched and he didn’t move. No leaning in, no reaching out, just the same gentle smile that had greeted you at the park, the same smile he gave you in the car last time. Your eyes never left his, hoping he would see the glimmer of hope on your face.

You hesitated, heart thudding, because if he wasn’t going to take the step, maybe you had to. So, gathering your courage, you leaned up and kissed him on the cheek, letting your lips linger just a second longer than was strictly casual.

“Good luck for tomorrow’s game, Luke.” You whispered, stepping back before you could second-guess yourself. He was surprised, a blush creeping on his ears and mouth hanging slightly open. It made your stomach fill with butterflies, maybe this would finally make him understand your intentions.

“T-Thanks, goodnight.” He finally said, his voice a little lower now. He watched you go, and when you turned to close the door behind you, he was still standing there as if he was rooted to the spot.

Inside, you leaned against the door, lips tight in a smile and your cheeks warm. The kiss hadn’t been bold or dramatic, but it was enough to get your point across, or at least you hoped it was. But for now, you were content to let the memory of the day feed the warmth in your chest.

And maybe, just maybe, the next time he’d finally close the distance.

It wasn’t really a date, or at least that wasn’t the intention, but Luke texted you hours after his game finished with the classic “you up?” text and you ended up in the cold Prudential Center at midnight.

He couldn’t sleep after winning the game, the adrenaline pumping in his body despite his head being tired. He felt a bit ashamed to send such a cringey text, but his fingers moved before he could actually put some thoughts behind his words, and luckily you responded like it was no big deal.

The familiar scent of ice and cold air greeted you as you walked through the quiet halls, no crowds, no buzz of pre-game energy. It was dead silent. It was completely empty, the polished ice gleaming under the bright overhead lights.

“It’s just us?” Your voice echoed slightly.

“Just us.” Luke added, his hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets. “Figured it’d be more fun this way. No pressure, no audience.”

You stared at him, momentarily stunned. The gesture was unexpectedly thoughtful, and it made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t quite prepared for. You mentioned your desire to learn how to skate as soon as he told you he played hockey, but you were too nervous to hit the outdoor rink, not trusting yourself with loads of careless people around you equally as awkward.

“You know I don’t skate.”

“Yeah,” he said, flashing a boyish grin. “I’ll teach you, that’s why we’re here.”

He handed you a pair of skates he borrowed from one of the guys’ girlfriend, and helped you lace them up. His fingers brushed yours as he tightened the laces, sending a shiver up your spine that had nothing to do with the cold.

When you stepped onto the ice, you wobbled immediately, gripping the edge of the rink for dear life. Luke was already gliding effortlessly, his movements smooth and confident. He skated over to you, holding out his hands.

“Trust me.”

Hesitantly, you let go of the barrier and placed your hands in his. His grip was steady, grounding, and he guided you onto the ice with patience, your hands probably squeezing him uncomfortably tight.

“Just take it slow,” he said, moving backward as you shuffled forward. “One foot at a time. You’ve got this.”

And you tried your best though you weren’t doing much work, instead being slowly dragged by Luke’s hands. You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself, your movements awkward and unsteady, but he didn’t seem to mind. He kept his eyes on you, his expression encouraging and soft.

He guided you in a slow circle around the rink, his hands never leaving yours. The cool air nipped at your cheeks, but the warmth of his touch and the sound of his voice kept you focused.

“See? You’re a natural.” He said, his grin teasing.

“You’re doing all the work, Luke.”

“Pff, what? No, I’m not.”

You laughed at his silly remark, your head dropping on his shoulder and resting there. You turned your head to respond, and his gaze caught yours, your breath catching in your throat. His face was just inches from yours, his eyes filled with warmth and intent. The world seemed to narrow, the rink fading away until it was just the two of you, the quiet scrape of your skates the only sound.

Your heart thudded as you slowed to a stop, your hand still in his. His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and you felt a flicker of hope.

“Hello? Is anyone still here?”

But before you could say or do anything, a voice called out from the edge of the rink. And just like that, the spell shattered, and you stepped back instinctively, the perfect moment slipping away from your fingers. Luke turned his head toward the voice, his jaw tightening slightly.

“Though everyone went home.” He mumbled, his tone even but quieter than before.

Swallowing the lump of disappointment in his throat, he helped you off the ice, steadying you as you stepped onto solid ground. He helped you unlace your skates, his movements were slow as if to buy more time to spend with you.

On the way out, Luke apologized to the staff for the trouble, forgoing a decent excuse as to why he was here. It was obvious anyway.

The drive back to your place was quieter than you’d expected. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt heavy. And when he pulled up in front of your apartment, your fingers hesitated before unbuckling your seatbelt. You didn’t want to leave the car without doing something, anything, to push the boundary that seemed to hold him back. But you felt the familiar mix of hope and frustration swirling in your chest, so you let it go.

Once you stepped foot in your apartment, you leaned against the door, your heart still racing. Luke was sweet, thoughtful, and attentive in so many ways, but the question of why he still held back, why he hasn’t kissed you yet lingered in your mind.

You glanced out the window, watching as his car idled for a moment before driving off. The night had been special, probably the best out of the two other dates you had, because it was spontaneous, because he thought of you when he couldn’t fall asleep, because he remembered something you told him in passing. And it was the kind of date that would have been perfect if only he’d closed the distance between you.

You wondered if this was worth it all, if you should instead give up and tell him things aren’t working.

You needed answers. After that night at the rink, you gave yourself a pep talk and mustered all the courage you could find in yourself to finally make a move. So you invited him over, telling him to drive straight to your apartment after his week-long roadie.

