#and i would rather die than draw water

[135-film]

does anyone remember the mormon episode

[afterthegoldrushes]

i neeeeed to oil paint more every time i do it i really enjoy myself its just really satisfying especially alla prima like just molding this wet goop into shapes something abt it just feels good moreso than other mediums. but the setup and cleanup is so much and my laziness gets the best of me bc of this it just feels so daunting every time

[berrymeter]

terrible news! i am writing a scene

[kasagia]

Right hand II

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!exBeneGesserit! reader Summary: After you miraculously escaped from his arms the other night, you tried to stay away from him as best as you could. You have to put a lot of effort into escaping from the na-baron, who is tirelessly and constantly chasing you, or into avoiding another invitation to his chambers late at night. However, on Arrakis, the situation between you changes drastically... And you're losing control over your life, and it's not because of Feyd. Warning: 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; fight; brutality; smut; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART I ~•♤♤♤•~ PART III ~•♤♤♤•~

You are standing in front of the window of the ship that is taking you to Arrakis. You nervously play with the edge of the shawl that covers your head. You don't have good memories of that planet. Before you escaped with Feyd, the Bene Gesserit sent several of their young apprentices to… train in the sands of Dune. Including you.

You still remember the screams of some of your companions who went crazy from a lack of water and decided to end their lives. And sometimes at night you dream that the sandworm swallows half of your group, leaving you practically on your own.

Arrakis didn't just kill your friends. It killed any belief in the Bene Gesserit in you, only confirming that you would rather die than be completely subject to them.

And now you're going back there with someone who had full control over your life again. It's funny how history likes to come full circle. And how, despite their repetition, people still fall for tricks and fall into fate's traps, acting in exactly the same way.

A cold hand on your bare shoulder snaps you out of your stupor. You act fully automatically,drawing the dagger attached to your belt and twisting the attacker's arm. You pin him to the wall, placing the blade against his pale neck. You freeze as your eyes meet Feyd's icy blue gaze.

"Good reflex. If you were anyone else, I'd kill you for this, but I'm in a particularly good mood today, so I won't punish you as I would like. What were you thinking about, my little witch, that you didn't hear me sneaking up on you? Or maybe I have finally surpassed the master?" He asks with a mocking smirk, showing off his black teeth. You snort, shaking your head at him.

"Keep dreaming." You say, taking advantage of his amusement. This time, you are not keeping your mouth shut for fear that he will deprive you of your tongue for your boldness towards him. You move away from him, which he takes with clear displeasure, and return to your place by the window.

"If I dream about you, I prefer to dream about something much more pleasant." He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. He slides your shawl off your head with his teeth and nuzzles his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent.

You feel him sigh deeply, leaning against you a little as he relaxes into your scent and closeness. You frown, but let him hold you because you feel calmer having him close to you. Despite everything that had happened in the past two weeks, you still found his presence reassuring. It didn't make any sense to you, but apparently, over the years, you had begun to involuntarily associate him with something akin to a safe shelter. Herkonnen. A psychopathic, bloodthirsty future baron. How ironic…

However, being in his arms helped you come to the conclusion that the demons of the past should remain in the past. And you should focus on the newest one that is now wrapped around you.

You stare at your reflection in the glass, shuddering as his scent surrounds you, mixed with the blood that stains his uniform. You wonder which soldier you will have to find a replacement for this time.

"What were you thinking about?" He whispers that he doesn't loosen his grip on you even for a moment, knowing full well that the moment he does, you'll wriggle out of his arms and find another excuse to leave him.

You checked the condition of engines and fuel 8 times. He started counting after the ship's captain complained to him about your constant presence. He beheaded him without giving him the opportunity to complete his complaint against you. Feyd smiles, remembering the irritated frown on your forehead when you had to clean up his mess. Of course he followed you then. Of course, 'just to make sure that the next captain you appoint will be more competent'.

"It doesn't matter." You sigh, resting your head on his shoulder. He would enjoy your submission and willing closeness if he didn't see that, by doing so, you only wanted to distract him from the main topic. Clever little witch you were…

"It must be important if you stopped paying attention to your surroundings. You are always alert and aware of the things that happen around you. No matter what. I remember how, during one of our escapades, you were the only one who didn't fall into the trap."

"Well, that one was actually obvious." You say it with a mocking smile, remembering how you had to save him and his soldiers.

For the rest of your life, you will never forget how you had to dig Baron Feyd-Rauth Harkonnen out of the mud and save his ass from the Assassins who planned his execution. Of course, he killed any witnesses, leaving only you and him alive. After all, his uncle and brother couldn't find out about it.

He growls in your ear, tightening his grip on you as a warning, when you make him replay that day in his head.

"Don't brag now. I was… busy observing something much more interesting than muddy swamps." He grumbles, burying his face in the crook of your neck. The warm air he exhales makes you shiver.

"Which was?" You ask shakily, placing your hands over his to stop him from roaming them over your body.

"You." His answer is short and simple, as if it were the most obvious thing you should know. He doesn't hide it anymore; he doesn't keep his desire to himself. He wants you. He craves you. He shows it to you so clearly and thoroughly that you laugh at how naive you were to believe that you had only a friendly, platonic relationship. But how could you not believe that he only saw you as a means to an end when he treated everyone else around him like that? Since he treats people like things to play with and break whenever he wants? How could you have predicted that you would become his obsession, a precious jewel in his collection that he would want to protect and have just for himself? "I'm asking for the last time. What were you thinking about, little witch?" He asks, wrapping his hand around your neck and forcing you to look into his eyes.

You have no escape from him now. And you certainly won't tell him that lately you've been thinking more and more often about how to run away from him, or what would happen if you stayed with the Bene Gesserit, or how your life would have looked if you escaped from them on your own. You wonder if it wouldn't have been better to bury yourself in the sands of Arrakis all those years ago with your friends and die there. You are sure that it would be a much more dignified death.

"I... I thought about Arrakis." You decide to respond safely and carefully, so as not to reveal too much to him. You didn't want him to become suspicious of you. Not when you had to handle him carefully, lest you fulfil any of the Bene Gesserit's sick plans and visions.

"So what about this? Are you scared?"

"No. I am not. I'm never afraid. Fear is the mindkiller. Fear is the little death that brings total obliteration." You repeat the mantra automatically without thinking much about it.

You flinch as you realise that you are answering quickly with the Bene Gesserit litany of fear, which they've made you learn by heart. A great deal of anger grows within you as you realise how much they have influenced your life, even so many years after you ran away from them.

"You're quite tense. More than when I usually hold you." He points this out, starting to gently stroke your back in an attempt to relax you. You give him an angry look instead, suddenly understanding why he was irritated with you for reading him and his emotions perfectly when he was the one who was flustered and furious.

It was always easier for you than for him to hit sensitive places or to read the other one like an open book. Apparently, you're not the only one who's learned this over the years. He knew you as well as the back of his hand. He just never showed any trace of concern for your well-being.

You had your… tender moments when you allowed yourselves to be vulnerable with each other once or twice, but you both treated them more as minor lapses in maintaining your impenetrable façade of indifference and neutrality. In the end, everyone is on their own. And looking for a friend in him was a completely stupid thing—an act of true naivety and a sign of self-destruction, maybe even masochism.

"Maybe you shouldn't hold me at all, then?" You growl at him furiously, unable to control yourself. He just frowns, more surprised by your behaviour than offended by this blatant act of disrespect. He had rarely seen you so nervous or furious.

Of the two of you, you were the one who was the most calm and composed. You were always able to hide all your emotions behind a mask of indifference. He's fascinated by how you really behave when you don't have a filter on. He often throws you off your balance only to see your cheeks flush with anger; you take out your anger in a fight (just like him); or you bite your lip to avoid saying something back to his taunts.

"Or maybe you should drop your attitude and just let me do it?" He asks, his lips brushing against your earlobe. He doesn't wait for your response; he simply catches the tip of your ear between his teeth. He bites in gently, sucking and caressing your skin with his lips, as if your ear's superior helix were the sweetest delicacy he could enjoy.

"I'm not fighting or trying to escape, am I?" You respond, enduring his treatment with dignity. At the ship's window, you can see a small smile appear on his lips at your words.

He decides to pull away from you, but he is not giving you even the smallest chance to run away from him. He presses you against the cold glass, entering your personal space even more than when he had you close against his chest. You lift your chin, looking at him defiantly as he puts his hands on your hips.

"You are not. But you also don't want to be here in my arms." He replies, cupping your chin with two fingers. He leans closer, making you feel the metallic scent of blood that still lingers on him, probably from his fight with some prisoners on the ship. "And I don't like it at all." He whispers hoarsely into your ear.

"Since when do you care what others want? I don't remember you spoiling your concubines like that." You snap, causing him to laugh mockingly and shaking his head in amusement.

He leans in, making you tense up slightly. You think he's doing it to kiss you, but instead of feeling his lips on yours, you feel his cheek brush against yours, and his lips blow hot air into your ear again as he whispers softly:

"Because they weren't you, Y/N." You shiver at the sound of his dark, hoarse whisper in your ear. You can't say you don't feel the effects of his... seduction. But you promised yourself long ago that you wouldn't be any man's whore, concubine, plaything, or broodmare. And certainly not HIS. No matter how... tempting he could be.

"And what is so special about me? Hm? My body? My appearance? That I can fight well? You would get bored of me. Like you did with all your concubines."

"Did they understand me like you do? Have you ever seen them look at me as anything other than a wild, bloodless beast in the heat?" He answers your angry questions with his, dismissing your attempt to start a verbal fight with him.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, examining you closely. Looking into his light blue eyes makes you feel uncomfortable. He shouldn't have reacted to you like that. You weren't used to anything he had been doing these past few weeks. You preferred to fight him than... when he showed you so much tenderness, appreciation, and affection.

"Have I ever looked at you differently?" You ask defiantly. He smiles, licking his plump lips. You give in to this provocation, and, without controlling it at all, you move your gaze to his lips. His dark chuckle makes you look back into his eyes.

"Yes. Yes, you did that... you don't even know how often." He hums, his fingertips moving towards your mouth. He caresses your lips with incredible tenderness and delicacy. He presses on them gently, but you squeeze them as tight as you can, preventing him from doing anything he planned.

You react faster than him. You bite his wandering fingers, take advantage of the fact that he is still trying to process what has just happened, and quickly pull away from him. He laughs, shaking his head, looking at you intently as he deliberately crosses the distance between you two. He doesn't have to say anything for you to see how clearly he's mocking you and daring you to continue to defy him.

"We're not even on Arrakis yet, and you're already delusional, my na-Baron? Or maybe the black sun of Giedi Prime made you start seeing a mirage?"

"If you are a mirage or an illusion, then I never want to be sane again, my little witch." You gasp, as he wraps his arms around you tightly, clinging to you completely. He leans in, his nose tracing a line along your temple, inhaling your scent before burying his face in your hair.

He keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. You place your hands on his, trying to loosen his tight grasp somehow, but it only makes him hold you tighter. He tilts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours.

You shiver, feeling how close he is and how his musky smell, mixed with a hint of metallic blood, surrounds you. He presses himself against you so tightly that there's practically no space left between your bodies. You close your eyes, letting out a small, shaky breath. And just as he's about to press his lips against yours, the metal door to the room slides open with a loud bang.

You jump away from him, grunting as a young recruit enters your field of vision.

“My lord na-Baron. Lady Y/N. We will land in fifteen minutes."

"We would rather notice it ourselves." Feyd growls at him. You see him reach for the hidden dagger. You walk over to him, resting your chest against his back, and grab his hand before he places it on his dagger and throws it at the poor man.

"Thank you, Oliver." You say with a smile. The man swallows in fear at Feyd's furious glare. He bows and leaves the two of you alone.

You step away from Feyd, letting go of his hand. You frown, seeing that he's even more furious than when one of the soldiers entered. You raise your eyebrow questioningly, not understanding why he's practically huffing in anger now.

"What?" You finally ask him, not understanding the reason behind his behaviour.

"Oliver... do you call all of them by their names?" He asks, spitting out the soldier's name in disgust. You sigh, rolling your eyes as you reach for the shawl he had thrown off you and put it back on your head.

"If I know them, then yes, why?"

"You've never called me anything other than my lord and na-baron." He speaks in an almost accusatory tone. It takes a lot of strength in you not to burst out laughing when you realize he's completely serious and not joking right now. You try to come up with some excuse, wondering how to safely answer his question.

"And you always call me your little witch." You answer. Using his name somehow never felt right to you. At first, out of respect for him, maybe even fear. After all, he saved you from the clutches of the Bene Gesserit. Calling him by his name was out of the question. With time, you did it out of habit. And now… now you didn't want to call him by anything else because you knew that it would be a small step on his way to make you his.

"So this is supposed to be our thing?" He asks with a challenging, teasing smile.

"We don't have a thing." You huff, walking towards the exit. He, of course, follows you faithfully. You can feel the excitement radiating from him. He was definitely planning something big to do on Arrakis. Something he didn't tell you. You just hoped that he would be too busy with his brother and securing the spice mine to take care of you at the same time.

"Don't we?"

"You should focus on what you tell your brother. You're finally taking the reins. Rabban won't give them to you that easily. And we need to establish a final plan of action on Arrakis." You say, returning to your matter-of-fact, cool tone. He smiles, nodding.

"Don't worry about that… I'll make him kiss our shoes." You snort, shaking your head in amusement at his words. It might be true, but it's still hard for you to imagine him actually putting this plan into action. As you'll see in a few minutes, he actually intended to do that. "And the plan was decided a long time ago. I told you I wouldn't let us split up. And not because I question your leadership skills or loyalty. You are the only competent and worthy person to lead half of my army. But we, little witch, work together. Always. You don't change something that works perfectly. Get ready. We're landing soon." He leaves you with a quick kiss on your temple.

He walks away from you with a sly smirk, as if he's managed to trick you. You sigh as you watch him walk out of sight, walking with a spring in his step towards his room, probably to grab his things and get his harpies ready to leave.

You look out the ship's window at Arrakis for the last time. You close your eyes, promising yourself that since the Bene Gesserit, Feyd Rautha, Giedi Prime, or the Harkonens hadn't killed you, this damn planet wouldn't do this either. You weren't the same Y/N from 10 years ago. You were more powerful. Your bones won't sink into the sands of this damn dune... you'd even rather become the mother of that Kwisatz Haderach.

You practically jump out of bed with your heart beating fast as you wake up from another nightmare. You sigh shakily, pressing your hand to your mouth, trying to calm your breathing as best as you can as your heart pounds frantically against your chest.

The screams of your companions echo in your ears, and the images of the Fremen pumping the water out of them replay in your head. And that damned sandworm...

“Y/N, look at me.” His cool hands on your bare shoulders and his raspy, commanding tone bring you back to reality.

As soon as you look into Feyd Rautha's blue irises, you stop trembling. You snap out of this strange trance, trying your best to forget about the returning memories that haunted you more often during this week of your stay on Caladan. You suspect that this may have resulted in a rather close relationship with Lady Jessica. You breathe slowly, focusing on his pale skin that looks like snow, illuminated by the moonlight that streams through the window of one of the Caladan's inns.

“Breathe in and out.” He gives you another order. You nod, imitating the pace of his slow breathing as you slowly begin to calm down. "I will kill that witch as soon as I get my hands on her." He growls, brushing your sweaty hair away from your forehead with his hand. You see immense anger in his eyes and the seeds of a plan forming in his head as he thinks of many ways to make that Bene Gesserit pay for your nightmares.

"You can't. She's the prince's mother. Besides, it's not her fault that she recognised me from somewhere. I could have been more careful."

"You covered your face with a mask for an entire week, all the time, even to sleep. What can you call that other than being careful? Besides, the baron knew that these negotiations were doomed to failure anyway. It's not like her suspicions ruined them. I would have decided to leave this damned palace even without it." He assures you, slowly lowering the two of you back onto the mattress. He wraps one arm around you, his tight embrace grounding you in the moment and helping your mind focus entirely on the present rather than the dark memories from your past.

"The Baron will be furious with you. It's all my fault. You should have killed me." You say, focusing your gaze on his daggers, which are strapped to his hip. Feyd follows your gaze and snorts. He grabs your neck, forcing you to lift your head and look into his eyes again.

"And get rid of the only competent right hand I've had in years? I'd rather suffer his punishment for this... small act of disrespect towards the Atreides. And who knows? Maybe he'll even like it? Harkonnen chooses inns over Atreides' palaces. I can always say that I saw rats running freely around my chamber and decided that such conditions are not worthy of a na-Baron and they are an insult to my person that I could not allow them to do." You roll your eyes at him, but you can't help but smirk at him.

Feyd finds himself smiling slightly at the sparkle of amusement in your eyes. He decided he preferred seeing them in your eyes rather than the emptiness and terror that didn't even let you breathe normally. He reveled in the fear of others. But yours brought him more pain than joy. Unpleasant pain.

It was starting to worry him. And maybe he would think about it more if you weren't lying so close to him now, practically in his arms. At his fingertips if he wanted to play with you. But, surprisingly, he didn't. And even if so, he wanted it only if you were as desperate for his touch as he was for yours.

"There are also rats on Giedi Prime. And you have to share a room with me because there's not enough space here for all of us. I'm sure your harpies are furious. You'd probably rather do something else with them, too, than hold me through my nightmares like some scared little child." You tease him, snapping him from his thoughts. He looks at you carefully, admiring the way the beads of sweat on your forehead glisten in the moonlight.

