#also he didn’t even intend to they followed him!!!

[runninriot]

A Christmas Wish Come True

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles day 25

prompt: Christmas | rated: G | wc: 1.000 | tags: Eddie & Wayne Munson, single dad Steve, found family, strangers to lovers

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | AO3 (+ bonus epilogue)

“So, wanna tell me about your little side gig as grandpa, Wayne?”

It was meant as a joke but his voice sounds angrier than he intended and it makes Eddie instantly feel bad.

   “I’m sorry. It’s just- why haven’t you told me?”

   “Look, that kid, Robbie, she only has her dad. And Steve is doing his best raising her all alone but- you know how me met? I’d just gotten off work, drove by his house and saw him sitting there on the front porch, looking like he was two seconds away from a mental breakdown. That man was a mess and he needed someone to take him by the hand. So, I reached out mine and he took it.”

He scrubs a hand over his chin, a habit he always has when he’s deep in thoughts.

   “I wanted to tell ya, I just didn’t find the right moment. And I was a little worried you’d have a problem with it. I know you had a thing for that boy back in high school and I didn’t know if you guys had ever been... close, so-“

   “No, no! Back up, Wayne. What?”

Eddie’s mouth falls open in shock. It’s not like he ever had to hide the fact that he likes guys – Wayne always knew, always accepted Eddie for all he is. But never, not once, did he mention his stupid infatuation with Steve. There’s no fucking way his uncle knew.

   “Oh, don’t act so surprised. Every single piece of paper lying around your mess of a room had a little heart with Steve’s name on it.”

    Oh, right.

   “Okay, I give you that but why would you think we’ve been like, together? Even you must see how ridiculous that is. Have you looked at the man?”

Eddie bites his tongue before he says something like ‘He’s way too perfect to be with someone like me���. Wayne doesn’t need to know that he’s still got heart eyes for Steve and he already said too much.

   “Yeah, I saw. I also heard how he talked about you. How he got all soft when he talked about all the mischief you were up to in high school. That cost me all my hair by the way, so thanks for that.”

Wayne laughs and Eddie would too, if he wasn’t so confused right now.

   “Whether you knew it or not, that boy liked you. And seeing you two today, I’m pretty sure you still have that in common. You are both so bad at hiding it.”

Their conversation did not mess Eddie up. It didn't, okay? And he's definitely not nervous when he opens the door for Steve and Robbie to come in, right on time for Christmas dinner.

It doesn't make him feel like he's vibrating out of his skin when Steve takes the seat next to him, so close their knees occasionally touch.

And it doesn't cause a full-body shiver when their hands accidentally brush while reaching for the same bread.

It's fine. Everything is fine. Wayne doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing between them. No sparks, no fire, no longing glances. They’re just two small families celebrating Christmas together. Nothing more.

That's why, when Eddie excuses himself to have a smoke outside after dinner, and Steve follows him, he doesn't think much of it.

But of course, reality always comes crashing in. And when Steve huddles closer, stands right next to him, sharing his cigarette like that’s normal, Eddie can’t take it anymore.

   “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, trying hard to control the tremble in his voice.

   “Wayne thought you and I were, you know, a thing in high school. That’s why he didn’t tell me about meeting you.”

Eddie laughs but it sounds fake, and for a long moment, all Steve does is look at him, eyes piercing like they’re trying to see into Eddie’s soul.

   “Mhm, very funny,” he then says but doesn't sound amused at all.

   “No, it really is, because I had the biggest crush on you back then."

Eddie swallows, looks, waits. Doesn't know what for because it feels like anything could happen.

   "Had?" It almost sounds like a tease but Eddie can sense that Steve's nervous.

   "Would it be bad if it was still true?" Eddie asks, unsure of where this is going.

   "Depends.” Steve answers, a tentative smile on his lips, “Would it be bad if I wanted to kiss you right now?"

Eddie isn't sure if he's still breathing and if his heart's still beating because the world is spinning too fast and-

His lips are on Steve's, testing, pressing, and there are hands in his hair, and the night becomes day, and everything feels right, feels good, feels like something finally clicks into place.

They kiss until their lungs hurt, kiss some more after a giggle fit. Kiss again until the door opens and Robbie is standing before them with wide eyes.

   "Oh, sh-oot! Hey, baby! Sorry, Eddie and I were just-"

   "Thank you, Santa!" Robbie yells against the sky and Eddie's heart explodes.

The worry on Steve's face makes way for confusion and Eddie feels bad for cheating because contrary to Steve, he's in on Robbie's secret.

   "Grandpa Wayne said to tell you we're having hot chocolate and cookies for dessert."

   "We'll be right there," Eddie answers for Steve, who still seems a little frozen in place.

Once the door closes behind her, Steve releases a shaky breath.

   "That- did not go like I thought it would."

For a moment, Eddie worries Steve's going to take it back. That the shock broke him out of whatever spell he was under.

But Steve kisses him again, before taking his hand to lead them back inside, where Wayne greets them with a smug smile. Eddie can practically hear the 'I told you so' but that's okay.

He's happy Wayne was right.

Happy that a little girl's wish aligned so perfectly with his own.

A Christmas wish come true.

[charliepoopyfart]

Hellooo I’m still very new to fanfiction but this is kinda a prequel to my viktor x goddess reader. Can also be read as a standalone.

———

The ambient hum of Viktor's laboratory was comforting in its familiarity. The rhythmic clinking of glassware, the occasional whirr of machinery, and the faint scent of oil and metal surrounded him as he worked. He leaned over his latest creation, the soft glow of hextech crystals reflecting in his sharp eyes.

He was so focused he didn’t notice the sudden shift in the room—the air itself seemed to tremble, growing heavier with a strange warmth. A shimmer of golden light materialized behind him, growing brighter until a voice, soft yet commanding, broke the stillness.

“Viktor.”

Startled, Viktor turned, his cane scraping against the floor as he steadied himself. His breath hitched as he took in the figure before him.

You.

You stood there, otherworldly in your radiance. The glow that surrounded you was like the soft light of dawn, and your very presence seemed to make the lab’s artificial lighting pale in comparison. Your eyes, deep as the cosmos, held a gaze that pierced into the soul.

“My lady,” Viktor said, bowing his head slightly, his voice reverent. “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

Despite his composed demeanor, his heart raced. It wasn’t every day a goddess descended into the realm of mortals, let alone into his humble workshop. And yet, this wasn’t the first time you had appeared before him.

You had always been fascinated by mortals—by their ingenuity, their fragility, their persistence. Viktor, in particular, intrigued you. His brilliance, his unwavering determination, and the glint of hope in his amber eyes set him apart. Over time, what began as curiosity had grown into something far more profound, though you hadn’t intended it to.

Tonight, you had resolved to tell him.

“I…” You hesitated, an unusual thing for a goddess who had commanded storms and shaped mountains. But emotions, raw and unpredictable, were not something you wielded with ease.

“I have come to tell you something important.” You stepped closer, the glow surrounding you softening, becoming warmer. “Something I had not anticipated.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his eyes. “Is there a threat? Something I should prepare for?”

You shook your head, a small smile gracing your lips. “No, nothing of the sort. It is… something far more personal.”

He tilted his head, curiosity replacing concern. “Personal?”

You took another step forward, close enough now that he could see the faint shimmer of stardust on your skin, the way your eyes seemed to hold entire galaxies. “Viktor, in all my years, I have watched mortals from afar. I have admired their strength, their creativity, their resilience. But never have I…” You paused, searching for the right words.

“Never have I cared for one as I care for you.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Viktor’s eyes widened, his normally sharp mind momentarily failing him.

“You… care for me?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your expression softening. “More than that. Against all logic, against the very nature of what I am, I find myself drawn to you, Viktor. Not just as a mortal with remarkable intellect, but as a man. I—” You faltered, your divine composure cracking ever so slightly. “I love you.”

Viktor stared at you, his mind racing. He had spent years immersed in his work, believing that the pursuit of knowledge and progress was his sole purpose. Love had been a luxury, one he had thought beyond his reach.

And yet, here you were—a being of unimaginable power, confessing feelings he had never dared to consider.

“I…” He began, his voice unsteady. “My lady, you honor me beyond measure. But I am… flawed. Mortal. You could have anyone—anything—why would you choose me?”

You stepped even closer, close enough to touch. Tentatively, you reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. The warmth of your touch sent a shiver down his spine.

“Because,” you said, your voice soft but resolute, “it is not your perfection I admire, but your humanity. Your determination, your kindness, your brilliance—all of it. You have shown me a beauty I never thought to find among mortals.”

Viktor’s throat tightened, and he found himself leaning into your touch. For a moment, the weight of his cane, his failing body, his insecurities—all of it faded away.

“If you are certain…” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Then I am yours.”

A radiant smile broke across your face, and for the first time in centuries, you felt truly mortal in the best possible way. You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, and whispered, “As I am yours, Viktor.”

The lab, with its cold machinery and faint hums, seemed to fade away. In that moment, it was just the two of you—a goddess and a mortal, bound by a love that defied logic and transcended worlds.

[mxtxfanatic]

Thinking about @ninjakk’s post paired with this, and truly and honestly, the mob doesn’t get enough smoke from this fandom. Not only did a few thousand people scrape themselves together to massacre a group of 50 political prisoners composed of children, elders, and the weak—all unarmed—they did this knowing full well from the very beginning that this was the group they would be killing. From the moment all the clans gathered for the emergency conference post-liberation of the Qionqi Path labor camp, it was stated exactly who was missing for everyone to hear.

At midnight, in the Golden Pavilion on Koi Tower sat over fifty sect leaders from sects of all sizes. Jin GuangShan sat in the foremost seat. Jin ZiXuan was away, while Jin ZiXun didn’t have enough experience, so Jin GuangYao was the only one who stood beside him. In the front row sat sect leaders and famed cultivators like Nie MingJue, Jiang Cheng, Lan XiChen, and Lan WangJi. All of their expressions were solemn. The next row sat sect leaders of lesser importance. ... “... Four inspectors were harmed. Around fifty of the remaining Wen Sect members escaped. After Wei WuXian led them into Burial Mound, he summoned hundreds of fierce corpses to patrol the base of the mountain. Our people still can’t get any further.” When [Jin Guangyao] finished, silence filled Golden Pavilion.

—Chapt. 73: Recklessness, exr

The guards at the camp? Disciples from multiple clans:

What Jin GuangShan wanted, however, wasn’t his apology or his compensation, “Sect Leader Jiang, at first, for your sake, the LanlingJin Sect didn’t intend on saying anything. However, some of these inspectors weren’t from the Jin Sect. There were a few from other sects as well. This makes it...” Jiang Cheng’s brows were knitted. He rubbed the vein that throbbed at his temple and soundlessly took in a deep breath, “... I apologize to all of the Sect Leaders. Everyone, I’m afraid you don’t know that the Wen cultivator whom Wei WuXian wanted to save was called Wen Ning. We owe him and his sister Wen Qing gratitude for what happened during the Sunshot Campaign.”

They were also all present when Jiang Cheng said that he owed the Wen siblings, and anyone at any time could have followed up on that. Yet nobody except for Mianmian does, and the moment she does, it’s the smaller clans that jump to silence her. The dispute is happening so far away from where the greater clans are seated that Lan Xichen doesn’t even know what’s happening until Mianmian storms off in front of everyone. I don’t wanna hear shit no more about how the smaller cultivation clans were "only guilty because of their ignorance being used to mislead them." They knew the whole time and were perfectly eager to lead the charge, themselves, when given the chance.

"The mob has no autonomy! They're just followers! The people with the real power are the clan leaders the great clans!"

Whatever the truth was, as long as there was commotion, the villagers were happy. It wasn’t as though the Mo’s could abuse them. This display was far more interesting than the arrival of the cultivators!

—Chapt. 3: Feral II, fanyiyi

The midnight sky above the mountain forest flashed with violet light, then lit up like the morning sky, then shook with the boom of thunder, then rung with the guqin’s rich tones. The other cultivators hastily retreated to a safe distance and watched from the sidelines, trembling in fear yet unable to tear their eyes away. When all was said and done, the opportunity to observe such famous cultivators from such distinguished sects cross swords was rare, and the fiercer and more vicious it was, the better. Moreover, certain unspoken wishes circulated among the spectators: if the Lan Clan’s and the Jiang Clan’s relationship was truly ruptured, now that would be interesting.

—Chapt. 10: Pride V, fanyiyi

Would you look at that, the first ten chapters of this story explicitly portrayed the "powerless" mob as people who seek out discord amongst others—if not intentionally encouraging it—because they see violence and the destruction of other people's lives and relationships as entertainment for themselves as long as they are able to remain unaffected by the consequences. Hate to break it to you, but mxtx is absolutely calling you a bad person if you derive enjoyment from other people's suffering and bloodshed. Spectators are not innocent bystanders. You are a part of the killing machine!

[pretentiouskneecaps]

okay but also the absolute king move of bringing home both of the people whose posters are on your bedroom wall home to meet your mom at the same time. no one is doing it like Jamie

[unceeled]

nanami kento never intended for your relationship to be the first page of his newest journal. he didn't even notice when he began documenting it with a black ink pen in a plain leather notebook—writing down the moment you finally agreed to be his, as if you hadn’t been smitten by him from the first time you laid eyes on him.

each passing page became a piece of you. his dilemma on buying you flowers filled the 14th page, and by the 34th, there was a polaroid of you holding your favorite flowers—this time, he knew with confidence. your trips together occupied a few more pages, and even more were dedicated to the places he dreamed of taking you. from losses to love, nanami wrote it all down. it was his best way of keeping you—of keeping what you shared. he wanted your love to remain forever, not only in his heart but also in his hands.

when the wedding bells finally rang and he wore a suit unlike his usual ones, nanami kento stood before you, journal in hand. he read from it, a love documented from the beginning to what felt like the end of the beginning. his vows were written as though he'd known all along that he would marry you. but no, his journal didn’t just record the start of your relationship or the journey leading up to that day.

what nanami kento had not expected was that he would end up documenting your entire story.

as he began the last page with your name, followed by a comma, he wrote down everything he planned for your future together—plans he wanted to set in motion as soon as he returned from his mission. plans he would have given to you immediately after.

"let me take you to malaysia?"

you read over and over again, desperately hoping for more to follow, for another page to turn. but there were no more words. no more pages. and nanami’s voice, his presence, would no longer carry past this page.

yet, it’s hard to be angry with him. because, in the end, nanami was always a gentleman. whether knowingly or not, he left you one final letter—a letter filled with love, just like every page in his journal. because maybe, just maybe, the journal wasn’t for him to keep your love. maybe it was for you to keep his—not only in your heart but in your hands, after all.

[staryuee]

NOT SAYING “I LOVE YOU” BACK.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread pls don’t yell at me *sniffles*

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . [char] and you tend to say your i love yous pretty regularly, it’s become a subconscious routine for the both of you; what would happen if either one of you just suddenly didn’t respond?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . venti, diluc, xiao, tartaglia, kazuha, ayato, alhaitham, wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^) drabbles vary in length significantly because…i’m a little unwell with astarion brainrot rn and i will not rest till i get to kiss my beautiful vampiric man — also i apologise for making some of these more angsty than intended…i couldn’t help myself haha

VENTI — 温迪

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ venti? of all people? not saying i love you to his beloved windblume whom he’d personally resurrect ancient gods for if they asked with that sweet, melodic voice of theirs?

ʚ the only viable reason for him not replying can most likely be bottled down to him being a brat. a spoiled one at that. you give him so much affection it’s a little scary sometimes to think someone just know all of his ins and out as if they held his heart within the palm of their hand meaninglessly. so how do you expect him to be satisfied with a mere phrase when he wants you so desperately?

“i’m leaving for a commission, i’ll be back in a few hours; love you, honey.” you said per routine, fixing your hair in the mirror that stood perfectly near the doorway under venti’s request (he likes seeing how his braids look after you do them in the morning).

what you expected was a reply, but certainly not the one that followed: “alright, bye bye~” venti tilted his head back as his body slinked on the couch, his eyes scanning yours upside down with that look on his face which suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“goodbye, venti, i love you.” you re-enunciate, arms crossing firmly over your chest pridefully to mirror venti’s stubbornness that fell immediately upon sight of your pretty face glancing over at his. oh, he really couldn’t resist you for too long.

“i’ll say it back if you stay with me today!” he giggled, teeth on full display as he grinned widely; fully aware you’d indulge him even if for only a little while.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“windblume…” venti sadly slumped his head on your shoulder, leaving enough space for his eyes to glance at the book in your hands as you continued to read despite his sulking.

“i accidentally packed my schedule full with a flurry of performances…i’m afraid i won’t be able to indulge in your cuddles all day like i wanted to,” he whined, kissing the side of your neck to compensate for the lack of affection he’s going to have to put up with.

really, if he could, he’d pretend all the strings on his lyre magically untuned themselves into havoc if it meant giving an excuse to be back in your warm hold. but as a god of the wind, and one who shared the passions of music no less, it was more or less his duty to share his w with the residents of mondstadt when asked so kindly.

“i promise i’ll return to you soon as i can! no quick stop at angel’s share this time either,” venti managed a chuckle despite the inner thumping of his heart at the mere prospect of returning home to you — an experience he never thought he’d fulfil in his lifetime. “i love you dearly, my darling, i’ll see you soon~”

he leaned over the back of the couch to help reach the side of your face, lips pursing into a fish-like pout as he awaited to hear those beloved words that were always followed by a rewarding kiss. yet you merely hummed in acknowledgement of his presence and his soon departure.

who do you think you are?

venti’s brows immediately knit down together in frustration. “windblume…i said, i love you,” he leaned closer, “sweetheart…come on, say it back!” he finally nuzzled his cheek against yours, trying to elicit some sort of response from you that didn’t border on full on ignoring him. usually that slight uplift of your lips would be enough, but with the additional context that he’d be away from you for so long, venti couldn’t cope with a mere smile!

feeling a little flicker of breeze behind you, goosebumps prickle your skin and a delicate shiver runs down your spine, the little gust of wind disappearing as quick as it came. venti hooked his fingers beneath your chin, delicately forcing your eyes to meet his. “won’t you tell your god you love him?”

those gorgeous and elaborate white wings of his flutter quietly, twitching in anticipation as he excitedly awaits for what he’s been dying to hear. you sigh, leaning towards him to press the most featherlight kiss on the side of his face. “i love you too, now go along already, you’re going to be late.”

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ you’ve probably, unfortunately, caught him at a relatively bad time if he had completely ignored your affections. after all, while not necessarily a really active recipient, diluc is more than happy to indulge your carefree “i love yous” and kisses.

ʚ there’s no way he’d ever intentionally ignore or not reply to an “i love you”, especially one that’s so sickly sweet to his ears

“i’m going to bed, luc,” you yawn, arms stretching far out in front of you as you push yourself away from the desk that was littered with several papers stacked on top of each other in various piles that were marked by different pen colours. “you better come join me soon, alright? i love you.”

diluc hums and nods his head, eyes sunken into his skull as his fingers continue flipping the pen within his hand in a sleepy dance as he just barely managed to focus on the words that seemed to squeeze together. none of yours even register in his mind as you sorrowfully close the office door to head to your usually shared bedroom.

it only takes a little while for his brain to catch up to his heart. so that’s why he felt it flutter…

diluc immediately packs away his things to the best of his drowsy ability, hanging up his coat that he honesty forgot he still had draped on himself before he burst into your bedroom rather dramatically. panting from having rushed himself, his arms propping himself up with both sides of the door way, diluc looks away all flushed.

“…i love you as well, i’m sorry for not saying it,” he sighs in comfort as you raise a brow at him, amused at just how quickly he managed to wrap thing ups purely out of guilt that he failed to reciprocate your intentions.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

oh. well…you’ve must’ve had a reason, right?

you wouldn’t just leave right in the morning for a commission, tell him goodbye when he declared his love to you without you repeating the same routine back to him? right?

and yet, you did; and now diluc finds himself in the peculiar position of being overly worried. he has strength, power and stability beyond imagination, but without your affection as fuel, what use are those things?

staring back at the ticking clock continuously, the wet rag in hand helping him clean up some ink that spilled across his hands as a frustrated groan escaped him. what kind of man have you turned him into that he can’t even focus on important tasks merely because you didn’t say a few simple words?

maybe that’s where the problem lies. the words “i love you” always seemed simple to you, something that diluc can admit had found himself jealous of on occasion, so now that he’s absent from something so easy, it’s a little difficult to not overthink the possibilities that the phrase has become harder to swallow for you.

diluc nearly slams his head on his desk at such a thought. he can’t lose his mind over something so silly, it’s fine. you’re both fine.

taking another meandering glance at the clock, diluc’s chair scraped across the wood as he flung on his coat, brushing it clean as he sauntered downstairs with the most grumpy expression dawn winery has seen in a while.