He made himself comfortable, changing from his suit into some sweats he had in his duffel bag, and was now sitting beside you on the couch, trying to explain the hockey game in front of you. In all honesty, you couldn’t understand a single thing. You tried watching sometimes, but the rules never stuck.

“Wait, why has the game stopped?”

“It’s icing.” Oh, of course. “Did you already forget what that is?”

“Yes.”

He threw his head back, a giggle escaping his lips, and you couldn’t help but join him. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the warm light of the room catching the green flecks in his irises, making your heart flutter in a way you couldn’t ignore. You kept your gaze on him, watching as he stretched one arm across the back of the couch. He turned to look at you, catching you staring before you could pretend otherwise.

“You okay?”

You hesitated for a beat, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your hoodie. Here goes nothing.

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

The words tumbled out before you could overthink them, your voice softer than you’d intended. His eyes widened slightly, the smirk fading from his lips as he blinked at you. For a moment, the only sound was the low commentary from the game on TV, but you barely noticed. All your attention was locked on him, on the way his face shifted from surprise to something more unreadable.

“I mean,” you continued quickly, feeling a rush of nerves. “I just... I guess I’m wondering if you’re waiting for a specific moment or if I’m reading this wrong —”

“You’re not reading it wrong.” He interrupted, his voice shaking just slightly. He shifted in his seat, his arm dropping from the back of the couch to rest on his knee.

“I like you too. I just —” He paused, his gaze flicking to the TV for a second before meeting yours again. “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. My mom always told me not to kiss a girl on the first date, but then I felt like it was never the right moment. I wanted it to be special.”

His words made your chest tighten in the best way, a soft warmth blooming under your skin. You hadn’t expected that answer, but it was so him. Thoughtful. A little cautious. Mama’s boy.

You turned towards him, your knees lightly pressing into his thigh. You reached out to place a hand on his own, his skin was warm under your touch, and you could feel the slight tension in his muscles. You looked at him for a long moment, your gaze searching his face when he kept looking at the ground. Then, slowly, a small smile curved your lips. Your hand moved to cover his, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.

“Well then, can I kiss you?”

His head shot up, breath caught in his throat for a moment processing if he heard you right. From the day he met you, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. You were confident but not cocky, quiet but not necessarily shy, attentive and smart. And he was obsessed, to the point he would kiss the ground you walked on.

You smiled at him, your heart feeling like it might burst from how full it was. That was all the encouragement Luke needed. He leaned in slowly, your mouth immediately meeting his halfway, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips finally pressed on yours. His lips were soft, softer than you imagined and you couldn’t get enough.

Luke kissed you until he couldn’t anymore, and when he pulled away, his forehead resting against yours, you were both catching your breath.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.”

“It was worth it.”

He chuckled softly, pulling back just enough to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You squeezed his hand, still tangled with yours. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Please, stop asking and just do it.”

And so you cupped his jaw to kiss him again, not as long this time but just as breathtaking.

#luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes x you #luke hughes one shot #nhl x reader #nhl x you #nhl fic #nhl one shot #luke hughes fluff #nhl fluff #luke hughes #bewaryofpity writes

42 notes · View notes

thisvictoriangirl · 1 day ago

Text

7) cherry cola and blue jeans

It's the start of summer on their third year out of the army, and they've got nothing but time in their hands.

One of the perks of retirement, Johnny guesses, or so others say. Some days, it feels less like a perk and more like a torture tactic. For years, they had gotten used to structured chaos, survived on stolen sleep and seconds stretched thin, only able to catch their breaths before they're sent off to the next mission. It had gone on for so long that nothing else felt right.

Now, time is all they have.

It feels like an overflow, like a flood. Dehydrated men drowning themselves at the first glimpse of water. Still, Johnny and Simon make the best of it. Town as small as the one they've settled in, it's a miracle there's anything to do at all, but they find their place. Johnny teaches science at the local elementary school and coaches the school rugby team of wee rascals on the weekends.

Simon busies himself with his part-time job at the butcher. When he's not at work, he's usually working up a sweat tending to the small patch of land in their backyard. He's already got apple saplings growing there, along with a few tomatoes and cucumbers. He's in the midst of planting radishes under the summer sun one Saturday afternoon when Johnny gets home from rugby practice.

"I'm home!" Johnny calls out perfunctorily, marching through the hallways of their home, his practice bag dropped somewhere on his way to the backyard where he knows Simon will be. He makes a quick detour to the fridge, grabs a Cherry coke to stave off the heat, and then follows the quiet sounds of garden work. "Si?"

Johnny opens the kitchen sliding door and pauses at the doorway.

There, under the too-bright sun, wrapped up in warm air, Simon crouches on the ground and digs the soft earth with his gloved hands, his back to Johnny as he tends to his little vegetable patch, blonde head ducked in concentration. If he's heard Johnny's stomping about, Simon makes no acknowledgement of it as he keeps digging with his trowel, making little pockets for his seedlings.

Johnny falls quiet. He watches Simon work, watches as his broad shoulders shift under his sweat-damp Henley, rough hands made gentle and careful as he lowers each individual little plant into its own pocket of dirt before patting the soil securely around it.

Not for the first time, Johnny wonders why Simon took up gardening. He's been the one to introduce Simon to it, sure, but Simon had gone above and beyond to learn about gardening and growing all sorts of plants, seemingly obsessed with covering every inch of their home with something green and living. (There are multiple succulents on the windowsill to prove Johnny's point.)