He feels a strange, new desire to make them be caused by him... or rather, by the activity he would subject you to. His gaze returns to your eyes and your lips, and he feels himself harden slightly as his thoughts turn to fantasies about you—something he's been doing a lot more of lately. One of his harpies mentioned something about him moaning your name...

"Maybe you actually deserve this punishment? Such sharp language…" He whispers huskily, tracing the line of your jaw with the pad of his thumb. He watches you carefully, and, as usual, he sees no fear in your eyes. Even when his fingers travel to your neck and then to the fabric of your nightgown, imagine how close he is to touching what you hide from him and everyone else behind your outfits designed to fit you into staying in the shadows and fighting. If he could, he would dress you in the most beautiful silks and jewellery so that he could feast his eyes on the only beautiful view of Giedi Prime. You see a crease form on his forehead as he becomes aware of this strange desire. He removes his hand before he goes too far to come back, and he clears his throat as he focuses his gaze on your eyes again. "What was that? That dream?"

"I... I don't want to talk about it." Feyd feels how you tense up just thinking about your nightmare. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't care. He wouldn't spare a thought or, if he was curious enough, force them to talk. But with you... he just nods and gives you space, turning to lay on his side of the bed.

"Feyd..." His heart beats faster after you use his name for the first time. He turns to your side of the bed so he can fully look at you. He hums, pretending that you're not giving him a heart attack and that he's not replaying the soft, gentle tone with which you said his name in his head. And he wants to hear it again. In many ways. A quiet whisper, a cry, a scream of pleasure as he makes you come... "I... can you..."'

He doesn't wait for you to ask him. And he could. He could make you beg for him to bring you the comfort you need or mock you for being so defenceless and scared, but how can he make you do that when you look at him with those doe eyes? How can he do anything other than pull you into his chest, place his hand on your head, and play with your hair, guiding your face into the crook of his neck as you look at him like no one has ever done before? 

He wasn't the type of man you turned to for comfort or solace, and yet here you were, lying next to him, just wanting to feel his safe embrace around you again. He smiles when he feels your breathing and pulse slow as you fall asleep against him, allowing him to be with you in your unconscious state. He could do many things to you. He could slit your throat, stab you in the heart, scalp you of all your beautiful hair, and touch and taste any part of you he wanted. Satisfy himself with you and give yourself to his concubines when he ends using you.

But all he can do, as you sleep so peacefully on his chest, is pull the covers tighter around you and place a gentle kiss on your head. He doesn't remember the last time he felt such peace or the last time he felt wanted—not because of his status or the benefits he could bring to someone, but simply because someone wanted to be close to HIM.

"After all… I guess Caladan isn't that bad, my little witch." He whispers, pressing a kiss on the top of your head.

Feyd liked to think that the moment you first said his name and clung to him after the nightmare for comfort and security (IN HIM) was the moment he fell for you. But the truth was that it was a day later, after his uncle had punished him, inflicting various wounds with a blade on him, that you returned to the Giedi Prime without the expected agreement with Atreides. And, of course, he didn't rat you out. He took the blame. After all, it was his fault. He put your well-being above anything else and ordered to leave Caladan when Lady Jessica became too attentive to you. And he would do it again. He couldn't lose his right hand.

You felt guilty and took care of him. And those few days when you played the role of his nurse were the best ones in his life.

Feyd learned to love pain. Numerous punishments made it impossible for him not to do that. But he loved your gentle touch even more, esepcially when you tried your best to heal him. And he could get a thousand cuts or even more if it was the price of feeling your tender, caring touch on his skin once again.

And lying there with a torn back, looking at your sleeping form next to his bed, ready to meet his every little wish; he promised himself that he would do it. He will feel your hands on his body again. In better, less bloody circumstances. And definitely not with worry staining your beautiful eyes. But desire. Passion. Affection. Maybe even love.

"Uncomfortable, my lord?" You mock him with a little smirk as you both lie on the sand, observing the surroundings.

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You huff, shaking your head at his words. You know it's the last thing he'll actually do at this point. You use your binoculars to zoom in on a specific sand dune, in the middle of which there should be a Fremen base.

"Someone woke up with his left foot. I thought you'd be more enthusiastic about the upcoming fight." You say, trying to spot any movement, silhouette, or anything that indicates that your informant was right, and this is the place where one of the more important sietches are.

"I am. But it's damn hot here. Besides, sand gets in where it shouldn't." You smile, barely holding back your laughter, as Feyd allows himself to grumble next to you. You squeal in shock as he spanks you. You look away from the dune and give him an offended, shocked look when he chuckles hoarsely at your reaction.

"You're lucky that it's just a desert and that you're not dressed all in black like our soldiers. If this shipment of new equipment, weapons, and uniforms does not arrive this week, I will return to Giedi Prime and slaughter these useless scientists and engineers. Besides, your harpies will probably be more than happy to help you get rid of every little grain of sand from your body."

"Jealous?" He asks as you go back to watching the dunes.

"I wouldn't willingly be around these cannibals even if you paid me." You say, ignoring the fact that he was clearly asking if you were jealous of HIM, not the fact that he has his concubines and you don't. You shiver, feeling his piercing, burning gaze on you.

You're a little annoyed that he's doing practically nothing. Apparently, he too must have felt the effects of spending many weeks in that damn desert, and he had enough. Just like all of you.

"Arrakis brings out your more feisty side… I like it." He takes the binoculars from you and looks in a completely different direction. You snort, trying to see what caught his eye. You frown as you see a sandworm scurrying in the distance. But it wasn't under the sand... "Tell squad six to kill it. Those rats must be moving around again."

"Will you waste the bomb on a sandworm?"

"Only the most important Fremen travel like this. Whoever's on the back of this is not just anyone." You nod. You turn on the communicator and share information with the group, giving them the orders. You feel Feyd's eyes focused on you all the time. You roll your eyes and shift your gaze to his as he continues to stare at you curiously.

"What?"

"You've been here before, right? You may not know the ways of the Fremen, but I can see in your eyes that this planet is no stranger to you."

"The Bene Gesserit prepared us for every circumstance." You answered him deceptively. However, this does not quench his curiosity. And you know that since you're doomed to wait here for a good hour before anything happens, you're doomed to keep him entertained.

"Did they send you to Giedi Prime too?"

"No. But I was often send to Caladan." You say, not realizing how bad a move it was. The wrinkle on his forehead and the gentle tightening of his hand on his blades prove to you what an idiot you are. But you can't keep an eye on the dunes and anticipate his mood swings at the same time. Which he's had quite a lot of since you came to Arrakis. He didn't show it to anyone else, but you could see that the heat was bothering him just as much as it was for all of you.

"Why? Breeding program? Don't tell me you were supposed to be Atreides' pet." He spit out from his mouth the names of the people who were his family's greatest nemeses, as if it were some kind of dead poison. Even though the Atreides were long dead, buried in the sands of Arrakis, he still talked about them with huge hostility.

No. I was supposed to be your pet.

"I don't know." You slide off the sand to get out of sight of your possible opponents. There's no point in observing the area now. You know that your best men and their troops are positioned around you, so you could have left them to make the first attack. For now, you had to defuse a bomb that was about to explode next to you.

"You don't talk about it often. About the Bene Gesserit." He pursues the topic further, following in your footsteps. You both are standing on a small ledge, with your backs pressed against a sandstone. You don't have much space, so you have to rest your arm on his so as not to fall down and crash into the rocks below you.

"I don't want to remember it. I have another life now. Better one." You say, fiddling with your communicator. You issue a surveillance order to the rest of your units and turn it off, waiting for them to notice something. You take the shawl off your head and wipe your sweaty forehead with it.

"I won't let them hurt you again. Or anyone else." You freeze for a moment at his words. All you can do is stare at him in shock as he reaches for your face and grabs your hair. He ties them awkwardly, making sure they don't get in your face. It's a sweet gesture... even too sweet for him. And you wonder how the hell he knows how to tie someone's hair back.

You are about to tie your shawl around your forehead again when Feyd suddenly takes it from you. He wipes the back of your neck and makes sure there isn't a single bead of sweat on your face before he ties your shawl around his wrist.

"Who said they hurt me?" You ask, swallowing. You try to hide the tremble in your voice, but you suddenly become very aware of how close you are to each other. And that you two are completely alone...

"Your eyes and actions tell me more than you can let through your mouth, little witch."

"Shut up, or I'll put you over my knee." You respond with what he told you earlier without thinking much about it.

You gasp in shock as he presses you against the sandstone behind you, guiding the two of you deeper. His dilated pupils, slightly clenched jaw, and rapid breathing confirm how fucked up you are. You've lost your damn guard. Again. And now he will use it to his advantage.

"Oh, my darling little witch… you don't know how much I want you to do this…" He growls in your ear. His nose traces a path from your hair to your neck, inhaling your scent. You shiver as his lips brush against your neck.

"What are you doing?" You moan as he sucks your neck and bites it lightly, leaving a hickey there. He moves his head away from you and looks at the trail he created. He hums lightly, planning where to leave the next one. And another one. And another. And another...

"Shhh... We have a few minutes before they stop bombarding them. Another few before the dust settles and before we enter those rats' canals... let me make sure that my right hand is properly relaxed in the meantime."

As usual, he doesn't give you time to respond. He leans down and captures your lips in a passionate kiss. His chapped lips brush against yours, gently urging you to open your mouth for him. You try to tighten them as best you can, but he somehow manages to bite your lip, which makes him immediately clear the way for his tongue.

You gasp as his hands cup your ass. His fingers dig into your flesh, and you know that if it weren't for the thick tactical suit, it would have left bruises in the shape of his fingers. He picks you up without breaking the kiss and presses you against the stone-sand wall of the small cave.

You moan as his bulge rubs against your clothed core. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, holding yourself up as he peppers your neck with hickeys, grinding against you.

On Giedi Prime, you would struggle with him, trying to break free from his grip. But here, while you've been busy planning, tracking, fighting, and increasing your spice production for the last few weeks, you haven't had any opportunity... to take care of yourself. He wasn't helping either, following you around and acting like a fucking guard dog. And from what you heard from your room next to his in the night, he wasn't denying himself anything. Damn bastard.

What you didn't know was that he was fucking his fist thinking about you all this time because, since the two of you shared a bath, none of his concubines have been able to please him. So he's just as desperate as you are.

You moan as he thrusts into you, especially hard. He also purrs against your neck at the sounds you make. You're well aware that if it didn't take you forever to put your clothes back on, he'd already have you naked beneath him, fucking you wildly and giving you orgasm after orgasm... and you almost want to let him. If only those fucking witches weren't planning on breeding you with him, you would have been riding him wild a long time ago.

At one point, he bites into your neck, making you scream uncontrollably. You blush furiously when he pulls away from your neck with your blood on his full lips and gives you a hungry, lustful look.

"Take off your pants." He orders you. He licks the blood from his lips and leans down to lick the rest from your neck, leaving a few more hickeys on it.

"We… can't… we... battle..." He suddenly stops making any movements, but instead of moving away from you, as you think he will, he grabs you tightly by the throat. He squeezes lightly and leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. He breathes deeply and heavily, nuzzling his nose against yours before opening his eyes to fix his wide pupils on yours.

"Are you defying me?" You shake your head, always being a good soldier. "Good girl. Pants down, or I'll rip them off, and you'll have to walk back to the base without them."

This is a very real threat. And even though you know he would rather kill any man who dares to look at you in this state than expose you to the… lust of the hundreds of men who were on the base, you have no desire to parade around Arrakis with your bare ass. You start to take off your pants, slowly unbuttoning them. He won't even let you take them off of you all the way. As soon as he sees your exposed pussy, he drops to his knees in front of you, holding your hips in a tight grip.

"She blocks me so much when she has a damn spring between her legs… a real desert oasis…" He mumbles, his fingers collecting your wetness. You gasp as he looks you straight in the eye, sucking your juices from his finger. You lick your lips unconsciously, your brain completely stunned by the suddenness of the situation, the lust overwhelming you, the sight of him on his knees for you, as well as the spice in the air.

You don't even protest when he licks the stripe of your pussy and tightens his grip on your hips, pressing his face against your crotch. As he begins to lick and suck on your more sensitive parts, you scratch his scalp with your nails in a vain attempt to grab something. His dark, raspy chuckle against your clit makes you even wetter, as the vibrations and fingers teasing your entrance only fuel your desire.

He eats you like he's really dying of thirst. He brings out in you sounds that you would be ashamed of if you were in a better, saner, more aware state. And you try to maintain the last of your dignity and stifle your moans by placing a hand over your mouth, but he growls in protest and removes your hands so quickly that you have no idea when it happened. He places it on his shoulder, encouraging you to dig your nails into him as he devours you like his life depends on it. Like he would die if he didn't make you cum, lick up every last bit of wetness from between your legs.

At one point, he puts your leg over his shoulder. He's even closer to you (if possible), but you're not really paying attention to what he's doing as long as his mouth and fingers are still working their magic on you. You pull him closer, chasing your sweet release, when suddenly, he pulls away.

You growl in anger, opening your eyes. He's still on his knees in front of you, his face covered in your juices, and he's staring at you hungrily as if his face wasn't buried in your pussy moments ago.

"Say my name." His demand throws you off balance for a moment. You open your mouth to argue with him, to taunt him, but instead you close it quickly, biting your lip as his finger lazily moves in and out of your needy pussy. "Scream my name and I'll let you cum."

You don't want to give in to him like that. You don't want to show any weakness. But his fingers stretch you so wonderfully, hitting your most sensitive spot. You tremble around his fingers, biting your lip until it draws blood, too proud to admit to yourself how weak you were.

You escaped from the Bene Gesserit and from your fate to the only safe place; it's darkest under the lamp. No one in their right mind would willingly hide in the house of the man to whom you were supposed to submit. But it turned out that you were following the path these witches laid out for you anyway. But damn, he made you feel like you'd never felt with any man or woman...

You growl furiously as he removes his fingers again—right when you're finally about to come. He laughs hoarsely, sucking his fingers clean of your wetness.

"You're extending my fun, little witch. You must like it as much as I do." You protest as he dips his fingers inside you again, taking you close the edge again. You grab his neck, trying to pull him towards you, but he just laughs, intensifying the work of his fingers and fending off your feeble attempts to pull his face back to your needy cunt. "You know what you have to do to cum." He reminds you with a cocky smirk, watching your trembling, panting form.

Feyd drinks in the sight of you, so needy and desperate to orgasm. And it's all because of him. Every little moan, the closing of your eyes and the tilt of your head in pleasure, the ragged breathing, the quickening of your heartbeat, the wetness between your legs, the sweet nectar of the gods dripping down your thighs—it was all because of him. His cock hardens as he imagines how you'll react as he pounds into you like an animal in heat, stretching your tight walls for him. How you'll clench around his length and dig your nails into his back to feel him as close to you as possible. Or when you swell beautifully with his heir...

He will have you there. Willingly. He will prepare you as he is now; he will fuck out of you any thought until nothing except the desire for him remains.

"Feyd..." You moan as he unconsciously speeds up the movements of his fingers, thrusting them into you at breakneck speed. He smiles, blowing air at your pussy, making you moan even louder.

"Again." He demands, licking the small trail of your juices that has formed on your thighs. He welcomes the way you wet his hand and your shawl that was wrapped around his wrist. He'll save it for later this night.

"Feyd!" You pull on his head and he obliges. He couldn't be cruel to you in this state.

You come suddenly, quickly, and intensely. Your vision is blurry and unclear, and your blood is rushing through you as you moan loudly, holding on to him with all your might.

The next thing you know, he's holding you tightly by your trembling legs as he lowers you to his lap. You straddle him, hugging him tightly as you breathe slowly, trying to get back to a state of relative using after he fucked the orgasm of your life out of you. You hide your face in his neck, too disappointed in yourself to see the proud smirk on his face. He lazily rubs your back, holding you as you regain your strenght.

"You owe me, little witch. And you know, I always collect my debt." He growls hoarsely in your ear and presses a kiss on your temple. You can smell your scent on him. You blush, embarrassed, as you can feel desire rising in you again. "No response? Not a single malicious comment? Did I make you come so hard that now you are speechless? Are you really just a little mouse in need of my attention under that strong witch façade?"

"I'm not a fucking mouse." You snap at him in anger, finally coming to your senses.

"So that's the first one. Even better for me." He stands up, slowly carrying you from his lap to the ground. He reaches for your pants and helps you put them on. He grabs your hands and pulls you closer to him. You can't stand alone. You can't fucking stand alone. He laughs as he realises it, which irritates you to the point where you can't control yourself anymore.

"Shut up." You use your voice on him before you bite your tongue to stop yourself. Silence falls between you for a moment. You swallow, realising what you've done. You open your mouth to explain yourself, but, as usual, he beats you to it.

"Hmm… interesting. So you have that fire in you…" He tangles his hand in your hair and watches you closely, fascinated by the way you used your voice on him for the first time. "As sweet as I thought. Better than any water… Use that voice on me in a way I don't like, and I will really punish you, little witch. And this time, it will only be pleasant for me. Understood?" You nod your head with clenched teeth. "Good girl. Let's go. I believe they stopped dropping bombs right when you came on my face and fingers." He brags, letting you go when he sees you can stand on your own. You roll your eyes, realising how often he'll brag about it. You draw your blade and follow him, looking forward to hunting for Fremen.

You try to ignore the sand that… got where he was a few seconds ago and where he had it himself too. Damn bastard.

You walk through the corridors of your base. You're covered in blood, but it doesn't bother you much. Maybe a little when you remember that you will have to remove clotted blood from your hair. You sigh, adjusting the scarf around your neck that you took from some fremen to hide the hickeys as you walk to the war room to give new orders to the soldiers.