“honey, why do you look so upset?” your sweet voice lured him back into sanity as diluc’s steps immediately calmed down, his eyes widening momentarily as you seemed to return much earlier than expected from your travels. shaking his head, diluc sighs, “it’s nothing, my love — let’s go out for dinner, is that all right?”

XIAO — 魈

not really a surprise, honestly.

xiao isn’t necessarily known for being a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, super affectionate bunny and as much as he wishes he could just vocalise the song that plays in his heart whenever you meet his eyes, he’s unable to reciprocate your affections in a way that’s satisfactory.

you’ve grown to accept such a fact. xiao, on the other hand, hasn’t. it’s like a little itch for him that he can’t scratch but desperately wants to. doesn’t mean he won’t show his love in other more discreet ways.

there are the subtle things; like the way he ensures your favorite dish is always ready when you come over, how he lingers a bit longer during a goodbye hug almost as if he’s scared to let you go, or the times he’ll simply sit in comfortable silence with you (though, that is common), his presence a quiet yet powerful testament to his feelings.

sometimes, he leaves small tokens for you to find: a flower carefully placed on your doorstep, a hand-written note slipped into your bag that you can tell was written in a hurry due to how sloppy the handwriting looks, a charm he crafted himself hidden among your belongings that he specifically sought the guidance of zhongli from. it's in these gestures that his love for you shines through, even if the words remain unspoken.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

there are times when xiao escapes his shell, and it’s in those quiet moments where you’re both completely alone without even the whistling of the wind to eavesdrop on you atop the comfortable slope of a mountain, that xiao verbally tells you how much he adores you. sometimes a little more poetically than intended, but he hopes his words pass through to you in the form of a flutter.

“…a vow as enduring as the sea and mountains,” xiao mumbled nervously, his hand awkwardly hovering over yours in hesitance before he sucked in a breath and decided to just give in and delicately interlock your fingers. watching as you tilted your head in confusion, xiao looked away and muttered again: “i meant that i love you.”

the silence and the little nod that followed, which was all meant as a little ploy to tease him for being so cute and flustered over a term you didn’t even need to hear on the regular, resulted in xiao’s chest to tighten anxiously. did you not feel the same way anymore? but then again, that devious smile of yours (which xiao could differentiate the style of pretty instinctively) made it certain there was a deeper meaning behind the quiet.

“it's alright," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "you don't have to say anything. i just wanted you to know."

TARTAGLIA — 公子

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ petty petty petty, absolutely done out of pettiness and just being an overall ginger brat.

ʚ you forgot to say good morning immediately after you woke up? haha, what was your name again? aw, you walked passed him on your travels even though he deliberately came over to see you? guess he’s not paying for all your stuff today… (he will, just ask).

one morning, groggy and half-asleep, you stumbled out of bed, forgetting to meekly mumble your usual "good morning, my darling, i love you" as you got up for the day. it was a small and rather insignificant oversight, but not for childe.

later that day, as you wandered through the vibrant streets of fontaine, you spotted his unmistakable ginger hair approaching. waving and smiling at your beloved, expecting some sort of hyper response back, you awaited his towering presence with a hand on your hip. he walked right past you. full on. turning your head with furrowed brows and jaw hung low, you notice that little playful, shit-eating smirk on his lips.

a little confused, you called out to him, "ajax! come back here.”

he turned, feigning surprise despite clearly having seen you (and, unbeknownst to you, having been watching you for the past couple minutes as you checked out several vendors). "oh, it's you. i almost didn't recognize you."

rolling your eyes, you walked up to him. "seriously?” both of you stared at each other in scrutiny, tartaglia fighting back the urge to squeeze you within his arms and whine at you for your negligence while you fought the urge to pull him down by his sunlit strands to coax some sense out of him. “are you mad at me?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, eyes twinkling with mischief you recognised immediately. "hmm, who’s mad? i just forgot who you were for a moment." let’s not mention the fact he has your front, back and side silhouettes memorised to the point he could trace it with his eyes closed expertly.

when you both parted ways, tartaglia making up some excuse that he had to buy some souvenirs for his siblings despite you knowing full well he was just listening to your reprimand from a week ago that he needed respite from being brutalised repeatedly, you found yourself linking pieces of red yarn together internally.

oh he’s just such a little shit isn’t he?

the sun set and bedazzled the sky in golden red hues, you walked back to your shared accommodation and a hefty amount of apologetic snacks filling your bag. normally, when you opened the door, ajax would jump at you. it was obvious from the way he sat leaned back on the couch that he was biting back that urge too.

grinning, you approached him, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration. "you know i love you, right?"

he glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment, god he really missed you so much even if only parted for a few hours at most. "hmm, do you? because i don't recall hearing such a thing in the morning."

you laughed, shaking your head at his childishness. settling yourself next to him, arms encasing around his wounded torso, you muttered a little compromise: "alright, honey. tomorrow, first thing. i promise."

tartaglia finally relented, pulling you into a gentle embrace that led to him exhaling a breath he was holding (probably a subtle way to get his loud heart to stop beating so furiously). "good. i suppose i can forgive you this time.“

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ajax had disobeyed your orders again.

even when being repeatedly asked by friends and his own lover alike, he just couldn’t behave in a way that didn’t result in at the very least, a few scratches and bruises on his freckled skin. it irritated you to no end.

irritation, of course, led to frustration. i mean, when you have to regurgitate the same instructions to someone you adore to death, it becomes exhausting. you didn’t necessarily argue about it, you simply tuned off.

sitting in bed with a book cradled between your fingertips, a mellow tune humming in the background from your vinyl as you soaked in the fantasy you were thoroughly engaged in. none of those things could unfortunately deafen the whines from ajax as he cozied himself up next to you, a silent groan slipping past his lips as he incidentally tore at one of his bandages.

“kochanie…” his nose nuzzled against your clothes as he found himself laying on your warm thighs. “i already apologised for being a dumbass, i swear i love you and i’ll listen to you properly next time.”

he purses his lips into a pout as you ignore him and continue to scan your eyes over the ink. “come on, i love you, sweetheart.” he nudged you, pinching you as delicately as possible but enough to elicit a gasp from you as you finally glance over at him.

“and i love peace and quiet, so if you could, zip it.”

surely you don’t think that was a good enough response for someone as needy for attention as ajax?

“i’m so hurt…” he pitifully grumbled, arms crossing over his firm chest as he continued staring up at you with a gaze that meant “you are not getting out of this”.

“won’t even spare a small kiss for your wounded lover? a hug? a cuddle? even just a whisper of your voice? how am i meant to live—“ you hush childe’s antics by squishing his cheeks together, forcing a fish like pout to form with his lips.

“i love you too, you’re just annoying.”

he’d take that over you fully ignoring him any day.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ not possible, thank you next character.

ʚ the only possible way kazuha would ever not indulge your i love yous is when he’s away to a different nation and he sends you a response letter that takes weeks to come to your hands, or if that same letter somehow gets wet or ruined while in transit and his affections get dampened and smudged

ʚ otherwise? kazuha doesn’t see the point in stubborn behaviour. if there’s a problem, though there hardly ever is, he’s under the pretence a couple should talk about it with a clear mind before making a final decision or statement — or in this case, the retraction of affection.

ʚ you’re his map, with the treasure being your heart. why would he ever choose to not tell you he loves you when he gets the chance? you already lack sufficient time with another, and kazuha prefers using the time he does have with you to show you how much he adores you (whatever way that manifest as).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

kazuha absolutely smothers you in his love. though that usually feels more like you’re resting within the comfort of a sandy beach as soft washes of waves tickle your skin. you’re never short of a supply of affection.

that’s why a devious idea popped into your head. what if you just didn’t reciprocate?

“my heart,” kazuha’s breathy voice popped the bubble that hung over your head. “you’ve been spaced out for a while now, do you need a kiss to help you refocus?” you had to stop yourself from jumping at the opportunity.

“uh, no it’s fine, you don’t have to,” the reply made kazuha raise an eyebrow quizzically. that’s certainly not something he expected to hear especially after not seeing you for a while; but, he’d respect your choice. it’s not like he’s desperate for something so simple, you could just genuinely not be interested.

“hm…alright then, beloved.” he smiled sincerely, head falling to rest on your shoulder as his hand gently rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles that mirrored the shape of the moon that cast a glow on you both. “i love you.”

he could’ve sworn he just said he loved you, so why did the winds bellow a response instead? coughing into his hand to clear his throat, thinking that perhaps you just didn’t hear him, he repeated: “i love you, songbird.”

met with silence again, kazuha simply stays quiet. he doesn’t need a reply, that’s not why he says sweet things to you like he’s writing a lyrical sonnet. he tells you he loves you because it helps write the song in his heart that beats whenever he’s near you in a much more coherent way.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ this man oozes with romantic appeal. even if he’s off voyaging to a whole other nation he’ll find a way to not only say i love you, but also to say his good morning and good nights (accompanied with poorly doodled attempts at kiss marks to make up for the lack of physical touch).

ʚ when he’s upset? gods no. he could be frustrated with you to the point he needs a break, and regardless he’ll leave the room with a reminder he loves you. he doesn’t need you getting second thoughts and therefore won’t ever plant them.

ʚ he’s too busy? so? thoma has two hands i’m sure he can handle giving you letters that are merely love notes while he cleans the abode (assuming you and ayato live together separately from where he works…you can imagine how much thoma despises this errand despite his loyalty).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“greetings, love,” ayato’s arms slid around your middle, chin coming to rest atop your shoulder as he hums a sweet tune as if he were a bird coming back home to his nest. a rather direct analogy, since that’s exactly the occurrence.

plagued with hours of paperwork and meetings with government issues and secret organisations that god forbid you or ayaka ever found out about, ayato has missed you gravely. if he didn’t know better he’d demand this sort of sin to be classified as a national crime with the sentence being told to stay home with your spouse all day (his literal dream).

now that he’s free for at least a little while, peace alas twinkling within his eyes as they close tightly to enjoy the silence as he clings onto you, ayato does feel like all the pain and ink he went through was totally worth it. if the price he had to pay for holding you oh so tightly is simply meaningless signatures on several documents, he’s willing to waste the entire supply of ink within inazuma — he wants this reward to last as long as possible, after all.

“mm, you smell divine, are you using the flower-scented perfume i sent you the other week? i love it,” he rambled, lips pressing against your nape as you busied yourself with some crocheting, ayato’s eyes opening only to focus on the way your deft hands moved so skilfully. he’d make a comment about how he wished those hands were on him instead, but he had a particular reputation to uphold — and lewd impatient man certainly wasn’t part of it.

“more importantly, sweetheart,” ayato cooed, beginning to trail kisses around your neck and any exposed skin he managed to find, “i love you. so, look at me won’t you?”

merely turning your head to plant a kiss to the side of his jaw in a way of compromise, you otherwise remained silent. “you know,” ayato smiled devilishly, his hand beginning to play with your hair soothingly. “i bought some stuff on my travels recently, a lot of things that are meant for you, of course.”

“i can’t wait to surprise you tonight during dinner.”

that was a threat. maybe not a direct one, but you could recognise the slyness in that man’s voice soon as he mentioned buying “stuff” — things that were definitely substitutes for poison (a little far fetched, but it’s best to assume whatever he conjures up will be the worst thing possible to save yourself the trip to a hospital bed).

“i love you too.” you appeased, and his face immediately lightened, arms returning around you as if finally satiated.

ayato huffs a stifled laugh, quelling your worries with a simple: “i’ll have the staff know you’d like your favourite dish prepared.”

ALHAITHAM — 艾尔海森

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ lowkey, it’s a bit of a 50/50 with him…?

ʚ sometimes, he just genuinely doesn’t hear you. whether it’s because he’s subconsciously disassociating, overstimulated from excessive noise (it’s pretty much canon that he’s autistic, you can’t give me a character that constantly wears headphones and only speaks when spoken to and expect me not to connect the dots) or simply because whatever’s playing in his ears was a little too loud and had managed to drown out your words — these specifics are never intended, and he’s more likely to reply back if you repeat yourself (or give him some time).

ʚ other times though, is simply him teasing you. remember that one scene at the end of the interdarshan festival where alhaitham said, “best things are told thrice” (or whatever the quote was), yeah he commits to that in this scenario too.

ʚ he’ll pretend he can’t hear you just so he can see the sweet frustration in your eyes as you mumble the words “i love you” through gritted teeth. he’ll smirk it off subtly and reciprocate…after a while of course. perhaps when you’re falling asleep on his chest once you’re finally cuddled in bed together, you’ll manage to catch his hushed whisper.

the world was intent on making alhaitham break down today. he woke up without you in bed with him this morning, meaning he couldn’t brush his teeth while next to you as he passed you things that you required to get ready to start the day. from that, none of the foods or snacks he liked were available and the only option were fruits or meals he didn’t like or he weren’t in the mood for.

already feeling irritated and grumpy, him nearly spilling a vase on the books he had perfectly stacked up to binge read as he bumped into the corner of the table could’ve made him bang his head brutally on the wall. this wouldn’t have been a problem if kaveh didn’t place something so fragile and wobbly on something that’s in the way.

alas, when he finally died down for the afternoon, book in hand, a melody passing by his ear as he tried to focus on breathing, all a sudden that irritation just slowly came creeping back. the words on the page squished together like some sort of cartoon from fontaine as they began to make no coherent sense even as he went over every line twice.

to make it worse? you had just come back home.

that sounds bad, but for alhaitham it was a travesty. now he wasn’t able to at the very least embrace you in greeting in fear he’d lash out at the sudden contact. noticing the scrunching of his brows and the way his jaw looked like he’d been clenching it subconsciously for hours, you smiled out of sympathy, knowing from experience that this was most definitely another case of the domino effect of bad shit happening.

“need me to leave you alone for a bit?” you asked as quietly as possible but in an octave he wouldn’t twitch at in frustration.

he shook his head. a little surprising, but you complied with his wish and sat down on the floor next to him as he laid back on the couch as if in an impromptu therapy session. alhaitham held out his hand for you and you gently but surely placed yours on top, a delicate reminder that he was free to express whatever was on his mind when the world finally felt a little more peaceful.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s not like alhaitham really says he loves you verbally, he prefers showing his love to you though actions. after all, actions speak louder than words — what’s the point of telling you he loves you if he doesn’t have the actions to back it up?

but for the sake of the scenario, let’s imagine alhaitham decides to spoil you with one his few vocal affirmations. his hands slowly running up and down the spine of your back, chest rising and falling in slow steady breaths as you burrow yourself into his side. alhaitham was reluctantly reading a romance book that you forcefully recommended him in hopes he’d learn a few things that would make you swoon (despite him doing plenty such things already).

“i love you.” he randomly blurts, his eyes clearly having scanned over the same phrase within the page he was on since he rather quickly skipped past it once your eyes caught glimpse of it. alhaitham is a confident, sometimes arrogant, man — nothing ever truly bothers him when in regards to the words or actions of other people unless they pose a threat to someone he loves.

however, in this case, your lack of words makes his brows scrunch down, bright teal eyes now scrutinising you as you clearly try to hide away a giggle. “don’t you think it’s a little rude to not reply to someone’s confession.” he asks in a monotone voice, attention returning to the words on the page that now seemed irrelevant.

“if you want me to be like the characters in your little romance stories, how about you also commit to that yourself?” a little harsh sounding, but when faced with alhaitham’s pettiness, this is probably the most lenient he’s ever been to anyone.

WANDERER — 流浪者

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ another one that’s not necessarily surprising.

ʚ he likes using the phrase to tease or slander you, if anything. case in point: “oh i love you alright, but that doesn’t mean you get to steal my blanket in the middle of the night.” or “i love you more when you keep completely silent."

“i’m convinced you don’t love me.” ah god, not another one of your little helpless spiels again. this sort of conversation starter would normally set of a warranted number of red flags. in this case, however, both of you understood it was more like the start of a theatrical display of your pettiness.

“right, and why’s that?” scara asked unamused, face not changing from his casual stoicism as he scanned over a possibly illegal book he snuck from the library (and if this conversation goes one way you might just tattle to auntie nahida).

“you slept on the couch yesterday even after i cooked your favourite dish and got you out of that lecture kusanali forced you to attend by pretending we had chores to do,” you list off your good deeds on your fingers, your body sinking next to his on the couch that seemed more like a partner in crime than just a piece of furniture.

scara rolled his eyes. licking the tip of his fingertip to turn the page on his book, he huffed a response absentmindedly: “i do love you, but you just keep pushing me off the bed because of my cooler temperature so i got annoyed — simple as.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

‘oh, so just fuck me i guess?’

it’s already so difficult for him to even admit how much he cares for you, so to have such a hefty phrase leave his lips and be left with silence? he’s a little more than pissed.

scara’s eyebrows crunched together, confusion written all over his face at the sudden change in your demeanor. you’re always the first to jump at the opportunity to coddle him soon as his sour lips turn sweet, so what’s with the sudden negativity? the hostile fire that once flickered in his eyes was now replaced by a mournful sadness, and scara couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at a stranger.

his chest tightened in a way that didn’t feel good, and he found himself swallowing thickly, eyes flicking downward to where your hands swirled an ice-filled glass. guilt nipped at scara’s conscience, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

“what did i fucking do wrong now?” he spits out.

scara tends to take even the slightest joke within your relationship as a direct threat or dig at him. not because he doesn’t trust you, not even because he thinks your relationship isn’t at a secure stage — but just because that’s all he knows. he doesn’t know how to respond to something lighthearted when all that he’s felt so far in his life is extremities.

“hm? what do you mean?” you ask, the teasing tone you took on dwindling upon the quick glance at how his bottom lip jutted out nervously. did everything have to be so irrevocably complicated?

scara shook his head, exhaling a small sigh before he just let the matter drop naturally. he didn’t have time for stuff like this. he’d like to think he knows you well enough to recognise when you’re simply teasing him, but that fact alone isn’t enough to make that ache in his heart go away.

he just needs a minute break. and perhaps for you to sneak into bed with him so you can cuddle him from behind.

LYNEY — 林尼

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s a little difficult for lyney to say the words “i love you” to someone who’s not technically part of his family. he trusted and loved you easily, you cared for his siblings as if they were your own and even gave up your own pride to protect him; but something itching within him tells him he has no right to confess his true ardour.

lyney is nothing but a pawn with a jesters hat, using sleight of hand to remove the idea that he’s deceptive from your mind with a few whimsical flower tricks. it’s hard to allow himself to be so vulnerable and open when he knows full well that if his father found out, the disappointment would be greater than the reward.

when he’s coated in that black circus show getup, his smile broad and stance wide with confidence, he’ll reply pretty easily! after all, he had to please his audience. but, you’re not just a stranger in the crowd. you’re his beloved, someone he waits for before one of his grandeur shows as you press a kiss to his cheek as a lucky charm that he finds himself gently touching as he slowly enters the stage.

but when he’s merely lyney, a lonely kid from the house of hearth who trembles in the comfort of the dark, your mumble of: “i love you a lot, lyney,” makes him replywith a mere widened look as if a deer caught in headlights, his pale face blossoming into a rosey pink hue as he tugged down at the front of his hat to cover his eyes.