Maybe it's the structure behind it. Gathering information, making a plan, following a schedule of when it's best to plant and water and harvest. The repetition, perhaps. This digging and burying, dirt under your fingernails and the weight of the sapling in your hands.

(Maybe it's the irony of it. A once-dead man cultivating life and thriving at it.)

Whatever it is, it suits Simon. He's had some rough moments—they both have, especially on their first year out of the SAS—but those are getting fewer and farther in between the good days. Most days look like this now. Slow and unassuming. Weekends spent running around in rugby fields and tending to vegetable gardens, as the seasons pass them by. Good things.

An overflow of 'em, Johnny thinks again.

His thoughts derail when Simon shifts his weight on his other knee. His dark blue jeans are stained with dirt and clinging to his thick thighs, and Johnny's eyes fall down down down to the very familiar temptation of stretched denim over Simon's gorgeous arse.

Johnny hums under his breath. Throat dry, thoughts forgotten.

It's something he sees nearly everyday but fuck if he doesn't feel like the luckiest sod for it. He's been seeing it out on the field since seven years ago, has crawled through the mud of Amazon rainforests with it wiggling in front of his face as Ghost took point, has tripped over his fucking feet one too many times from trying to follow the sight of it as Ghost walked out of conference rooms, and still, Johnny can never get tired of the view.

The fact that Johnny's allowed to stare his fill these days only sweetens the deal.

Now there's a retirement perk they don't tell you about.

Johnny leans against the doorframe, blood hot from something other than running around the rugby field for hours patching up skinned knees and crying brats, and opens the Cherry coke with a quiet shnick.

Simon turns at the sound.

Johnny takes a mouthful of liquid cherry sugar, fizzy and ice-cold, and smirks around the lip of the soda can as Simon finally looks at him. He maintains his stare, none-so-subtly dragging his eyes down to the swell of Simon's backside again as he drinks.

"See somethin' you like, Johnny?" Simon grunts as he stands to his full height, taking away the view as he faces Johnny properly. He's bare-faced, forgoing the mask most days since their retirement, his skin freckled and flushed red from the sun. "Never got over our staring problem, have we?"

"Oh, aye." Johnny leers with a playful grin. "View's too good not to take a look."

"Minx."

"You know it, Lt."

"Not your Lieutenant anymore," Simon huffs, carelessly wiping away the sweat from his bare jaw with the back of his gardening gloves. It leaves behind a streak of dirt and Johnny is torn between wanting to lick it off and preserving it there for eternity. Jesus, but Simon turns him into a fucking animal.

"Yer always going to be my Lieutenant," Johnny says distractedly as he watches Simon approach him in long strides. He has to tilt his head up a bit when Simon stops right in front of him and towers over Johnny just a little. "Followed me all the way here to Scotland, didn't ye?"

Simon hums noncommitally. This close, Johnny can see each freckle on his face. He'd count them, given the chance. "That I did," Simon says.

Johnny waggles his eyebrows. "Fancy me that much, aye?"

Simon nods. "Much more than you think."

It's meant to be teasing, but it ends up sounding sincere instead, and that's what makes Johnny blush. The banter has always been easy. The flirting even more so. The vulnerability? Not so much. Johnny isn't used to it yet, not used to letting it spill out in the open. Letting it soak into their interactions and having it stay there without either of them brushing it off or walking away from it.

"Heh." Johnny swallows. Wills down the heat from his cheeks and takes another casual swig of his too-sweet Cherry coke just to keep the butterflies from fluttering out of his esophagus. "Careful. Yer getting soft on me, Lt."

"Get hard for you most days." Simon says immediately, and Johnny groans out loud, thoroughly disappointed at the joke. Alright, he set himself up for that one. The dismal humor is almost worth hearing Simon's low huff of laughter, his chin dropping down as he smiles at Johnny. Simon's brown eyes are soft, that notched scar on his upper lip pulling around his grin and baring a long canine. It makes Simon look handsome. Beautiful, even. Pure fucking braw, if you ask Johnny.

"Terrible," Johnny deadpans.

Simon shakes his head. "Hilarious," he corrects, taking another step closer and pulling his gardening gloves off. Simon tucks his gloves carelessly into his jeans pocket. He smells like faint cologne and aftershave, underneath the scent of sweat and grass. "Give us a kiss," Simon murmurs, already tilting his head down.

"Dinnae have to ask."

They meet halfway, melting into each other's mouths and against each other's bodies. Hands tangle into hair, and Johnny parts his lips invitingly almost at once, tilting his head to the side and pressing up against the warmth of Simon's calloused palm on his jaw. Johnny cups the back of Simon's neck, his other hand resting on a broad shoulder. The Cherry coke drops on the grass with a dull thud, empty and forgotten.

They kiss each other slow, unhurried. Simon draws away only to come back for more, pressing tiny kisses and sucking the lingering taste of sweet cherries from Johnny's bottom lip. They kiss for minutes, for hours, for what feels like days.

It feels like drowning.

Like the first drink after a drought. Deserts welcoming the first rain.

An overflow of good things.

In a while, they'll have to pull away eventually. Brush themselves off and drag their sweaty, minging selves into the bathroom for a much-needed shower.

In a while, there will be dinner to start—a couple of steaks from the butcher that Simon got for a discount, and potatoes that'll get argued over which way they ought to be prepared (Simon always wants them mashed when Johnny and everyone else and their Mam knows baked potatoes are far more superior). There will be dishes to wash and a couple of beers to drink as another episode of The Great British Bake Off plays in the background.