The Sietch has been completely destroyed by you. You murdered most of the fremen, and those left alive were taken prisoner... or to the camp brothel. You preferred not to go into details.

As you walk through the halls, you hear rustling behind you. You take a few slow steps and turn around, with your hand on your dagger, only to see na-Baron's harpies. You tense up as you watch the three women carefully and distrustfully.

"How can I help you?" You ask them, trying to avoid showing them genuine disgust and hostility. After all, they had somehow kept Feyd away from you… for now.

"The little witch is in trouble…"

"Our master will be very angry with her…"

"Maybe he'll even let us suck her bones when he's done with her…"

They say one by one, tilting their heads as they observe you. You shiver slightly, but you quickly adopt a hostile, intimidating stance, not caring much about what they say. They may have been cannibals, but you were a trained soldier and killer. You would kill them in a heartbeat if they weren't useful to you in some way.

"What do you want, vultures?" You growl at them, expecting them to get scared and return to their master's chamber, waiting for him like faithful dogs.

"The little witch's friend is here…"

"Our master is interrogating her…"

"And he learns very interesting things about the witch."

"When he's done with her, he'll be ours again."

"We will eat her meat and feast, celebrating our victory."

And what really should scare you more is the part about them saying they're going to eat you, but all you can think about is that friend he's interrogating. Another Bene Gesserit? Impossible. You made sure that everyone who came into contact with you either believed you were dead or forgot that you existed. Except for one… No. No, that wasn't possible.

"I have the blood of hundreds of rats on me. Get out of my sight unless you want yours to adorn my armor. And believe me… I will do it with great pleasure. I bet your master would fuck me on your corpse as a reward." You snap at them, still processing what may have been happening in the interrogation room. If your suspicions were true... you didn't even want to think about it. This couldn't be happening. You're paranoid. After so many years of keeping everything a secret... you couldn't lose control that easily.

You pay them no further attention and continue walking, ignoring their hisses and mocking laughter as you change your plans and head to the interrogation room.

You had to run away. As far away from here as possible. But if you do, he will chase after you. And when he finds you, and there is no doubt that he will, he will gut you and throw your remains to his harpies.

So you couldn't escape. You had to face him and try to tame him somehow. But how the hell are you going to explain to him that you ran away from the Bene Gesserit with him because you didn't want to be his concubine? Maybe a few years ago he would have understood it, but now that he has found this strange obsession with you, how could you get out of this situation? He'll cut you up before you even try to say anything.

You pass soldiers standing at the door of the interrogation room. They nod at you, letting you in as you hesitantly walk over to see for yourself if the situation is actually as dire as you think.

You feel the cold metal door on your back as it closes behind you with a bang. You freeze in place, swallowing nervously, as you see the Fremen Reverend Mother handcuffed to a chair. What scares you much more than the fact that it is really a Bene Gesserit is that it's Lady Jessica. Your former trainer in that sick sisterhood.

Feyd is standing right in front of her. His hands are gripped tightly around his daggers, and his gaze is focused on the woman in front of him. He strokes the blade of his dagger with his thumb as he is lost in his thoughts. He behaved as if he were completely oblivious to you, but you know him better than to even think for a while that he didn't notice your entrance. But he doesn't say anything as he continues to stare at her intently.

"She can tell you that herself. Right, Y/N?" Lady Jessica looks at you, raising an eyebrow defiantly. Even captured, she looks proud, as if she were the one who had power over what was happening in the room. "I should thank you. If it weren't for you, Paul would never have taken over the Kwisatz Haderach's way. No matter how hard I tried..."

"Feyd…" You ignore her and walk over to Harkonnen. You place a hand on his shoulder, but he just flinches at your touch, moving away from you. His eyes were fixed on the floor; he wasn't giving you even a single glance.

"I'm not surprised. If they sent me to breed with such a monster, I would also run away... not necessarily into his arms, but I really admire your skillful mind. To come up with such intrigue. No one would ever imagine that a little scared girl would run straight into the lion's mouth to take shelter there. I remember how you cried down my skirt when you found out what your mission was. I never would have imagined that my apprentice would go so far."

"Silence!" You shout at her, using the voice, and surprisingly, you succeed. You don't have time to try to understand what just happened—that you used your voice against a much stronger woman than you, the Reverend Mother. You walk up to Feyd and cup his cheek with your hand, forcing him to look at you.

His gaze is blank. He's wearing his mask, blocking out any emotions that might get through and reveal what he's thinking. He takes your hand and moves it away from his face, pushing you away from him like a bug.

"Would you like to see a monster, concubine of the Atreides? I'll be more than happy to show you one…" Before either of you can react, Feyd swings, creating a long gash across her chest. The woman gasps in shock, placing her hand on her wound, from which blood is now flowing down on the floor.

Before you can take a breath to talk some sense into him, he plunges the blade into her chest. You tremble as you hear the sound of cracked bones under the movement of his dagger and the witch's screams.

You don't do anything. You just stand there, watching as Feyd takes out his anger on her, disembowelling her. The metallic smell of blood hits your nostrils, but even that doesn't cause you to react. All you can do is stand and watch. And wait for your turn.

You feel sick as Lady Jassica's screams remind you of your friends who died on Arrakis. You deny what's happening in front of you as your thoughts return to that fateful day.

You weren't sent to Arrakis to try to survive. No, the plan created by Bene Gesserit was much worse. You were sent there to kill each other. This sick test was intended to eliminate weak individuals, leaving only one Bene Gesserit alive, the one who was the strongest among the young generation of women trained by these mad witches.

You were sent on one ship, thrown into the desert with weapons and one bottle of water, as an act of mercy. There were fifty of you. You killed half of them. Or at least that's what the Reverend Mothers told you after the Sisterhood took you back from there..

You were the only one left alive.

From that day on, you promised yourself that you would never let them control your life or make you go through these tests again. You didn't want to take part in their sick games ever again. You preferred to die rather than become their tool again, a monster that blindly follows their orders.

You never wanted to feel powerless or furiously frustrated again.

And now, standing there and staring blankly as Feyd killed the woman who was your mentor in front of you, you felt as if you were once again that helpless girl who is forced to do as she is told and who has no power over anything that is happening around her.

You flinch as blood reaches your shoes. You look up to see Na-Baron turning towards you. Blood was dripping down his armour as he cleaned his blades on her clothes, which were already soaked in blood.

For a moment, you delude yourself, thinking that it's not what you think. That he didn't actually discover the truth about your past in the Bene Gesserit by accident. That everything will be all right, just how it used to.

But by the look in his icy-blue eyes, you know he knows. He gives you the same angry, bloodthirsty glare that he gives his victims moments before they die. But there's something else there. Pain. Betrayal. Without knowing why, you feel a flood of guilt wash over you, outweighing your fear. But you didn't owe him anything. No loyalty or sincere devotion.

You gasp as he pushes you against the wall and presses the knife to your neck, breathing heavily. You feel it gently pierce your skin, causing blood to leak from the wound and run down your neck. He doesn't move away. He doesn't bend down to lick it off your skin. He presses further and harder, looking straight into your eyes. And you don't know if he's just testing you or if he really wants to kill you.

Suddenly, fucking him wasn't the worst solution to the situation you found yourself in...

Part IIITaglist: (I hope that everyone is here...) @thegabbyh @himesuedi @wo-ming-bai @beebeechaos @mamawiggers1980 @moonsoulk @avidreader73 @heartarianagran @dreamlandcreations @ancientbeing10 @lovereadingfanfic @jeansjoie @workof-a-rr-t @aixicl @ladyredstar1991 @evangelineimagine @hobobobo-fett56 @happyant3 @marsflys @aaaaaamond @kamcrazy123 @k1swass @yum-yahgurt @tyns13 @oh-you-mean-me @menari @tyns13

[hyperfixatinator]

Where is the line?

In the comics, Tim Drake's moral code is an enigma to me, particularly his stance on the Batclan's no-kill rule. For all the fans who say he's always one step away from full blown villainy, there are even more saying he's a strict goody two-shoes who could never stoop that low.

Then there's the different takes on where Tim draws the line between these two extremes. Personally, I find that line hard to pinpoint. Digging for canon demonstrations of his morals has lead me to more questions than answers. My biggest question right now is:

What counts as breaking the no-kill rule in Tim's eyes?

Luckily, the Robins 2021 comics shed some light on this. In issue #3, "Tim", or rather an imposter of him, said that choosing not to save someone isn't the same as killing them, and that letting a villain die can be a way to get justice. Normally, this point would be moot since it's not Tim himself who said it. However, at the end of issue #6, the real Tim clarified that what the imposter said WAS his real opinion on the matter.

Not only that, but Tim has shown this belief through his thoughts and actions before. Twice.

The first time goes all the way back to Robin 1991 #5. During the fight against King Snake, Tim kicked him through a nearby window, fifty stories above the ground. As King Snake's life hung in the balance, Shiva appeared and commanded Tim to kill him.

Tim refused. He walked away, leaving King Snake entirely at Shiva's mercy.

What gets me is that Tim made no move to save King Snake from falling. And he made no effort to stop Shiva from committing the murder, either. His only thought as he heard the man's scream was "Fifty stories is a long way to fall."

The second time was in Red Robin 2009 #26. Tim orchestrated a whole plan to manipulate Captain Boomerang into getting killed by Mr. Freeze. The whole time, Tim blamed Captain Boomerang for making all those bad choices, despite Tim being the one raising the chances of them being made. Tim believed he was innocent because he wasn't directly participating.

Tim then stopped that plan, but not for any noble reason. He decided that he couldn't let anyone else kill Captain Boomerang but himself.

Tim couldn't bring himself to do that, either. So he had to spare his father's killer in the end.

This seems pretty cut and dry so far, right? Tim believing that letting villains die is alright as long he doesn't do the deed himself? I'd think so too, if there weren't other moments contradicting this.

In Robin #35, Steph insisted on leaving an enemy who got buried under the snow to die. Tim chastised her for it.

Neither of them were responsible for the snow, or for the enemy getting trapped in it. Plus, that guy tried to kill them with a chainsaw moments prior, so he's not exactly an innocent damsel in distress.

Maybe it was because this enemy wasn't a big enough fish to fry. We didn't really get confirmation that this guy has actually killed before, and he's around goon status at best.

But then in Robin #46, Tim chose to save another enemy who got himself into a deadly situation. That enemy was a murderer known as Young El. This time, Tim wasn't telling anyone else why they should save a murderer's life out loud. These were his private thoughts.

Notice how Tim's inner monologue sounded kind of on-the-fence. He contemplated justice finally catching up with Young El as the floorboards gave way, bringing a support beam down on him in the process.

However, Tim immediately switched gears to rescue Young El from under that beam before the water rose too high.

But Tim, as he told Young El the reasons he's saving him, asked himself "Do I even believe what I'm saying?" He could be asking this about two different things he said here. A) "Maybe it's not too late for you to learn something, Young El.", or B) "Death's easier for you when it's the other guy. Death's never been easy for me."

For Tim to doubt his belief in either of these statements is very interesting. He could be questioning if Young El is already too far gone for redemption, or he could be questioning if seeing someone die has never been easy for himself. For all we know, it could be both.

Unfortunately, Tim never got to see if his choice to save him would pay off. Tim wasn't strong enough to lift that beam, and Young El drowned.

There's a question on my mind as I read these pages. What makes this murderer's death different from when Tim let King Snake fall to his "death"? Sure, King Snake didn't actually die, but Tim didn't know that until later when the man came looking for revenge in Gotham.

Tim was once able to simply walk away from what he was certain would be a killer's demise. But then he's consumed by guilt over not being able to prevent a different killer's death down the line, to the point of hallucinating.

On top of that, what changed Tim's mind later? Red Robin #26 and Robins 2021 #3-6 still happened in the future. The only significant difference I can tell is that these two comics involved the killer's of Tim's parents, making it personal. But if the Imposter from Robins 2021 got his beliefs from his profile before his mother's killer got involved, then does that still hold up?

Maybe we should put a pin on it for now. There are other things Tim's done that brings the details of his no-kill rule into question.

Such as that one time Tim actually killed someone with his bare hands.

In Robin issues #51-52, Tim accidentally killed Lady Shiva while drugged on amarilla, a plant that enhances the user's speed beyond human limitations.

It may be argued if the amarilla altered Tim's mind enough to excuse him of fault or not. However, I want to focus on what happened after Shiva was revived. Here's another question to go with the first one:

Does Tim believe the kill still counts if the victim was revived afterwards?

From what I've gathered, yes and no. It's kind of complicated.

After Tim killed Shiva, he was understandably distressed about it, about how he can never take it back.

But after Shiva came back to life? Nothing. He didn't dwell on the fact he broke the vow to never kill. For something that devastating to happen in his life, it's odd that Tim didn't bring it up ever again, privately or otherwise. Especially considering what happened later in Robin #123, when Tim thought he killed Johnny Warlock.

Tim was utterly inconsolable. He lost all faith in his abilities as Robin, and in himself as a whole. It also contributed to his decision to quit being Robin after his dad found out. In general, he seriously dwelled on that "kill" for a much longer time than he had after killing Shiva. The difference being that he knew Shiva was resuscitated immediately afterwards, while Tim didn't know Johnny survived until issue #141.

But there's the fact that Shiva really did die. Her heart and breathing both stopped. So are we to believe Tim moved on from that so easily because she's alive now? What happened to never getting that back?

Come to think of it, not long after Tim killed and revived Shiva, there was someone else who landed in that same boat. Dick.

In Joker: The Last Laugh #6, Dick brutally attacked the Joker after believing he killed Tim. Dick ended up accidentally killing Joker instead, before the clown was resuscitated.

Here's the thing. While Tim was trying to comfort Dick, saying that it's ok because Joker's alive now, Dick didn't believe so. He was still distraught that he killed someone. The fact Joker came back to life afterwards didn't matter to him. To Dick, it still counted. So what does that say about Tim?

Before we move on, there's another person Tim knows who also died and came back from the grave. Jason.

Tim openly acknowledged Jason was killed before coming back, too. Multiple times. For example, when they met up in Red Hood and the Outlaws 2011 #8.

Tim hadn't shown any signs that he thinks Jason's murder doesn't count anywhere, except for maybe once.

In Knight Terrors: Robin #2, Tim and Jason had a heart-to-heart, and Tim said something strange.

"You survived."

Except Jason didn't survive. He died. To say Jason survived that night would've meant he never died to begin with. Him being alive now doesn't change that. Was this Tim telling a white lie to make Jason feel better? Or does Tim see being revived after death as "surviving"?

Ok, now we can move onto the next question. Or rather, bear with me as we go back to the first question. It's a broad topic with plenty more to talk about.

What does Tim count as breaking the no-kill rule?

We already asked how Tim feels about bringing villains back from the dead after killing them. And we asked how Tim feels about leaving a villain to die without getting directly involved. However, we still don't know how much involvement Tim needs to have in an enemy's death before he'll take responsibility for it.

We can confirm he won't mercy kill in Red Robin #21, even if it means giving someone a fate worse than death. No exceptions.

Tim also doesn't allow anyone he's actively teaming up with to kill, especially if he's the one in command. He's been amicable with known killers before (Huntress and Pru, for example), but only when they remain non-lethal while working alongside him.

Apart from that, though, it becomes less clear. However, I think this is a good place to expand on when Tim blew up a lot of League of Assassins bases in Red Robin #8.

I'm not going into whether or not those explosions actually killed anyone. I've seen evidence supporting both sides of this debate, so I'm just going to say it's up to interpretation. What I AM talking about is whether or not Tim would've felt responsible if they had killed someone.

Before overloading every generator in the LOA database, Tim gave a warning to the Wanderer. He told her that he couldn't be held responsible for what would happen to her if she didn't leave.

After initiating the explosions, Tim warned the White Ghost that they had fifteen seconds to leave before it was too late.

Fifteen seconds. That explanation on the mistake of letting him in might've taken roughly another fifteen to twenty seconds. Did the other bases even get a full minute head start? The way some of the people were already running away could imply they at least got a warning, but it's possible they might not have.

Even if everyone in every base received a warning, would that be enough for Tim to avoid holding himself accountable if they didn't make it out in time? Tim's the one who rigged the bases to explode, but I guess giving someone a warning means it's now their fault for not heeding it?

We can't be sure he even considered the possibility of those explosions killing anyone. Tim knew they were dangerous enough to bring the whole Cradle down, and the other ones we saw looked pretty powerful (except the ones in Ra's hideout). But Tim also called Ra's a murderer right after that happened, which would've been very hypocritical if Tim himself thought he committed murder.

So, my guess is either A) Tim relied on sheer luck for those explosions not causing any casualties and chose to believe they hadn't, or B) Tim didn't believe the deaths of anyone caught in them would be his fault.

Again, this isn't about whether or not blowing up the LOA bases killed anyone. It's about how willing Tim was to take that risk, and if he would've blamed himself for anyone getting killed from it.

Either way, it's canon that Tim had no guilt for the explosions he caused, or for anything he did before Red Robin #22. Just ask the Sword of Sin.

This is an exerpt I got from the Fandom DC Database on the Sword of Sin:

"The Sword of Sin can be ignited with the mind of the wielder, if the person is powerful enough. The sword has the ability to conjure in the mind its victims all of the sins for which they are guilty or have not atoned for."

When Tim was stabbed with this sword, he was immune. The Sword of Sin decided he was innocent. Although, I have to ask how reliable this sword was in making that judgement. If the sword is judging others based on its own set principles, then something's not right here.