“me too.” sometimes that reply is easier and much safer for both his heart and yours than the actual words.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

lyney adores how easily you find yourself saying such a phrase, even a little jealous at time at both the idea of how many people you’ve uttered it to and the fact he finds himself stumbling over his own consciousness at the idea of confessing his affections back.

he’s also a massive trickster! you pull silly and harmless pranks on each other constantly, from something dumb like switching out a singular chocolate chip cookie to a raisin one to see the astounded look on lyney’s face as he bites down to something a little more sweet like lyney throwing out roses to an audience that coincidentally create a heart.

this is certainly a much crueller prank than any of the above.

lyney was a little jumpy backstage, constantly pacing back and forth with a genuine smile on his face that you’ve rarely seen, his arms constantly stretching out in front of him as he played with the leather of his gloves tediously. lady furina was going to be watching him today, it was no wonder he wanted you to help out!

well, lynette did everything, but you’re here for something lyney said he absolutely couldn’t go without. his good luck kiss.

hearing the familiar sound of the staff shuffling around their props, lyney sauntered to you with a smile as his lips tucked behind his arms innocently. “ma moitié,” lyney hums in a chipper, melodic tune, content at simply seeing your face light up once your eyes meet his, “i’m confident in my abilities as a magician, but i think you have the answer to quelling any of my nerves. care to share some of your magic wit me?”

you grin and tilted your head off to the side, giving him an encouraging thumbs up and a much less motivating: “break leg, lyney, i believe in you.” as much as he wished to coax it out of you, he’d have to unfortunately settle for the way you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

yet, although he preformed flawlessly per usual, his execution even enthralling the ever critical furina who sat up in the crowd with a leg over her knee, you notice a slight hesitation in his movements, a brief moment of distraction that only you, who knows him so well, could catch. the show eventually concludes to thunderous applause, lyney and lynette taking their final bow as he nearly sprints off once the curtains draw closed.

backstage, as the crowd's cheers still echo faintly, lyney cautiously approaches you with a more serious expression. “[name],” he begins, his tone quieter, more introspective, “did I... do something wrong?”

who knew just the slight lower pitch of someone’s voice could make your heartstrings tug unceremoniously. you know it's time to end this silly prank. shaking your head, you take a step closer. “no, lyney. you were incredible, as always — lady furina seemed exceptionally impressed.” his breath catches in his throat — that’s not really what he wanted to hear. but before he could brush it all off, you interrupt his overthinking: “and... I love you too.”

his eyes widen in surprise, then soften with relief and warmth. “you really had me there,” he chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “you're quite the trickster yourself.”

you laugh, hugging him back tightly. “i learned from the best.”

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ for neuvillette it’s less about him not saying i love you, but just how convoluted and complicated he can make it seem.

ʚ whether it’s by using outdated poetry and reciting it to you without the knowledge that the terms used completely flew over your head because they’re so old, or doing something that to him is basically more intimate than physical touch like gifting you a piece of jewellery that’s imbedded with a stone most certainly toxic to humans (he got it out of a rift from khaenri’ah when it first emerged and kept it as a little token).

ʚ this man is a dragon, he’s older than the snowy mountains of dragonspine and the deadly primordial sea itself…you can’t blame him for being a little bit over the top and traditional with how he says he loves you.

ʚ it’s all courting tactics! isn’t this what you humans enjoy? no? …maybe he should ask lady furina if she has some plays from the romance genre she’d care to share, perhaps then he could learn a much more modern way of showing his affections.

ʚ he’ll say he loves you if you vocalise you’d just prefer that but…are you sure you don’t also want this embarrassingly cute cup he made to match his dragon form?

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

the more he thinks about it, the sadder he gets. and the sadder he gets, the rainier the heavens become. neuvillette’s pen shifted between several of his fingers as the paragraphs in front of him shifted and blurred continuously.

you didn’t reply to his i love you this morning. straight after waking up he mumbled the sweetest, “i love you,” directly into your ear with that rumbling voice of his, letting his affections linger on your skin as his nose snuggled itself safely against your neck.

and what did he get in response? a small giggle and a, “should we get ready?”

at first, he merely internalised it as a mere misstep on your part. perhaps you merely didn’t hear him, you had just woken up after all you must’ve been feeling a little groggy. that managed to ease his nerves just a little, but soon as you closed the door to his office without a chance for another i love you, he slumped into his seat with defeat.

you humans are tricky creatures and scarily good at making other overthink things that someone should be most confident on.

just the idea that he might’ve done something to upset you enough for you to not want to love him so dearly as you normally do makes the skies weep to match the mourning in his heart. you best come back this instant with your arms wide open unless you want fontaine to flood over.

he may be one of the strongest beings currently alive and awake in the land of teyvat, but his heart is rather fragile when it comes to you.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

much to the dismay of wriothesley, he rarely even gets to say he loves you. between managing the fortress of meropide and his countless responsibilities that range from being a guinea pig for sigewinne’s new test trials that she calls food to ridiculous requests from inmates, expressing his feelings often takes a backseat.

you, of course, understand his position, but it doesn't stop you from sending him love letters whenever you can. your letters are filled with warmth, affection, and little anecdotes about your day, hoping they bring a smile to his face during his busy hours — and they certainly do, he adores tracing your handwriting with the back of his gloved hand.

unfortunately, your letters piled up on his desk without being read. despite him desperately wanting to respond to every little i love you, he found himself way too preoccupied with other immediate matters that required his thorough attention. every time he’d open up his drawer to find a new pen to fill out a document with, he’d shamefully glance at the stack of unread papers that were littered with hearts.

each letter was one a piece of your heart — him stashing it away protectively would be a little romantic and rather ironic given his profession, but currently it felt more like he was actively giving you the sentence of a lifetime by withdrawing his affections.

no reply comes for days.

you understand that his duties are overwhelming, but a part of you yearns for some acknowledgment, a sign that your words are reaching him. however, wriothesley is determined to rectify this, he sat down at his desk after the first calm night in a while, pulls out a sheet of paper, and begins to write.

what you receive the next day isn’t necessarily anything grandiose or swooningly romantic — but it was enough; a large bouquet of your favourite roses with a special heart shaped note attached that when you latched it off simply read: “i love you too, sweetheart.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

alas, wriothesley finally managed to carve out a free day just for you. spending the day together ultimately meant either a completely lazy morning filled with sloppy kisses shared and your warm bodies all tangled within blankets, or a date where you bask in each other’s presence.

this time, you chose the latter. you needed a little bit of a pick me up and what better than having a romantic outing with your beloved? …where you simultaneously wished to entertain yourself with a bit of mischief. who could get away with teasing the mighty duke if not you?

a day of activities left you a little exhausted, which is why wriothesley decided to share the last few setting hours of the sun by sitting on a comfy blanket near an empty, secluded beach far from the usual hustle and bustle of fontaine.

"thank you for being so patient with me," wriothesley said, his voice low and sincere. "i know it's not easy, but you mean a lot to me."

you reached out and squeezed his hand. "aww, i understand, wrio. i’m honestly just happy we get to spend time together like this at all.”

bringing your interlocked hands up to his lips, his calloused and rough ones ridden with scars and marks that told stories of their own holding yours as if made of porcelain, he pressed a few gentle kisses to your knuckles as he mumbled a sincere: “i love you, [name].”

ah the very words you’ve been waiting to drawl from his lips. stifling a chuckle, you simply smiled and nodded, letting your hand wiggle away from his grasp as your focus drifted to stare at the crashing waves cleansing the shore.

wriothesley's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "did you hear me?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. "i said, i love you."

you nodded again, keeping your expression neutral. “i heard you."

his confusion turned into amusement as both his brows raised in disappointment — were you seriously teasing him right now? wriothesley leaned in appetisingly close, searching your face for a clue for your intentions. "and?" he prompted.

swallowing down another fit of giggles, you titled your head at him all coyly, “and what?”

wriothesley puffed out a chuckle before his skilled hand quickly swooped beneath your knees and atop the small of your back to land you on his lap. “do you think you’re funny?” his muscular and scarred arms closed around your middle, keeping you firmly in place to face your trial.

“a little,” you muse before lifting yourself a little within his grasp, moving in to press a more than welcomed kiss on his cheek. “i love you too, wrio.”

“that’s what i thought.”

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

꒰ her not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ arlecchino loves you, she really does. but unfortunately for you, you’re not the age of the orphaned children she protects and therefore she finds it useless to constantly reassure you of such a fact.

ʚ surely if you want her to prove how much she loves you, you’d be less childish with it and simply ask for a real heart to be displayed in a glass box? she’s kidding (perhaps), but given the nature of your dynamic, she’s sure you’ve said the words “i love you” in this relationship enough to cover her half of the bargain.

“arle, i love you,” you muse, buzzing around her desk like a never satiated mosquito. yet instead of sucking blood you merely made her wish she had the heart to plug her ears to silence your relentless affection spillage. she wouldn’t dare. but for the love of the tsaritsa won’t you be good and just sit on her lap and remain quiet?

“arlechinnoo…” another whine as you carefully sit yourself on her desk, her pen quickly brushing over lines, the ferocity at which she held it made the point look as if she was scabbing the paper.

“yes, bunny?” she looked off to the side at you, her expression holding an air of royalty that was most likely non existent in her blood, but definitely seemed present in the way she held herself. maybe it was just that natural posture of arrogance?

“i love you…won’t you love me back?”

“my dear,” she placed the pen down and got up, a sight that made the two informants that stood opposite of the room with their heads hung low nervously hunch into themselves. she sauntered to you and encased your body against the edge of the desk, hands on either side of you.

“you’re surely irritating our guests with your constant noise,” that crestfallen expression of yours was something she wished she could wipe, but that sinful, pyre of pride burned within her like vengeance, making her merely tap her hand over your cheek to refocus your forlorn attention.

soon as you tilted your head, her hot breathy whisper mumbled against your ear: “stay quiet and i’ll be sure to spoil you.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“i’ve been issued another task within fontaine, do keep yourself out of trouble even though i have little hope you’ll commit,” arlecchino teasingly mused as she nudged your hip with hers while fixing her coat. “i love you, dear — i’ll be sure to send you letters.”

arlecchino is eerily fond of the silence that came after deafening screams. the scarlet stickiness that spreads across her grim face in splatters making her instinctively lick off that sweet residue. but right now, the silence was just a testament to how good she’s been treating you.

if you think you can get away with a silly prank like this as she’s awaiting your response like a puppy begging for a bone, you must’ve forgotten who has the collar and who has the leash.

catching your chin between her thumb and forefinger, she tilts your face upwards to meet her intense stare, stern eyes blazing with naked hunger. "i asked you to not cause trouble while i’m gone, but you’ve already decided to start, have you?”

most people would crumble beneath her shimmering eyes that spoke volumes of violence, yet deeply within your own heart you know she’d carry you over mountains of skulls that crushed beneath her callous heels if it meant getting you across into fairyland.

“admit it - you crave me just as fiercely as i burn for you." she grins before flicking your forehead with her clawed fingertips. “don’t make me repeat myself or you won’t be getting any gifts from me when i return.”

that’s the real threat you were waiting for. leaving a featherlight goodbye kiss atop her lips, you smartly respond: “i love you too, and don’t forget my favourite cake!”

she rolls her eyes, finally letting you go. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[loonylupinblack3]

Period Trouble

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: swearing, nothing else i think?

Summary: you wake up with your period and are forced to go on a mission with Logan of all people

Word count: 2.4k

A/N: literally obsessed with this man rn so ofc i had to write about him. also wolverine has enhanced senses including smell but its like…. barely shown in the movies so i had to search it up to be sure, and some part of me still doubts it but for the purposes of this fic he does have it

You woke up with a groan, immediately curling into a ball. You were early. You were early and you hadn’t emotionally or physically prepared for having your period today, yet the world seemed ready to punish you, burdening you with an early cycle.

You checked the time, cursing every god and deity you knew when you realised you were supposed to have woken up half an hour ago. Wincing, you got up, your body screaming at the movement. Already your stomach was aching, the ghosts of cramps to come caressing your body. 

There was knocking at your door, quiet yet firm. You already knew it was Storm on the other side of the door, no doubt in search of a reason why you failed to get up on time. It was going to be a long day.

You yelled out to Storm, promising to be out in five minutes, and got up, groggily looking for your clothes. When you’d tamed your hair and brushed your teeth, you exited your room to find Storm waiting on the other side, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

She took one look at you and sighed. “What are you wearing?”

You looked down perplexed. “....my clothes?”

She raised her eyebrow. “You’re on a mission today, remember?”

Fuck. You nearly let out a whine. You were not in the mood to go skulking around doing Xavier’s bidding when you had a constant throbbing pain assaulting your stomach, unreasonable mood swings, and exhaustion weighing you down.

Storm sent you a questioning look. “You up for this?”

The mission was nothing big. Professor X needed you to collect some sort of rare herb that had recently been shipped into the nearest city, something he needed to complete a super secret experiment you weren’t privy to. He’d just asked for help and you’d volunteered.

Oh how you regretted that decision now.

“Yeah I’m fine,” you muttered. “Let me just get changed real quick.”

Getting into your previously decided upon outfit, a plain inconspicuous one intended to blend in, you left your room again, this time with no complaint from Storm. Your stomach gave an uncomfortable clench and you sighed, making a mental note to find some nurofen before leaving for the mission.

“Why aren’t you in your outfit?” you asked, just realising Storm wasn’t wearing what you two had agreed upon yesterday.

She winced slightly. “Can’t go. Filling in for some classes.”

Your face soured but you tried not to hold it against her. Storm loved her students, and given the choice of helping them or Xavier with a low level mission, she’d obviously choose her kids. You couldn’t blame her exactly, but it meant you’d have to go on this mission alone, while not impossible by any means it would make it slightly more difficult.

You sighed. “That’s okay. I can go alone.”

When Storm winced even more your eyes narrowed in suspicion, following her with caution. “Storm…..”

She sighed guiltily. “Xavier didn’t want you to go alone. The herb’s too valuable.”

You tilted your head slightly as you entered the house’s foyer. “So who am I going with then?”

Storm’s eyes darted ahead, and you followed her gaze to find Logan Howlett leaning against the wall, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He smirked at you, “you’re looking at him sweetheart.”

You resisted the urge to groan, instead sending Storm a dirty look. You didn’t necessarily dislike Logan, but he was a lot to deal with, and you were already tired from your day that had barely begun.

You couldn’t say all that with Logan standing there however, so you muttered a, “lovely,” and walked past the man to the garage.

He followed you silently, no quip or smart ass comment which was strange for him. You’d just entered the garage, heading towards one of the cars, when you glanced back at him and found Logan stopped in the doorway, staring at you with a frown on his face. Or rather, a deeper frown than usual.

“What is it?” you asked him, standing at the hood of the car.

Logan’s eyes roved your body, searching for something. “You’re injured.”

It was your turn to frown. “What? No I’m not.”

He took a step forward, almost as if he was planning on looking for your alleged injury himself. “Don’t bullshit me Y/n, I can smell your blood.”

You made a face. “What are you talking about…..” you trailed off when you realised it, perhaps the most mortifying moment in your life.

Logan could smell your period blood. He thought you were bleeding from an injury. 

You cleared your throat, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’m fine. Let’s go.”

He scoffed, walking towards you until you were face to face. You tried to step back and felt the hood of the car against your legs. “I can smell the fucking blood seeping out of you Y/n. I wouldn’t call that fine.”

You gritted your teeth to stop yourself from snapping at him. “I can assure you, I am not injured.”

You moved to walk past him but he caught your wrist, forcing you back into your position pressed against the car. “If you think I am going on this mission with you while you’re wounded, you’re out of your mind.”

“I’m not-”

“Do you think I’m an idiot darl? Is that why you’re denying being hurt while I can literally smell it on you-”

You cut him off. “I’m on my period, Logan.”

He paused, staring at you with an indecipherable expression on his face. You waited for him to speak, feeling embarrassed and furious about it. Why should you be embarrassed of your period? He was the one who was pushing you, prodding you, forcing you to tell him the source of the bleeding. If your answer made him uncomfortable, that wasn’t your fault nor your concern.

Eventually he spoke. “Alright then. Get in the car. I’m driving.”

You scowled at him. “Says who?”

He didn’t even bother looking at you, already in the driver’s seat. “Says me.”

You sighed but didn’t argue further, silently getting into the passenger seat. Logan started the car, reversing it out of the garage and driving down the long winding driveway till you got to the street.

“It’s an hour's drive to the city, give or take,” you told Logan, setting the GPS up on the car.

Logan barely glanced at it, eyes on the road, a firm grip on the steering wheel. He didn’t even respond to you. You sighed and turned away, looking out the window as the scenery passed you in flashes.

As the drive continued, you noticed Logan sending you glances every now and then. If you really focused on them, you’d almost say they seemed worried, concerned even, but they were always too quick for you to tell for certain. You were too preoccupied with your cramps that had started up anyway, and the lack of nurofen you’d forgotten to grab.

Finally, you arrived at the city, driving into the hustle and bustle of the crowded area. Logan’s hand tightened on the steering wheel, obviously not a fan of the traffic the city provided. You watched the stream of people through the window as Logan looked for a space to park, muttering under his breath.

You were mildly entertained at the amount of road rage he had, cursing every car that wasn’t at least 10 metres over the speed limit. His jaw was clenched, hand fisting the steering wheel, yet he still looked at you here and there, like you were actually wounded.

When he eventually found a parking spot the two of you got out of the car and you looked at the address Xavier gave you.

“Should be somewhere along this street,” you murmured, eyes flicking from the piece of paper to the busy street.

Logan moved behind you, so close you could feel your back against his chest, and looked at the paper in your hand. He let out a grunt and moved past you, walking forwards. You frowned and hurried your pace, not wanting to lose him amidst the crowd of people.

Luck was certainly not your side, because soon enough you’d lost him, unable to see his black leather jacket in the throng of people. You hesitated, wondering if you should look for him or just go straight to the address, when you felt an arm around your waist.

“Stay close to me,” Logan murmured into your war, his voice gravelly. “Don’t wanna lose you again.”

You glanced at him as he continued walking, not moving his arm from your waist. “How’d you find me?”

He gave you a smirk. “Followed the smell of blood.”

Again you felt your cheeks heat but you glared at him defiantly, refusing to be embarrassed. He smirked at you, flashing his teeth, as you arrived in front of the address, a plain building home to some sort of florist. 

Logan finally took his hand from your waist, walking to the door with you trailing behind him. A bell gave a little jingle as you entered, and you were immediately assaulted with the smell of flowers. Different sorts of plants took up every corner of the room and Logan’s face soured as he looked around, obviously not pleased with the environment.

An old woman sat behind a desk, watering a plant with a mini watering can. You walked up to her, Logan hot on your heels. When you stopped in front of the desk Logan was so close behind you you could actually feel his chest against your back.

“Mrs May?” you asked.

The old woman looked at you with a smile, her eyes crinkling. “That’s me. What can I help you two lovebirds with? Bouquet of roses? Lilies?”

You opened your mouth, surprised, and tried to find something to say. Being mistaken for a couple shouldn’t have affected you so much, especially while on a mission, but you were flustered and could still feel Logan’s chest right against your back, his warmth almost dizzying.

“We’re not here for flowers unfortunately,” Logan spoke, saving you. Except why didn’t he specify you weren’t a couple? Did that not matter to him, what some old lady thought, or did he enjoy the idea of being thought of as your boyfriend?

Oh god. What were you thinking? Stupid period hormones. 

The old lady looked at you two curiously. “Then how can I help you?”

There was a pointed silence and you realised Logan was waiting for you to speak. You cleared your throat and spoke the random sequence of words Xavier had you memorise, that would inform Mrs May just what type of buyers you were.

The woman’s eyes lit up with recognition and she nodded her head slowly. “Ah, yes, let me just go to the storage room quickly, I’ll be back….”

Mrs May tottered around the desk and through a side door, half hidden behind the multitude of plants covering the area, leaving you alone with Logan.

You took a step away from him and turned around to look at him, finding him staring at you with a frown on his face.

You frowned back at him. “What’s up with you today?”

He raised his eyebrows at you. “What is up with me? I don’t know if you’ve noticed Darl but you haven’t exactly been up to par yourself.”

You rolled your eyes at his words. “That’s not what I meant, and besides, I’m on my period.”

Logan stared at you, arms crossed. “What did ya mean then?”

“You’ve been acting strange. Less talkative and annoying like usual.”

Logan snorted. “Ever the lady.”

“I’m serious. What’s up with you?”

Logan sighed and took a step forward until he was towering over you and you had to crane your head up to look at him. “You are what’s up. I can constantly smell you bleeding, and I can’t get it out of my mind that it means you’re hurt. You’re driving me crazy sweetheart.”

Well…. That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting. Logan smirked down at you as if he knew that, and enjoyed surprising you. You cleared your throat as your eyes darted to the floor. “Well, that’s hardly my fault.”

Logan chuckled. “Not your fault no, but it is your doing whether you mean to or not.”

You swallowed, looking back up at him. “Well…. Don’t you constantly smell when people are on their periods?”