There's tomorrow to think of, and the dentist appointment on Wednesday, and Simon's meeting with his therapist the following Friday.

But that won't be for a while. For now, Johnny happily sinks himself into this warm bubble of Simon's embrace, pressing closer and kissing him deeper, and lets himself drown.

They've got nothing but time.

#call of duty #ghostsoap #ghoap #cod ghost #cod soap #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #cod fic

24 notes · View notes

imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese · 3 days ago

Text

Trees

In which the Drifter and Eris Morn explore the woods around their camp, looking for food.

Art by @chaostructure-crafts

Link to the story on Ao3 if you prefer to read it there

“Oh hey, is that what I think it is?” He pinched off a long tapered leaf growing on the ground in a sunny spot, took a bite out of it, and smiled. “It is. Here.” He handed her the rest of the leaf. Eris took it from him. She smelled it and then nibbled the end of the leaf.

“Oh!"

“Yeah.”

“How is it lemon?”

“It ain’t lemon. That’s sorrel. Grab all the leaves that look like this.” He picked another leaf as an example and kissed her fingertips as he put it in her hand so she could find them by touch if she wished. “We can either make you a sour leaf salad or it goes nice in soup too. Either way, perfect find. Once we got that I wanna go across the water. I think those might be blueberry bushes over there.”

The Drifter’s ghost flew up to eye level and opened its shell, turning it to get his attention. He frowned at it.

“What?” he growled.

It emitted its single tone, floated a few feet away, and then turned back to look at them.

“I think he found something for us.”

“I didn’t ask for his help.”

“I would like to see what he wants to show us.”

“Fine. Sorrel first.”

. . .

“All right. You’re forgiven,” the Drifter begrudgingly admitted as he looked up the side of the tree his ghost had lead them to.

The ghost emitted its single tone and hovered near Eris’ shoulder.

“Yeah…” He paced around the tree looking up at it and nodding. “...you have more than redeemed yourself on this one. Good job.”

Eris reached out a fingertip and pet the ghost’s shell. It shuddered and leaned into her touch.

“What is it?” she asked.

The Drifter pointed up.

“All I perceive is a rotting tree. Is it the fungus?”

Orange-Yellow frills erupted in bursts all along the trunk, looking like gills or gatherings of poofy skirts.

“Not just any fungus. This…” the Drifter reached up and grabbed a branch, pulling himself up into the tree. “...is chicken of the woods. Easily one of the most delicious things we could have found out here.”

He cut some of the gills free from the trunk with his knife and reached down to hand them to Eris but she wasn’t on the ground.

Her hand reached down from above him.

“Damn. I didn’t see or hear you move, Moondust. Can you teleport?”

“Yes… But in this particular instance, I climbed.”

She took the fungus from him, put it in the cloth bag hanging from her shoulder, and then proceeded to almost flow up the trunk to the upper branches of the tree.

“Fuckin’ hunters climbing fuckin’ trees.”

She smiled down at him from her perch. “You are slow, Rat. I have not climbed a tree in centuries. This is fun.” She pulled a knife out of her boot and went to harvest the highest blooms of the fungus.

“Careful,” he called after her, “it only grows on rotting trees.”

He grabbed a branch above him and it broke off in his hand.

“Of course, as soon as I say it, it happens to me. Typical.” He tossed the branch down onto the ground.

The entire tree shook violently as she jumped to a different treetop.

“Hey! Don’t fall. If I bring you back with a broken leg from climbing trees, Ikora will never let that one go.”

Eris looked down at him and then leaned back, bending her knees. Then as the tree swayed she jumped to another, taller tree, climbing even higher to where it poked above the canopy.

The Drifter watched as she got near the top. She grabbed hold of the trunk with one hand and leaned away from it, one leg straight, the other bent at the knee, both feet on the trunk, her free hand dangling open, feeling the wind. The tree top leaned at a gentle angle. The breeze flicked her hair around the bandage over her eyes. The calm smile on her face was lit by the sun.

She looked like she was about to take flight.

“It’s cuz I told you to be careful, isn’t it?” he called up to her.

She craned her neck from side to side as the treetop she was hanging off swayed back and forth in the wind. She listened to the creaking of the tree trunk and the sounds of the forest below, feeling the sun and the wind on her face, breathing it in with wild abandon.

The Drifter, now on the ground, looked up at her with a mixture of awe, pride, and mild anxiety. She looked so… happy.

“Fuckin’ hunters climbing fuckin’ trees.”

This story is part of a series I wrote on Ao3 called Embers and Stars. While there are some individual stories rated Mature and/or Explicit for containing happy fun sexy times, those are set up with skip links so that if you prefer not to read that type of content you can still enjoy the story.

#destiny 2 #drifteris #eris morn #the drifter #the drifter/eris morn #drifter/eris #ao3 #fanfiction #writing #trees #embers and stars series #imonthemoonitsmadeofcheese #cs member writing

20 notes · View notes

zeroseuniverse · 2 days ago

Text

The Chase Is Half Of The Fun

Word Count: 2.0 K Summary: “You know the drill, officer,” you said with a wink before turning to make your escape. Pairing: S.coups X Reader

Disclaimer: Please be aware that this is apart of the from the ashes series. This series will have aspects of violence, weapons, angst, blood, injuries, killing, and will heavily focus on oppression and segregation of mutants, Look after your mental state if any of these make you uncomfortable please.