The Sword of Sin was also used on Dick, and he wasn't immune. It dug into Dicks subconscious and unearthed memories he'd long since repressed. Memories of himself watching a boy get beaten to near death, and then doing nothing. He just walked away.

Now, tell me why the sword brought this to light, but not the time Tim left King Snake to die!

It wasn't an accident. Tim deliberately chose to leave instead of trying to save this man from the murderous Lady Shiva. Sure, Tim was no match for Shiva and he might've not been able to stop her, but the same could be said for an eight year old Dick not stopping a group of much older kids. Neither of them tried to stop the attackers.

Tim didn't atone for it, either. When King Snake returned in Batman #469, Bruce told King Snake that it wasn't Tim who left him to die. We know that's a lie, but Tim never corrected this. He let Shiva take all the blame.

We have two instances of a boy choosing not to prevent someone from having a near death experience. One guilty, and one innocent.

Did the Sword of Sin think Tim was justified because King Snake was corrupt? That doesn't sound holy to me.

Was it because Tim didn't feel any guilt over it, while Dick did? Can the sword's judgement be thrown off by the victim not feeling any shred of guilt over their actions, even subconsciously?

That could make sense given what we know Tim did in the past: King Snake falling, the vandalism (explosions), and ALL the lying over the years (Tim reviving Shiva might count as atonement, so I'm not including that). If the sword based its judgement on God's will alone, then odds are high it would've picked up on one of these.

Even so, I'm not going to sit here and say this is definitely the case. I'm not familiar enough with how the sword effects other characters to make that call.

If this is indeed false, then did the DC universe's version of God decide to pardon Tim of his sins when he prayed earlier that same issue, despite him not believing he had any? I mean, who knows, right?

You can probably see why there's more questions than answers. The point is Tim didn't have any guilt for the things he did before Red Robin #22. Tim was canonically convinced he had nothing to atone for.

So then why did he say the opposite later in Knight Terrors: Robin #2?!

In the heart-to-heart between Tim and Jason, Tim tells him this:

"You have a lot to atone for...We all do..."

Tim knows that the words "we all" include him, right? By saying this, Tim admitted to also having things he needs to atone for, right?

Is this another white lie to make Jason feel better? Is it one of those slight changes the New 52 made to the canon? If not, then why did he change his mind? Did his no-kill rule change and make him feel guilty for some past actions? Is it not the no-kill rule, but something else?

What changed?!

Where does Tim draw the line?

I don't know. We've narrowed it down to a general area, but it's kinda hard to see a line when it's so blurred it could be a gradient.

Tim baffles me. He acts as a steady moral compass for others when he can't even seem to stay consistent with his own. You're free to call it poor writing (and honestly, fair), but I find his hypocrisy fascinating.

That's what it is, isn't it? Tim's a hypocrite who's completely oblivious to being one. And it's not like this was never mentioned in the comics before. Damian called him out on it!

In Batman & Robin 2011 #10, Damian confronted Tim about his near-murderous reaction when Fist Point killed Artemis (Teen Titans Vol 4 annual #1). Damian then accused Tim of constantly rejecting him because they have more in common than Tim's willing to admit.

It's debatable how accurate that accusation was, but Tim had a pretty volatile reaction to it.

"I believe in every choice I make!"

Does he? I don't think someone who's so sure of what he believes in would contradict himself to this extent. Especially if he wasn't doing it on purpose.

He wouldn't vehemently push Bruce's no-kill rule onto others and berate them for bending that rule, only to go and bend that same rule himself when the Batclan isn't around. He also wouldn't exploit what he thinks are loopholes, decide later that those loopholes broke the no-kill rule, and then earnestly claim he never broke it.

Why is he like this?! He's had arguably the most normal childhood out of the whole Batclan before becoming Robin! What could've made him so fickle about this?!

Where does he draw the line? And how will he know when he's crossed it?

[yanderefarm]

Now I need us “pretending” to forget about Emil, only to actully forget about it him.

Like, as a punishment we lock him in the basement and forget about him as a joke, send a maid down there once a day to feed him, but then we genuinely forget about with him, because we didn’t realize how much work Emil does.

He gets feed once a day from a maid, but that’s the only interaction he has. (Need some more angst before it gets fluffy🙏🙏)

part 3 of this & 2

i don't know why i love this series so much i want to break emil so bad. i have so much fun writing pathetic emil whump.

cw;; domestic abuse, drugging, unsanitary, manipulation, dehumanization

things had been relatively peaceful since starting the divorce process. a process you had paid the information guild to purposely obstruct and delay while also leaking all the information about. at this point you met the guild master more than your own husband, in spite of emil's attempts. every day you would wake up to find some kind of expensive gift and your maids would inform you that emil was there to see you, to which you would dismiss both. but emil kept trying.

he wasn't even being drugged anymore but the effects had clearly taken their toll on his mind. according to the servants of the main house he wasn't doing his work, he would spend all his time wandering or sitting like he was the living dead, and they even heard him crying. your name and even mention of the queen title had been all but banned by his advisors in an attempt to get him to pull himself together. he wasn't.

the first time you saw him in 6 months was shortly after a meeting with the guild master discussing your next steps to take over the kingdom. you had decided with everything squared away you would go out for a walk by the fountain.

the moon was the only light on the usually vibrant garden, casting it in a somber darkness. the air was cold and heavy with the chilling change of seasons on the horizon so you were wrapped in a shawl. it was the perfect night to find him. your husband was standing on the bridge overlooking the fountain, he was staring down into the water longingly. you could see from his reflection in the water his eyes were sunken and there were bags under them, his hair was messy and uncombed, and he was paler than normal. he looked sickly and the cold blank look in his eyes didn't help.

he didn't even seem to notice as you approached when usually he would be on high alert or draw his sword. or he did notice.

"if you're going to kill me please make it quick." he must have thought you were some kind of assassin but more notably his voice was so soft and weak unlike anything you'd ever heard from him.

"i have no intention of killing you." your voice made his head shoot up with all the speed his weakened state could allow.

fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "(y/n)..? are you... real..?"

he stumbled towards you his feet struggling to carry him. you reached out and caught his surprisingly light body.

"you're re-"

"what's wrong with you? do you think dying will make things better?"

he flinched and his head fell to the ground.

"i thought you would break eventually and just admit you were wrong. but you'd rather die, hm?"

"i- you- i tried-"

"i don't want your excuses, emil."

he swallowed hard as tears began falling freely from his eyes. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. you couldn't help but take some kind of pity on the poor man, your hand running under his chin and forcing him to look back at your face.

"you're so pathetic... this is what the terrible tyrant becomes?"

you ran your thumb along his bottom lip before you leaned in close enough to feel his ragged breath against your lips.

"give up your pathetic life. give everything to me. everything ends when you give it to me."

he tried to lean forward enough to catch your lips but you kept out of his reach. instead of letting him kiss you, you pulled away from him completely. you stood up straight and pulled your arms away from his body causing the pathetic man to drop onto his knees. his body hit the cobble like you'd dropped a corpse but you decided not to care, choosing to turn away instead.

you started to walk away when you heard scratching and clawing at the stone under your feet.

"-ing please. please!" his voice clearly strained to try get your attention.

you stopped in your tracks waiting for him to speak but instead you heard more clawing and shuffling. eventually you felt his head bump into your leg like a cat greeting its owner. his bloody hands grabbed your leg and he held onto you as tight as he could while rubbing his head against your leg.

"emil. let me go."

"please take it... please take everything..."

"let me go."

"you want everything its yours. please."

"emil."

you finally dared to look down at him. he was so pathetic, his tears and blood were staining your pants. you let out a heavy sigh and reached down, your hand running through his tangled mess of hair.

"if you mean that then tomorrow concede your kingdom to me."

his peachy pink eyes looked up at you.

"do you understand?"

he nodded.

"then let go. you're getting me dirty."

he hesitated but he slowly let go of your leg.

———

of course your husband came through. he did as you ordered him, meaning you ascended to the title of king ahead of your schedule. while it certainly had its benefits it did leave a few things unfinished specifically on the guild master's end. so after everything settled into place you used your new found power to help staple in the final touches.

your husband who had been so happy to have you next to him again the past few months had to resume the drugs just so your hard work wouldn't completely slip away. he was still walking around like a corpse just a better maintained one. but no one seemed to have the time to pay much mind in the chaos of making you king. no one had the time to wonder where he went near the end of the chaos as you took over. and it was only when it was too late did his advisors even notice he wasn't anywhere to be found in the castle. you had to reassure them that he was currently tucked away from the public receiving the utmost medical care for his poor condition.

you ran a hand through your hair as you descended the dungeon steps, you were currently complaining to your maid about all the tedious parts of your job. there was an undeniable smile on your face though, the pride of having the most powerful kingdom in your hands made even the tedium valuable. your smile only widened twisting into a sick smirk as your torch caught onto the dirty form of your caged husband. he was on his knees clinging to the bars of his cell with tearful dead eyes.

"how long has it been, emil...?"

you walked over and crouched in front of him, he immediately went to push his head against your hand.

"your highness it's been 6 months since your last visit." your maid hung the torch nearby.

"really...? it's been over a year since i started this..."

your maid set about preparing emil's food while you pet him gently.

"i didn't mean to forget you down here."

the poor man didn't even seem to realize as he rubbed his head against your hand.

"oh emil... to think it only took a little over a year to break the mad king. to take everything away from you. to trap you in a little cage like you did my family."

the maid returned with some fresh water and a bowl of porridge. you pulled away from emil as she gave him his food. you watched his pathetic eyes look up at you desperately and you cocked your head to the side.

"your highness he's asking permission to eat."

your eyes lit up as you looked over at your maid. "oh my goodness!! you're incredible! i remember telling you i wanted to train him but to think you really went the extra mile..."

"thank you, sir. it's an absolute honor to break the man who destroyed my home."

your smile didn't fade as you looked down at the pleading former tyrant. "go ahead. but you can't use your hands."

emil hesitated before he finally shoved his face down into the bowl, eating like a pig with slop. it was a disgusting but amusing site, you and your maid had a good laugh at his expense.

once he was done you decided to give him a reward for good behavior. you crouched down in front of him and gently cleaned the mess off his face with a warm wash cloth. it was the closest thing he'd had to a real bath in the past 6 months. he was sobbing as he leaned into your hands.

it didn't last as long as he'd liked and you pulled away again.

"continue training him. id like to parade him around eventually so we should work with that goal in mind."

"you'll have his complete obedience. he won't even think to breathe without your permission."

"wonderful." you ran a hand down through his tangled mess of hair. "... I'll give you a budget so you can properly turn this area into the perfect training facility and our private friend can help you with the details."

"i look forward to it, your highness."

"i do too. when we're done with you you'll finally tell me you love me. you'll thank me for all of this, emi."

all you got was a whimper in response. you left your precious husband down in the dungeon, a forgotten and disgraced king.

[lee-laurent]

Swept Under the Rug - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack's never been known for his... stable relationships, but Luke's bsf might just change that. The issue: Luke would rather die than see her date his brother

content: angst, mentions of being unfaithful, fwb, fluff!, kissing, mentions of smut but no explicit smut

wc: 4.9k

notes: hey! this was the second-most requested from my list of upcoming fics! if somethings don't line up, i'm sorry! i didn't proofread it :/ enjoy!!

Elizabeth Winters, known to most as Liz but forever "Lizzy" to Luke Hughes, considered the Hughes house her second home. Over the years, she'd spent countless days sprawled on their basement couch, eating snacks with Luke while they watched the latest Leafs game on the TV or sharing inside jokes that made no sense to anyone but them.

Luke was her best friend in every way that mattered: loyal, protective, and so steadfastly in her corner that it felt like he was her own personal guard dog. It wasn't uncommon for him to roll his eyes at her latest "crush of the week" or grumble about some guy who'd wasted her time. "You need better taste in men, Lizzy," he'd say with all the authority of someone who acted like he had it figured out.

It was that protectiveness that made the summer before Luke's second NHL season both exciting and a little bittersweet. With the pressures of professional hockey looming large, she knew their carefree, everyday hangouts would start to dwindle. Luke insisted they wouldn't, but Liz had been around long enough to know how life could pull people apart.

Still, the Hughes house held its usual chaotic energy, and Liz felt like she was where she belonged. Quinn was more of a quiet presence when he was around, often keeping to himself. Jack, on the other hand, was a completely different story.

He was impossible to ignore. He carried himself with an effortless charm that seemed to draw people in like moths to a flame. Jack was cocky but not in an unkind way--he knew he was good at hockey, good-looking, and awfully good at making people laugh. His reputation with girls, however, left something to be desired. Liz had heard enough stories from Luke to know that Jack was what one might generously call "a player."

"Jack thinks commitment is a four-letter word," Luke had joked once, earning a laugh from Liz.

She'd always been skeptical of Jack's allure, even if she had to admit he had the kind of grin that could probably get him out of trouble nine times out of ten. For her, he was Luke's annoying older brother, nothing more. Sure, he had that floppy hair that made him look like a dork when he tucked it behind his ears, and yeah, his laugh was infectious, but Liz wasn't about to fall into that trap. She knew better.

It was one of those lazy afternoons in early July when Liz found herself once again in the Hughes' kitchen, rifling through the fridge for a drink.

"You know, you're here more than I am," Jack teased from his stool at the island.

Liz rolled her eyes, popping the cap off a bottle of water. "Maybe that's because you're always gallivanting with whatever Instagram model happens to be in town."

Jack smirked, his blue eyes glinting with amusement. "Gallivanting? Who even uses that word?"

"People who read books," Liz shot back, feeling a small surge of satisfaction at the way he laughed.

Their banter was easy, but it meant nothing. Jack flirted with everyone, from waitresses to Luke's friends' moms. That was just who he was.

"Lizzy!" Luke's voice echoed from the living room. "You're not letting Jack corrupt you, are you?"

Liz turned to see Luke walking in, hair damp from his shower and a scowl on his face aimed squarely at his brother.

"Corrupt me? Please," she said, grabbing her water bottle and heading toward her best friend. "Your brother doesn't stand a chance."

Jack's mock-offeneded "Hey!" followed her out of the kitchen, but she barely looked back.

The rest of the day passed the way it always did when she was with Luke, easily. Luke hogged the whole sofa, their laughter punctuated by the occasional chirp from Jack, who had perched himself on the armrest at some point.

Despite her insistence that she wasn't swayed by Jack's charm, Liz couldn't help but notice the way his presence seemed to fill the room. When he cracked a joke, everyone laughed. When he smiled, it was impossible not to look.

But that was just Jack. And she wasn't about to fall for it.

Right?

~~

Liz should've said no.

She should've declined when Jack offered to drive her home after another late night at the Hughes house. Luke had fallen asleep halfway through a Marvel movie marathon, his lanky frame sprawled across the couch while Liz had been left half-buried under a blanket. Jack, ever the night owl, had wandered in during the second movie, teasing her about her choice of snacks and stealing half her popcorn.

By the time the credits rolled, it was nearly midnight.

"I can call an Uber," Liz had said, brushing off the flutter in her heart when Jack offered to drive her.

"Or," Jack countered, "you could save twenty bucks and let me do the honours."

She hesitated, glancing at Luke, who was snoring lightly beside her. On paper, there was no good reason to refuse. Jack lived for late nights and seemed completely unbothered, even energized, by the idea of going out at this hour. It wasn't like he was some stranger--he was Luke's brother. She'd known him for years.

And yet.

"Fine," Liz relented, grabbing her bag.

The car ride started inncoently enough. Jack turned the music up, some mellow indie playlist filling the silence as the suburban streets blurred by. They talked about random things: the weirdest foods they'd ever tried, a debate about whether summer or winter was better, and the chaos of their childhoods.

Liz was laughing more than she should have, glancing over at Jack as he gestured animatedly about a prank he'd pulled on Quinn years ago.

But then... the conversation shifted.

"You don't really think I'm that bad, do you?" Jack asked suddenly, his once light tone now pointed.

Liz frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"You know," he said, flashing her a grin before looking back at the road. "The whole 'Jack's a player, avoid at all costs' thing. You and Lukey love giving me shit about it."

She shrugged, trying to play it cool. "I mean, you don't exactly have the best track record."

Jack laughed softly, shaking his head. "Fair enough. But you ever think there's more to me than that?"

She didn't know how to respond. Sure, Jack could be cocky and frustrating, but in moments like this--when it was just the two of them, the banter stripped away--he seemed... different.

"I guess I never really thought about it," Liz admitted, her voice quieter now.

"Maybe you should."

The air in the car shifted, subtle but undeniable. Liz felt her heartbeat pick up, her mind racing with questions she didn't dare voice.

They pulled into her driveway, the porch light casting a warm glow across the front of her house. Liz reached for the door handle, but Jack's voice stopped her.

"Wait."

She turned, finding him watching her with an intensity she'd never seen before.

"You're different, Liz. You know that?"

Liz blinked. "Different how?"

Jack leaned slight closer, his movements unhurried. "You're not like the other... Instagram model girls. You don't care about any of that bullshit they do. You're just... you."

It would've been easier to laugh off, to tease him for making her seem like a manic pixie dream girl. But something about the way he said it--he wasn't very good with words--made it impossible.

"Jack..." she started, but whatever she was about to say vanished the moment he leaned in.

The kiss was nothing like she expected, soft at first but quickly growing hungrier, fueled by weeks--months, years--of tension. Liz could hear her pulse in her ears, her hands gripping the fabric of his light hoodie.

It was wrong. She knew it was wrong. But it felt so, so good.

They broke apart, breathing heavily. Liz stared at him, the conflicting emotions a tornado in her head.

"What are we doing?" she whispered.

Jack smirked, though there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "Living a little?"