“It’s different with you. Smelling your blood just drives me crazy, plain and simple. Can’t get the instinct out of my head that blood means injury.”

The way Logan was admitting all of this, with such calm, made you think he’d been wanting to say this for a while. The unspoken confession was there, and it was up to you to decide what to do with it.

“I’m glad you care,” was what you landed on, unsure of what else to say.

Logan chuckled again, one hand snaking to your waist. “I do a lot more than care, Y/n.”

You smiled softly, looking up at him. With his other hand he brushed your cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The sound of a door closing brought you out of your little bubble and you took a step back, Logan reluctantly letting go of your waist.

Mrs May, either not having seen you two or graciously deciding to ignore it, passed you a package, informing you the herb and all information involving it was inside, and to handle it with care. You nodded and thanked the old woman before exiting the building, Logan again right on your heels.

As soon as the shop’s door closed behind you Logan’s hand was back around your waist. “Not losing you this time.”

You tried not to smile, though internally you were grinning like a maniac, and let Logan lead the two of you back to the car. You didn’t even get to argue your case of driving this time, Logan already in the driver’s seat. You sighed and got into the passenger seat, resigning yourself to another hour of silence as Logan started driving, when you felt his hand on your thigh.

You looked at him but he didn’t say anything, just gave it a light squeeze as he kept his eyes on the road. You looked away, grinning. So maybe the world didn’t have it out for you after all.

[tini5]

Jealousy Endeavor. °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*────୨ৎ────°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*

Rafe Cameron had always known you were special. 

From the moment you two met, he could see the spark in your eyes—the kind that made you stand out from the rest. You were his precious girl, his princess, and every time you smiled, he couldn't help but feel like he had the world in his hands. 

But you weren’t the jealous type. At least, you hardly ever were. It wasn’t like you to feel threatened by someone else; after all, you knew you were Rafe’s girl, the one who owned his heart completely. 

Still, today was different. 

It all started at the country club. You were with Sarah, Topper, and Kelce, lounging by the couches when Rafe suddenly mentioned he was going to grab a drink from Sofia. Now, you knew Sofia—everyone did. But that wasn’t the issue. The problem was the way Rafe said her name, so casual, so familiar. It made something inside you tighten.

As Rafe strolled over to the bar, your eyes followed him, narrowing slightly when you saw Sofia flash him a smile that lingered just a little too long for your liking. Rafe returned it with that charming grin of his, and suddenly, your mood soured. You weren’t usually like this. Rafe was yours; you knew that. But seeing Sofia so close to him, so comfortable around him - 

"You okay?" Sarah asked, her voice light but concerned.

You plastered on a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. "Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?" you replied, your tone a bit sharper than intended. Sarah gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further.

Minutes passed, and Rafe was still at the bar. You watched as Sofia leaned over, saying something that made Rafe laugh. It wasn’t a big deal, you told yourself. She was just doing her job, being friendly with the customers. But your mind wouldn’t let it go. What could be taking so long? 

Your pout only grew more and more, and by the time Rafe finally came back with the drinks, you were in full-on sulk mode.

“Here you go, princess,” Rafe said, handing you your pink drink, completely oblivious to your  mood. He leaned in to kiss your cheek, but you turned your head slightly, making him miss.

Rafe paused, his brow furrowing as he looked at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you replied, your voice clipped as you took the drink, not even looking at him.

Rafe wasn’t convinced. “You sure about that?” He tilted his head, trying to catch your gaze, but you stubbornly avoided it, staring off into the distance with a pout.

Kelce snickered from his lounge chair. “Dude, you’re in trouble,” he teased, earning a light smack from Sarah.

“Shut up, Kelce,” she whispered, though she couldn’t help but smile at the exchange.

Rafe crouched down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your knee. 

"Talk to me, baby,” he coaxed softly, his voice dripping with that tenderness he saved just for you.

You finally looked at him, your eyes narrowing slightly, "You looked like you were having a great time over there.”

Rafe’s lips twitched as he fought back a smile. He knew better than to laugh when you were like this. “You’re jealous,” he teased, his voice low and playful.

“I am not jealous!” you snapped, though the heat in your cheeks suggested otherwise.

Rafe chuckled, unable to resist anymore. He loved this side of you, even if it drove him crazy sometimes. 

“Don’t get jealous,” he murmured, leaning in closer. “You own my heart. It’s fucking yours, baby. I’m all yours.”

You bit your lip, the frustration slowly fading away as you melted under his gaze. You hated how easily he could do that to you, but you also loved it. “You better be,” you mumbled, still pouting but less convincingly now.

Rafe smiled, knowing he had you. He brushed his lips against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Always, princess. Only you.”

You sighed, finally letting your pout slip away as you leaned into him, feeling the tension leave your body as Rafe’s arms wrapped around you. He pressed a kiss to your temple, holding you close, making you feel like the most important person in the world. And you were—at least, to him.

Sarah and Topper exchanged glances, smirking at the sight. “They’re like an old married couple,” Topper joked, earning a chuckle from Kelce.

“Yeah, but they’re perfect for each other,” Sarah added with a smile, watching as Rafe kissed your forehead, murmuring sweet nothings that only you could hear.

And just like that, everything was perfect again. 

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚

As Carrie Bradshaw would say : And just like that heres my second blurb about Rafe🪄

[venmondiese]

DRAGON COINS

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

-ˋˏsummary: Prince Aemond finds his way to the Street of Silk once again, and he finds certain... familiarity with one of the whores. Yet, that doesn't stop neither of you to let your desires take over. (based on this request)

✧pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Bastard!Female Reader.

✧word count: 4.1k

✧warnings: : MDNI 18+, p in v sex, targcest, oral (m) receiving, brat taming, very slight almost unnoticeable implied aegond AND (not so subtle) that reader is aegon's bastard, aemond is a dilf.. hehe, they are both insane.

You were the prettiest woman at the brothel; most men always repeated that to you. And for a fact, you knew it very well. 

You loved dancing; always have. You used to imagine yourself as a royal princess at balls and court events, who wore the prettiest dresses and the most extravagant headpieces, full of veils, patterns, and many details of gold, purple. You imagined, as well, that you would have a nicer figure, full of food, and expensive things, like caviar, and have meat all day. 

Yet you were not a princess. You didn’t dress in purple, didn't have anything gold, you never attended a ball or court. You just looked the part; with bright violet eyes, silver hair and that Targaryen’s appearance that called the attention. 

Your mother told you that your father was a prince; she never said more. You always thought who it could be. Daemon? He was away at that time. Laenor? The rumours of his liking of men didn’t help. Aegon? He was barely of age by the time you were conceived.

If it was a lie, or a truth, you did not know; you only knew that everyone was enchanted by your appearance; your bright eyes, that your mother often compared them to one of a doe; your lips, always pink without the need of any makeup. You were a natural, born to shine among the common people. 

Inevitably, you ended up in a brothel. As a dancer, with exotic clothes from Lys, and some large feather fan for your dances, and you learned how to do your hairstyles the same way Lyseni girls did, since they were the best of the best. 

You were the best of the best. You made sure of it. You had something special, the looks, and the wits. Just not the money nor position for it.  

Most of the time, the Brothel opens at the ninth bell rang of the day, when the sun starts falling down, and people come home from their work, and just some time after men get paid for their daily works. 

It was the eighth toll of the bell when you were helping one of the new girls out. She had auburn hair, and almost as long as yours; and you were helping her do a crown of braids. You heard the consistent knock on the door, and you frowned for a bit, as you walked towards the door. 

It was a hooded figure, tall, and looking around as if he was followed. You frown a bit, watching his shoes; you could tell a lot from a man's shoes. This one wore boots, black and slightly muddy. He also smelt strong, like fire, somehow. Oddly enough, he didn’t speak when he moved his eye to watch you silently.

“We are not open.” you say to him, holding the door close, just so half of your body could be seen. “Wait for the next bell toll”

“Call your Madame” He says, abruptly, rude as men used to be; never lacking that audacity that their demands have.

“The brothel opens-”

“I heard you fine the first time” he repeats, as if he didn’t have the time “Call your Madame” he says, throwing a bag full of coins as if nothing, as if he wanted to buy your silence.

You frowned as you knelt to grab the bag, and from that angle you could see the small silver hairs that he intended to hide in that hood, and the eye patch, covering his left eye as the other one, with a deep purple tone watched you intently. You could see the small dragon patterns on his clothes, and how even his cloak had gold details, with little dragons.

It was prince Aemond. You have never seen him up close before, perhaps you had seen Vhagar around the skies from time to time. You heard that he takes his sons to fly often. Just as his grandsire, he had been left a widow with two sons. Not that he shared a love for his late wife, and he did not care to seek another bride.

Yet, prideful as you were, made a face and turned around, opening the door for him as you guided him towards the personal room of the Madame. Although, it seems as if he knew the place since quite some time. 

You watch intently at the prince, who the Madame compliments as older. You suppose he looks older, you didn’t quite remember how old prince Aemond truly is. You remember the celebrations for his five and twenty name day, but you couldn’t quite recall how many years ago that was.

“Should I fetch something, Madame?” You ask simply to Madame Sylvi, who sits in the middle of the bed, and yet prince Aemond doesn’t mind your presence as he starts undressing, taking his cloak off, followed by his eye patch. 

He has no shame, truly. You watch how he takes off that leather jerkin, embroidered with dragon details made of gold, as if gold didn’t have a better use than to be embroidered on a prince’s clothes that he probably uses once or twice before asking the tailor for other clothes. 

“No, do not worry. You tell Daisy that she is in charge tonight”

Interesting. You think, as the prince takes off his breeches, and you turn around to close the curtains, leaving your Madame to take care of the prince. And yet, you took an unshameful glimpse of his ass, smiling as you walked to finish the braids for your friend. 

And that routine continued for quite a while, you now noticed when prince Aemond arrived at the brothel, sometime before it opened, sometimes near the end of the night. Sometimes he came day after day, and others it was weeks apart. 

You danced the most on busy days, and you refused to dance when you did not want to. You were as spoiled as a little princess, which gained you some popularity among the workers and the clients. Some of them called you a ‘little princess’ and others a ‘spoiled cunt’, and yet you didn’t mind because you knew you could be both. 

It was probably one of your new dances, with a bold sound of the lute as you moved the expensive fan around, as if teasing the audience with more peeks of your body. This was a busy day, and so, a lot of men were gathered around watching whatever lewd display it was shown on the occasion. 

A jousting was held by the Royal Family, and so a lot of lords and knights came to the city, which means that the street of Silk was at its full capacity, and every man looking for a woman to fuck. And you also knew that most squires that wanted to be knights came here to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh before a joust. 

Yet, you don’t miss the one purple eye that watches you intently, still hiding before one of his expensive cloaks with dragon designs. He wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, at all. Perhaps he could be several years older, yet you know better than him. He could read books, but you have to survive day to day. 

Your long hair was braided in a Valyrian-Lyseni way, as you wore some gold detailed hair rings as you asked for them especially for tonight. Men had an appetite for women with that Valyrian looks, and you were an especially fine one. 

With every turn of your hips, you saw the expectancy of his eye, in the back of the crowd yet in the middle and not missing a thing. Prince Aemond was an especially eager one, instead of screaming and cheering at the swift movement of your body, he just remained quiet.

He was observant, he was ambitious, and you were the best. 

You weren’t surprised when he made a signal for one of the girls serving the ale, and whispered something in her ear. And you weren’t surprised either when the same girl was waiting for you at the edge of the platform where you performed.

He wanted you. 

And gods damned you if you didn’t want him. Because even with the whispers and rumours about prince Aemond, he was still one of the most divine Targaryen on earth. He might be older than you, but that never stopped you, at all. And with a chance like this? 

“He is a very exclusive client” Madame Sylvi says, as if instructing you as she walks you through the brothel “Likes very exclusive things, all of them you will please. If he wants to talk, you hear. You will touch him if he asks you, and you’ll do anything he wants. He usually gives you orders; how to be, what to do, what to say. You’ll do that- He likes having things in control and preparing for it. And something else; he doesn’t kiss” She says slightly annoyed. “A rule of his. He doesn’t like it. Not then, not now” 

You walk, not at all bothered by that rule. You shrug, and take notes, but something in your gut tells you it will be different, somehow. 

“I have been told you wanted me, my prince” you say softly, as you enter the exclusive room that Aemond was in. 

He looked at you; a hum left his lips without entertaining more in the conversation. He looked at you, as if thinking for a while. His shirt was undone, and his boots were still on, as his pants were a bit messy. . 

“Wine?” You ask walking toward the small cabinet with cups and some of the best ale and wine. Particular rooms were for expensive clients, those who paid stags… sometimes you could get a bag with some coins with the face of King Jaehaerys.

“No” he says simply. 

You shrug, the small jewellery tinkling as you walk, serving the wine for you to drink. If he didn’t need one, that’s okay. But you needed a small sip for courage, for your hips to lose up a little bit. 

“Are you Lyseni?” Aemond asks, his cold and stoic tone not changing. Most of the time, you’d say yes, to please the men like him that knew that Lyseni girls were the best whores. But you think prince Aemond asks for other reasons.

“No”

“A bastard, then” 

You watch him through your eyelashes. Was he more interested in your services or your blood? You were sure that both could please him very much.

“Yes.”

He hums, as if the thought interests him very much. You are aware of the bulge on his pants, by the way his legs are apart and he is leaning back, very much interested in you. 

“Care for a dance, my prince?” You ask, taking in your hand the fans, walking closer to him. “I’ve been told I am the best. I don‘t think you deserve anything but” 

It’s the small nod he gives that encourages you to move your hips, with no music but the one in your head. Years and years of dancing, you know the thrill by now. 

Translucent fabric from Essos, gives nothing to imagination, and it serves to give a more lustful touch to your body. It pushes your breasts up in the right way, and you can see the one eye of the prince roaming in your figure.

As you leave the fans, walking closer to him, he then asks again.

“You are Waters, then. A bastard from my father?” 

“Nuh-uh” you murmur, your hands going to his breeches, undoing them. 

“My uncle” 

“No”  

“Hm” he hums, looking at how his pants are undone, and his cock is rock hard, resting against his low abdomen, as if demanding attention from you. 

There was something about Targaryens that was so divine. 

“My brother, then?” 

You smirk, raising your eyebrows as if the mere question amuses you.

“I think you might know…” you murmur, watching him closely. Maybe he was old to keep up with your games, and less eager than most men who you attended to; with no problems in engaging with your games. 

Prince Aemond was a mature man, who had real duties to attend, and more concerns rather than which whore will he fuck today. And that aroused you. How little he seems to care about you, playing hard to get. It made you eager, and you realised that you were falling for his games instead.

“That makes you...” he murmurs, watching your lips. 

Targaryen. Valyrian. Dragon bound. His niece. All of those words he could say. Yet he doesn’t say anything else, words lingering in the air.

You raise your eyebrows, and a slight smirk appears on your lips. 

“Mhm. I might just be, my prince” 

Your hand drew slow patterns on his cock, stroking it softly as you two engaged on this odd talk. 

“Or you might not be”

“Or I might not be”

He watched your eyes intently; purple meeting purple. This man was calculating, and you could see it in his face. 

“That’s the thrill of it, I’d say” 

“You have his face” he murmurs, his thumb moving to touch your lips faintly. 

“So I have been told.”

He agrees with your statement as his hands move to take off the translucent fabric of your dress. You had many men touching you… but never the way that Aemond Targaryen did. His hands felt warm on your skin, and his touch felt right.

Aemond was an experienced man, and you noticed. He doesn't waste time fooling around, as the Madame told you. You were off your clothes in no time, as he had you right in his lap, comfortably. 

“What do you want me to do, my prince?” You ask, softly. 

He seems to think of an answer before saying. “Do your very best. Surprise me, if you can”

His hands slide down to the swell of your hips, firm grip as he watches your face; almost amazed, and by how he pulls your body closer to his chest, he was aroused too. 

Your hands go towards his shoulders, as you use that to hold as you grind against his own cock. The fabric from his open pants tickled your thighs as you straddled his lap, and yet that was the last of your worries. You were so horny, unlike many times, you were dripping wet for this man. 

Lewd moans spilled from your lips, one of your hands moving to cup his face, feeling the heavy breathing that came from his mouth. He was an intense one, his single eye never left your gaze; and you weren’t one to lose a challenge. 

“I think you are a spoiled thing” His tone is breathy, as he squeezes the flesh on your hips to force your cunt to grind against his cock, greedy as a dragon. 

“Been told so” your voice is more agitated, and you lean forward as if to kiss him, just to push your luck, and he moves his head slightly back. You giggle, trying to suppress a moan at his growl. 

“You little...” he says, yet a smirk appears on his lips due to the provocation. 

“Hm?” You ask almost innocently. “Didn’t do anything…”

“Spoiled whore” he says, with his chin and lips moving closer to yours, and you nod. “Proud of that?”

“I don’t hide anything, my prince” 

Aemond’s hands move upwards to your waist, and it takes him no real effort to turn you over on the bed, positioning himself between your legs as your back hits the mattress, gasping in surprise at the sudden movement, as you move some of your hair out of your face.

“I wanted to suck your cock” you say, using your elbows to get some height as he moves his hands to pull down his pants.

“And I want to fuck you” he says as if he was the one in the right, and it was obvious he lived to dominate. 

“And I want to suck your cock” you repeat, stubbornly.

“I am the one paying” he reminds you. Not upset, but more amusedly annoyed at your brattiness. It amused him greatly, to see a thing like you defy him. 

“Yes. And you said for me to surprise you, so I think I get the right to decide”

He has a smirk, yet his eye showed how amazed (and annoyed) he was.

“Brat” he spits the word, as he moves your legs apart further. 

You feel his dick slide against your slit, yet he only does to tease you, and to arouse himself more. You moan, feeling as if you could cum just by him doing that. What was this man doing to you?

“You are unfair” 

“Want to suck my cock? Fine, you’ll suck my fucking cock” He says, taking you by the shoulder, moving you to sit back up, and pushing you over the edge to the bed. “Go on.” He says patronisingly. Manhandling you to every whim he might have. “Fucking slut, come on, suck my cock”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were all over his dick, sucking every part you can of it. Seeing him over you, his hair loose as he was hard as a rock, and his hand grabbed your silvery hair, taking it into his hand with wonder. He was into it.

Your purple eyes look up to him, your lips around his cock as your obscene sounds delight his arousal. He groans as he pulls your hair, forcing you to take more and more of him.

Your hand caresses his balls softly, as if trying to caress every part of him. He was truly divine, and you knew something; you two were of the very same blood. And Aemond knew that too. Not that it stopped you, truly.

“Enough” He commands, forcing you to be up. You were about to protest, you were barely beginning! “Stop whining, bratty princess” It is now that he pulls you towards his lap, in a hurry that could only be interpreted as desperation and hunger. 

Princess. Coming from a royal’s mouth. Coming from what you think is your own blood. The sound that leaves your mouth isn’t fake, as you used to do when other clients complimented you. That one, and all the rest, was real. Just for him. 

The feeling of his cock entering inside you was truly like no other, you felt just like a court maiden, touched for the very first time, your hands gripping on his shoulders as he grabbed you by your thighs, making you to go down onto his cock, and the feeling of your pussy engulfing him whole, greedily… drove Aemond mad. 

“Fuck” he mutter against your lips, almost groaning. “Fuck, just like... Fuck…” 

As if the smugness from your eyes went away, your big eyes scan his face, as if searching for anything. “Fuck me” 

“I am fucking you” Aemond murmurs, his tone tense. 

“P-Please” You beg, pathetically, needing the feeling of his dick pounding hard and with no mercy against you “Fuck me, please, f-fuck me”

Your plea serves him enough, he leans back on the pillows just a bit, making it easy for you to have a better hold of him, and rest on his chest, as he took your hips and forced you to take his cock, fucking you on it. It drove you mad. 

Your first try to grip his shoulders, as your loud and lewd sounds fill the room, but it seems useless, your hands slipping off his shoulders, as your cunt squeezes his cock. You were desperate, your forehead pressed against his chest as your mouth was open, as if you could not have any control over your body, a little thread of drool coming out of your mouth. 

“Fuck me, please, please”

“Greedy princess, hm?” Aemond sounds smug, as he spanks your ass hard. The slap sound resonates in the room, along with the wet sounds and more sounds of your skin against his. 