Series Masterlist

Navigation

You were known by many names. Some called you a criminal, others, a hero. You didn’t care what they thought, though—your only concern was getting justice for the people who were being forgotten. The corrupt, the greedy, the ones at the top of the food chain, who took and took and never gave back. You took from them, always making sure to give to those who needed it most, the oppressed, the ones left behind by society. You weren’t a saint, but you were doing the world a favor.

It wasn’t easy, but it was your purpose.

And then there was him.

S.Coups, or rather, Choi Seungcheol—law enforcement’s top officer, the one who was always a step behind you, yet somehow never managed to catch you. He wasn’t bad at his job, not by a long shot. He was disciplined, sharp, and incredibly dedicated. But every time you managed to slip through his fingers, there was this fleeting look in his eyes—a look that was more than just duty.

It confused you, at first.

But the more you danced this dangerous game with him, the more you realized that his eyes weren’t just watching you like a criminal. There was something else—something softer, something that made your heart race every time you saw him.

The chase had been going on for months now, and you both knew how it would play out. He’d find you, corner you, and then... let you slip away at the last second. The pattern was becoming all too familiar, and it was driving both of you crazy.

Tonight was no different.

The warehouse was located on the outskirts of the city, a place no one dared to venture to unless they were part of the right circles. It was rumored to be a storage point for some of the highest-ranking criminals' illicit dealings—stolen goods, secret information, and even worse. You couldn’t let that stand.

You’d spent weeks infiltrating their network, gathering intel, and now it was time to make your move. You knew S.Coups would be there, though. You always did. It wasn’t a question of if he’d show up, but when.

You slipped inside the darkened warehouse, moving like a shadow. The guards were easy to deal with, and within minutes, you had access to the secure vault where everything was being stored.

As you worked quickly to get what you needed—documents, files, and money—you could hear the distant sound of footsteps. It was the kind of step you’d learned to recognize by now: heavy, determined, and purposeful.

You smirked.

“You always do this,” a voice called out from behind you, low and steady.

You didn’t flinch, didn’t turn around. Instead, you focused on securing the final bag of money, making sure the weight was perfect for the escape.

“You know I’m not going to let you leave, right?” Seungcheol’s voice was closer now, his footsteps stopping just behind you.

“Of course, you’re not,” you said with a slight smirk, turning to face him. “It’s not fun unless you chase me.”

His eyes narrowed, but there was no anger there—only a resigned amusement. “You make it too easy.”

You tilted your head, your expression teasing. “Am I really that predictable?”

“Yes,” he replied, his tone firm, but there was something softer in his gaze. Something that said he wasn’t as convinced by his own words as he wanted you to believe.

You took a step toward him, your eyes locked on his. “Then why haven’t you caught me yet?”

Seungcheol took a deep breath, his gaze intense. “Because you always know how to slip away. It’s infuriating.”

A flash of something—vulnerability, maybe—passed through his features, but you were already moving, already aware that your time was up.

“You know the drill, officer,” you said with a wink before turning to make your escape.

But as you reached the door, something unexpected happened.

Seungcheol didn’t follow.

Instead, you heard the sound of his footsteps stop completely. You glanced over your shoulder to find him standing still, watching you, his gaze filled with something deeper than just duty.

“Are you really going to leave without a fight this time?” you asked, a bit breathless.

His silence was heavy, but he didn’t stop you. He didn’t arrest you. Instead, his eyes softened, and for a fleeting second, you saw the conflict in them.

“I should arrest you,” he said quietly, his voice strained.

“Then why don’t you?” You were so close to the exit now, the cool night air just beyond the door. But you didn’t want to leave yet. Not with that look in his eyes.

“I can’t,” he admitted, almost too quietly.

You froze, the words hitting you harder than you expected. “What do you mean, you can’t?”

“Because every time you get away, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re... you’re not a criminal. Not in the way they say. You’re... trying to make things right. But I’m not sure if I can help you.”

His words hung in the air between you both, thick with tension.

You stared at him for a long moment, feeling the weight of his confession. There was no smug grin, no teasing remark—just the raw honesty of a man caught between his duty and his feelings.

Without a word, you turned and walked back toward him. Your movements were slow, deliberate, and you could see the confusion flash in his eyes as you came closer.

You stood in front of him, the space between you shrinking until you could feel the heat of his body. There was no chase now. Just the two of you, standing at the crossroads of right and wrong.

“You know,” you said softly, “I never asked for your help. But I think you’re already helping me just by letting me go.”

Seungcheol’s breath hitched, his gaze softening even more as he met your eyes. “I don’t want to stop you,” he whispered, his hand brushing against yours. “But I can’t just let you keep doing this.”

“You don’t have to,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just stop chasing me for a while.”

He didn’t say anything, but the way his hand lingered near yours told you everything you needed to know. It was a truce—a quiet understanding that, for now, there were no winners in this game, only two people standing together in the blurry line between right and wrong.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Days passed before you found yourself once again in the thick of it. The adrenaline rush of your last heist still lingered, but you couldn’t deny the nagging feeling that stayed with you—the memory of his gaze, soft and full of conflict, had been on your mind since that night.

Your next encounter with Seungcheol wasn’t planned. In fact, you hadn’t expected to see him so soon after your last interaction. But fate, as it often did, had a way of throwing the two of you together when least expected.

It was a simple job—break into a secure building, swipe a few important documents, and get out. But of course, nothing was ever simple with you around.

As you crept through the shadows, your heart skipped a beat when you heard the faint sound of boots on the ground. Your instincts kicked in, and you hid behind a pillar, holding your breath.