Living a little. That was all this was to him.

"I can't," she shook her head. "Luke--he'd kill us both."

Jack sighed, leaning back in his seat. "Luke doesn't have to know everything you do, Liz."

Jack's world was one of easy charm and fewer consequences, but this wasn't just about him.

"I can't betray him like that," Liz said, her voice firmer now.

Jack tilited his head, studying her. "And what about you? What do you want, Liz?"

The question lingered, but remained unanswered as she hopped out of the car, whispering a quiet "thank you."

She barely slept that night. Her mind replaying their make out session--if you could call it that--over and over. The feeling of Jack's lips on hers, the look in his eyes.

She hated how much she wanted to kiss him again.

But the thought of Luke--the way he trusted her, the way he'd drop everything to be there for her--was a constant, gnawing idea in her mind.

Jack didn't seem like the kind of guy who thought too hard about the consequences of his actions. And she wasn't sure she could trust him to take this seriously, not when the stakes were so high.

~~

The next time she saw Jack, he acted like nothing had happened.

"Morning, Liz," he said breezily, winking at her as he grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen.

"M--Morning."

Luke walked in seconds later, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension between his brother and his best friend. "Lizzy, you ready for some one-on-one later? I've been working on my wrist shot, and I'm gonna fucking smoke you this time."

"Dream on," she shot back, thankful for the distraction.

But as the day went on, she couldn't shake the feeling of Jack's eyes on her, the ghost of his lips on hers still fresh in her mind.

She was in shit. Deep, deep shit.

~~

The kiss hadn't been intended to turn into anything more.

In the days that followed, she tried to convince herself it had been a fluke, a moment of weakness they could both pretend never happened. But Jack seemed to want to make that impossible.

It started small: a lingering loko when Luke wasn't paying attention, a teasing brush of his hand against hers as he walked by, or an offhand comment laced with double meaning that made her pulse quicken. Jack was the kind of person who thrived on the thrill of the chase, and Liz had unwittingly become his favourite game.

What terrified her most was how much she liked it.

It wasn't long before she found herself sneaking off with Jack during her visits to the Hughes house.

"Luke's in the basement," Jack whispered one evening, appearing from the doorway of the guest room when Liz had been scrolling through her phone.

"And?"

"And I'm here," Jack's grin was all confidence, but his eyes held something deeper--something that kept Liz from brushing him off.

"That's a bad idea," she said, even as she let him close the door behind him.

"Probably. But you're not telling me to leave."

He knew exactly how to read her.

Before she could come up with a retort, he crossed the room and kissed her. It was hungry, insistent, and impossible to resist. Liz melted into him, her hands tangling in his hair as he climbed on top of her on the bed.

"Jack," she mumbled against his lips, his hands resting on her exposed midriff. "This is insane." She was desperately trying to ignore the heat coursing through her veins.

"Maybe, but it doesn't feel wrong... does it?"

She just pulled him back down by the collar of his t-shirt, pressing their lips together, ignoring the chuckle he let out at her eagerness.

~~

The guilt came later, after she'd put her clothes back on and fixed her hair, trying to find Luke.

"Lizzy, you're distracted," Luke said, passing a ball to her.

"What? No, I'm not," she lied, stopping it before it rolled into the grass.

Luke squinted at her, resting his stick on his shoulders. "Is this about that guy you were talking to a couple weeks ago? What was his name? Kyle?"

"What? No. Kyle was--he's nothing."

"Good," he said firmly, firing a puck into the net. "You deserve better than guys like him."

She swallowed hard, ignoring that she had just had sex with a 'guy like him.'

"You're too sweet, Lu," she forced a smile.

"Someone has to be," he shot back. "Speaking of which, if a dumbass like him ever tries anything, you'll tell me, right? I'm not afraid to throw hands if I have to."

"Sure, Lukey. You'll be the first to know."

~~

It wasn't just the stolen kisses and heated moments.

One night, Liz found herself sitting with Jack on the porch swing, the cool summer breeze making her shiver slightly. She'd come outside to clear her head and Jack had followed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, handing her his sweatshirt off his back.

Liz pulled it over her head, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her. "Just... thinking about life, I guess."

"Deep stuff," he teased.

"D'you ever feel like you're living two lives?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I have this life with Luke and your family, where everything's normal and comfortable. But then there's... this." She gestured vaguely between them.

"I get it. It's like when I'm on the ice versus when I'm off. On the ice, everything makes sense. Off... not so much."

"I didn't think you overthought things."

Jack laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I don't show it, but yeah, I do sometimes."

Maybe there was more to Jack than the cocky, carefree persona he showed to the world.

"Thanks for the sweatshirt," she said, leaning a little closer to him.

Jack wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer. "Anytime."

~~

Luke remained oblivious to what was happening right under his nose, though Liz could feel the pressure mounting.

During another movie night, Jack sat on the sofa a little too close to Liz, his knee brushing hers. She stiffened, eyes darting to Luke, who was preoccupied with a bag of chips.

Jack smirked, clearly enjoying how it made her squirm, and draped an arm across the back of the couch.

"Jack, stop being weird," Luke said without looking up.

Jack laughed, shifting slightly but leaving his arm where it was.

"Lizzy, you okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah, fine. Why?" she turned to look at him.

"Just... acting differently."

"Differently?"

"I don't know," he frowned. "Distracted. Are you sure you're not seeing that Kyle guy?"

Jack's jaw ticked.

"No! Of course not. I already told you that."

"Good. He sucks."

Liz let out a shaky breath, missing the grimace on Jack's face.

As she prepared to leave that night, Jack caught her arm near the door.

"You need to stop doing that," she hissed, glancing around to make sure nobody was nearby.

"Doing what?"

"You know what. You're going to get us caught."

Jack leaned in, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "Maybe I like seeing you squirm."

Liz glared at him, but her bright red cheeks betrayed her.

"Relax," he said, brushing some hair behind her ear. "I've got it all under control."

Liz wasn't so sure.

~~

The thrill of meeting up in secret was intoxicating, but the constant risk of discovery weighed heavily on her. Every time she stepped into the Hughes hous, her favourite place, she felt like she was one wrong move away from a disaster.

Jack seemed unfazed. The secrecy only seemed to amuse him.

"Morning, Liz," he said one Saturday as she entered the house.

Luke looked up from his breakfast. "You're here early."

She shrugged, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. "You told me to come by, remember?"

He grunted in acknowledgment, but his eyes drifted to Jack who was barely concealing a smirk.

"What're you so fucking happy about?"

"Nothing," Jack said innocently, his smirk only widenening as he chugged his milk.

Liz quickly turned her back to both of them, focusing on making her coffee the way she liked.

~~

The first time they almost got caught, it was Jack's fault.

Liz had stayed late at the Hughes, watching a game with Luke and some of his old teammates. Jack had wandered in halfway through (as usual), throwing jabs at Luke and stealing Liz's food.

By the time the game ended, Luke and his friends had disappeared to FaceTime someone else, leaving Liz and Jack alone.

"You staying over?" he asked.

Liz gave him a pointed look. "No, I'm leaving soon. Luke's just upstairs."

He leaned in. "That's never stopped you before."

Her cheeks flushed, and she shoved him away. "You're impossible."

"And yet you still like me anyway."

Footsteps came down the stairs and Jack leaned back, his expression turning neutral with incredible speed.

"You're still here?" Luke asked Liz.

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm just leaving now," she said quickly, standing up.

Jack gave her a small wink as she left, and she had to fight the urge to glare at him.

~~

The second close call was even worse.

Jack: You coming over? Liz: I'm literally outside, dipshit. But Luke's gonna kill you if he finds out Jack: Lukey won't notice. We'll play some music ;)

She sent a quick, flustered reply before shoving her phone in her pocket and heading inside.

An hour later, she was sitting with Luke on the basement floor when he grabbed her buzzing phone and frowned.

"What's this?" he held up the screen.

Jack's name was at the top of the text thread, the messages not visible because the phone was still locked.

"Oh... you know Jack, always being a shit stirrer," she shrugged.

Luke's face screwed up, tossing the phone back on the couch. "Such a fucking weirdo."

"Yep," she giggled.

~~

"You two have been acting weird lately," Luke said.

"What're you talking about?"

"You and Jack," he frowned. "He's always teasing you, and you get all... jumpy. It's not like you."

Liz forced a laugh. "Jack teases everyone."

"Yeah, but it's different with you," he continued. "It's almost like--"

He stopped mid-sentence, shaking his head. "Never mind. I'm just being paranoid. Right?"

She nodded, quickly steering the conversation in a different direction.

And despite the mounting tension, Liz and Jack continued to grow closer in ways she hadn't expected.

One night, after another hasty hookup in his room, Liz lay beside him, her head resting on his chest.

"This is crazy," she said, tracing patterns on his skin.

"What? Sneaking around?"

"All of it," she propped herself up on her elbow. "This isn't just... casual for me. I don't know if I can like keep this up if we're not... serious?"

Jack reached up to brush away the hair sticking to her forehead. "Who says it's not serious?"

She searched his face for any sign that it was just a cruel joke. "I've never seen you do serious with anyone before... and I've known you for my entire life... practically."

Jack sighed, his hand settling on her bare waist. "Didn't want to. Until now."

The sincerity in his voice made her heart ache, but it didn't erase the fear.

"What about Luke?"

Jack's jaw tightened. "I'll deal with Luke when the time comes. Right now, I just want you."

But the shadow of Luke's inevitable reaction loomed over them, a reminder that their time was running out.

~~

It was late and the rest of the house was quiet. Liz had been curled up in Jack's room for hours, tangled in his sheets, the two of them caught in that dreamy post-sex haze.

"You should go," Jack murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Luke's gonna freak if you're here when he wakes up."

She groaned softly, burying her face in his chest. "You've been saying that for the past hour."

Jack grinned. "I like having you here. Sue me."

Liz rolled her eyes, sitting up reluctantly. "You're gonna get me killed."

Jack leaned back, hands folded behind his head. "Worth it."

She shook her head, pulling on her hoodie and trying to ignore Jack's hungry gaze that followed her around the room.

Quietly, she opened the door and stepped into the dim hallway, closing it behind her as softly as she could. She had made it three steps when she froze, her heart plummeting to her feet.

Luke was standing at the other end of the hall, disbelief covering his face.

"Lizzy?"

"Luke, I--"

"What the hell are you doing?" His gaze flickered from her to Jack's closed door, realization dawning with horrifying clarity.

"Are you kidding me?" his voice rose, fists clenched at his sides. "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."

She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Jack's door opened then, and Liz watched in horror as he stepped out, his expression calm.

"Luke," he started, but Luke cut him off, his face twisting in anger.

"Don't," Luke snapped. "Don't even try explaining your way out of this."

Liz had never seen Luke like this. In all their years of friendship, she'd never seen him so... angry.

"You," he pointed at Jack, his voice trembling. "You're supposed to be my brother. And you," he turned to Liz, his expression hurt, "you're my best friend. How could you?"

"Luke, it's not like that," she tried, her voice shaking. "It's not--"

"It's not what? A hookup?" he laughed bitterly, his eyes narrowing as he glared at Jack. "That's all it ever is with you, isn't it?"

Jack stepped forward. "It's not like that, Luke."

"Don't even try to defend yourself," Luke shot back. "You think I don't know you? You've spent your whole life treating girls like they're disposable. And now you're doing it to Lizzy?"

"She's not disposable."

Luke scoffed. "You expect me to believe that? You're just gonna toss her aside like everyone else when you get bored."

"That's not fair," Liz's voice trembled.

"Fair?" Luke looked to her, his eyes blazing. "Fair is me trusting you. Fair is you not sneaking around behind my back with him."

Liz flinched, tears stinging her eyes. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"Then you shouldn't have done it."

"I... I didn't plan for this to happen," her voice broke. "It just did, okay? And I didn't know how to tell you."

Luke shook his head, running his hands through his curls. "You should've told me the second it started. I could've handled that. But this?" He gestured between the two of them. "This is betrayal, Lizzy. From both of you."

"It's not what you think," she pleaded. "Jack isn't using me. He cares about me."

Luke barked a harsh laugh. "Oh, sure. Jack Hughes, the king of meaningless hookups, suddenly decides to care. Do you even hear yourself?"

"I care about her, Luke. A lot more than you think."

"Yeah? Then prove it. Because all I see is you doing what you always do--thinking about yourself."

Jack's jaw tightened, but he didn't respond.

Liz reached out, her hands trembling as she grabbed Luke's arm. "Luke, please. You're my best friend. I never wanted to hurt you."

Luke pulled away like she'd burned him with her touch. "You didn't just hurt me, Lizzy. You broke my trust."

She turned to Jack, silently pleading for him to say something that would fix this, but Jack looked just as lost as she felt.

Luke shook his head, backing away from both of them. "I need space. From both of you."

"Luke..." But he was already walking away, his footsteps heavy on the stairs.

Liz turned to Jack again, her tears spilling over. "What do we do now?"

"We give him time."

"What... what if he never forgives us?"

"He's your best friend, and he's my brother. He'll come around. Eventually."

Liz wasn't so sure.

~~

She spent the days following in a fog, her chest constantly tight with guilt. Luke hadn't spoken to her since the confrontation, her phone sitting silent, devoid of her normal texts from her best friend. The distance felt unbearable, a stark contrast to the years of effortless closeness they had shared.

Jack, while supportive, didn't press her. He gave her the space she wanted to process things, though he made it clear he wasn't going anywhere based off his brother's feelings.

"You know where to find me," he'd told her the last time they'd talked.

On the third day of her slump, she decided the silence had gone on long enough. She drove to the Hughes', her heartbeat matching her knocks on the door.

It was Ellen who answered, her smile faltering slightly when she saw Liz.

"Hi, sweetie," she stepped aside to let her in. "Luke's in the basement."

"Is he... okay?"

Ellen sighed. "He's upset, but he'll come around. Just give him time."

Liz nodded, breathing deeply as she made her way downstairs. Luke was on the couch, a hockey game playing on the TV. He glanced up when she walked in, his expression suddenly guarded.

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice flat.

Liz's throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak. "I want to fix this, Luke. I miss you. I miss us."

He looked away. "You should've thought about that before you started hooking up with Jack."

Her eyes stung. "It wasn't just a hookup. It's way more than that."

Luke scoffed. "That's what they all think with Jack. You're just another girl to me, Liz. You're better than that."

"No, I'm not," she said firmly. "You think you know Jack, but you don't see the side of him I do. He's not perfect, but he's trying. And he cares about me, Luke. This isn't just sex for him."

"It doesn't matter. You lied to me. You both did. How am I supposed to trust either of you after this?"

Liz tried... and failed to blink back tears. "I made a mistake by not telling you, Luke. But that doesn't mean I stopped caring about you. You're my best friend. You always will be. Please don't let my mistake ruin us."

For a long moment, he didn't respond. Then, with a heavy sigh, he turned off the TV and faced her.

"I need more time," he said quietly. "I can't forgive you that quickly, Lizzy. But I don't want to lose you either."

She nodded, her tears still falling. "Take the time you need, Lu."

~~

Later that evening, it was Jack's turn to face Luke's rage.

"You're really something, you know that?" Luke said, his arms crossed as he stood in the kitchen, glaring at his older brother.

"Look, I know I screwed up, okay? I should've told you the truth. But this thing with Liz--it's not a game, Luke. I care about her."

Luke's laugh was bitter. "Care about her? Since when do you care about anyone but yourself?"

"That's not fair," Jack snapped. "I've made mistakes in the past, yeah. But Liz isn't one of them."

"You don't get it, Jack! She's my best friend. She's like family to me. And you--you just take whatever you want without thinking about the consequences."

Jack stepped forward, his jaw tight. "You think this was easy for me? You think I didn't know how much it would hurt you if you found out? But I couldn't stop, Luke. I--"

"I love her," he finished.

"You love her?" Luke asked, an unreadable look on his face.

"Yeah... I do."

For a moment, Luke said nothing. Then he sighed, his shoulder slumping slightly.

"If you hurt her," he said lowly. "I'll never forgive you."

"I won't. I swear."

~~

"Luke and I talked," Jack said, letting Liz snuggle further into his side. "He's still pissed, but I think he's finally starting to come around."

Liz smiled faintly. "He said the same thing to me. I just hope he forgvies us someday."

"He will. I know Luke. You know Luke. He'll get there."

"Did you really mean it? What you told him?"

Jack frowned. "I... what did I tell him?"

Liz smirked. "Don't play dumb, pretty boy. About...lo--"

Realization dawned on his face, and he chuckled softly. "Yeah, I meant it. I love you, Liz."

Her breath hitched and he squeezed her hand. "I love you too!"

~~

It took a while, but eventually Liz and Luke were, well.... Liz and Luke again. They'd spend their free-time together just like they always had, making fun of horrible straight to Netflix movies and playing hockey in the driveway. They were best friends again, just as they were meant to be.

And slowly but surely, Luke came around to Jack and Liz being a couple. Jack had somehow proved his worth, whether it was through the way he supported Liz when she was down or how he already had every little detail about the girl memorized--her coffee order, her favourite book, what movies she watched when she was happy, sad, and the exact words she needed to hear when she was doubting herself.

It wasn't some grand gesture that that changed Luke's mind but a series of small everyday actions that proved Jack was serious. For the first time in his life, Jack wasn't just chasing a fleeting thrill or looking for a quick escape. He had found something real, someone he didn't just want--someone he was willing to fight for.

Luke still gave them grief from time to time, teasing Jack about being whipped or Liz about how much Jack was her regular type. But deep down, he was happy for them.