“Yes, I am such… a needy girl”

“Always have been” he murmurs, picking up a pace as his hips start to meet your thrusts. You realised then, that it was affecting him as bad as you. Perhaps the pleasure was blinding you, but his tone was tense, his grip stronger and he was more demanding of you. He was solving it; and that only fuelled the fire.

“Yes. Please…” You murmurs, and as bold as you are, you murmur “Uncle, please” 

That sends him over the edge of madness. His pace is relentlessly, and his mouth only lets out groans and guttural sounds, as he insists on pounding hard on you, his hands on your ass as he pulls your hips down, his cock filling you in the most exquisite way, as his balls hit your skin from the force of impact. 

He slaps you when you move your head to see him, eyes full of need and pleasure. He seems to get off on it; and you won’t deny him anything. You know it. And you do love when he takes his frustration out on you, it is even better than the composed version of himself, stoic, cold and uncaring that he presented first. The unhinged version is... So much better.

“You will cum in my cock” He orders you, his low tone is a proof of his desperation about it “You’ll be a good little princess...” He grabs your platinum hair to make your head go up, your face closer to his. “And you’ll cum on my cock.” He says against your lips. 

You kind of don’t care about the ‘rule’ he has, because as soon as you feel the hot breath of his hit your lips, you lean slightly to kiss him, even if the grip on your hair makes it painful. And to your surprise, he doesn’t pull away. 

There is lewdness as his cock opens your cunt, sloppy sounds and moans that spilled from your mouth over and over again. You had to squeeze your eyes shut due to the pleasure, focusing only on the feeling of him.

Your cunt felt on fire, you could only imagine how it felt around him, but you are getting so overwhelmed with pleasure that your right hand grip on his shoulder hard. You take the reins of your pleasure, moving your hips up and down, trying to get every grasp of pleasure. 

The position not only makes you shake with mind blowing pleasure, but also presents all of your tits on Aemond’s face, jumping in front of him as his dick hits the deepest part of you. 

“Fuck, princess” he mutters, another harsh spank on your ass that makes your moan loudly. 

He had the girth that you needed to feel full. He made you feel more than that, you felt alive. Truly alive. The head of his manhood hitting repeatedly all of the right parts, making you moan, his hand gripping on your ass as he also felt the same pleasure.

“I’m going to cum inside you, princess” he says. And that’s all it takes for you to cum on his cock.

You shake as your orgasm hits you, your thighs feel mire forced to be open, and your cunt craves to feel his cum flooding your insides, filling you with his seed. You craved it so bad; it had you moaning more and more.  

Aemond uses your body, still shaking and limper to fuck you, his cock full of your juices as he groans, throwing his head back as he mutters some words in high Valyrian, cumming hard in your welcoming pussy. 

“Iksā sepār hae zirȳla.  Hylagon hae zirȳla.  Aōha kepa se kesā sagon ñuha morghon.  JēDar hen iksā ñuhon” Aemond groans his grip firm as he makes sure not a drop of his cum gets out of your pussy. 

As you catch your breath, you feel a bit limp on Aemond’s chest. He was sweaty, so were you. And you were tired, feeling the bruises of his marks on your delicate skin. You feel his seed coming out of your cunt, and that makes you whimper. 

“You are beautiful” He murmurs, his thumb caressing your lower lip. You take it on your mouth, playfully, sucking it just a bit to tease him. Aemond hums, very pleased. “Just like your father” 

As he extends his arm, he takes the bad of coins, and takes some of them into his hand, showing the gold to you.

“Full of it, just for you.” Prince Aemond murmurs, his hand caressing your lower back. “But you have to be just mine” he warns, possessive just like a man from his position is. 

You sigh, taking one of the coins with your fingers and inspectionating it. A bag full of dragon coins. You could see the face of Jaehaerys I, and turning it around is the profile of a dragon. 

“No men. No flirting. No whoring around” he says, whispering in your ear. “Just mine. Could you do that, princess?”

If you could do that? You don’t mind whoring around, you didn’t hide being hedonistic. Be his? Not hard. But be a princess? Could you do that?

“Of course I will, my prince.” 

[tsukiflwr]

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 .ᐟ THINGS ENHA DO THAT MAKES YOU SECOUND-GUESS YOUR 'FRIENDSHIP'

𝓅airing ∿ hyung line! enha x f!reader ᰔ 𝒽eadcanons ; fluff, friends to lovers, 𝓌: none that I know of 𐙚 𝓌c 1682 ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. i did not intend for these to be so long ﹒ ꒰ 𝓁ibrary ꒱ + 𝓂aknae ver

LEE HEESEUNG ∿ being touchy

you were used to heeseung’s touch. the way he would rest his hand on your lower back to alert you of his presence, the lingering hugs where his hands would hold your waist, how he would wrap his arm around your shoulders whenever the two of you stood or sat next to each other, his fingers absentmindedly tracing shapes on your shoulder as he talked and laughed with your friends. 

and the little things like reaching over to put on your seatbelt for you, holding your hand while crossing the road or following the sidewalk rule, pressing his chest back up against your chest as he helped you reach for things on a higher shelf . . . they didn't seem so little to you anymore. 

the lingering hugs lasted longer, his arm that used to rest on your shoulders moved to your waist to hold you closer instead. He would play with your fingers when you guys would binge watch shows in the living room, he would rest his hand on your thigh whenever he sat next to you, playing with the hem of your top. His fingers would linger on your face to softly caress your skin whenever he would tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear. 

he didn’t touch his other friends like how he touched you, he certainly didn't pull them to sit on his lap when he played video games like he did with you. Or how he would cuddle you on the couch as you watched movies, his fingers absentmindedly caressing your sides while he placed soft kisses on your cheek, forehead or temple. Yeah, he definitely didn't do that with his other friends . . . 

you knew that he was aware of how it was affecting you, and you also knew that he enjoyed every minute of it. giving you that innocent teasing smile when he felt your heartbeat faster against his chest, or when he notices that flustered smile on your lips. deep down you knew the reason why he touched and looked at you like that – and he knew it too. 

PARK JAY ∿ spoiling you

you noticed jay’s habit of buying things for you very early in your friendship. whenever the two of you went out to get food he always made sure to pay the bill, quickly grabbing it before you could even see the amount, waving off your protests with a sweet smile. even when you were the one to make the plans he always found a way to pay first. when you had brought it up to him he just gave you that smirk as he said “Is it so bad that I want to treat you?” 

when the two of you went shopping together, he always paid attention to the things your eyes would linger on but decided not to get it because it cost too much, sneaking the items in his basket to buy them for you, along with things he just wanted to get for you. he didn't even bother to ever look at the price tag, knowing that it was going to be worth it seeing that smile on your face. 

he would bring you home items from when he went on trips with his friends/family, he would come up with excuses like ‘i thought of you when i saw it’ or ‘it's just a little gift‘ and one that never failed to make you a flustered mess was ‘I saw it and knew you would look pretty in it’ he had to know he was making you feel things when he said things like that . . . 

you noticed how jay would always playfully complain about buying things for his other friends, saying that they could get it themselves, but with you he did it without a second thought. you weren't the only one to notice that. your fellow shared friends had noticed it too, and of course they had to tease jay about it. but he wouldn't let it bother him, he’d continue to spoil you, buying you anything that reminded him of you. 

you’d wake up to a beautiful bouquet of fresh flowers outside your door every week, and almost every time you went to collect your packages there were always extra one’s, always with a sweet little note from jay ‘thinking on you’ ‘wear this tonight, i'm taking you out’ the gifts soon turned more romantic, domestic if you really think about it. but your relationship with him really changed once he gifted you that beautiful silver necklace with the letter ‘J’. 

he loved watching you absentmindedly fidget with the necklace as you happily talked with your friends, or how you would always admire how pretty it looked decorating your neck. he loved to softly tug on the chain to gain your attention, or to use it to pull you closer to him. he didn't care who the two of you were with, he’d stop in the middle of a conversation to reach towards your neck and gently pull the necklace that slipped under your top, adjusting it so the ‘J’ could be seen by everyone . . . you both knew he was irrevocably claiming you as his. 

SIM JAKE ∿ never corrects it when people assume your his girlfriend

you and jake have always been close, ever since the two of you met as young children – both of you were ‘forced’ to come along with your moms to a nice lunch between old friends. the two of you sat at the table, talking quietly and giggling as you raced each other to finish the mazes on the children's menus that were given. your mothers both smiling at the friendship blooming between the two of you. jake would refuse to admit it now, but his young self-did shed a few tears when he had to leave, not wanting to be away from his ‘pwetty friend’ 

as the years went on you only got closer with jake, he was your person . . . and you were his. but not only did he get closer to you emotionally, but also physically. and it was something that everyone noticed, the two of you grew up together hearing the hushed whispers of your moms giggling about how they would be in-laws in the future. So the topic of you two being together was something you were used to. 

it was a popular misconception – that the two of you were together. anyone would think you were – with how close, touchy, and the way you guys looked at each other. And jake ever the polite, would say “oh – no we're just friends”. . .  but jake found it unnecessary to correct the misconception as his feelings for you grew stronger. 

he liked to see the flustered smile decorate your lips whenever someone mistakenly called you, his girlfriend. he found it adorable how shy and awkward you would get, stumbling over your words. he also really loved that moment of bliss where he could fantasize that the two of you were together – that you were actually his girlfriend. that him taking you to that cafe you loved wasn't just a friendly outing but instead a date. 

you didn't know how to bring it up to him, that you noticed how he stopped correcting people, that he would always pull you closer to him when it happened. or how you noticed that big grin would always form on his lips after. that bliss you felt in that moment would quickly turn into confusion as your mind raced with thoughts on why he didn't correct them. 

was it because he was just polite, that he didn't want to make the person uncomfortable by correcting them? – you really hoped that it wasn't just because he was polite. You wanted it to be because he wanted you too – that you weren't the only one to have those silly little fantasies of the two of you together . . . 

PARK SUNGHOON ∿ being protective and possessive

one thing you admired about Sunghoon was how protective he was, to his family, to his friends, to you . . . with years of being best friends with him you didn't know why suddenly started to get so flustered whenever he got protective of you. maybe it was because his protectiveness was almost always accompanied with his possessiveness, and God was it hot . . . 

he always follows the sidewalk rule with you and walks you back safely to your car / apartment etc., he never sits with his back to the door when you are out at a restaurant, all he wants is you to be safe. at parties he always had his arm around your waist, giving his best intimidating look to any guy who tried to come up to you, and if you were at the party without him, he always made sure to check on you through the night, staying up despite the tiredness just in case you called for a ride home. 

he wasn't just protective of your physical but also your mental, he knew you better than anyone else so he could easily see whenever you were overwhelmed or going through something. he’d pull you somewhere quiet, he was there to listen to you talk about what's bothering you and giving you the best advice he could, and if you weren't in the mood to talk, he would do his best to distract you from your negative thoughts.

he sees your ex at a party? he's making sure he doesn’t come and bother you and get your mind all messed up after months of you getting better . . . he was very sensitive with you, especially if someone brought you up, he's always quick to shut down anything that's not appropriate. 

everyone always assumed that the two of you were together, he was always so touchy with you in public, he had a habit of scaring off guys who had taken a liking to you, he never shot down the rumors of you together, only making them stronger . . . at this point the only two who didn't know you were dating where the two of you 

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓇oro's note. HEHE ITS FINALLY DONE !! it honestly felt like I’ve been working on this for weeks (i have oops) the maknae version will be released tomorrow !! I now have a taglist, so please comment or send an ask in my inbox if you would like to be added (please specify what taglist you would like to be added too !!) @leehansdoll is the account I will tagging you with <3 ꒰ nav ꒱

which member was your favorite?

likes, reblogs, comments and feedback are heavily encouraged !

[kiwriteswords]

Hello could I please request a fic where maybe the team doesnt like reader at first?

Winning Over the Kids [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 4.5k|| AN: Thank you for the request; I love seeing all of them come in <3 Feedback is also always welcomed! xx

Tags/Warnings: implied age-gap, reader is a forensic psychologist, no use of y/n, secret relationship, team dislikes reader at first, protective Hotch, no mention of Jack--so up to you if he exists or not lol, mirroring the Lo-Fi vibes with Kate Joyner/Hotch/Team, canon-typical themes, some fluff, team dynamics, established relationship

Sypnosis: When Erin Strauss contracts a forensic psychologist to work with the BAU Team, Aaron Hotchner isn't sure if he is more frustrated with the fact that they dislike you as their newest team member or as his secret girlfriend.

Aaron Hotchner had spent years mastering the art of control. His team relied on him to remain composed under pressure, a steady anchor in chaos. But when Erin Strauss informed him that she was contracting a forensic psychologist to assist the BAU, he felt his resolve stretch thin. Not because he doubted the decision—he knew you were exceptional—but because the team didn’t know the full story.

You were brilliant, sharp, and confident. You had risen through the ranks faster than most, your reputation built on precision and expertise. Yet, whispers of you being a “workaholic” and “cutthroat” followed you, a product of stereotypes surrounding young, successful women in high-stakes fields. Aaron had seen it before, but it infuriated him nonetheless, especially now that you were his… well, not officially, but close enough to feel the sting of those judgments on your behalf.

At the morning briefing, he broke the news. “The Bureau has decided to bring in a forensic psychologist to collaborate with us on our cases. She’ll be joining us starting tomorrow.”

Predictably, the room bristled.

“A shrink? Really?” Derek Morgan leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “No offense, Hotch, but we kind of know how to read people.”

Emily Prentiss folded her arms. “Isn’t that the point of profiling? What does Strauss think we’ve been doing all this time?”

JJ added carefully, “Is this about our mental health? Are we supposed to… talk to her?”

Spencer Reid, ever the analyst, frowned. “I’ve read that forensic psychologists in consulting roles often critique operational dynamics. Could this be Strauss trying to monitor us?”

Aaron kept his face neutral, though he wanted to correct them all. You were nothing like what they imagined. “This isn’t about our capabilities. The psychologist has specific expertise in complex cases involving psychological manipulation. Her role is to supplement our efforts, not replace them.”

“Yeah, until she starts picking apart everything we do,” Derek muttered.

Aaron resisted the urge to snap. They didn’t know you yet. They didn’t see the meticulous care you put into every decision, or the softer moments when you let your guard down with him.

The next day, you arrived at Quantico with a polished confidence that turned heads. Ready to take on the next case, which was local to the BAU. 

You greeted the team with a professional demeanor, offering a firm handshake and an easy smile. But the tension was palpable. The team’s skepticism hung in the air like a storm cloud, and Aaron felt his jaw tighten as he observed their guarded reactions.

Derek kept his distance, observing you with a critical eye. Emily was polite but cool, and even JJ seemed uncertain about how to approach you. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether. Rossi…well, Rossi seemed to sit back and take it all in. 

“Let’s get to work,” Aaron said, more curtly than he intended, leading the group into the roundtable room.

You took a seat beside him, your notebook open and pen poised. “I’ve reviewed the case files,” you began, your voice steady and self-assured. “The unsub’s behavior suggests a deep-seated fear of abandonment, likely rooted in childhood trauma. But the escalation pattern indicates recent stressors. Have you explored potential triggers within the last six months?”

Reid blinked, clearly taken aback. “We—uh, we considered family dynamics, but we didn’t narrow the timeline that specifically.”

Your sharp gaze turned to him, not unkindly. “It’s worth revisiting. The timeline could give us a better idea of who influenced him most recently.”

Aaron noticed the way Reid shifted uncomfortably, and it grated on him. You were offering valuable insights, yet the team’s resistance was evident.

After the briefing, Derek muttered to Emily, loud enough for Aaron to hear, “Well, she doesn’t waste time, does she?”

Aaron’s patience wore thin. “Morgan, a word,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

In his office, Aaron shut the door and faced Derek. “What’s your problem with her?”

Derek raised his hands defensively. “Hey, I didn’t say anything she didn’t earn. She walks in here acting like she knows everything. What do you expect us to do—roll out the red carpet?”

“I expect you to treat her with the same respect you’d give any other professional,” Aaron snapped. “She’s here because she’s the best at what she does, and we need her expertise. Whatever preconceived notions you have, leave them at the door.”

Derek frowned but nodded. “Got it, Hotch.”

Aaron exhaled slowly after Derek left. He knew he couldn’t shield you completely, but it infuriated him that he had to watch you navigate the team’s cold reception.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found Aaron in his office. You closed the door behind you and leaned against it, crossing your arms. “So, how bad was it?”

He looked up from his desk, his expression softening. “They’ll come around.”

You smirked, though your eyes held a flicker of vulnerability. “I’m not holding my breath.”

Aaron stood and walked over to you, resting a hand on your shoulder. “You don’t have to prove yourself to them. I know who you are, and eventually, they will too.”

You tilted your head, a teasing smile breaking through. “Is that your way of saying you’re proud of me, Agent Hotchner?”

He couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Always.”

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted. Here, behind closed doors, you didn’t have to be the prodigy or the psychologist with a reputation. You were just you, and Aaron was fiercely determined to make sure the team saw that too—someday.

The next morning, as Aaron walked into Quantico, he noticed a huddle forming near Penelope’s desk. Derek, Emily, Spencer, JJ, and Penelope stood together, their voices low but animated. He had planned to keep walking, but a snippet of their conversation caught his attention.

“I’m telling you, I heard she’s impossible to work with,” Penelope whispered, her usual warmth absent.

“Yeah, and she’s already showing it,” Derek added. “Control issues, first day on the job.”

“So far, It’s just one case,” Emily said, though her tone was skeptical. “But she’s definitely… intense.”

“We don’t need someone analyzing us while we’re trying to profile an unsub,” JJ muttered.

“I don’t think she’s here for that,” Reid said hesitantly. “But… yeah, I’ve heard the whispers too.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened as he listened. He wanted to intervene, to defend you, but he bit his tongue. This wasn’t the time. Instead, he walked away, the sting of their words lingering. He felt almost betrayed. His team was usually better than this. They prided themselves on fairness, on seeing beyond the surface. But in this case, they were clinging to gossip and prejudice, and it hurt more than he wanted to admit.

When you arrived, you carried yourself with the same poise and determination Aaron admired. You greeted the team briefly, your no-nonsense demeanor firmly in place. “Let’s get to work,” you said, spreading the case files across the conference table.

Your approach was methodical and efficient, and though Aaron knew it was how you operated, he could see how it rubbed the team the wrong way. They weren’t used to outsiders, especially not ones who came in with your level of authority and expertise. But they were professionals, and they pushed their reservations aside as the case progressed.

Aaron watched you closely throughout the day. You were unflinching in your analysis, your insights sharp and accurate. When you spoke, your voice carried confidence, but he could sense the subtle edge in your tone—a shield you had learned to wield over years of proving yourself.

After the case briefing wrapped up, Aaron found you in one of the quieter corners of the office. You were reviewing your notes, your expression focused but unreadable.

“How are you holding up?” he asked, his voice low.

You glanced up, a small smile playing at your lips. “I’m fine, Aaron. It’s not my first rodeo.”

He stepped closer, his brows furrowing. “I’ve heard some of the things they’ve said,” he admitted. “They don’t know you, and they’re wrong. I’m sorry for how unwelcoming they’ve been.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. “You don’t have to apologize for them. I get it. They’re protective of their team, and I’m an outsider. It’ll take time.”

“It shouldn’t have to,” he said, his tone sharper than he intended. He softened, adding, “You shouldn’t have to prove yourself to them.”

Your smile widened, though there was a flicker of something softer in your eyes. “I’ve been proving myself my whole life, Aaron. This is nothing new. Besides, I’ve got you in my corner, right?”

“Always,” he said without hesitation.

For a moment, the weight of the day lifted, and he allowed himself to take comfort in your resilience. But as he returned to the team, he resolved to address their behavior. They needed to see you for who you truly were—and he wouldn’t rest until they did.

During the next case you assisted on, the tension had been simmering all day, and Aaron could feel it building like a storm. You had just delivered a sharp, insightful breakdown of the unsub’s likely behavior patterns, pointing out inconsistencies in the case file that had gone unnoticed. It was the kind of analysis that would have earned respect from anyone else, but not today. Not from this team, not yet.

The briefing room was quiet for a moment after you finished speaking. Emily exchanged a glance with Derek, and JJ tapped her pen against the table, her lips pressed into a thin line. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating.