Sure enough, the familiar figure of Choi Seungcheol appeared, his sharp eyes scanning the area as he walked with purpose. Your pulse quickened—his presence always did that to you. And you knew that tonight, he wasn’t going to let you slip away as easily as he usually did.

You stepped out from your hiding spot, a smirk spreading across your face as you walked directly toward him.

“Well, well,” you said, your voice dripping with teasing confidence. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”

Seungcheol froze for a split second, his eyes narrowing. “You’re getting bolder, aren’t you?”

“Maybe I like living on the edge,” you replied with a wink, taking a step closer to him. Your gaze locked with his, and you noticed the way his jaw clenched as if he was trying to hold back something—something more than just the desire to catch you.

“You’re not leaving this time,” Seungcheol said, his voice low and firm. But there was something in the way he said it—something that made you doubt if he really meant it.

“Oh, I think I am,” you teased, standing just a few inches away from him now, enjoying the tension that crackled between you. “I’m not so easy to catch, Seungcheol.”

He stepped forward, closing the space between you even more, his body just barely brushing against yours. “I don’t need to catch you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “Not when I can keep you here, just like this.”

The words sent a shiver down your spine, but you refused to let him see how much his closeness affected you. You raised an eyebrow, meeting his gaze with a challenge. “And how do you plan on doing that, officer?”

Seungcheol’s eyes darkened, and you could see the way he was fighting to keep his composure. His lips parted, but he didn’t speak immediately. Instead, he took a slow step back, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You like playing these games, don’t you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the edge of frustration seeping in. “But at some point, this is going to stop being fun. And when it does, I don’t know if I’ll be able to let you go.”

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the playful mask you wore slipped. The seriousness in his tone, mixed with the heat in his eyes, made you feel something you hadn’t expected. The mission. The chase. It all seemed so far away in that moment. It was just the two of you now, standing in the middle of this tension-filled game that neither of you seemed willing to back down from.

“I’m not the one who’s going to get caught, Seungcheol,” you whispered, your voice softening. You took a step closer, closing the distance again, the tension between you thick enough to cut with a knife.

“You’re right,” he replied, his voice low and almost intimate. “You’re always one step ahead of me. But one of these days…” His hand brushed against your arm, a subtle touch, but it sent a jolt through your body. “One of these days, you won’t be able to slip away.”

You tilted your head, your eyes flicking to his lips. “Is that a promise, officer?”

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, and his gaze dipped down to your lips as well. The air between you felt charged, the heat of the moment rising.

“Maybe,” he said, his voice barely audible. “But don’t get too cocky. The next time we meet, I’m not letting you go without a fight.”

The challenge in his words was clear, but so was the underlying tension—the attraction that neither of you had been able to ignore for so long.

Before you could say anything else, Seungcheol stepped back, turning his attention to the mission at hand. But there was a lingering look in his eyes, one that told you this game wasn’t over yet. He was letting you go again, but not without that silent promise.

You watched him for a moment longer before stepping back into the shadows, a smirk crossing your face.

“I’ll be waiting, officer,” you called over your shoulder, your voice laced with both playfulness and challenge.

As you slipped out of the building, you couldn’t help but wonder—just how far would Seungcheol go to catch you? And more importantly... how long would you both keep playing this dangerous game of cat and mouse?

The next encounter was already in your mind. And this time, you weren’t going to make it easy on him.

19 notes · View notes

justastraymoa · 13 hours ago

Text

@skzideasforothers and @ilovefanfics2019 sooo I got inspired and wrote a tidbit beginning, but there is more to come.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Something to be Soft for

Chapter 1

Masterlist

Warnings for STBSF: mentions of injuries, blood, broken bones, depression, general sadness, swearing, fear, wolf bites. This is a ABO fic with full wolf shifts.

Y/n, Seungmin, Felix, and I.N are Omegas on their own in the woods who suck at self preservation and survival instincts.

BangChan is Alpha of the Stray Kids pack with Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Han who are all Betas.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

“It’s time, Lino.” BangChan spoke gently, knowing how much this was going to hurt the younger Beta. He came off hard and aloof most of the time, but he probably loved more deeply than all of them combined. He fell hard and fast.

Lee Know glared at his senior as he held the squirming creature in his arms. “No, it’s not, Chan! She still needs looking after!”

“She is a wild animal; you can’t take her from her home and family forever. Her leg is healed. Time to let her go home.”

Lino sighed sadly and looked at the agitated bunny he held. He had found her a few weeks ago, stuck in a cruel snare. He took her home without hesitation to heal the broken leg the snare caused. She would never survive the woods injured on her own.

Everyone in the manor took to her immediately, fighting to help care for the small creature in their midst. It became both the highlight of their days and a competition about who got to spend time taking care of her. It caused many arguments among them that Chan had to break up and offer a compromise for, not that he minded. Chan understood their need to care for the animal to replace the packs need for an Omega, because he felt it too. Probably more than they did because he was Alpha.

But now the creature was healed and kept escaping the small enclosure they had created for her early on. This was the second time today. Chan was right. It was time to let her go.

It broke Linos’s heart. He loved having something to take care of. Something to care for and needed his help. It filled a part of his chest that was now growing cold.

“I’ll tell the others to come say goodbye.” Chan continued, knowing he was right. He gave Lino a sad smile and left to find the others to give them the bad news.

There were tears. Hyunjin, Changbin, BangChan, Han, and Lee Know gathered near where Lino first found the bunny. He had made sure there were no more snares nearby. He didn’t want any more innocent creatures to get injured because some careless hunters didn’t feel like cleaning up his traps when he was done.