Because if there was one thing Luke cared about more than anything, it was that Liz was happy. And she was--truly, deeply, happier than he'd ever seen her.

And that was all that mattered.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 11

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The glut of tears drains you until you’re forced to sleep. You do so heavily. Your head thrums even through your unconscious and you wake up in no better condition than you dozed off. 

You stay as you are, curled up on one side, and arm clutched the edge of the bed, refusing to acknowledge him. That won’t last. You look around the room that takes you back to that first morning after. A similar disorienting waves washes over you. 

You feel the change. Maybe now that you know the reason why, the symptoms only seem more intense. Your stomach is hollow but uneasy and you’re achy to the bones. And the fatigue. You can’t shake it. You feel like you could sleep for days and still be tired. 

Cautiously, you roll onto your back. You’re alone. He’s not in the bed but he’s there. The muffled clink of dishes assures you of that. You flinch as your heart gives a start. 

You sit up but refuse to get up. Standing up and walking out that door means this is real. It means you have to accept that it is and you’re not stupid enough to believe that won’t happen. You just need this moment to think. 

Barrett is dead. Your old life is over. Your job, your apartment, even your old body. Steve laid it all out. You’re going to quit or he’s going to get you fired. You’re going to have his baby or he’ll... you don’t know? Would he do the same thing he did to your husband? If you don’t have a reason for him to keep you alive, are you just expendable? 

You should be braver. You shouldn’t care. The grief is so gray but gripping that you should want it to be over. Who cares, I’d rather die than live like this. But that’s not true. The thought of death makes you nauseous. Or is that the baby? 

You lurch up to your feet and cup your hand over your mouth as you stagger around. You blink and find your way to the ensuite bathroom. You curl over the toilet and hurl into the bowl. You grip the edge of the counter and the seat as your body racks violently. 

Your stomach keeps squeezing even as there’s nothing left. Your bones feel like they could snap and your throat burns with acid. You collapse to your knees and hug the porcelain. Every now and them, you wretch but can’t even spit up bile. 

Exhausted and panting, you reach to flush, but stay hovering over the toilet water. This is horrible. Like any woman, you’ve heard of the horrors of morning sickness but this seems so much worse. 

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s shadow appears in the doorway. You sigh and turn your head to see him. He marches across the tile and comes to bend over you. You flinch as he rubs your back. “You okay? Rough morning , huh?” 

You grumble. That’s all you can do. Worse than being in this place that isn’t your own, your body doesn’t feel like yours. It’s as if every part of you is revolting. 

“Here,” he hooks his arm around you and stands you up. 

Your legs are weak as you lean on him. He flips down the toilet lid and sits you on it. You groan and hug your stomach. He draws away to open the cabinet behind the mirror. He takes out a packaged toothbrush and unwraps it. He puts toothpaste on the bristles and hands it to you. You accept it as he fills a white plastic cup with water and slides it across the counter. 

You scrape out the taste of vomit and brush your teeth until your headache is a siren. You stand to rinse and he takes the brush back, placing it in the holder next to his. He coos as he touches your hip and urges you out of the bathroom ahead of him. 

“Come on, I got everything ready for you,” he declares proudly. 

You bristle in wait of the true him. Those tones he growled through last night. That dangerous timbre you can’t argue with. This feels like a facade. Too soft, to nice. He’s playing out some script and you never got a copy. 

The couch has extra pillows and the coffee table has a small lap desk stood on it, a bowl of oat meals and a cup of layered yogurt and fruit, alongside a tall glass of a vibrant smoothie. He points you to sit and you do so only to make your body stop screaming. 

As you get settled, he moves the lap desk over you. 

“At least you’re small enough to use this still,” he chuckles as he stands back. “Oats with cinnamon and blueberries, yogurt with strawberry and chia seed, and a smoothie with lots of extra vitamins. Oh--” he storms away, leaving your speechless. Well, what can you say? 

“Supplements,” he sweeps back in. “The iron won’t help your stomach but the B-6 should. You can try ginger with tea if you still feel off. We’ll hold off asking the doc for medicine but we’ll make sure he gives you the once over.” 

“I already went to a doctor--” 

“My doctor,” he insists as he sets down the little tray of vitamins. “He knows what to watch for.” 

“What to watch for? What--” You wince as your hips pang and your stomach churns again. You tuck your hand down over your middle and force out a breath. 

“Well, I have enhanced biology. When they created the serum, we were at war. They never tested it on pregnant women,” Steve explains. 

“Huh? Serum?” You stammer. 

“The fetus.” He sits lightly beside you and reaches to rub your shoulder. “They assume there would be some effect.” 

“They assume?” You shake your head. 

“Don’t worry, you only have to deal with Bruce. He’s a good guy.” Steve explains. 

You look down at the food. Your nausea blows away like shifting winds and a storm of hunger rises in you. It’s so overwhelming you have the urge to grab the bowl of oatmeal and gulp it down from the brim. Instead, you take the spoon and raise it shakily. 

“We’re gonna do this together,” he coaxes as he caresses your arm. “Sweetheart, I couldn’t ask for anyone stronger to carry my child.” 

That should make you sick but the hunger is too much to ignore. He keeps touching you as you eat. You're so intoxicated by each bite, you hardly notice. More, more, more. Your stomach mulches greedily with each swallow as the world narrows simply to the smell of cinnamon and tartness of blueberries. 

[totheankles]

never quite free | shouei barou

⋆˙⟡♡ wc: 3.9k

⋆˙⟡♡ tags: gn reader, childhood friends, so much pining, barou is a softie for his person, barou-centric, reader is drunk, one (1) instance of vomit

⋆˙⟡♡ a/n: i love when mean, loud characters are softies for their person. so i wrote 3.9k words about it with the mean, loud man that has been haunting my every thought. enjoy!

at the wise age of seven, after just witnessing you punch a boy in the face for insulting your sidewalk chalk art, shouei barou made you a promise: he will always be there for you. he swore that day, crossed his heart and hoped he’d die if he ever failed you (far too serious for a seven year old, but he has always taken his promises very seriously), he will drop everything to help you.

“but why?” you had asked, and grabbed your chalk to resume your drawing.

he crouched down next to you to get a better look at what you had done so far, red eyes tracing over the rainbow you were trying to perfect. “you’re too pretty to be punching anyone.”

and, to seven year old shouei’s credit, he’s consistently kept his promise over the years. even after your parent’s split and you were allowed to be neighbors every other weekend. even after high school finally separated you two and he could only walk you halfway to campus before your routes diverged (he would always carry your bags for you until that point). even during the blue lock program when talking to you was a privilege he had to earn rather than something he did every single day. and now, as a professional athlete with an obnoxiously busy schedule, shouei is always there for you, sponge and wet wipe in hand, ready to clean whatever mess you’ve inevitably made.

which is why, at two o’clock in the morning, after too many drinks at a bar you’ve never been inside of before, it feels like second nature to call him.

alongside with keeping his promises, shouei also keeps a very strict routine. so when his cell phone starts trilling at an ungodly hour, his first instinct is to curse out whoever thinks it’s a bright idea to disrupt his sleep during his off-season. but once the cobwebs of sleep clear from his brain, he realizes there’s only one person who can bypass the do not disturb mode on his phone: you. he’s swiping his thumb across the screen in a heartbeat.

there’s a thump of some sort of bass music in the background of the call, several different conversations muddled together to create a white noise effect, and then your voice breaks through it all, a bit slurred but still carrying a familiar soft quality to it.

“shou-kun,” you breathe into the line, and shouei is up and putting pants on.

“where are you?” his voice isn’t unkind, but the gruffness of sleep is still thick and causes him to sound more irritated than he actually is.

you give him the name of the bar you’ve found yourself in, and shouei is punching in the address on his phone’s gps as he’s sliding a shirt over his torso.

“stay on the phone with me?” you ask, and he can hear the pout on your lips.

he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. “yeah, sure, but go somewhere quieter. loud as shit and i’m still waking up.”

you sound a bit more sober as you reply, “‘m sorry, shou-kun. i can ask someone—”

“don’t be. i’m getting my shoes on. keep talking to me.”

it takes every ounce of self control to obey the traffic laws on his drive to the bar. logically, he knows you’re okay. you’re babbling on about the intricacies of a sourdough starter (“is it even worth all of that effort?” “i’ll make you a loaf and then you can tell me if it is.”), and sipping on some water (bottled of course, and he made you watch the bartender hand it to you). you seem to be your usual, bubbly self, even if you’re refusing to tell him why you’re out so late to begin with. but still… his overprotective streak has been going strong for nearly two decades, and he won’t feel satisfied until you’re in the passenger seat of his car, buckled in and safe.

the bar is as sleazy as it sounded over the phone—drunk people hanging around outside smoking, the thump of the base-heavy music rattling outside, flashes of lights streaming through the frosted windows. definitely not your typical scene. but then again, this entire night isn’t very typical for you. you have never been one to drink excessively, let alone at bar you’ve never been to before, so to have to navigate through an intoxicated crowd to find you is something shouei doesn’t have much experience in. a few faces flicker with blurry recognition, and shouei ducks out of their line of sight before a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having begins.

shouei’s irritation level does significantly decrease when he finally spots you sitting at a table all by yourself, water bottle halfway emptied, your brow furrowed in a way that lets him know your thoughts are heavy. the outfit you’re wearing suggests you had intentions of someone seeing you in it, rather than sulking at a bar surrounded by strangers too drunk to recognize their own reflection. acidic jealously churns shouei’s stomach, ugly green and caustic and deadly to nearby organs. he tries his best to ignore it. now isn’t the time for his ego. his top priority is getting you out of this sorry excuse of a bar and to safety.

the way your eyes light up upon seeing him make his guts churn even more for an entirely different reason.

“shou-kun.” you breathe out his name like a sigh of relief, like even just saying it brings you comfort. this time, his heart flutters, and it irritates him even more.

your name rolls off his tongue gruffly, and he’s reaching over to pull you near him. “what are you doing here?” he asks over the loud music as he acts as a shield through the crowd of intoxicated partygoers. “do you know what time it is?”

your hand reflexively wraps around his, and it’s almost like you’re kids again—shouei acting as your personal bodyguard as you allow him to pull you along through anything. he’s always been so good at protecting you. two decades later, and his promise is still in tact. shouei might be the most stable thing in your life, and that thought alone has tears springing up to your eyes. you continue on, gaze glued to your intertwined hands and how shouei holds yours as if it’s something precious to him, as if it’s worth the patience he’s always showing you.

the night air is crisp and fresh compared to the damp, alcohol-soaked air of the club, and it helps sober you up enough to realize you’re more than likely going to vomit tonight. wonderful.

shouei gets you buckled into the passenger seat of his car, ruby gaze scanning your body to make sure you’re fastened up to par with his impossible standards, fingers fiddling with the seatbelt.

you put your hand over his, and when his eyes flicker up to meet yours, the heaviness of them nearly knock the wind out of you. “shou-kun, i’m all buckled in. can we go home now?” your voice is barely above a whisper, and that only makes his brow furrow. he shuts the passenger door and makes his way over to the driver’s side nonetheless, and begins the drive back to his apartment.

home for him is different from home for you. home for him is a humble two-bedroom apartment located downtown, one room dedicated to workout equipment to keep him in shape during his off season without the hassle of a public gym, the other room is master bedroom that no one but him have really laid eyes on. and for you, home is shouei, and not the four-bedroom house you found on craig’s list filled with strangers.

which is why he knows to drive to his apartment with no questions asked. like hell he’s going to trust your housemates to take care of you.

“what were you doing there?” he asks after the silence between you two stretches on for too long.

you’re resting your forehead against the cool window glass to help ease the throbbing behind your eyes. “date blew me off, so i went to the nearest bar.”

he knew it. taut skin stretches over his knuckles as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “yeah, well, they’re a fucking idiot for ditching you. and you’re an idiot for getting so drunk without anyone there with you.”

“‘m sorry.”

“you’re gonna be more sorry tomorrow when you wake up with a killer hangover.”

the rest of the car ride is quiet, save for the music you decide to flip on to drown out your self-loathing thoughts. shouei isn’t much of a music person, but he is thankful for gorillaz for keeping his mind too busy to think about what sort of person you were dressed up for. it must still be on your playlist. you’re the only person who really gets in his car, after all, save for his sisters whenever they need a ride from him. but even they don’t get radio privileges. that’s saved solely for you.

while 2d goes on singing about rhinestone eyes, you watch the way the street lights flicker over shouei’s face. his hair is down, a rare sight but a welcomed one, and the bags under his eyes are more prominent than usual, indicating he really did fly out of bed to come swooping you away like some knight in jeans and a turtleneck sweater. his jaw ticks, and you wish you could kiss it.

“you okay?” he asks you, pulls you out of your drunken-trance.

you hum a response, and press your forehead against the glass once again, eyes closed but the image of kissing shouei’s jaw still plays behind them.

the car comes to a gentle stop before you can doze off, and shouei is climbing out of the driver seat to open your door and help you out. he’s careful to tap on the glass to rouse you, and when you slowly blink your eyes open to look up at him, his lungs seizes in his chest and his feet are glued to the cement. though you’re very obviously drunk, unbridled trust and love is written openly all over your face in a way that makes the world feels a little wobbly. your eyes are still on him as you unbuckle yourself, and shouei thinks his heart might just explode in between his ribs, the ribbons of it hanging off of the latter on bones and fluttering down to his intestines. he moves out of your way to allow you to open the car door, but he’s quick to grab your elbow to stabilize you as you sway a bit.

“i’ve got you,” he murmurs, and your smile is nothing short of a sun. he fears he may go blind if he isn’t careful. he isn’t sure if he cares, since he’s always wanted your smile to be the last thing he sees anyway.

when walking proves to be a difficult task for you, shouei scoops you up bridal style, and it’s unfair how natural it all feels to him. taking care of you, muttering words of encouragement, feeling you tucked under his chin and curled into his chest, all while you’re dressed to meet someone else. someone that was probably easier to digest than shouei, less egotistical, home often enough to establish a day-to-day routine with you. someone that you don’t have to warn your other friends about preemptively.

shouei has never worried about what other people think of him, can’t find it in himself to feel insecure. a king doesn’t bother himself with a peasant’s thoughts. he does, however, worry about where he fits in your life now that he’s a pro athlete and you’re still trying to find your footing. no one can ever replace him, he knows this. there will always be a spot for shouei in your life. how big that spot is, is what sometimes keeps him up at night, especially now that’s he’s recently come to terms with the fact that he’s in love with you. has been for the last two decades.

light snores leave your mouth as shouei places you down on his bed, trash can set up for when you inevitably vomit, and he’s just beginning to take off your shoes when you begin to stir again.

“go back to sleep,” he gently commands. “you’re going to feel awful in the morning.”

you pout at him. “room’s spinning.”

“i know. that’s why there’s a garbage can next to you.”

“oh thank god—”

and before he can get your other shoe off, you’re leaning over the side of the bed and emptying the contents of your stomach into the bin. shouei moves to rub your back soothingly, nose scrunched as you retch. once your head pops back up, shouei rearranges the pillows and blankets so you’re tucked in snugly, careful to not move you around too much and risk upsetting your stomach again. he stops when he feels your hand resting on his cheek.

“you’re a good man, shou-kun,” you state with a dopey smile on your face. “always taking care of me. even when i probably don’t deserve it.”

“don’t start that self-pity bullshit now,” he replies gruffly, but his eyes a soft pools of ruby. he’s always been soft for you. always will be. “i made you a promise, didn’t i?”

“yeah, when we were seven.”

“and that hasn’t changed. i’m still here.”

your thumb moves from the apple of his cheek to his bottom lip, languidly tracing it, tugging it down to see the teeth that he takes such good care of despite how much his career threatens to knock them out, rows of ivory encased by pretty pink gums. and shouei allows you to, ruby gaze boring into you, trying to gauge where the boundary line is and how solid it is. he would never, ever take advantage of anyone in this state, especially not you, but he does wonder if alcohol has made you uncover some dormant feelings. if you’re thinking about kissing him the very same way he’s been thinking about kissing you ever since your second year of middle school when he watched you punch a boy for calling him a jerk. only shouei would find such an act of violence romantic. everything between you two started with a punch, after all.

“‘s not fair,” you pout, thumb resting on the corner of his mouth.

“what isn’t?”

you purse your lips, as if trying to find the right words. “you’re so pretty. when did you get so pretty?”

he rolls his eyes. “i look the same as i always have. just taller.”

“mm, no.” your other hand comes up to brush his hair back, and his lungs swell until they’re pressing against his ribs. “you’re pretty, shou-kun. and kind. and sweet. and stubborn. and ambitious. and hardworking. so why?”

“why what?”

“why aren’t you with anyone?” when your eyes fall back down to his, shouei feels his chest crack, his heart flayed open and put on display, a pathetic art piece dedicated to you. the world tilts on its axis, and shouei barou has never felt more exposed than he does now under your drunken gaze and steady hands.

he finds his voice long enough to reply, “i don’t care about dating. too much drama and no one knows what they want.”

“do you know what you want?”

you. the answer is on the tip of his tongue, burning a hole through the muscle and burying itself in his enamel, where it will get swallowed down along with the lump in his throat. this isn’t the time to go around confessing, not when you’re drunk and still wearing clothes you put on for someone else. gently, he takes your hands off of him and lowers your body down against the mattress again, and he thinks he feels his heart crumble a little.