“That’s… an interesting perspective,” Derek said, leaning back in his chair. His tone was polite, but Aaron caught the subtle edge, the unspoken doubt.

You didn’t falter. “It’s not just a perspective,” you replied, your voice calm and measured. “The data supports it. If you cross-reference the victimology with the geographic profile—”

“We get it,” Emily interrupted, her tone sharper than usual. “But we’ve been doing this a long time. We know how to read behavior.”

Aaron’s jaw tightened. He glanced at you, but your expression remained composed, even as he could see the faint tension in your posture. You nodded slightly, as if conceding the point, and continued reviewing the case files without another word.

The meeting wrapped soon after, but Aaron lingered behind, pretending to organize his notes. That’s when he heard it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can deal with her,” Emily muttered as the others gathered near the coffee station. “She’s so… clinical. It’s like she doesn’t even care about the victims, just the data.”

“She’s got control issues, for sure,” Derek added. “Like she’s got something to prove.”

JJ sighed. “Maybe Strauss sent her to micromanage us. I mean, why else would she be here? We’re already the best at what we do.”

Aaron slammed his folder shut, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet room. The team froze, turning to see him standing there, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low but laced with unmistakable anger. He stepped toward them, his gaze sweeping over each of them. “I don’t know what’s more disappointing--your lack of professionalism or your willingness to tear someone down based on assumptions and gossip.”

The team exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“You think she’s here to micromanage you? She’s here to help. And the fact that you can’t see the value in her insights says more about your egos than it does about her methods.”

“Hotch, we didn’t mean—” JJ started, but he cut her off.

“No,” he said firmly. “You did mean it. And if you spent half as much energy working with her as you do undermining her, we’d be a hell of a lot closer to catching this unsub.”

The room fell silent. Aaron rarely raised his voice, and when he did, it carried the weight of finality. He let the silence hang for a moment before he continued.

“She’s not here to prove herself to you. She’s already proven herself, time and time again. It’s time for you to rise to her level, not drag her down to yours.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he’d have to address this further later, but for now, he needed to find you. He wanted to make sure you were okay to remind you, in whatever small way he could, that he was still in your corner. Always.

Aaron Hotchner found you where he expected to: in one of the unused offices, deep in thought over the case files. You were perched on the edge of the desk, flipping through pages with a sharp focus that never failed to impress him. The tension he’d carried since leaving the briefing room eased slightly when he saw how calm you were.

You didn’t even look up when he stepped inside. “Didn’t expect you to find me so quickly,” you said, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Aaron leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “I needed to check in. The team…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening. “They were out of line.”

That made you pause. You glanced up at him, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Aaron, it’s fine,” you said, setting the file down. “I’ve been in this position before. People don’t like change, and they don’t like outsiders. I’m used to it.”

“You shouldn’t have to be,” he replied, his voice firmer than he intended. “It’s not fair, and it’s not professional.”

You tilted your head, studying him in that way you always did when you were about to cut through the noise. “They don’t know, Aaron. About us.” Your tone was even, but there was a hint of something deeper there--not accusation, just acknowledgment.

He stiffened slightly, but nodded. “They don’t. And I’d prefer to keep it that way. For now.”

You let out a quiet hum, leaning back on your hands. “For now, sure. But you should think about it. They’re already questioning why you’re defending me. If they find out later that it’s because we’re involved, it won’t sit well with them. They’ll feel like you’ve been hiding something important.”

“They’ll feel betrayed,” Aaron said, the weight of the truth settling over him.

You nodded, a small, knowing smile on your face. “Exactly. Look, I can handle their doubts, their gossip, whatever they want to throw at me. But you need to decide how long you want to keep this a secret. They’re your team. They’re loyal to you. But they also need to trust you.”

Aaron stepped further into the room, his expression softening as he regarded you. “You don’t care what they think of you, do you?”

“Not even a little,” you said with a shrug, your confidence steady. “I’ve spent years dealing with this kind of thing. It’s not new, and it doesn’t bother me. What does bother me,” you added, meeting his eyes, “is the idea of this coming out later and making things harder for you. Or for us.”

Aaron let out a slow breath, running a hand over the back of his neck. You were right, of course. You always were. He couldn’t keep this from his team forever, and things with you had grown too serious for him to pretend otherwise. He had never been one to let his personal life interfere with his work, but this was different. You were different.

“This is serious,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

You arched a brow, a teasing smile breaking through. “Wow, Aaron. Way to make a girl feel special.”

He stepped closer, his lips curving into the faintest smile. “You know what I mean. Things are serious between us. You’re not going anywhere, and neither is the team. I need to find a way to make this work.”

You softened, your hand brushing against his as he stood next to you. “You will. They’ll come around, Aaron. And if they don’t, well…” You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting in a smirk. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

Aaron felt a warmth spread through him, a rare sense of peace in the midst of the chaos. You were right, as always. He would figure it out--not just because he had to, but because you were worth it.

And for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that it would all work out.

Aaron Hotchner had always believed in leading by example. Transparency, fairness, and honesty were core tenets of how he ran his team, and they had rewarded him with loyalty and mutual respect. But as he stood in the conference room, waiting for his team to gather for an unscheduled meeting, he knew he had failed to uphold one of those principles.

The team filtered in, curiosity and unease written across their faces. JJ and Emily exchanged glances, Reid clutched his ever-present notebook, and Derek leaned against the edge of the table with his arms crossed. Penelope, usually lighthearted, looked slightly nervous. Rossi lingered at the back, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in thought.

When the door closed, Aaron cleared his throat and took a steadying breath. “I asked you all here because there’s something I need to address—something I should have told you from the beginning.”

The team straightened, their collective focus sharpening. Aaron had their attention.

“You’ve all expressed concerns about having a forensic psychologist embedded in the team,” he began, his voice calm but firm. “You’ve questioned her presence, her methods, and, frankly, her character. Some of those comments have been professional disagreements, but others have crossed the line. I’ve let it continue longer than I should have, and for that, I take responsibility.”

Emily shifted uncomfortably while Morgan frowned. Reid’s brow furrowed in confusion, his pen tapping lightly against his notebook. Rossi, though silent, tilted his head slightly, a knowing look flickering across his face.

Aaron met each of their gazes in turn, his tone unwavering. “The reason I know she’s good at her job—why I trust her, and why I know she’s not here to spy on us or undermine our work—is because I’ve been seeing her outside of work. For a while now.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Reid blinked rapidly, his pen freezing mid-air. JJ’s mouth opened slightly as if to speak, and Penelope let out a small, involuntary gasp. Derek sat up straighter, his brows furrowed in disbelief. Emily’s eyes widened, but she quickly masked her surprise. Rossi, however, didn’t look shocked at all. Instead, his lips quirked into the faintest of smirks, as though confirming a suspicion.

“I had no say in her placement on this team,” Aaron continued, his voice steady despite the tension in the room. “Strauss made the decision, and she made it clear that the reason is simple: she’s the best. You’ve seen it for yourselves, even if you haven’t wanted to admit it. Her insights have already helped move this case forward. She is not your enemy, nor is she here to judge you.”

He paused, letting his words sink in. “I didn’t disclose our relationship because I wanted to keep our personal lives separate from our professional ones. But as your Unit Chief and as her partner, I will not tolerate disrespect toward her—whether it’s behind her back or to her face.”

Reid, finally finding his voice, asked hesitantly, “Does she…know about us? I mean, our dynamics, our methods? Or does she see us as part of the problem?”

Aaron’s expression softened slightly as he addressed the question. “She knows exactly who you are and how good you are at what you do. She’s here to help you do your jobs better, not to interfere. But she also deserves the same respect you’d give any other member of this team.”

Rossi finally spoke, his tone measured. “And you think telling us this now is going to smooth things over?” His words weren’t accusatory, but they carried weight.

“I think,” Aaron replied, meeting Rossi’s gaze, “that you deserved to know the truth. And I think it’s time we focus on the job at hand rather than creating divisions that don’t need to exist.”

The silence lingered until Derek broke it. “Hotch, we didn’t mean to—”

Aaron held up a hand. “I know you didn’t mean harm, but intentions don’t erase the impact. This team works because we trust each other. That trust goes both ways. If there’s something you need to say, say it to me or to her directly. Gossip and disrespect have no place here.”

JJ nodded, her expression softening. “You’re right. We were out of line. I think…I think we just felt blindsided.”

Aaron’s tone eased, though it remained firm. “I understand. Change isn’t easy, but it’s necessary. You’ll see soon enough why she’s here. Until then, I need your cooperation.”

Emily exchanged a glance with Morgan, then nodded. “We’ll work on it. I promise.”

Rossi gave a small nod of approval, his smirk gone but his understanding clear. “She’s good, Aaron. I’ve seen it. Let’s make sure the rest of the team sees it too.”

Reid looked thoughtful, his pen tapping rhythmically again. “I think we can…adjust. If she’s here to make us better, that’s not a bad thing.”

Aaron gave a single nod, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “Good. That’s all I wanted to say. Dismissed.”

As the team filed out, murmuring quietly among themselves, Rossi lingered behind. “You know,” he said, crossing his arms, “you could’ve just told me this a week ago.”

Aaron allowed himself the faintest smile. “Would it have made a difference?”

“Probably not,” Rossi said with a shrug, “but it would’ve saved you the speech.” With that, he left, leaving Aaron alone to gather his thoughts.

For now, he had taken the first step. And he could only hope it was enough.

Over the next few days, Aaron began to notice subtle shifts in his team’s behavior toward you. It wasn’t immediate, nor was it dramatic, but the signs were there. During case briefings, they no longer exchanged skeptical glances when you spoke. Instead, they began nodding along or even asking follow-up questions. Derek, who had been one of the most vocal skeptics, offered a rare compliment about your interrogation technique after a successful suspect interview.

“She’s got a way of getting under people’s skin,” Morgan admitted to Rossi when he thought Aaron wasn’t listening. “In a good way, I guess.”

Aaron didn’t respond, but he tucked the comment away, feeling an unspoken sense of satisfaction.

Even Reid, who had initially kept his distance, began peppering you with questions about your graduate work. You seemed to enjoy indulging him, discussing obscure psychological theories with the same enthusiasm he brought to the conversation. JJ and Emily followed suit, no longer as guarded, and Penelope—while still wary—had gone out of her way to show you how to use the BAU’s internal systems.

Aaron observed it all with quiet pride. His team was warming up to you, just as he had hoped, and it wasn’t because he’d told them to—it was because of you. Your intelligence, your confidence, and your ability to adapt were slowly breaking down the barriers they’d put up.

That evening, as the two of you wrapped up some paperwork in his office, you leaned back in your chair and smirked at him. “You know,” you said, your voice light with amusement, “you’re enjoying this way too much.”

Aaron looked up from his file, one brow raised. “Enjoying what?”

“You’re like the team dad,” you teased, crossing your arms. “All broody and protective, wanting the stepmom to be liked by the kids.”

He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, low and rich. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?” you shot back, grinning. “Because I think you’ve been paying more attention to their approval ratings for me than I have.”

He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head but still smiling. “Maybe. But only because I know how much they mean to you—and how much you mean to me. I want this to work.”

Your expression softened, and for a moment, the teasing dropped. “It already is, Aaron. You don’t have to worry.”

His smile lingered as he looked at you, the tension that had been weighing on him for weeks finally starting to lift.

The real sign of progress came at the end of the week. The team had just wrapped up a grueling case, and as everyone packed up their things, Derek clapped his hands together.

“Alright, we’re going out. Drinks, food, and maybe a little dancing. Who’s in?”

JJ and Emily immediately agreed, and Reid nodded hesitantly, though he muttered something about “just one drink.” Rossi chuckled but offered a quick “Count me in.” Penelope looked around, her bright demeanor back in full force. “Where are we going? And more importantly, is there karaoke?”

Derek laughed. “No promises, Garcia.”

Then, almost casually, JJ turned to you. “You should come,” she said, her tone friendly and genuine. “You’ve had a long week too. You deserve to relax a little.”

Aaron didn’t miss the slight hesitation in your posture before you smiled. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” JJ said, already texting someone. “It’ll be fun.”

Aaron stayed silent, watching the moment unfold. The invitation wasn’t forced or reluctant—it was sincere. It was an olive branch, extended without fanfare, and he could tell by the look on your face that you recognized it for what it was.

As the team began filing out, chatting about where to go, you lingered by his desk. “That was unexpected,” you said quietly, glancing at him with a small smile.

“They’re coming around,” Aaron replied, his voice equally soft. “I told you they would.”

You smirked. “Well, Dad, looks like the kids like the stepmom after all.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he stood. “Let’s just hope I can keep them from embarrassing us tonight.”

“Oh, I’m counting on it,” you teased, grabbing your bag. “Now, come on. You’ve got to show me if Unit Chief Hotchner can actually let loose.”

As you both headed out to join the others, Aaron felt a rare lightness in his chest. Things were falling into place—his team, you, everything. And for the first time in a long time, he allowed himself to enjoy it. 

Tag List:

@zaddyhotch

@estragos

@todorokishoe24

@looking1016

@khxna

@rousethemouse

@averyhotchner

@reidfile

@bernelflo

@lover-of-books-and-tea

@frickin-bats

@sleepysongbirdsings

@justyourusualash

@person-005

[maniculum]

A post of mine from several months ago about the Perlesvaus self-rearranging forest just wandered across my dash again and made me think about it some more, so I wanted to talk about it a bit.

Perlesvaus, for those who don’t know, is a 13th-century French Arthurian romance. It’s intended to be a continuation of Chretien de Troyes’s Perceval, but it’s mostly known for being completely batshit when it’s known at all. (There’s an old book on Arthurian texts that dedicates a chapter to Perlesvaus and repeatedly speculates that the anonymous author had Something Wrong With Him. This is the longest scholarly treatment of Perlesvaus I’ve been able to find & read.)

Anyway, there’s an odd worldbuilding detail in the text. See, it’s a Thing in chivalric romances that the questing knights happen upon castles & lords & damsels & such that are unfamiliar to them and have to be explained. You know, “this is the Castle of Such-and-Such, where the local custom is as follows. It’s ruled by Lady So-and-So, whose character I shall now describe to you.”

This is a genre convention that largely goes unquestioned, but it’s a bit odd if you think about it. All these knights are at least minor nobility. They don’t know the other nobles in their region? They don’t know what castles are where? Don’t they have, like, diplomatic relations with these people or at least attend the same tournaments? Even if they’re all fully committed to the knight-errant lifestyle and don’t really engage in courtly diplomacy, you’d think they would share information with each other and get the lay of the land. But instead, to use TTRPG terminology, it’s like they’re all on a hexcrawl that was randomly generated just for them to have these adventures.

The author of Perlesvaus decides to address this. In what’s kind of a throwaway paragraph late in the text, he explains that God moves things around so knights always have new quests to do (and, presumably, is also making sure they always arrive at the right narratively-significant moment). So the reason they’re always encountering people & places they have no knowledge of is because those people & places really weren’t there yesterday. They didn’t know about the Castle of Such-and-Such because it’s normally a thousand miles away and the forest path they followed to get there used to lead somewhere else.

And I think that would be a really interesting thing to stick into a novel or a TTRPG or something. When a knight rides into the forest with the intent of Going On A Quest, at some point they go around a bend in the path, cross an invisible barrier, and wind up in the Forest of Narrative. This is a vast forest with no set geography, filled with winding paths and populated almost entirely with questing knights, damsels in search of questing knights, friendly hermits, strange creatures, and allegorical set-pieces. Then, at the narratively-appropriate time, they cross back over the invisible barrier back into the regular world, and find themselves wherever the Narrative has decided they need to be. This could be a different country, a different continent, or a different world entirely.

Whether anyone involved is actually aware that this is how it works is… optional, really. Though if it’s not a Known Phenomenon, the people whose jobs it is to handle trade & diplomacy & god forbid, maps, are going to end up tearing their hair out in frustration.

[mirandasidefics]

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader  

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human. 

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days). 

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so. 

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted. 

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought. 

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate. 

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor. 

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her. 

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance. 

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within. 

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do. 

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human. 

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.” 

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break. 

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest. 

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.  

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters. 

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again. 

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision. 

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall. 

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”. 

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir.  He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut. 

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here? 

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain. 

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow. 

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male. 

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders. 

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.  

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened. 

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet. 

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room. 

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap. 

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together. 

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why. 

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand. 

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.” 

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own. 

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words. 

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.  

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious. 

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries. 

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers. 

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…” 

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.”  She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light. 

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time. 

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday. 

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses. 

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again. 

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her. 

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

[zhelin-thames]

Bruce has another kid........but this one is not adopted

It started with a mission. Bruce had caught wind of strange paranormal disturbances in a small town called Amity Park. Reports of “ghost sightings” and a local teen hero known as “Danny Phantom” had reached the Batcomputer. Most dismissed it as urban legends or a publicity stunt, but Bruce wasn’t one to ignore a potential threat—especially when these sightings coincided with spikes in dimensional energy readings.

Taking Tim and Damian along, Bruce decided to investigate.

The Bat-plane landed under cover of night just outside Amity Park. The small, seemingly ordinary town was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the hum of streetlights and the occasional echo of a distant, unnatural wail.

“This place is giving me... weird vibes,” Tim muttered, adjusting his tech-enhanced goggles.

“Focus, Drake,” Damian snapped. “We are not here for your feelings.”

Tim rolled his eyes but stayed silent as they followed Bruce toward the FentonWorks lab, the epicenter of the disturbances according to their data.

As they approached the lab, the trio suddenly heard a commotion. A glowing, green figure phased through a wall, yelling back at someone inside.

“I told you, Skulker, I’m not in the mood for another ‘hunt’ today!” Danny Phantom shouted, blasting the air with an ectoplasmic beam that sent a mechanical ghost retreating through the night sky.

The Bat-family froze.

“That’s him,” Bruce said quietly, narrowing his eyes. “Danny Phantom.”

Tim activated his scanner. “Readings are off the charts. His energy signatures are unlike anything I’ve seen. Definitely not human... or entirely human.”

Danny turned mid-air, his glowing green eyes locking onto the trio of vigilantes below. His gaze lingered on Damian for a fraction of a second before he floated down, his posture wary but non-threatening.

“And you guys are...?” Danny asked, crossing his arms.

“Batman,” Bruce said, stepping forward. “We’re here to investigate the unusual phenomena in this town. That includes you.”

“Great. Another set of people thinking I’m some kind of freak,” Danny muttered under his breath before straightening up. “Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m just trying to keep the ghost attacks in check. So unless you’re here to help, maybe stay out of my way?”

As the conversation continued, Bruce noticed something odd about Danny. There was something familiar in his facial structure, his stance, even his voice. It was faint, but undeniable.

Later, under the guise of investigating the Fenton lab, Bruce covertly collected a sample of Danny’s DNA—left behind on a napkin when Danny had grabbed a snack.

Back at the Batcave, the results left him stunned.

Bruce returned to Amity Park and requested to speak with Danny privately. Intrigued—and maybe a little suspicious—Danny agreed, letting Bruce lead him to the Bat-plane.

When they arrived at Wayne Manor, Alfred greeted them with his usual calm demeanor. “Master Bruce, your guest?”

Danny raised an eyebrow. “Fancy place. What is this, a billionaire’s bat-cave?”

Bruce didn’t respond, leading Danny to the Batcave below.

Once there, Bruce revealed the DNA results.

“Daniel,” he began, his tone as measured as ever, “you’re my son.”

Danny blinked. Then blinked again. “I’m sorry, what?”

Bruce explained how Talia had kept Damian a secret and revealed that she’d also been pregnant with twins. After Damian’s birth, Talia claimed Danny had been stillborn. In truth, the League of Assassins had stolen him for an experiment, intending to use him as a vessel for Ra’s al Ghul’s essence. When the experiment failed, they abandoned Danny, leaving him to be found by Jack and Maddie Fenton.

“I don’t even know where to start with that,” Danny said, pacing. “You’re telling me my entire life is some kind of League of Assassins soap opera?!”

Bruce didn’t respond, giving Danny space to process.

After a long silence, Danny turned to him. “Does Damian know?”

Bruce decided to bring Danny to the Manor to meet the rest of the family. The reactions were varied—Tim was skeptical, Jason was amused, and Alfred was quietly delighted to have another addition to the family.