They could all hear the scrape and snuffling of the other bunnies nearby. Maybe watching them curiously from a safe distance. Maybe shocked and excited to see their bunny sister. They stayed hidden, wary of the large intruders.

“Goodbye, sweet girl. Stay safe.” Lino sniffed, giving the fidgeting creature a scratch between her long ears.

“Its dangerous out there. Don’t let your guard down.” Changbin added running a finger down her spine.

Hyunjin and Han crowded in to pet at the small creature fondly.

“She will be fine. She has family to care for her.” Chan put in.

“You’re right, Hyung.” Linos’s heart broke as he stepped away from the others and bent to place her into the grass.

The bunny stayed put for a few seconds, nose working overtime as she sniffed around. Hesitantly she hopped forward a bit, maybe catching the scent of her family. Then finally she sped away, disappearing into the woods before Lino could change his mind and snatch her back up again.

Chan patted Lino on the shoulder, squeezing lightly. “It’s for the best. She’s home now.” Lino nodded starting at the spot his bunny disappeared at.

They all hiked back to the manor in the woods, dejected and empty. Craving something to care for, something to soothe the empty spots in their chests. Something to protect and coo over.

2 weeks later

Lino crouched on the forest floor, trying to be as quiet as possible to listen for his bunny girl. Any hint or sign of her or her family.

But it was futile, they had moved on. They had to have decided their home was no longer safe and left. Sadly, Lino hadn’t seen or heard them since he released his bunny girl that day and left her behind, his heart shattered.

His bunny girl had well and truly left him for good.

But still, Lino came every few days, he wasn’t sure why. To torture himself maybe?

Since they let their bunny girl go the pack had been talking seriously about finding an Omega. There were programs they could join through the government that would place one with them. It was more likely you would find a match that way than letting it happen naturally like they did in the old days. Where you would run into them randomly in a grocery store or out in public somewhere and just click. That kind of fairy tale shit didn’t happen anymore.

With a sigh Lino turned and headed back to the manor. Han met him at the edge of their territory.

“How did it go today?” He asked carefully.

Lino just shook his head and let Han hook his arm with his as they walked. Han was the youngest of their pack and was favored by all of them, doted on, trying and fill their desperate need for an Omega. But he never let it go to his head, never let it change him, never asked for anything more.

But their need was never truly fulfilled, and Han’s need was shoved down and ignored by him, so he didn’t burden any of the others.

“She’s okay, I know it. She’s a fighter.” Han tried to cheer his senior up.

“Of course, she’s fine!” Lino sniffed brushing it off.

As soon as they walked into the manor a wonderful aroma hit their noses, and they sniffed deeply. “Oh, Chan Alpha, that smells amazing!” Han called through the hall.

Chan appeared a few seconds later. “Just in time. Fried chicken for dinner. Wash up and join the rest of us.”

“And hurry up!” Changbin called from the direction of the dining room.

Lino rolled his eyes and led the way to the downstairs bathroom.

To make himself feel better Lino took Hans hands under the warm water and started to thoroughly scrub them, rubbing them between his own and even using a brush to clean under the younger’s nails.

Han allowed it with a bright smile. Standing close to his Hyung and holding his hands obediently under the flow of warm water. He noticed Lino always got a little more ‘Beta’ after his trips to try and see his bunny. His need to care got stronger and harder to ignore. If this was how he could help his packmate then it wasn’t a sacrifice at all.

As soon as Han and Lino joined the table the rest dug into their food, the good smells driving them crazy. Lino ate slower, still in this head and feels. Chan noticed and set his utensils down to address the pack.

He cleared his throat softly and waited to have everyone’s attention. “I set us up on an Omega placement list today.” He began.

“Did they have any candidates?” Changbin asked full of hope.

Chan shrugged and shook his head. “It will be a long time before we are at that point. They have to do checkups, background checks on all of us, and monitor our pack very closely for several months first, to make sure we are a safe, stable pack.”

Lino sagged even more than he already was, the small spark of hope Chans initial announcement gave dashed in an instant. “So still no Omega for us then.”

Han squeezed his hand. “It’s not a ‘never’, just a ‘not right away’ is all.”

But even he felt the loss of the small spark of hope being crushed by red tape.

“It will happen for us eventually guys, I promise. I know its hard right now, but our Omega is out there.” Chan reassured his pack.

That night Lino crawled into bed with his Alpha. Chan didn’t say anything, just pulled his Beta closer and did his best to radiate soothing vibes as they both lay there, unable to sleep and unwilling to speak.

The Omega Placement Agency (OPA) were in and out for several days, getting all the ingo they needed from the pack. They did very, very detailed background checks, going even into their childhood before finally being done with their questions.

“Now we will take all your answers and verify them through our sources. Talk to friends and family, coworkers, even the police department to see any issues you or this address had had. It typically takes a couple weeks per background check.” The social worker informed them as they carefully packed up the numerous forms the pack had to fill out and sign over the last several hours.

Another social worker came to inspect their living situation. Every inch of every room, hall, nook, and cranny was inspected. Special attention was paid to the rooms set aside for additional pack members.

They hadn’t made the spare rooms up for Omegas in particular. Right now, they were more of a generic guest room for when family or friends come to stay. This didn’t seem to please the social worker who looked around every guest room with a pinched look.

“I only signed us up for this program a few days ago. We haven’t had a chance to fix up a room yet. We thought we had time.” Chan tried to defend them. Save the situation.

“Most applicants have everything set up already before they even sign up. You don’t have a single space in this house set aside for a nest, not one. Let along a panic room or security for your Omega if something should occur.” The worker clicked her tongue.

“They would be safe here; we are the only security they need.” Hyune argued.

“And what if you were what they needed protected from?” He challenged.

Changbin almost growled at the insult, which would not have helped the situation. “We would never hurt them!” He snapped.

“I’m sure you believe that, but instincts can be a cruel, viscous thing. Shit happens.”

“Then we will add a panic room for them. And ample spaces for nesting. Easy enough.” Chan cut into the conversation.

The worker snapped the book they were taking notes in shut with a crack. “See that you do. The next visit will include the outside territory as well – see that it is ready. The visit will not be announced.” And with that the social worker left with their less than stellar review.

“Well, that went great.” Lino said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t the best.” Hyune agreed.

“We just have to work on fixing the issues, that’s all.” Chan insisted, remaining hopeful.

Lino signed feeling defeated and stifled. It had been a week of this OPA shit and he was sick of it. He was gunna go see if he could find his bunny girl again. “I’ll be back; I’m going for a walk.”

“Stay safe and good luck finding her. Say hi if you do, for us.” Changbin replied heading towards their indoor gyn to work out his frustrations.

As soon as he got near the spot he left his bunny girl he knew something was different. Something was wrong.

There were new scents in the air. Omegas. Several of them. They had been around here for a day or two judging by the scents saturating the area. And there was no scents of Beta or Alpha with them. These Omegas were alone. Why? Were they lost?

A distressed yip and high-pitched cry of pain had Lino sprinting in the direction of the sound. To the Omega in need. Purely working on the instinct to protect the Omega crying out in pain.

He stopped about 50 feet from the injured Omega, taking in the scene in front of him.

There were four Omega pups, three males, one female. The youngest pup had its rear left leg in a cruel bear trap left behind by hunters. Probably the same ones that left the snare his bunny girl got trapped in. When he searched for other snares, he hadn’t looked this far away from the original location, so he hadn’t caught this trap.

The female and a male were desperately trying to free their young friend, alternating between pausing at the bear trap and soothing the younger with nudges and licks.

The third male stood between Lino and his fellow Omegas, growling, and snarling ferociously at him, teeth fully on display and body tensed for attack.

Lino crouched to be smaller and held out his empty hands to show he meant no harm to any of them. “I can help free him. I just want to help.” He spoke low and slow, meeting the aggressive one’s gaze for only a second before looking away – not wanting to challenge him.

The female was listening too, watching him with sharp eyes. She stood over her crying friend, a guardian helpless to free him.

The three uninjured ones had a conversation in a series of yips, huffs, and growls, the aggressive one never taking his eyes off Lino. Lino held his breath and tried to remain as unthreatening as possible. The sounds of the youngest pups’ cries were piercing his chest, and he was desperate to help.

After too long, the aggressive one stopped his growling and jerked his head in a way that Lino took as permission to help. He took measured, but large steps to the injured pup, the aggressive one following him and watching his every move.

The aggressive one pushed the female and other male back and away from Lino, leaving only himself, and the injured pup within reach of Lino.

As Lino started to work on the bear trap his nerves and instincts made him want to keep talking to the pups. “I’m sorry, little one. I’m going to be gentle, but it will still hurt. Just hang in there. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He just kept spewing words as he worked, inspecting the brutal trap.

The aggressive male sniffed at his hands as he worked, snorting at Lino every time the younger pups cries increased. Lino just kept apologizing as he pried the bear trap off the pups leg, knowing it hurt like hell.

As soon as all body parts were clear of the trap, Lino let it snap shut again so it wouldn’t hurt anyone else and set it aside.

The pups wound was bad, bone broken and skin wide open in a wound that gushed blood. Lino shifted his weight and gently started to lift the pup to take him home to care for him.

However, he dropped him and jerked back as the aggressive one sank his teeth into his arm, breaking skin. “Ow! He’s hurt! I just want to help heal him! Tend to his wounds!” Lino tried to explain to the pup who was back to growling, teeth stained red now with Linos blood. Lino held his throbbing arm. The wound wasn’t deep. Merely a warning bite from the Omega.

But the aggressive, protective Omega only snarled at him. The other two rushed forward and between them they managed to get the injured one up and start slowly walking away.

“Let me help him. You can all come. You will be safe; you have my word!” Lino begged to the four retreating pups. The protective one didn’t let him out of his sight until they disappeared between the trees. Lino had no choice but to let them leave.

🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇🐇

General Taglist @stellasays45 @beebee18 @weird-bookworm @velvetmoonlght

So my sister had this idea and I'm going to share it with you lot.

A/O/B Platonic Yandere Skz x Seungmin, Jeongin & Fem Reader. (Maybe a series)

So Seungmin, Jeongin and Reader are alone group of betas who are just living life in their cosy cottage in the woods just surviving as they can. Skz group who are sad because they find out that they cannot have pups, so one of the boys go far off into another part of the woods to morn. Which is where they see the three betas playing in wolf form which compared to Skz are a lot smaller than them, so the Skz boy thinks oh my god they are pups alone in the woods. So he runs off back to the back and tells them. Then they all start to observe the three betas and even though they see the betas in the human form which they are definitely not children, all they can do is think of them as pups which their scent and the way they almost keep getting hurt doesn't help the fact. So Skz become obsessed with them and what them as their pups but the three betas won't go or fold easily into Skz delusions, but Skz will do what ever it takes for them to do so...

71 notes · View notes