“i want you to get some sleep. it’s late as hell, and you have a hangover to prep for.”

and before you can protest, he makes a break for the kitchen to get a glass of water and some tylenol for you. it’s easier to breathe out here where he doesn’t have to choke on long overdue confessions and your perfume. where you aren’t looking at him as if you know just how stupidly in love he is with you. god, he really is pathetic for you. his skin is still warm from where your hands were and all he can think about is how much he wishes you were sober so he wouldn’t feel so guilty for wanting to kiss you.

“the glass is overflowing.”

he nearly jumps out of his own skin at your voice, and whips around to see you standing barefoot in his kitchen, one of his shirts draped over your frame, a pair of his boxers low on your hips. it’s unfair how much better you look in his clothes than your own. hell, you look better than he does in his own clothes. un-fucking-fair.

“what the hell are you doing out of bed?” he barks as he turns the sink off, flustered and unsure of himself. a deadly combination for a man of his caliber. “and when did you change?”

“you were taking forever,” you whine, and tug at the hem of his shirt to pull it further down your thighs. “got bored waiting for you.”

with the water and tylenol in hand, he ushers you back to his room and gets you tucked back in. “you should be asleep. c’mon, it’s late. take these when you wake up and puke in the bin if you need to. i’ll take care of it in the morning.”

but before he can leave his room to sleep on the couch, you’re fisting the back of his shirt and rooting him in place. he waits, as he always does. as he always will. for you.

“sleep with me?” you ask, and chuckle when you feel his breath hitch. “not like that, pervert. like we used to. when we were kids.”

“i’m not a pervert,” he grumbles as he turns around to face you. you’re looking up at him, earnest and hopeful, and he feels his resolve crumble. “let me change into pajamas first.” the smile you flash at him is enough to reaffirm his belief that everything ounce of his yearning and pining is worth it if you just keep smiling at him like that.

once he emerges from the bathroom in his pajamas, you open your arms up to him, bottom lip jutting out in a way that makes him want to bite it. he crawls in bed next to you instead, teeth tucked firmly behind his lips, and you wrap yourself around him like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

cuddling with you now is different than when you were kids. for one, he wasn’t pathetically in love with you back then. and two, there’s an undertone to it, a slow lulling of temptation, an unspoken promise that things could always be like this if maybe you returned his feelings. the payoff might be worth the risk. but could he really put the friendship he’s cherished for two decades on the line for his own selfish desires of having you as a partner? it’s the same haunting thought-loop he’s been in for the better part of nine years, and though he isn’t one to dwell or drown in self-pity, you’re the one thing he doesn’t want to risk. and so he lays in bed next to you, your body curled around his, wondering if spending the rest of his life pining for you is a privilege or a curse.

“why didn’t you kiss me?”

your question breaks the silence between you two into a million tiny slivers, each one stabbing at his heart and lungs, lacerating them to bloody ribbons. he doesn’t dare turn to face you, doesn’t want to see what sort of expression is on your face. he’s never been a coward before, but he’s also never been in love before, and they don’t seem to be mutually exclusive things.

finally, he finds his voice buried somewhere under the gore of sliced up potential. “you’re drunk.” it’s barely above a whisper. it’s all he’ll allow himself for now.

“so? i saw that look in your eyes, shouei barou.” he feels you shift behind him, feels your breath fan across the shell of his ear as you tuck your chin next to his shoulder. “you wanted to kiss me.”

it’s a hefty accusation, one heavy with the painful truth that he’s been wanting to kiss you for far longer than just tonight. he turns his head so he can look at you out of the corner of his eye, and is shocked to see you pouting as if you’re disappointed. disappointed that he didn’t kiss you. disappointed he took the chivalrous route rather than the selfish one. two decades later, and you still surprise him.

“so what if i did?” he asks, turning his face back so his gaze is to his plain wall and not the pout on your face. there’s no use in denying it. you’re going to find out one way or another. “i’m not kissing you while you’re drunk. ‘s not right. you deserve better than that.”

“will you kiss me when i’m sober tomorrow?” the hope in your voice is thick, causes him to feel giddy in a way that’s borderline irritating.

“if you want me to, then sure.”

you hum and bury your face in between his shoulder blades, and he melts a little in your arms. “i’ll want you to.”

“how are you so confident?” he huffs and adjusts his body so it’s easier for you to wrap yourself around him. you respond by throwing a leg over his waist, and everything is alright in the world for a moment. “you’re drunk out of your mind.”

you scoot closer to him. “because i’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a long time.”

the confession has his heart seizing in his chest. and though a part of him is screaming at him to not take your intoxicated words seriously, a caged sort of optimism roots itself in his bones, blooms between his joints. he turns his body so your head is tucked under this chest, leg still wrapped around his waist, and his nose is buried in your hair, the smell of your shampoo infiltrating his lungs until it’s all he can think about. he’s okay with this, he thinks. he wants this, in a very selfish way. it might be worth the risk.

“we’ll see how you feel when you’re hungover as all hell,” is what he says instead.

“i think it’ll make me want you to kiss me more,” you giggle against his chest. “my knight in shining armor. always making everything better.”

his fingers find your hair as they often do when you’re snuggled into each other like this, chest to chest, heartbeat to heartbeat. your knight in shining armor. it’s cheesy in a way that’s almost endearing, most certainly because it’s you and almost everything about you is endearing to him. it’s a role he’s proudly filled for the last two decades, and will continue to fill as long as you need him to.

“goodnight, shou-kun,” you murmur. “thank you for taking care of me tonight.”

he hums his reply and pulls you a little closer to him.

because he’ll always keep his promise. always.

[pinecipitation]

Hiii could you possibly do like..smiling friends with a reader that’s on their period headcanons?

I GOT U BRUH TRUST ‼️

SMILING FRIENDS X GN!READER (with fem aligned anatomy, if you bleed then this you shall read‼️

word count: around 500

content warning: nothing I think

credit to @kryloxen for the what size joke in charlies bc they’re the funniest bitch I know

PIM: prioritizes treats and food

- he’s got sisters, he knows a thing or two because he’s seen a thing or two

- will be very understanding and empathetic, out of anyone he’d be the nicest

- would probably know ur week is coming before YOU know, and is prepared as usual

- I’m a huge candidate of baker pim, I believe he’d bake sweets and remake your favorite desserts just so you always have a sweet treat around

- he has enough knowledge on products to be able to pick up stuff in stores for you, but if he has to talk to an employee he’d stutter and blush a little, but my god he’s getting u ur damn tampons

- again, super into sweets and treats, will come back from the store with bags of anything you want and crave, he’s a very sweet boy

CHARLIE: prioritizes comfort and warmth

- “ayo i’m at the pad aisle what size pussy you wear?” hurry up he’s getting weird stares

- you’re always more than welcome to wear his oversized clothes and hoodies, he actually subliminally encourages you to but seeing you lounge around in his stuff makes him feel like he’s helping

- heated blankets, multiple blankets and pillows, hoodies, HIM even, everything about charlie’s home and charlie himself is warm, cuddly, and comfortable

- will ask a thousand times a day if you’re cold, if you’re hot, if you’re lying about not being hot, and is often on standby with either a warm drink or a cold glass

- always overuses the same “wings? wtf is it gonna take off” joke on pads

- jokes around too much to a point where it almost aggravates you, but at the end of the day, if he sees you start to get annoyed he will always offer himself as a cuddle buddy and offer couch time and a movie

ALAN: prioritizes peace and meds

- medicine cabinet stock full of any pain or sleep pills always, you’ve never had to make him go to the store at 11pm for anything

- like pim, will also know your week is coming sooner than you do

- always has meals and hydration prepared for you, is extremely into making sure you get every vitamin and protein your body needs in these trying times. like seriously he has a full water bottle that he needs you to finish daily

- is not afraid to yell at his upstairs neighbors to shut up, or a kid on the street to stop screaming. he values you and would rather die than overstimulate you even indirectly

- will always draw nice baths and include your favorite scents, again I see him as a huge hygiene person so trust he’s got that bath and body works set of whatever smell u smelled once and liked

- loves quiet time where you both are near each other but just sit on your phones respectively or watch a show on low volume in the background of something else. it’s like allowing yourself to do what you want, but still be near the other person

GLEP: prioritizes za

- would say ew and then offer you weed

[sophswritingthings]

Scenario of Mizu and reader first time bathing together in the hot springs??😳😳😳😳😳😳

pairing: mizu x fem!reader

warning(s): uhh, little nsfw but it’s not too bad. swearing!

a/n: YES. JUST YES.

summary: your relationship is rather new; and your experiencing all new things together—especially for mizu. specifically when you request you share the hot springs together.

word count: 534 words / 2,953 characters 

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

you were ready to bathe; ready to relax after a rather long day.

you were about to undo your kimono, and climb into the hot springs nestled in the mountains of where you lived. 

yet… you felt something was missing.

you were alone.

you readjusted your kimono, stepping outside of the room and into the hallway. mizu was standing there, seemingly ready to take herself to bead—yet she stopped when you appeared.

“may.. I ask something of you?”

you question, raising an eyebrow.

she gazes at you, expression unchanging.

“anything,” she replied, a faint smile on her lips.

“may you—bathe, with me?” 

your question made surprise and fluster spread across her face; yet she took a few steps down the hallway, toward you.

instead of answering your question, she simply slipped past you.

she seemed nervous and excited all at the same time, about the ordeal. you glanced at her; but you smiled, following her into the hot springs.

you slid off your kimono fully this time, the idea seeming right, now.

this would be the first time you had been exposed in such a way to her; feeling anxious about the concept. yet you trusted her. you trusted mizu with your whole heart and soul.

you let the water envelope your body, the warmth spreading through you.

mizu had soon joined you; revealing her own naked body to you.

you glanced at her; not wanting make her uncomfortable by looking. you blushed, shifting your gaze away. she was.. beautiful.

little did you know that mizu was doing the same.

she thought you were gorgeous. you were always gorgeous to her; always had been.

she let her arm slink around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her. your eyes widened, a short gasp leaving your mouth.

but your body relaxed.. the embrace of the warm water and your lover felt amazing.

“you are beautiful,” she whispered into your ear, pressing a kiss just above your ear. “so very beautiful.”

“as.. as are you,” you whispered back, shivering when she kissed you. your hand came up to grab her free hand, interlacing your fingers. her fingertips were softly playing with your fingers, smiling as she began to kiss your neck.

again and again she kissed your neck, drawing soft sighs from your lips. her arm tugged you on top of her, resting your body in her lap.

she was kissing your neck, still, her lips lingering in places it seemed to have a great effect on you.

her lips trailed down your body, kissing everything to your neck—shoulders—traveling down to your chest.

everywhere she had access to she wanted to claim and mark with the soft caress of her lips.

“I love you,” she whispered between soft and sensual kisses.

“I love you,” you murmur back, running a hand through her sopping wet hair. “so, so much.”

she chuckled a little, her laugh raspy and relaxed.

“I will love you til the day I die,” mizu narrowed her eyes a little. her vow to you may never be stronger than her vow to her quest; you knew that, and you accepted it. yet her words were true; she spoke truth. “I will.”

“as will I.”

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

[achelouise]

my love, my muse —kaveh

fandom: genshin

pairing: kaveh x reader!

a/n: i just realized i hadn’t written for kaveh, which is a crime against humanity. also kaveh x muse!reader brainrot sjzjjwjzjqjjajajajh (also switching formats, iiiiiii have no idea what im doing, can you tell)

— student!kaveh, who, even though loathed and respected his project partner to bits, would rather die than ever try to draw him for an assignment. “don’t even think about it,” he hisses, just as alhaitham quirks an unimpressed eyebrow. he understands that he has many friends and acquaintances that are willing to pose for him, but a small voice in the back of his head needles at him- telling him that no, we cannot create art with them as our muse. and to him, nothing is more important than making sure every single artwork he produces is with the utmost sincerity.

— student!kaveh, whose resolve crumbles bit after bit as the deadline creeps up, with no model to look for in sight, and is starting to think perhaps he should turn to his volunteering friends after all. he cannot compromise his diligence for his passion as a scholar, and so he heads to pupsa café, hoping to buy some coffee to prepare for his all-nighter that night.

—student!kaveh, who doesn’t even realize he’s pouting until he hears a cheery, unfamiliar voice bring it up- and he tilts his head up to find that he spilled all the coffee in his mouth onto his shirt (much to your alarm).

“you,” he gurgles, “you’re the muse i’ve been looking for!”

“excuse me?”

— perhaps he was a bit sleep-deprived, which explained his lack of inhibition, but student!kaveh latches onto you like a moth to a flame, stars swirling in his eyes. are you a student of the akademiya? which darshan are you from? which nation were you from to bless you with such beautiful eyes? could you be his muse? he asks them all, because he has to know.

— student!kaveh, who only later apologizes for his overbearing first-impression, while swearing up and down he wasn’t like that usually, and explaining his current predicament. perhaps you pitied him, or found him quite charming- whichever it was, you accepted his proposal to be his muse in exchange for some funds, much to his delight.

“thank you, thank you, oh, thank you! my assignment won’t be so lifeless after all!”

— student!kaveh, who arranges a time and place for you at his dorm with a sense of bravery he has absolutely no idea where he picked up from. when you come in with the most random set of outfit he’s ever seen, he chooses to hold back his tongue over your enthusiastic participation.

“sit tight!” he says, holding comically large canvas whose shadow swallowed up the whole room, “relax, and do whatever your heart tells you to do.”

— student!kaveh, who usually simply sketches things out of pure photographic memory, starts simple and structured for once. where would the chair go? where would you sit? would you look too stretched out if the table properties next to you weren’t matching? where should he exaggerate? how would the chandelier be hanging to get the perfect lighting? how would the painting behind you affect the composition?

— student!kaveh, who usually lets his hand dance on his canvas, plans everything out this time, and lets his mind flourish under the guidance of your radiant beauty. your soft smile, your relaxed posture, and your twinkling eyes lets him have fun- and he finds joy in drawing backgrounds, especially the furniture, for once- to emphasize the way you pose.

— student!kaveh, who drinks an ungodly amount of coffee every night and lets his sheer will do the rest, stops by in the kitchen to make you some snacks. he worries for you; “are you alright? is this posture tiring you? do you want water? i can get some for you. do you want some snacks, too? we can take a break. i don’t have much here, but i can always make a quick trip to the market.”

— student!kaveh, who finds joy in conversation with you while he works. you seem to harbor a decent amount of knowledge fitting for a scholar. if you talk about other subjects, kaveh’s more than willing to listen. if you enjoy studying architecture, that’s fine too! whatever the topic is, you both seem to have an endless stream of opinions and discussions to open up about, and watching your mouth run off on any particular topic brings him much satisfaction. it is always fascinating to understand another person deeply interested in a subject.

— student!kaveh, who starts to explore other color schemes in order to find the perfect one for you. your radiance is something that should be brought out and emphasized on his canvas, something future generations can look at and admire. maybe a bit of pink for the shadow? how about purple to shade your hair instead of gray? would yellow compliment your shoes? he thinks of them all, dabbling in this and that, until his palette blooms in different smears of colors.

— student!kaveh, who is willing to go on a rant to explain how you were the perfect muse, how your smile made his hand itch to draw it out, how your eyes crinkled and held the weight of your soul, how- oh. did he say muse? would you like to be? kaveh doesn’t mind in the slightest if you could continue to. in fact, how about he treats you to a nice meal tonight? the sun is setting, anyway, and it’ll be his way of saying thank you. (please say yes.)

— student!kaveh, who, after half an hour of deliberation on whether parting his bangs in a certain angle would make him look more presentable or not, shows up that night at the venue with a small sketchbook in his hands, telling you not to worry about it. every time your lips turn a certain way, or when the light hits your hand just right, he frantically sketches it down underneath the table, much to your confusion.

“did you enjoy the meal? hm? that? oh, it’s nothing. please, go on. you said something about how your friend could aether-edit?”

it was a pleasant time, despite him constantly dodging your questions on what in teyvat’s name he’s doing, and believing the constant rush he feels inside his head whenever you laugh is perfectly normal. you’re his muse, aren’t you? it’s only natural.

(and if the dinner spreads any rumors- well, kaveh thinks it’s normal to feel giddy, too.)

— student!kaveh, who, when looking at his graded paper days later, is pleased to know it is graded with high praise. the professor even commented on how he is finally starting to get a firm grasp on studying basic anatomy of architecture. (hmph. he thinks he was pretty good at anatomy up until then as well, but okay.) good- he’s put a lot of effort into that painting.

— student!kaveh, who insists on thanking you for the high grade again, the next time you run into each other- only this time with a bouquet of flowers, and a blush on his face.

[feligayzed]

YEAH IM HERE AGAIN ABOUT TO ASK ABOUT YOUR FUNNY FISH MAN AU YEAH THATS RIGHT

Okay okay, so we've seen you absolutely are a firm believer in Animal sounds and behaviors Sebastian right?

Now it makes me curious.. do you think some of these habits he ever accidentally carried over into being back to his mostly human daily life? Whether is be some sounds, old behavior he just didn't scrap, or otherwise; any of them that might've stuck with him?