But Damian’s reaction was the most intense.

[notafunkiller]

she chose me

Summary: Steve's hopes get crushed when he wrongly assumes you'd choose him over Bucky.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!female reader

Warnings: 18+, no condom (but f is on birth control), teasing, pet names, jealousy, sergeant + sir + daddy kìnk, vibranium arm kìnk, language, degrading, praising, no mention of y/n etc.

Word Count: 6.9K

Bucky Barnes masterlist

A/N: I really hope you’ll enjoy it! This was inspired by the "She chose me." TikTok trend.

Please, do not repost or translate without my permission!

You’re all quiet, watching the back and forth between Cap and Bucky. Not even Sam intervenes.

“You didn’t-”

“This is just not gonna work, Buck.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, with an expression you like to describe as bitchy. He’s so sassy without even intending to, and you wonder how bitchier he’d be if this wasn’t his best friend talking.

“Let’s see if people agree.”

He looks around waving at you and the rest of the team while Sam just snorts, covering his mouth with his hand.

But you’re not amused because you have no idea how to handle this diplomatically.

“Whose side are you on?” Steve’s tone is deep and authoritative, making you feel a little uneasy.

You don’t know how to talk to Avengers sometimes. You are on friendly terms, even when you train. Sam always cracks jokes, Steve shares stories and gives advice, and Bucky is Bucky. Nat and Sam call him The Machine for a reason. But he’s a really good professor and an even better observer. He pays attention to every recruit and remembers what they need to work on. You find him extra intimidating because he’s also the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. No exaggeration. And it’s not in the usual clean and golden boy way you are used to, anyway. He’s been through shit and it’s showing in the way he carries himself and doesn’t talk much when it’s not needed.

But you pay attention too, and this is why you think you were chosen to lead the recruits for this mission. You are on good terms with the Avengers, and Bucky probably approved the idea of working with you because you didn’t piss him off like most do. You know he hates chit chat, you learned how to read most of his stares and to not take it personally when he makes remarks about your fighting skills. They’re not your strongest asset, but you have a flair and you come up with the best solutions under pressure. You managed to pin him down once for a few seconds, and that is probably your greatest achievement.

But in moments like this, you don’t know how to say things without upsetting one side.

“You won’t get in trouble, don’t worry,” Bucky adds confidently. You’re not surprised when four out of your six colleagues agree with Bucky. They explain quickly why, emphasizing how much faster and efficient it would be if you followed that route, but their voices are still trembling. And you get it. Telling Captain America to his face you prefer his best friend’s plan over his will always be a risk. But if he gets mad, that says more about him as a leader than about anyone else.

Sam raises his hands in the air defensively, probably enjoying this as a show, but based on the looks he shares with Bucky, it seems like he agrees with him too.

You try to find your words, knowing you’re the last one from your team to speak, but before you can even open your mouth, Steve already smiles, pointing at you with his index finger. “Look at this, though! She agrees with me… She chose me.”

His grin is cold and a little arrogant. What you don’t notice, though, is the intention Steve had when he decided to use those exact words, but Bucky does. And he clenches his jaw at the same time his vibranium hand curls into a fist; a silent response to the not-so-innocent assumption that Steve made.

After a few seconds, Bucky leans in, his gaze steady and confident. “Did she?”

There is no way you would pick Steve’s plan. You are too smart and you have too much integrity to pick his side just to kiss his ass. He raises an eyebrow at you this time, a confident smirk forming on his lips. “Did you really choose him? You really think his plan would work better, doll?”

You feel surrounded by Bucky… attacked even. Your cheeks are getting hotter, too, and you know there is nothing you can do to hide your redness. Doll… He called you that when he turned you again on your back the day you managed to pin him down. It’s something about the way he says it that makes it absolutely deadly. Your first instinct was to be offended, but you reminded yourself he is a man born in 1917. He lived his twenties in the 40s, and doll was used as slang for sweetheart.

Taking a deep breath, you tilt your head slightly, directing your response to Steve. “It’s not about choosing sides, but considering all perspectives for the best outcome. And your plan, Captain, has its strengths, but I’m inclined to agree with Sergeant Bucky.” You bite your lip. “It’s about finding the most effective strategy for the mission, not a personal preference of any kind.”

Steve’s smile falls off, but your attention shifts back to Bucky’s grin that lightens up his face.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Well, then,” Steve sighs. “Can I have a word with you in private?”

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you until he says your name.

Surprised, you jump. “Yes, of course.”

*

Steve leans back in his chair, a slight smile playing on his lips as you write down the last details. “You know, I value your insights on the mission.”

You look surprised because how can he value your opinion when this is your second mission only? He’s Captain America!

“Oh?”

“I trust your judgment, and your training is going great. If you and the team chose Bucky’s plan, then we do it.” You see his jaw clench, though, so you know it’s not easy for him to say it. Even if it’s his friend… interesting. “Maybe, when all is over, we could grab a cup of coffee and talk about other things. What do you think?”

You’re silent for a couple of seconds, trying to realize if he means it in the way you think he is. There is no way, right?

Just in case, you offer him a friendly smile, “Thanks, Cap! I value our teamwork too. Coffee sounds great after. It could be a good way for all of us to unwind as a team.”

He nods, sighing. “I’m glad you’re on board. I’m looking forward to that coffee, even if it’s with the whole team. And please, call me Steve.”

So he was flirting…

“Thank you,” you pause as you stand up. “I’m gonna talk with Sergeant Barnes so we can get things ready for tomorrow. Have a good night, Steve!”

*

You knock only three times before the door opens and a Bucky dressed in shorts and a white tank top lets you in with a smirk.

“Sergeant Barnes,” you nod as you take a step inside his bedroom. He only stays here before and after missions when he is too tired to go to his apartment, so you don’t expect to see any personal objects there except for a few clothes.

“What happened to Bucky?”

You look at him surprised, tightening your hold on the tablet you are holding.

What?

“Sir?”

Bucky closes his eyes for a second. “Earlier, during the meeting, you called me Sergeant Bucky.”

Shit!

Maybe you should start calling him Sergeant Barnes in your head as well to avoid these fucks up. You feel so embarrassed that you want to disappear. You don’t want him to think you disrespect him in any way. His rank carries a lot of weight and trauma.

You clear your throat, slightly flustered. “My apologies, Sergeant Barnes. It won’t happen again, sir.” You offer him an apologetic smile while trying very hard to maintain a professional tone.

Bucky’s smirk softens as he places his flesh hand on your shoulder. You feel your legs transforming into jelly.

“My point was, doll, there is no need to be so formal. We’re off-duty here, and titles aren’t necessary. Just call me Bucky.”

“Alright, Bucky,” you smile. “I’m sorry for bothering you, but I came to discuss the plan for tomorrow. I talked to Steve and we agreed it would be wise for you to lead the way as Mr. Wilson-”

“Steve?” Bucky interrupts before you can finish your sentence. He doesn’t even bother to look at your tablet, either.

“Yes, we talked in the office.”

“No, I get that. But you call him Steve? What happened to Cap?” Bucky knows that might sound really childish, but he can’t help it. What is Steve trying to do?

Was it some kind of test? Did you misunderstand everything with Steve?

“Oh, Cap allowed me to call him Steve earlier. I am sorry if it sounded disrespectful.”

He squeezes your shoulder even before moving his hand to your chin, raising your face, and you feel yourself blushing again.

The blue of his eyes is so intense that you can’t see how anyone would be able to survive it.

“You apologize too much, doll. I don’t like it.”

You can’t breathe. “Sor-” You pause, realizing he is right. Apologizing is second nature to you. It feels wrong when you don’t, and you do it without even thinking about it. “I guess I do that a lot. I’ll work on it, Bucky.”

“I’m not your teacher right now, doll.” He smiles, letting go of your chin. “Just remember, we’re not all about formalities here. Relax a bit.”

Easier said than done. But you need to keep it together and ignore the urge to grab his face and finally kiss him. So you focus on talking about the mission and the members of the team. You talk about all of your colleagues, and Bucky helps you take notes. He switched so easily from friendly to the sergeant mode, which is fascinating.

He explains step by step your positions, the way things are gonna happen and even two back up plans. Two!

You’re not overwhelmed by the amount of information, but you’re quite surprised by how much he talks and how well he answers every possible question any of you could have. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him speak for more than a few seconds continuously so you try to focus on every word.

Only when he finishes and you close your tablet after sending everyone the plan, do you see him relaxing again.

With a smirk, he asks you, “How did Steve take it?”

“He was fine with the plan, even suggested if we feel like doing it, to get one or two more members. But based on what you said, we won’t need it.”

“He has a point, of course, but if you said you don’t think you need it, good.” You try not to stare at his lips as he speaks, but it’s so hard. “And I meant how he took that you chose my plan. That you chose me.”

You meet Bucky’s gaze, trying to keep your composure, “Steve seemed more than okay with it from what I saw. He values the team’s decision. Plus, it’s not about choosing sides, and-”

“And not a personal preference of any kind,” he interrupts just to quote you, and you don’t know if you should feel flattered he remembers word by word or to prepare yourself for a negative reaction. To be honest, your head is spinning and him being so close makes it worse. “I heard you very well, but I’m curious…”

He extends his hand and carefully tucks your hair behind your ears. You swear you can hear your own heartbeat going crazy. And if you do, so does he.

“About what?”

“Would the answer be different if it was about personal preferences, doll? Would you choose him?”

You freeze. You are simply in shock because this cannot happen to you. From Steve asking you out earlier to your crush basically doing this. You’re confused and a little tired, but you didn’t imagine all of this. Does Bucky want you? Is that it?

You take a deep breath praying you won’t choke on the words. “In a hypothetical scenario based on personal preferences, Bucky, I would still not pick him.”

Your voice is trembling, but you maintain eye contact even after admitting it. You didn’t choose Bucky’s plan because of your crush, so you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or exposed. He’s the one who let you call him Bucky, who touched you and asked you that. You don’t know if he counts romance as a personal preference, but there is an urge inside you to find out. You wonder how he’d taste, if he’d kiss you back if you kissed him first, how your mission would be if you crossed the line. Your thoughts are foggy.

“So you’d choose me.”

You clear your throat. “Yes.”

“Over Captain America.” His grin is so boyish and cute that it makes you smile. He looks younger and less… burdened when he gets like this. Bucky chuckles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, “Well, well, well. Looks like I got someone not kissing Captain America’s ass for a change. That’s really rare. You’re a naughty one, aren’t you?”

You mask your gasp with a cough, deciding to play along, a sly grin forming on your face. “Maybe I just have a thing for underdogs.”

Bucky’s eyes light up with amusement to your annoyance but also excitement, and he leans in, taking the tablet from your hand and placing it on the floor without a care. “Underdogs, huh? Ouch, that hurt a little. I thought I was your favorite super-soldier.”

You can’t help but giggle, feeling enough encouragement from his reaction to touch his vibranium arm just to feel it. You got the chance to do it only for a couple of seconds and it always fascinated you, especially the golden pattern. The fact he can feel everything because it’s connected to his nerves is insane to you. It probably is to him too. “Oh, you are. And my favorite teacher too. But a little competition never hurts, Sergeant Barnes.”

You can see he feigns offense. “Competition, huh?” Bucky’s playfulness turns into a serious tone as he adds, “Well, let me show you why I’m the only choice.”

And without warning, he closes the distance between you and kisses you.

You gasp, taken aback, but you bring your hands to his face and hip before you deepen the kiss. He’s not as gentle as you expected, his left arm flying to your ass and bringing your hips closer to his immediately.

You moan when you feel his hard on so close to your pussy, and tug on his hair a little.

“Aren’t you a naughty girl?” He lowers his lips to your jaw. “I could basically smell how wet you got earlier as soon as I called you doll. And so did Steve.”

You want to open your eyes and tell him to stop talking about his friend. You don’t want to be turned off, but he already continues.

“He thought he stood a chance with my girl.”

“Your girl?” You whimper when his teeth graze your neck before his tongue licks on the spot. He intends to leave a mark, you have no doubt, and you absolutely love it.

“Mine.” His whisper makes you shiver. “I want to mark you. The thought of having you covered in hickeys during the mission makes me so hard it almost hurts. Gonna show everyone you belong to me.”

“Do I belong to you, Sergeant Barnes?” You take a step back but let your hand linger on his chest teasingly. “Because I don’t remember you asking me to dinner.”

Bucky grins. “Dinner is a classic move, and I adapted very well to the present. But of course I can stop with the kisses right now, and we can have some late dinner.”

You roll your eyes at his unbelievably good answer. Fucker!

“This is not what I meant, Barnes, and you know it.”

“I don’t know it. But I want to know something else.”

You don’t even doubt he means something dirty because it’s too obvious.

“Like what?”

“Like how your pretty pussy tastes while you come all over my face.”

You gasp at the no-filter words. You’re so used to Steve’s warning you to use proper language, that you did not expect it.

“I thought men your age were all about being proper and refined… Don’t they teach subtlety in the 40s etiquette class or did you skip it?”

You tease him on purpose, and he knows it. You are well aware what a nerd he was in school. Such a nerd that it was displayed in the museum. You snort. You were a nerd too, so you love it.

Bucky chuckles, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he brings his hands to your pants, unzipping them without warning. Holy. Shit. The way you love this. He reads your body language very well and he has his super soldier senses.

“Well, doll, proper and refined went out the window with the 40s, right? Because otherwise you’d not be standing here letting me undress you.”

You raise your eyebrow, a mix of surprise and amusement on your face. His energy is so light, and he looks like a man without a worry in moments like this.

“You’re the one who offered to show me what the little upgraded version of you can do, after all.” You take off your shoes before pulling down your pants as soon as he drags them to your ankles. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck James Bucky Barnes! “Why would I say no?”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride, doll. Gonna make sure you have the time of your life.”

You snort, amused by his eagerness, and decide to take off your shirt yourself to see his reaction. And he doesn’t disappoint.

He grins like a child, his hands flying straight to your back without taking his eyes off your chest. And before you know it, your bra is on the floor and Bucky cups your breasts, bringing your left tit to his mouth.

If you gasped when you felt the cold touch of the vibranium, now you moan loudly, enjoying the way he licks around your skin. He avoids your nipple on purpose, so you decide to take matters into your own hands quite literally and get a grab of the top of his hair, forcing him to suck on your nipple.

“Fuck! I didn’t expect you to be so whorish,” you say without realizing, and you feel his snort and breath on the wet patch he left with his tongue.

Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. “This is what you call whorish? I guess I’ll give you an experience you won’t ever forget.”

“Talk less, do more.”

You want to enjoy more of this. You have a mission in a few hours, and it might be just a one time thing anyway since he is Bucky Barnes. You don’t want to get your hopes high.

Bucky lets go of your breast with a pop and moves up, raising your head so he can kiss you.

It’s electrifying, and desperate, and not enough. You move your hands to the bottom hem of his tank top and lift it, interrupting the kiss so you can take it off completely. You just want to feel him, all of him.

You step back for a second, wanting to look at him properly, but you notice a change in his eyes that he, of course, tries to mask.

“Why are you nervous? You look like a fucking god! I should be nervous here.”

Bucky’s eyes flicker with vulnerability.

“I guess I’m not used to someone seeing my scars or my,” he waves toward his vibranium arm, and you frown.

“I will sound totally weird, but they all make you really cool, Serge.” You trace down a few scars when you see he is completely relaxed and continue. “Do I have to lick them all to make you believe me?”

You move your hands under his shorts before he can answer, though, finally touching his cock. You both moan at the feeling. He’s hard and thick, and the head is wet. You bring your fingers to his lips, smearing some of the precome before leaning in to suck it off.

You’re not prepared for his moan or for the way he attacks your mouth, and definitely not for him to snap your underwear using his flesh hand. Not even his vibranium one!

You moan into his mouth. He makes you feel like you’re floating and you need to fuck him right then.

“You’re not just whorish, you’re a whore!” You pause when you feel his fingers close to your entrance. “No wonder why you didn’t belong in the 40s.” Then you move, allowing him to touch you. You don’t realize what you said, and when you do, in the middle of dragging his shorts down, you curse yourself in your mind. It sounds like the most disrespectful thing ever. This man’s fate was changed by monsters who cryogenically freezing him and brainwashing him, and you are selfishly talking as if he belonged to you. “I’m sorry that was awful of-” But he interrupts you before you can get a chance to properly apologize.

“You like that, don’t you?”

A wave of shame surges through your body. Your cheeks are burning.

“I’m really sorry,” you take your hands off his shorts and look away, not even peaking at his cock. You ruined it, didn’t you? “I will just go.”

Bucky shakes his head, puffing. “For such an amazing agent, you’re not a good room reader, are you?”

Your eyes finally drop to his cock, which you’ve been trying to avoid in the last minute out of shame, but there’s no need anymore since he’s teasing you. He’s just a bit longer than average, and he’s really thick, and the veins do not make it ugly at all. You are curious how it’d feel in your hand, how much it’d twitch, how Bucky would moan.

“You aren’t a good room reader, either then, Barnes, since I’m not getting dicked down and my hair pulled, am I?”

Something snaps in him, and it’s visible in his eyes. You don’t know what to expect so you just watch him. But you can’t. He is so quick that, despite your crazy training, you don’t anticipate his move. His hand wraps around the hair from your nape and fists it hard enough for you to move along with him.

“Wanna be dicked down? Fine by me, get on your hands and knees.”

You’re surprised, of course you are, but his tone is firm and you find yourself nodding and doing what he told you. You know you can say no; there is nothing in Bucky’s energy that makes you feel unsafe or as if you have no choice.

At the same time, he lets go of your hair just so he can take off his shorts completely.

“Are you not gonna make sure I’m wet enough for you?” You ask when you see him getting closer to you again, even though you are very wet. You just want to push his buttons.

“I can smell you if I focus on it, let me remind you.” He smiles. “I know you’re soaked, and you wanna be dicked down. Or are you backing off?”

Challenging prick!

You roll your eyes. “I’m not scared of your dick.”

“Good, because he wants to be friends with you.”

You close your eyes, cringing. “God, you were this close to turning me off.” You raise your hand in the air, putting your weight on the left one as you bring your thumb and index finger close to each other to show him exactly what a thin line this was.

Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna make you forget it in a second.”

Your first instinct is to want to tease him about the second remark, to ask him if this is how long he can last, but you’re too horny now. And you also need rest for the mission tomorrow.

“How, uh…” You pause not knowing how to ask this properly. “Can you, uh, make babies?” You cringe at your words. “I mean, widows can’t… and I just wanted to know if we need a condom to be extra careful since you might be extra fertile because I am on the pill and I have no idea how sex with a super sold-”

Bucky’s lips press against yours suddenly, making you stop talking.

“Breathe.”

“I’m breathing,” you whisper and he cups your face.

“Not enough. We can use a condom if you want, but I’ll need to check where I can find one. Or we can go bare if you trust me… I can pull out and you are already protected, so there shouldn’t be a problem, I think.” He pauses to kiss your lips again. “But we can still use a condom anyway to be extra careful as you said.”

You frown at that, suddenly more desperate to feel him bare than ever before.

“No, I trust you. I have never done it without a condom before, and I assume you didn’t have much time to uh… have sex.”

Bucky snorts amused. “Now why do you assume that?”

“You look like you haven’t been fucked since 1945.”

The fact he doesn’t even deny it makes you feel even bolder, so you reach for his cock and place your thumb on his wet head while wrapping the rest of your hand around the length. “Are you gonna even last for a second once you’re inside me, Sergeant Barnes?” You snort when you see him trying to hold back his moan by biting his lip. It makes you feel happy. “Or do you even manage to get inside me before- ahh!” He is predictable this time as he pulls your hair, so you laugh.

“Are you familiar with this whole red, yellow, green color code?”

You gasp. “Yes, read about it, never needed it. But how do you know that?”

“I read about it, too.” His grin is so wide and beautiful that you melt again.

“Quite naughty of you, Serge. Reading dirty books. Needed some ideas?”

Bucky smirks, kissing you again and again. “Gonna need a review after I finish with you.”

“You finishing with me?” You smile. “Big words, Barnes, but no action.”

He knows you challenge him, and you don’t try to hide it. Do you have to beg for his cock for him to finally fuck you? He is edging you on purpose at this point.

You let out a whimper in anticipation when he moves behind you.

“Are you sure you’re fine with no condom?”