🥹🥹🥹 I'M SHAKING I THOUGHT YOU'D NEVER ASK

Oh they absolutely do ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿ very much so. Wayyy back I was supposed to draw up some scenarios about this specific thing in mind but uh. Oopsie *executive dysfunction blast*

Being a Creature for over a decade comes with its quirks, many of which are not easy to shake...not that he'd even care to try to, tbh. Old habits die hard and he's just tired, man, he couldn't be bothered to rein it in to appeal to the public anymore— this is as good as it's gonna get and if you have a problem you can take it up with the wall

That being said, let's talk about em!! The most obvious is his lil ear fin thingies; they still very much respond to emotion and he's actually become quite reliant on them for nonverbal communication. As a matter of fact, he didn't realize just HOW much he relied on it until after his big ole tail disappeared and he remembered rather quickly that humans have extremely limited variations of social cues (no this isn't an autism moment what pfft.....totally)

Smiling was also an adjustment he had to acclimate himself to. He couldn't recall when baring his teeth became a sign of aggression/fear to him, but the discomfort other (well-meaning) people brought him was realized very early on. On that note, he tends to get snarly when troubled or anxious, so. A good chunk of the time LOL. A small inconvenience happens and his lip is twitching

AS FOR NOISES his vocal chords were pretty much returned back to normal, so physically he isn't capable of a lot of the ones he used to be able to do, but that doesn't mean he won't give it his best shot. Unconsciously. He never tries to purposefully recreate any of the sounds because he just assumed they would make themselves known whether he liked it or not LMAO (it would be because. Embarrassing. But he bid farewell to his dignity a LONG time ago and now he's just resigned). Like if he stubbed his toe or some shit he would hiss from deep in his chest, and that's about the extent of his current range 😭 now me personally I like to think that he can purr still but it is a Deep Dark Secret the likes of which are career-ending

And now misc thangs 🕺

he was weird about food for quite a while, and it took a lot of work with Pai to get over it. This kinda looked like: refusing to eat anywhere other than his room, refusing to go out for dinner, staring long and hard at the raw meats section in the supermarket and consequently making the butcher uncomfortable. You get the idea

He'll instinctively reach for his non-existent lure when he enters a dark room, effectively grabbing at nothing

Avoided bodies of water at all costs for a hot minute. Took to washing his hair in the sink while he begrudgingly worked through some things with his lovely spouse whom he is so grateful for

His bed? Nest. Painter? Making it every morning without fail

He doesn't have to worry about shedding anymore but the Trauma of the experience was so great, he is thoroughly lotioned

[dead3ve]

William Bonney x fem!reader

Summary: Billy returns home after a two-day trip with his gang and finds his girl sweating and shivering, sick in their bed. Billy, due to the events of his past, does everything in his power to try and get them healthy again.

Warnings: they/them pronouns. No use of y/n. Reader referred to as girl, woman, sweet girl. Reader wears feminine clothing (nightgowns). Fever is implied, mention of throwing up. Mentions of death (Billy's family, reader doesn't die). Slight nudity (reader takes a bath). 1880s bath (taps don't exist yet).

Billy had frozen in the bedroom doorway.

He was looking down at the lump on his bed, covered by the bedsheets. They were breathing slowly and through their mouth. The head popping out from the blankets was glowing with sweat. The heat must've been too much suddenly because they began thrashing the blankets violently from their body.

"Hey, sweet girl." Billy cooed as he gently pulled the blankets from their body in a much calmer manner. He noticed they wore their cream nightgown that he loved so much. It was sticking to their skin because of the sweat layering their body. "What's happened?" He cupped their cheeks, noticing how warm they were, and frowned in concern.

"You're home." They sighed, leaning into Billy's hand closest to the pillow. They wanted to rest. It was all they could do. Their body was in between hot and cold with hot flushes and sudden shivering. They couldn't stomach anything, nor could they breathe through their nose. The only thing to do was rot lonely in bed.

"You're warm. How long have you been like this, honey?" Billy was pushing the hair stuck to their sweaty face behind their ears. Once he did that, he slowly helped them sit up. Knowing his girl, Billy knew that they wouldn't have gotten out of bed for a while.

"The night you left. I threw up before I went to bed." Retelling the story made them feel slightly queasy. They grew worse after two days passed. "How was your trip?" They asked with closed eyes, body slumped against the headboard of the bed.

"You've been in bed for two days?" Billy was frowning. Moreso at himself than at his girl. If he knew, he would have turned his horse around so quickly. He would have only been away a few hours, rather than two days.

They slowly lifted their body forward and let the top half of their body fall into Billy's chest. He held them tightly with his arms around their waist. They had their arms around his neck. Billy held them, petted their hair with one hand and squeezed their hip with the other.

He thought about what his mother did for Billy when he was sick, before she died. She would draw a bath, make sure he felt at least clean before he went back to lying in bed. This made Billy release his hold on the girl.

"How does a bath sound, beautiful?" He spoke brightly, encouragingly, hoping his partner would accept the offer. Billy softly pushed them back down into their bed, letting them relax while he prepared the water.

He must've been too young to remember the effort of running a bath. Pumping the water, carrying the water to the house, heating the water, pouring the water, then repeating the process to slowly fill the tub. Billy didn't regret the action of drawing the bath for the sick, beautiful woman in his bed, it just made him respect his deceased mother more than he already did. It made him miss her more than he already did. He eventually had the bath ready, so he went to get the girl waiting for him.

He found them asleep again. They were laying on their stomach, on top of the covers with their head buried into their pillow. Billy laid down on his stomach closely next to them and pushed his face into their neck to wake them up by pressing soft kisses there. They softly groaned and wrapped their arms around Billy's neck, pressing their body into his.

"Your bath is ready, sweet girl." Billy mumbled into their hair.

He stood, lifting them with him. Once he got them to the tub, he helped them with their nightgown, pulling it over their head. Billy then helped them into the tub with his hands around their naked waist. He made sure they didn't slip while bending their knees to sit. He watched them relax against the back of the warm tub, a sigh leaving their stuffy nose. Their eyes closed and their neck relaxed against the edge of the tub. He kissed their forehead before he walked away from them, getting another nightgown for when they had finished their bath.

When he returned, he planned on running a bath sponge over their soft skin. He stole a bar of nice smelling soap in the city for the girl when he was away. So, Billy found their bath sponge and retrieved the bar of soap from his saddle bag quickly.

When he walked back into the kitchen, where he set up the bathtub, the girl opened their eyes at the sound of his footsteps. They saw the sponge in his hand and smiled.

"Are you joining me, handsome?" They smiled cheekily as they spoke. Their voice sounded clearer. The steam from the water must've cleared their nose a bit.

"I wasn't going to. I was going to sit next to you." Billy was smiling at the small joy he had brought them. He placed the sponge into the water and began unwrapping the paper around the lavender scented soap. "I'll join you if it will make you feel better, honey. But no funny business. I'm trying to make you healthy again."

"Then get in. No funny business, I promise, cowboy." They smiled up at the standing boy, who was smiling at them because of the nickname. They placed their wet hand on their lower thigh, squeezing. Billy could tell they were happy he was home.

They watched as Billy placed the bar of soap by the tub and the nightgown on the kitchen counter. He began to take off his clothes. Every navy blue and brown layer lead closer to his pale skin. God, they had missed him. The way he was so caring and gentle. The way he smiled over his shoulder at them when he buttoned or unbuttoned his shirt.

Once he was naked, they moved forward in the tub, to make room for Billy, who sat behind them. Some of the water rose and spilled over the tub. This made them laugh, which then made Billy laugh. Once they leaned back into Billy, he picked up the bar of soap and placed it onto his girl's naked chest. He watched their eyes brighten at the lavish stuff.

"What's this, Billy?" They asked, laying their head back on Billy's shoulder to look at him. "Smells nice." They were smiling at him.

"Found it in a store in the city. Thought you might like it." Billy was mumbling into their hair as he spoke. Simultaneously, Billy was making circles onto the girl's chest with the bar of soap.

"It must've been expensive." They had closed their eyes and gone lax under Billy's slow, cleaning hands. He had picked up the sponge from the water by then and was squeezing warm water onto the skin of their bare chest.

Billy thought about how he stole the bar from the shop and smiled. They don't need to know that just yet. If they did, he might not stay in the bath with them. So instead, he said:

"Anything for you."

[btnclmrttn]

Imagine:

Nsfw alphabet with saitama

I know is a lot but is up to you, hope you are alright these days!

NSFW ALPHABET(+18) - Saitama

[Kicking ass, hon! Thank you for your patience with this. I hope it satisfies your request!]

A = Aftercare

His go-to is taking a bath with you. Cleaning up the mess he made of you (and on you) and cuddling until the water isn’t so warm anymore. He doesn’t notice how clingy he is, as he doesn’t want anything less than his arms wrapped around you for the most part. 

B = Body part

On him, his hands. Shit, he's strong, and his hands have something to show for it. They’re so gentle with you and adore having your waist fill them. He loves your waist area. Holding it and letting his thumbs run along your back or drawing circles around your stomach.

C = Cum

Loves fucking you until cum starts trailing down your thighs or slopping against him. A visual reassurance he’s making you feel good. Also likes pulling out and cumming on your hole, smearing it on you with his tip before sliding himself back in and going for a second round right there. He likes doing that almost as much as just cumming inside you.

D = Dirty Secret

Would so love to walk in on you masturbating one day. He’s thought about it so many times. He wants it entirely unexpected, so he doesn’t ever bring it up, but he has his hopes.

E = Experience

Well, he's got the gist of it. He never had the best luck with dating and didn't like it casually, but he's read and watched about plenty enough not to be ignorant about how the general of it goes.

His attitude is that he would rather have a connection with someone and learn about them thoroughly versus quick satisfaction, so whatever needs to be hands-on to learn, he's ready and willing.

F = Favorite Position

Being able to see your face is what he wants most. So ASIDE from somn basic, he likes holding you up either against a wall or with your legs wrapped around him. He isn’t so bummed about being so strong anymore since he can do that to you.

G = Goofy

So fucking goofy. He was so shy and nervous the first time you two did it he had to be a bit goofy to relax. Now, it's just his thing. He loves hearing you laugh, too, while you're having your fun. It makes it more intimate for him

It's also pretty hot to him how your laughter blends with your moans.

H = Hair

Well...uh...

I = Intimacy

Aside from being goofy he is a total cornball, too. Absolute goober. Holding you close and whispering all the sweet things, taking his time, looking you in the eye, and occasional random kisses on your forehead. Lots of non-verbal cornball shit

J = Jack Off

He doesn’t do it as much now that he’s in a relationship. Did it a lot when living alone and being so bored all the time. These days, it only happens when he’s been away from you for too long.

K = Kink

OVERSTIMULATION

I will die on this hill. He started liking it more and more when he figured out it wasn't hard for him to do it by accident—being overstimulated himself, though? Loves it. He wants to see how much he can push himself and take it. He'll whine and grip the sheets so hard he could tear them, fumbling over his words

"I can take it. I can take it."

L = Location

Perfectly content with keeping it in just the bedroom. He wouldn't feel that comfortable doing it outside unless there was certainty no one would be able to stumble on it (i.e., on the roof of a tall building or a middle of nowhere ass location). That and also some of the annoying inconveniences of what you could run into kill the mood for him

M = Motivation

It isn’t difficult at all to get him going. Oh, and especially if you make him something really good. Seriously, if you ever make him something that he likes a whole lot, it’s damn near some foreplay. Quickest route to getting fucked good.

N = NO

Not into any pain play of any kind. No biting or manhandling. He's too strong and would hurt you, which is the last thing he wants to do. Also doesn't want to be mean. Degrading is a no-no. 

O = Oral

Loves recieving for sure he ain’t quiet about that. When giving, he enjoys you thoroughly. He eats you up like he’s savoring his last meal and is in no rush at all. Not stopping just because you came either. 

P = Pace

Overall prefers to be slow and sensual. Making love like he's just stupid drunk off you. It's the intimacy of it that he favors. You might get surprised sometimes though; when you're getting closer and closer that's when he starts being rough and just has a massive grin on his face as he messes with you that way. You know he's plotting overkill when he's cheesing more than usual.

Q = Quickie

Absolutely! He could make it quick if need be. It’s not something he would do often intentionally, its more of a last option to you both being busy and a little sexually frustrated. He’d still prefer to “make it up to you” whether a quickie was resorted to or not.

R = Risk

For sure would try about anything at least once within your guys boundaries. Why not? It’s not often he has a suggustion, but when he does you gotta wonder what’s running through his head when he’s quiet. He don’t even know some shit he says can be considered kinda freaky and is so nonchalant about it. 

S = Stamina

Strongest guy in the known universe. No need to guess! It's great that he doesn't tire out until he doesn't and you are whipped. You're in control of when you two stop. He could go all day, and would. He'd be so down for just a day of nothing but nasty.

T = Toys

They are so damn expensive and that irks him. However! Dude will use anything you already have. Once he realized how much of a friend these devices were, it became a weapon. Straight-up murder. His overstimulation kink would go berserk. That being said, any toys that use batteries are his enemy. Batteries get expensive with a kink like that.

U = Unfair

Quite a bit but he's still a bit goofy. "You sure? Absolutely sure? Positive?"He does it mostly for laughs, or because you thought you could do the same and he's giving it back. As much as he likes to just take his time touching you it messes with you eventually. Oh but if he's in the middle of just tearing you up and he's got you all a noisy mess, he's looking to push your buttons.

V = Volume

Mostly it's his heavy, trembling breathing that makes the most noise. He's more vocal when he's getting closer Cursing under his breath and moaning your name. If you want a crybaby, though, you can get one if you play into that overstimulation kink. Just don’t get another noise complaint on you guys 

W = Wild Card

Mutual masterbation would be so enjoyable for him. You get a whole full view of how he looks at you and how hard you make him, and watch how he tries so badly to let you finish by yourself instead of swoop in and make you come himself. It drives him NUTS.

X = X-Ray

Considering how average he presents himself, it would fit that he's also average in the pants. Not huge, not small, not super girthed up or anything. 5 and some odd inches is the average.  Throwing in though he has the most excellent Adonis belt you could feast your eyes on because of all that training he did.

Y = Yearning

Higher than you’d assume. As chill as he seems it’s just a bit surprising. He’ll jump from his chill state to horny. Being as quiet as he is though it’s just hard to catch on to when naughty thoughts start cycling until they finally get to him. 

Z = ZZZ

It makes him relaxed enough to fall asleep not to long after, but he can hold out until he knows you’re properly taken care of. That sleep is about to be deep as hell, though

[dearlot]

spending christmas with the yellowjackets 💭

— just random headcanons that include the crash, postcrash, and adult timelines. in no specific order. gn!reader.

christmas in the cabin?!! they had soooo much more to worry about but like let's build a snowman guysss!!! let's cut down a tree and make wood ornaments and give gifts to each other!!! jackie asking you late at night if you think santa would come and deliver presents 😭 all waking up on whatever day you deem Christmas and having a celebration feast? :( lottie making tea for everyone, mari and you trying to make do with all the frozen berries and belts and acorns you've gathered, misty probably singing christmas songs by the fire, unwrapping presents with clothes as wrapping paper.....

the second winter you guys are so much more prepared and also so much more feral. christmas this time around would include a sacrifice for a nice dinner. shauna would disguise it as pulling cards for secret santa but you're actually about to surrender your life or die fighting. you've all got winter outfits too, and i think it'd be cute if everyone else besides lottie and nat wore these little reindeer headpieces during the feast because you guys are their followers. does that make sense? idk.

thinking about being taivan's controversially younger partner during christmas 😁 discounts in van's store (she needs the money ur not getting SHIT for free) and going with them to shop for decorations for the store too😖 gay christmas tree up in van's room...... watching christmas classics while drinking spiked eggnog and cuddling on the couch.... literally getting anything you want because you're their baby. waking up on christmas day, walking down to the kitchen for a quick drink of water first, and seeing tai and van wearing santa hats and kissing 😭

don't even get me started on being adult lottie's partner during christmas. i'll never shut up. i know that wellness center is decorated head to toe and i know she asked you to help her put everything up 😔 she'd give you some hot cocoa after all that hard work and a nice big kiss.

shauna (both adult and postcrash) is the fuckin' worst at hiding your presents, dawg. she probably shoves it in a closet somewhere and hopes you don't need anything from there 😭 of course you find it and immediately know what it is because i wonder what could this black, slightly boxy trash bag possibly be... probably really bad at wrapping too like most of your presents are just covered in tape LMFAO

oughh. spending christmas with post!crash lottie 😖 im ill. trying your best to save up some money to go visit her in swizterland but you just can't afford it :/ mailing polaroids of yourself with all the presents you wanted to send (some of them weren't allowed) and telling her they'll be waiting for her until she gets out :( Christmas with mute!Lottie too.... trying to spread some christmas spirit but its so hard when she's still so broken and won't talk :(( you do what you can though. taking her ice skating and getting a smile and laugh out of her was the highlight of the month.

nat would be so fucking good at gift giving i think....she's always so thoughtful with anything she does for a friend or her lover when making gifts for them because i feel like she'd prefer making rather than buying. little scrapbooks of meaningful places, mixtapes of songs that remind her of you, painting you something even!!!! or even something like getting you this book you really wanted but it comes with this HUGE handwritten note from her that's decorated with stickers and drawings of you and extra goodies she made on her own :(

christmas at lottie's compound with the others!!! you're lottie's closest acolyte and you've gotten closer with the girls as well. thinking about sitting in the circle with them in the sharing shack and they're comfortable enough with you to talk about the murders n shit in front of you 😭 but also going around and giving them gifts!! drinking wine with them and then dancing in the snow, throwing snowballs, and making snow angels >__< falling asleep after getting wasted and you're all kinda just in a pile laying on each other

jackie would buy so. much. mistletoe just to kiss you. you tell her she can just kiss you whenever but she's obsessed with christmas so it HAS to be under mistletoe. i think she'd go crazy during christmas too. you nearly had a heart attack when you came back from work to see a santa cutout peeking from behind a wall 😭 jackie as mrs. claus.....😖😖😖wearing the hat and (her reading) glasses while cooking with you, waking you up as mrs. claus on christmas morning and giving you an hour long present, like, ugh.....