“Ihm, I’m not ovulating anyway,” you whisper, trying not to sound too eager. But you are. You want to get dicked down, indeed. And you wanted it for months.

His silence makes you a bit nervous, but the sounds of him dropping to his knees behind you, followed by his hand grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance while squeezing your hip with the metal arm.

You love the sensation of the coldness, but you love even more when he leans in to kiss your back before he pushes inside you.

It takes two tries, though, for him to be able to push halfway inside you because you kept pushing his dick out of you instantly. You managed to take him only when he brought his fingers to your clit and rubbed a bit.

You still laughed though because the sounds were too funny and his little frustrated whimpers were hilarious. The amusement turns quickly into more horniness when you feel him stretching you without even being fully inside you. You dreamed and daydreamed about it… fantasized about it, but it still wasn’t even close to how it actually feels. How full it feels. It’s like you cannot even think, your body is weak.

“Fuck,” your voice is cracking. “Deeper.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers.

“So?” You bring your hand to his ass, trying to show him you really need it deeper. “Why do you make it sound like a bad thing? Or are you trying not to come, Mr. Super Soldier?”

“You have quite a mouth on you, I think you need it-”

“You talk way too much. Are you nervous or-” It’s his turn to interrupt you with a thrust. Such a deep thrust your head is spinning. He’s not fully inside you, you realize, but he doesn’t try to, instead, he starts to fuck you, taking your breath away. His fingers leave your clit, grabbing your hips with both hands.

There is no question anymore, just fucking as you wanted.

And it feels like heaven. You try to keep your eyes open just so you look at him over your shoulder, but it’s impossible.

“Cat got your tongue?”

You groan. “No, you did, n-now fuck me harder.”

“Well, well,” he slows down and you almost wanna die. “This is not how you talk to your Sergeant, is it?”

He can’t do this!

“Fuck you!”

“What does my baby want?” His thrusts are too slow and teasing, just like his voice. “Use your words, beg for it.”

You’re not turned off, surprisingly. Not at all, on the contrary, the firm tone he uses, the words… you’re getting hornier, if that is even possible.

“I love your cock, Sergeant, so please give it to me. Fuck me harder and faster. Need you to pull my hair, and choke me, and… be rough.” You would be embarrassed if you weren’t so desperate. You know he wouldn’t make fun of you for this, so you trust him.

“Only mine.” You take a deep breath relieved when you feel his right hand wrap around your hair. “Do you hear me? Answer me.”

You nod, unable to say anything because he starts to thrust hard and fast, just like he did before he stopped. Your tits are jumping at the impact, and you have to dig your toes into the floor.

“Use your words. If you want my,” he moans. “If you want my cock and my hand wrapped around your neck, you have to use your big girl words. Tell me you’re only mine.”

You can’t hold back your tears this time. You love it so much, you can’t believe you waited so long to have him.

“Only yours.”

“No Steve.”

He lets go of your hair, wrapping his hand around your neck. No pressure, not moving it, he’s just holding it there.

“There’s n-no Steve, Sergeant. Only you. My pussy belongs to you. I o-only want to get filled by you.”

You know he’s smiling without needing to look at him.

“You love your Sergeant’s cock, don’t you?” You have no idea how he’s able to speak while thrusting so hard. He’s a fucking robot, indeed. “No one else could give you this, no matter how much they tried.”

You feel the building in your core. You’re so, so close already, so you try to place your weight on only one hand and bring the other to cover his, and before he can say something, you encourage him to choke you by pressing his fingers on the sides of your neck.

You moan so loudly you surprise even yourself. You sound like a cat.

“Please, sergeant, please, choke me.” You repeat your move and you close your eyes. “Please, daddy, I’m so c-close.”

He pauses for a second, and you don’t know why.

Before you can ask what’s wrong, he doesn’t just start to thrust inside you again, he dicks you down just the way you wanted. It’s as if he fucks the air out of your lungs every time you exhale. You’re crying and screaming at this point, so loud the whole floor must hear you. But you’re not ashamed. You feel so close you can almost taste it.

You barely hear his whimpers, but they’re there and they’re so beautiful.

You get no warning when he decides to squeeze the sides of your neck: gently at first, but then? Perfect. So perfect you come without warning, not being able to even say his name. You just scream some nonsense, your hand dropping from his to the floor so you can ground yourself properly. Your whole body is burning, and burning, and burning, coming alive for what feels like an eternity.

He doesn’t wait even for a second after you come down from your orgasm. Instead, he gets his dick out of you, grabbing you by your ass and raising you in his arms. Still weak, you barely have the strength to wrap your legs around his waist and your hands around his neck. He’s sweaty but not that hot. His metal arm is making you cool down.

“Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.” His lips find your forehead and you fight the urge to kiss his neck. You feel so small in his arms… and as if no one can hurt you.

You’re smiling like a fool when your back hits his bed, and so is he. Such a beautiful, blinding smile.

You let him spread your legs before you drag his face down so you can kiss him. You bite his lip hard until he opens his mouth, moaning when you feel him entering you again. This time, you’re relaxed so he thrusts inside you so much easier.

“Gonna make you come again around your daddy’s cock..”

His hands wrap your legs around his ass when he starts to thrust again.

“You’re quite… into it, Sergeant Barnes. So dirty!”

He gently grabs your jaw. “Tongue out.”

You do it, opening your mouth and waiting, and waiting until you finally understand what he’s about to do.

Instead of being grossed out, as you expected, you eagerly swallow the saliva that he lets drip from his mouth, which lands on your tongue.

You bat your eyes as you start to move your hips to meet his thrusts halfway, and that sends him into a frenzy.

“Fucking hell, you don’t want to sleep tonight, do you?” He asks sarcastically, but you don’t have enough air to tease him with a stamina comment. “You want me to make you scream and swallow my spit and come till we have to go to that fucking mission. Till your beloved Steve needs to come to us himself and hear us covered in come but still fucking.” You moan at the idea of your teammates finding out about this. You get awful comments anyway; at least you can get him for real and rub it in their faces. “You would like that, wouldn’t ya? Having all my undivided attention on you, not caring that my best friend is mad…” The thrusts are so deep that your head falls on the pillow instantly. You cannot keep your eyes open for even a second and you’re crying again. “Not caring my pal wanted you so badly he even tried to take you out tonight.”

“Sergeant-”

Thrust after thrust. You grab his forearm as tightly as you can so you can have something to hold onto.

“He thought he could have you, that you’d choose him. Come on, love. Come on, scream my name, let them hear. Let them all hear whose cock you cry for. Who is the one you belong to.” His balls slap against your skin so hard they tickle you. But not even that can distract you from almost reaching your orgasm. His words, his cock, his possessiveness…

“Sergeant, please. No one but you, can I… c-can I touch my clit? I’m so, so close.”

You don’t have to, though, because he is quick enough to bring his flesh hand between your bodies and rub your clit just the way you need it.

“F-fuck, coming,” you manage to warn him before the pleasure hits you. It’s so overwhelming you see white, digging your nails into his forearm.

You don’t know what you call him… daddy, Bucky or sergeant, but it doesn’t matter. You hear his praise, how you’re his good girl, and his words encouraging you to come for him.

When you can focus again, you kiss him with everything you have.

“Need you to come for me, Sergeant Barnes,” you whisper between kisses. “Need you to come inside me, need you to fill me up with your come, sir.”

He hisses loudly, his eyes being more grey than blue.

“Don’t tease me.”

“I mean it,” you make eye contact, wrapping your legs tighter around him. “Not the heat of the moment. I need your come, daddy. I’m on birth-”

He kisses you so hard your teeth end up hitting, but you don’t care. This is everything.

“Gonna come, gonna give you what you want. Gonna make you my come s-slut. Is that what you needed?”

“Yes, yes.” You’re so excited to watch him finish you don’t even realize how much you like being called his come slut until he says it again. “Come on, Sergeant, come for me.”

After you say that, it only takes him two more thrusts to finish, moaning your name.

His eyes close, and you notice how pretty his eyelashes are. And the little moles on his face… his mouth semi-open and his hair in all directions.

You want to witness this every day.

Before you can stop yourself, you lean in to kiss his nose and cheeks, letting your hips move at the same time.

“C-can’t… doesn’t stop,” he manages to groan, and you bring your hand to his nape, caressing his hair as he rides out his orgasm.

When he finally finishes, though, his head falls on top of your breasts, his mouth finding your nipple and playing with it before sucking it fully into his mouth.

“Easy, Bucky,” you moan, but he keeps going, though.

You have to pull his hair, to make him stop.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but I need to uh… I’m tired.”

You’re back to your shy self. But his smile still makes you feel so relaxed.

“Got you tired, huh?” He winks, giving your breasts a kiss before pressing his lips against yours. “Fuck, I’ve never been so aroused in my entire life. Won’t even mention how happy I am.”

“Me neither,” you whisper.

“Well, we need to get used to it.”

You laugh so happily that you think your chest will explode. It’s surreal.

“You owe me that dinner after all.”

“A million dinners.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Trying to charm me?”

He pecks you one more time before getting out of you with a whimper.

“I’ve already done it.”

It’s weird to be empty like this again, but seeing your come and wetness on his pubic hair or dripping out of your pussy just to soak the sheets beneath you distracts you. You made a mess.

“We need to clean this.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says distractedly as he uses his index finger to push some come back inside you. Jesus! “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You smile. “You’re a whore.”

“Your whore.” He slowly gets out of bed, grabbing his shorts from the floor.

“Want me to go?” You ask all of a sudden, gaining a confused look from him.

“Why would I want that? Unless you do, of course…” He runs a hand through his hair, trying to fix it a little. “But I want you to stay.”

“Saw you dressing.” You bring your knees up just to put your chin on top of them. You feel extra shy.

He smiles. “Just gonna get you some water. I don’t want you dehydrated.”

*

Bucky knew Steve was in the kitchen as soon as he went down the stairs. He smiles casually, not giving him a second look as he goes straight to the fridge. It’s not like he hasn’t seen him in shorts or shirtless before, and Bucky knows he knew exactly what happened upstairs.

“Can’t sleep?” Steve’s tone is so obvious Bucky almost laughs.

“Not sleepy yet. What about you? You’re alright, punk?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking a sip from his own glass of water; his hands tightly wrapped around the glass.

“Still mad about earlier? You know I’m right.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, it’s all good.”

Bucky sighs dramatically. He loves Steve, he is his brother, but sometimes he is so annoying.

“Well, try to get some sleep. I suggest you wear some earplugs or something, though,” Bucky suggests casually, taking a whole bottle of water. “We wouldn’t want you too sleepy tomorrow. And the night is young.” He even winks at Steve, making him clear his throat.

“Buck…”

“Not a super soldier perk, I know, but you understand, right?” The smirk he suddenly gives Steve is almost sinister. “She chose me after all, and I gotta let her test-drive me. Have a good night!”

Even though he turns around, Bucky doesn’t miss the way Steve’s hold gets so tight that his glass almost breaks.

Bucky doesn’t regret it. He had it coming when he thought you’d choose him.

[0omillo0]

Hi! I’m a big fan of your fics! I wanted to put in an angst/hurt/comfort request because I’m a sucker for angsty fics. So with Bangchan (or Changbin, I’ll let you pick, gosh I love them both) the reader has been getting weird cryptic messages from their ex and it’s turning into some serious stalker behavior. So one night as they’re walking home they can tell they’re being followed and they call Chan or Binnie to come pick them up. And there’s like mild confrontation but of course it always ends with comfort 🫣

Calling you clingy

BangChan x Reader

Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Suspense

Warnings: Mentions of stalking, verbal altercation, jealousy, swearing, mild violence, fluff ending

a/n: I hope you don’t mind I included this in my “calling you clingy series”!! I really like how this came out so please reblogs are really appreciated <3 (also thank you for appreciating my fics 🥹)

-

You never thought your life could spiral into something out of a thriller movie. It started innocuously enough—texts from your ex, cryptic but seemingly harmless. A “hope you’re doing well” here, a “just saw this and thought of you” there. You blocked the number, not giving it a second thought.

But the messages didn’t stop.

They got worse.

“You think he’s better than me? He’s not. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I saw you walking home yesterday. Looked cold—don’t forget your scarf next time.”

“We’re not over, Y/N. We never will be.”

Each time, they came from a different number. And each time, the messages left a pit in your stomach.

It was getting harder to ignore, and you couldn’t keep this from Chan anymore. When you finally worked up the courage to show him, you thought he’d take it seriously. You thought he’d help you feel safe.

You were wrong.

“I don’t get it!” Chan snapped, pacing back and forth in the small living room. His voice was sharp, his hands gesturing wildly as if the physical act of moving could help him make sense of things. “Why don’t you just block him?”

“I already did!” Your voice cracked with frustration. “Every time I block him, he just finds another number, another way to contact me!”

“Well, maybe you’re giving him a reason to think he can keep trying!” The words came out harsher than Chan intended, but he didn’t take them back.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Your tone was defensive now, your blood boiling.

Chan threw his hands up in exasperation. “I don’t know, Y/N! You tell me! Did you say something? Do something? Give him a reason to think there’s still a chance?”

Tears pricked your eyes, the sting of his accusation making your chest tighten. “Are you seriously blaming me for this?”

“Why are you even talking to me about it?” Chan’s voice rose, his frustration spilling over into anger. “Maybe you like the attention!”

You froze, his words hitting you like a slap to the face.

“Excuse me?” you whispered, your voice trembling with hurt.

Chan didn’t stop. His own insecurities—his jealousy, his stress, his need to control the uncontrollable—took over. “You’re always so clingy anyway! Maybe that’s why he can’t let go!”

The room fell silent.

Your wide eyes searched his face for any sign of regret, but all you saw was the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders rose and fell with every labored breath.

“Clingy,” you repeated, your voice hollow.

Before Chan could say another word, you turned, grabbing your coat and storming out of the apartment.

The cold air hit you like a wall, but it did little to cool the heat of your anger. Chan’s words echoed in your mind, each repetition cutting deeper.

Clingy. Maybe you like the attention.

You walked aimlessly, your feet carrying you far from the apartment. The city lights blurred in your vision, and the once-crowded streets felt eerily quiet.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Without thinking, you pulled it out, expecting an apology from Chan.

It wasn’t him.

“Still think you’re safe? You’re not. He won’t protect you.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the weight of dread settling in your stomach.

“You can run, Y/N, but you can’t hide. I’ll always find you.”

You stopped walking, your breath hitching as you glanced around. The streetlights above flickered, and for the first time, you noticed how empty the street was.

The sound of footsteps echoed behind you.

Panic surged through your veins. Your hands trembled as you dialed Chan’s number, your fingers fumbling over the screen.

“Please pick up,” you whispered, your eyes darting around for any sign of movement.

The footsteps grew louder.

“Hello?” Chan’s voice came through the line, tight with tension.

“Chan, I think someone’s following me,” you blurted out, your voice barely above a whisper.

The line was silent for a split second before Chan spoke, his tone immediately shifting to one of urgency. “Where are you?”

You rattled off your location, unable to keep the tremor out of your voice.

“I’m coming. Stay on the line. Don’t hang up.”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Chan, I’m scared.”

“I know, baby,” he said softly. “Just keep talking to me. I’ll be there soon.”

By the time Chan’s car screeched to a halt at the curb, you were standing under a flickering streetlight, your phone clutched tightly in your hand.

The shadowy figure that had been trailing you lingered in the distance, but as soon as Chan stepped out of the car, the person darted into the darkness.

Chan ran to you, his eyes scanning your face and body for any signs of harm. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

You shook your head, the tears you’d been holding back finally spilling over. “I don’t know what to do, Chan. He won’t stop.”

Chan pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly you could barely breathe. “I’m here now. He’s not going to touch you. I promise.”

As he held you, his mind raced. He couldn’t let this go on.

The next morning, Chan woke with a new resolve. While you were still asleep, he contacted a private investigator he trusted. He needed to find out who this person was and put a stop to it for good.

That afternoon, while you sat curled up on the couch in Chan’s hoodie, trying to calm the storm of emotions in your chest, he entered the room with a determined expression. He knelt in front of you, taking your hands in his.

“Y/N,” he started softly, his voice a mix of guilt and resolve. “I called someone—a private investigator. They’re going to help us figure out who this is, where they’re coming from, and how to stop them. I won’t let this continue.”

Your eyes widened. “Chan, are you sure? That sounds… expensive. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to fix this—”

“I want to,” he interrupted firmly. “I have to. I let you down yesterday. I let my jealousy and stress get in the way of being there for you, and I can’t forgive myself for that.” His voice broke slightly, but he steadied himself. “This isn’t about me. It’s about keeping you safe.”

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were from relief, not fear. “Thank you,” you whispered, throwing your arms around his neck.

Chan held you close, his lips brushing against your temple. “We’re going to get through this together.”

Over the next few days, the investigator worked quickly, piecing together details from the messages. You provided everything you had: screenshots, numbers, the few times you’d caught glimpses of someone following you. Chan stayed by your side through it all, refusing to leave you alone even for a moment.

The tension between you two eased slightly, though guilt lingered in his eyes whenever he thought about his harsh words during the argument. Every night, he held you close, whispering reassurances that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

Finally, the investigator called with a breakthrough.

“You’re not going to believe this,” the investigator said, his voice serious over the phone.

Chan put the call on speaker so you could hear. “What did you find?” he asked, gripping your hand tightly.

“Your ex wasn’t working alone,” the man said. “We traced the latest numbers back to a burner phone, and security footage from a nearby electronics store showed him purchasing it… with a friend.”

Your blood ran cold. “A friend?”

“Yeah. Someone who knows your daily routine. Someone who’s close to you.”

Chan stiffened. “What do you mean?”

The investigator hesitated. “I mean, this isn’t just a stalker situation. Your ex had help from someone who’s been feeding him information about you.”

Your mind raced, replaying every interaction you’d had over the past few months. A coworker? A neighbor? Someone from your social circle?

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Lena,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Chan frowned. “Your friend Lena?”

“She’s not just a friend,” you explained, your hands trembling. “We used to be really close. But after I started dating you, she got… weird. Jealous, maybe? She’d always talk about how she missed how things used to be before you.”

Chan’s jaw tightened. “Are you saying she’s been helping your ex?”

“It makes sense,” you said, your voice cracking. “She always knew where I’d be. She’s the only one who would know my new number after I changed it.”

The realization left you both stunned.

Later that night, Chan’s phone buzzed with another call from the investigator.

“We’ve confirmed it,” he said. “Lena’s been in contact with your ex for months. She was the one who gave him your work address, your new number, and even the times you’d be walking home alone.”

Anger flared in Chan’s chest, and he stood abruptly, pacing the room. “What the hell is wrong with her? Why would she do this?”

“She was bitter,” the investigator replied. “She felt replaced, like you’d abandoned her for your new relationship. She saw your ex as someone who felt the same way—someone who wanted to ‘take back’ what he’d lost.”

You sank into the couch, overwhelmed by the betrayal. “I can’t believe this. She pretended to care about me this whole time.”

Chan crouched in front of you, his hands resting on your knees. “She’s not going to hurt you anymore,” he said firmly. “Neither of them are.”

The next day, Chan worked with the investigator to ensure that the police were involved. Lena and your ex were both taken into custody, thanks to the overwhelming evidence collected against them.

When the police informed you that your ex had admitted to planning to confront you the night Chan came to pick you up, your blood ran cold.

But Chan was there, holding your hand through it all, his unwavering presence grounding you.

“You’re safe now,” he reminded you, his voice steady. “They’re not going to hurt you again.”

As the weeks passed, life slowly returned to normal. The weight on your shoulders lightened, and the constant fear that had gripped you finally loosened its hold.

One night, as you sat curled up on the couch with Chan, you finally voiced the question that had been lingering in your mind.

“Do you think I’m clingy?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Chan froze, then turned to you with wide eyes. “What?”

“Back then,” you continued. “When you said I was clingy—”

“I didn’t mean it,” he interrupted quickly, his voice filled with regret. “I was stressed and angry and jealous, and I took it out on you. But it wasn’t true, Y/N. None of it was.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his gaze earnest. “You’re not clingy. You’re loving and thoughtful and everything I could ever ask for. And I’m so, so sorry I made you feel like you were anything less than perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief. “I love you, Chan.”

“I love you too,” he whispered, pulling you into his arms.

tags @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght