#but i apologize if i let any straight angst slip in!

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

[danikamariewrites]

Punches & Apologies

Batboys x reader

Notes: this was a commission fic that I forgot to post lol. Buckle up bc she’s a long one with lots of Az angst

Warnings: angst, training accident

Heavy pants and the rush of your blood fill your ears. You are exhausted. Your body begging you to stop. The muscles in your arms and legs screaming and pulsing, never being pushed to this extent before.

Azriel is pushing you as punishment for your latest mission to the Continent. You made a mistake, a miscalculation. One that got an emissary killed and put you within death’s grasp.

But that does not give Azriel an excuse to push you like he has never made a mistake before.

Cauldron, your mates must be feeling your pain. At least Cassian is. You’ve been sending everything to him down the bond in the hopes he stops Azriel.

Slipping to take a knee on purpose, Azriel brings the practice sword to rest against your throat. His nostrils flared as his breathing turned heavy, angry that you would blatantly yield instead of fighting until the end like you were taught.

You just stare at each other for a moment that seems to go on for an eternity. Cassian clears his throat but you two just keep staring each other down. “I think that’s enough for today.” His voice is strained, telling you Cassian was certainly feeling the echoes of your pain.

“No,” Azriel said tensely. “We keep going.” He draws back the practice sword, stepping back to pace in front of your still kneeling form. You screw your eyes shut, putting all of your effort on slowing your heart rate.

“Azriel, I don't think it’s wise to continue. Take a break and cool off.” Cassian gives Azriel a glare reserved for his soldiers. “No.” Azriel replied shortly. His piercing gaze never leaving you. “Get up.” He commands.

“Az, please,” You beg. “Up now, or I’m suspending you from missions indefinitely.” Your eyes widen at his threat. Cassian opens his mouth to interject but you hold your hand out to him, rising from your spot on the mat.

If Azriel wanted your all, fine. You’re done pulling punches. Throwing your practice sword aside you ball your fists. A wave of anger rushing through you, motivating you to beat the ever-loving-shit out of your mate. “Let's go then.” You bite out. “No weapons? Fine.” Azriel says smugly.

The two of you square up, circling each other slowly as you assess the other’s weak spots. You were determined to land the first punch. Not wasting any more time you launch yourself at Azriel with your fist pulled back. Letting your fist fly straight for his nose, Azriel dodges you, dipping to your right.

You stumble, quickly regaining your balance, whipping around to face him. A nasty scowl contorting your features. Azriel throws a series of punches that you duck under. Your arms raised in front of your face for protection.

Between punches you pop up, landing two quick jabs to his ribs. There wasn’t much behind the punches, but enough that you could put some distance between you. Over Azriel’s shoulder you could see Cassian standing rigid, his hands behind his back. A torn look pulling at his rugged face.

Part of Cassian roars to put a stop to this before someone gets hurt. The other part of him whispers that this is between you and Azriel. That you two need to work this out so the anger doesn’t follow you around.

When Cassian focuses again the two of you are getting more and more violent. Punches getting faster and faster.

You can tell Azriel is getting even more frustrated with you. By continuously dodging him you aren’t truly facing off against him. His pace picks up so fast you can feel the wind from his punches. You go to step left, thinking Azriel was going to throw his right hand. It was too late for you to notice the change. Azriel throws a left hook, his fist connecting with your jaw. A loud crack stunning the three of you.

You let gravity pull you down to the mat. Laying flat on your back, tense and in shock waiting for the adrenaline rush to wear off so you would feel the pain. There was a slight ringing in your ears along with Azriel and Cassian’s screaming match that you tuned out.

Looking at the sky you focused on the clouds passing by. Their different shapes and how soft they seemed. Anything to get your mind off the pain that would be taking over any second.

“Rhys,” you whispered in your mind, “Rhys…the training ring…” Even in your mind your voice was weak. When you focused you saw soft violet eyes staring down at you. “Hi darling.” Rhys says softly. “Rhys?” Your voice cracks as pain has your mouth snapping shut. Tears sting your eyes as you try to breathe through your nose to stay calm.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Rhys coos. He softly runs the tips of his fingers against the blooming bruise on your face. You whimper at his touch. Rhys winces at your pain, feeling your distress through the bond. You can still hear Cassian and Azriel arguing. “QUIET!” Rhys’s voice booms through the training room. The pair immediately fall silent. The severity of what has happened settled over them.

Rhys carefully scoops you into his arms. As he heads for the entrance to the house he yells at Cassian and Azriel, “Do not disturb me or her for the rest of the day. I will deal with both of you later.” Rhys’s tone left no room for argument. The Illyrians bowed their heads murmuring “Yes High Lord” in unison.

Trying to focus on anything but the pain you look at the hallway Rhys is walking. The floor is lined with an ornate carpet. The walls are covered in old paintings you’re sure his father collected, along with vintage sconces giving off a soft glow of fae light.

That’s when you realize he’s taking you to his personal wing. Rooms Rhys has rarely used in the last few years since the bond snapped.

You make a small noise to get his attention. Unable to move your mouth in fear of something in your jaw popping. You push yourself further into his chest. Focusing on the feel of Rhys under you.

Gently laying you on the large four poster bed Rhys hesitantly lets you go. “I will be right back.” He says, disappearing in a wisp of black swirls.

You knew he would be back soon. That Rhys wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. To ease your anxiety you use the technique Cass taught you. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one you can taste.

There wasn’t much you could do for a few of the numbers, but what you could do caught your attention immediately. It’s been so long since you’ve visited Rhysand’s personal wing of the House of Wind. Longer since you’ve spent the night here.

Looking around the room you noticed the paintings – his favorites from his father’s collection – the curtains half drawn for the balcony doors, a blanket Rhys would always wrap you in hanging off the end of the bed. The canopy on the bed has changed from thick, velvet black fabric to a gauzy, airy white fabric you would see in the Summer Court. Lastly, you notice how brightly lit the room is.

You feel the softness of the comforter under your fingers. You had thought it would feel scratchy or dusty from not being used. But that wouldn’t be like Rhys to let anything in this massive house seem unused.

You can feel your training leathers clinging to your skin from sweat. Feel the heaviness of your boots pulling at your ankles.

Before you can move to unlace them Rhys reappears with Madja by his side. The old healer was fuming, her eyes going wide as she spotted the bruise on the side of your face. Rhys must have told her about training.

“I swear to the Cauldron,” Madja mutters. Striding over to you she plops her bag down on the bed, her gentle hands softly cup your jaw. Rhys stands behind her. Anxiously biting at his nails as he watches the glow from her hands.

Madja straightens, her lips pulled into a frown as she thinks. “It’s not broken or fractured, thank the Mother. But the bruising inside and out will cause you pain for a few days.” You nod at her assessment. Placing her hands on you again you hold back a new wave of tears as Madja healed what she could.

You didn’t pay attention to her when going over what tonics to take and when. Rhys was clinging to her every word for the both of you. You were too busy thinking about how Azriel pushed you so hard that you ended up hurt.

When Rhys came back from escorting Madja to the city he helped you out of your leathers and into a hot bath.

An hour later you were back in bed with Rhys holding you to his chest, an ice pack resting against your jaw to help with the swelling. Tears silently stream down your cheeks as Rhys smoothes down your hair to help calm you.

“Do you want to stay here or in your own room?” He asked, finally breaking the silence. Sniffling your answer, “Here.”

“Ok,” Rhys presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ll stay with me, right?” You hold his shirt in a death grip. Praying Rhys won’t leave you alone. “Of course, darling.” You let out a shaky exhale in relief. You weren’t ready to face Cassian and Azriel. Staying in Rhys’s wing ensured that. They wouldn’t dare enter his personal wing for fear of being punished by their High Lord.

For a week you stayed curled up in Rhys’s old bed. He opted for working in his smaller study next to the bedroom while you recovered. Though the bruising went down and the pain went away you couldn’t bring yourself to do any of your daily activities. Your failed mission and fight with Azriel depressing you too much, along with the absence of two of your mates. That was your choice though.

You weren’t ready to face them. Still angry at both of them. Angry at Cassian for not stepping in. Angry at Azriel for thinking he could push until he gets his way.

Once you were able to actually chew your food, you thought maybe it was time to leave bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a few more days?” Rhys asked. He wrapped you tightly in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“Yes, Rhys. I’ll go back to High Lady duties, but I’m not training for now. I don’t particularly want to be around Cass and Az.” You huff. Just thinking about them makes you angry. Rhys leans away from you, holding you by your shoulders. “I know darling. They do feel guilty and are beside themselves.” Rhys frowns.

You knew they were. You could feel them through the bond, Azriel the least. You knew he must have built a wall of steel around his heart. Cauldron, he must be a ghost of himself right now.

After a few days of being back in the usual parts of the house you seek out Cassian. Finding him in the dining room you sit across from him. Cass pauses eating, shocked to see you. You send him a reassuring smile along with a pulse of love down the bond.

“It’s good to see you sweetheart.” He breaks out into a wide grin, reaching across the table to hold your hands. “Hi Cass,” is all you can manage. Overwhelmed by the happiness you’re feeling through the bond to see him again. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Better,” you answer honestly. “The pain is gone but the bruising is still there a little.” You turn your head to give Cassian a better view of the yellowing skin. His fists clench and his face contorts in anger.

“I should’ve stopped him myself. Az was in his own head and I knew it,” Cassian says more to himself tha you. It seems like this is the first time he is truly admitting his thoughts outloud. “Cass,” you say gently, “It isn’t your fault. This is between me and Azriel.”

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, silver lining his eyes. You quickly round the table, placing yourself in his lap. You wipe away a stray tear, kissing his nose. “Cass, I’ve forgiven you.” Cassian pulls you into his chest, hugging you and sending all his love down the bond. It was almost too much. You felt like your chest was going to explode.

As the days pass and your temper cools, you find yourself craving to have all three of your mates by your side again. Rhys and Cass were keeping you company. You’re back to your old routine, but still sitting out of morning training. You felt like a piece of you was missing.

You had only seen Azriel in passing once. And the male couldn’t even look at you. Your heart clenched at the lack of recognition. You tried to reach out to his end of the bond but you were quickly met with an impenetrable wall of shadows.

Azriel had taken to spending his days in his office, throwing himself fully into his work, and sleeping in his own room.

Packing for your trip to the Winter Court you called Rhys and Cassian into your bedroom. You give them a sweet smile as you fold your clothes, putting them in your bag. “I have a request for while I’m gone.”

“What’s that, darling?” Rhys’s smooth voice sends a shiver down your spine. He presses his chest to your back, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back to look at him. You give him a knowing smirk and swat his hand away. “I’m trying to be serious Rhys.” The High Lord holds his hands up in surrender. “What do you need from us?” Cassian asks earnestly.

You stand straighter, eyes hardening. “I want you two to bring Azriel out of this dark spot. He’s hurting and I don’t think he’ll talk to me until he knows you two have forgiven him.”

They suck in a breath, giving each other a look that tells you neither are sure Az will talk. A long moment of silence passes before they look back at you.

“We will.” Rhys hesitantly agrees. “Do you forgive him though?” Cassian asks with a sad expression. You nod slowly. “I do. And I need you two to forgive him.” They agree to your request, promising to make things better.

Azriel watched from his balcony as you and Mor winnow away. It had pained him to stay away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to face you.

His stomach has been in constant knots. Azriel hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a week thanks to the incident with you. If he didn’t talk to you soon the guilt was going to kill him.

Azriel hadn’t slept properly either. The purple bags under his eyes were painful proof. Every time Azriel closes his eyes he sees the shock set in from the punch. He feels your jaw bone cracking under his fist. He sees you laying on your back, stunned from what your mate had done.

Azriel is your mate. One of three males that is supposed to protect you. Not cause you harm.

A knock at the door pulls him from his morbid thoughts. Opening the door Rhys stands there giving him a tentative smile. Azriel bows his head slightly before looking back at him.

Rhys clears his throat. “I know the last week has been tough, so I thought we could have a night, just the three of us.”

Azriel tenses at the thought of being around Cassian. His murderous eyes flash in his mind along with calloused hands grabbing him, wanting to throttle him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rhys.”

Rhys holds in a sigh, annoyed that Azriel doesn’t see the peace offering he’s trying to make. “Az, look at me,” he hooks a finger under the taller Illyrians chin, “You can’t avoid us, or y/n for that matter, forever. Please, come have dinner with us. We miss you.”

Azriel gives in, nodding in defeat. Rhys grabs the Shadowsinger’s hand, pulling him to the dinning room. Az tenses when he sees Cassian in his usual seat. Taking his place across from the General, Azriel keeps his gaze glued to him. His shadows ready to protect Azriel at any sign of a threat.

Cassian gives him a reassuring smile, “It’s good to see you, Az.” All Azriel can do is nod. A lump growing in his throat. He reigns in his emotion, keeping them behind the wall he’s built up.

Rhys flicks his wrist, making platters of food appear. “Eat up. I made sure the cooks made everyones favorite.”

The trio falls into an awkward silence. Only the clatter of cutlery against porcelain filling the cavernous room. Cassian breaks the silence, trying to naturally clear his throat. “So…” he drawls, “How was everyone’s day?”

He and Rhys fall into easy conversation with Azriel following along to avoid being consumed by his emotions. When Azriel eventually gets roped into the conversation he’s his typical quiet self.

Moving to the sitting room after the meal Azriel opens up more. Becoming his usual self around Rhys and Cass. Once the whiskey comes out the trio are back to their usual banter. Like there hasn’t been a huge rift keeping them isolated from one another.

Rhys sets his crystal glass down on the side tabel. Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he levels Azriel with an interogative look. “Not to ruin the evening, but we do need to talk.” Azriel freezes, that lump returning to his throat making it harder to breathe.

He knew this was coming. They needed to discuss it at some point. Az nods, urging Rhys to continue. “We know what happened, but we want to know what was going on with you.” Rhys says gently, not wanting to drill Azriel.

Azriel swallows hard, screwing his eyes shut to keep tears at bay. All calming techniques from years of training leaving his mind, losing all control on his emotions. Something Azriel isn’t known for. Grappling for words he finally finds his voice.

“What happened on the Continent stuck with me. It wasn’t a typical slip up, you didn’t see her. I thought we were going to lose her. And I wouldn’t have been able to come home and face the two of you if that happened. I thought when we got home things would be better and everything would fine.”

Tears escaped his tightly closed eyes.

A heavy, comforting hand rests on the middle of Azriel’s back. Opening his eyes he finds Cassian giving him a pained, sympathetic look. Something in Cassian’s soft hazel eyes broke Azriel. His tears started falling faster as he attempted to blink them away. Rhys rested a hand on his knee, telling him to let it out.

“Stepping back into training with her I knew I had to teach her how to avoid an accident like that again. I needed to know she could keep up if push came to shove. So I pushed and Gods do I regret it. I got so mad that she wasn’t taking it seriously and Cass you should’ve stopped me.” Azriel anguished. “I got mad and I punched, hard. I hear it all the time. I see her laying there when I close my eyes. I can’t…just,” Azriel breaks down, dropping his face into his scarred hands. Heartbreaking sobs rip from his lips as he leans into Cassians side.

The males cry with him. Feeling Azriel’s guilt and turmoil through the bond.

When Az calms down he looks to the males for guidance. Rhys moves to the couch from his usual armchair, pressing a long kiss to Azriel’s forehead. “Talk to her. Y/n desperately wants to see you too. Being away from you has pained her as much as it has you.” Rhys whispers.

Two days later, with a chill you can’t seem to shake, you return home from the Winter Court. You bid Mor goodnight in foyer and head to your bedroom. Pushing the door open you find Azriel sitting on the edge of your bed, his head down as he nervously pulls at his finger nails.

“Azzie,” you say, hopeful that he truly is here and not an image your very tired mind made up. Leaving your bag on the bench at the end of your bed, you rush over to your mate, holding his face in your still cold hands. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

Az leans into your touch, covering your hands with his own. You’ve missed his touch. Those rough, loving hands holding you tight to his chest. “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, silver lining his eyes. The wall keeping his emotions from you fianlly breaks. Letting you feel everything he’s kept to himself.

“I’m so sorry. I should have stopped when you and Cass told me to. I shouldn’t have let my anger and fear get the best of me. I am so sorry, my love. So sorry.”Azriel’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to stand between his thighs. You let him hold you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The two of you cried and clung to each other for what felt like an eternity.

Azriel pulls away, holding you by your waist. You wipe away his lingering tears. “I forgive you, Azriel. Promise me that if something like this happens again you won’t let it build. We’ll talk first before we let our feelings get the better of us. Because I don’t know what will happen is there’s another incident like this.”

“I will, I swear it. And i’m going to make this up to you for the rest of our lives.” Azriel’s tone is a strict promise to you. “As long as you don’t push me in training anymore we’re ok.” You joke with him. Azriel’s face stays serious, not a smirk in sight. “Never again.”

He stands from the bed pulling you into sweet embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you’re up for it I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Just me and you,” he asks, hopeful. You squeeze Azriel tighter, “I’d love that Azzie.”

Unwrapping yourself from Azriel you look up at him with big, tear filled eyes. Batting your lashes at him. Azriel looked at you with hazel eyes full of nothing but love. He cups your jaw, running his fingers over the spot where the bruise from his punch once was. “How are you feeling? I dove right into my apology I didn’t even ask.”

“I’m good. The pain is gone, so is the bruise on the inside.” Azriel’s eyes widened. He didn’t get a full update from Rhys when Madja had healed you. “But it’s ok,” you assure him quickly. Azriel pulls you against his chest again, kissing the top of your head. You giggle lightly at his action.

You pull away again, going to your closet to change for bed. It’s been a long day and you could leave unpacking until tomorrow. Right now you wanted to sleep with Azriel by your side. It had been two long weeks without him.

Coming back to your room you find Az sitting back on your bed awkwardly. You climb onto the mattress, crawling up behind him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, “Will you stay in here tonight? I don’t want to be without you.”

Without a word Azriel shoots up, stripping his leathers from his body. He pulls the covers back waiting for you to settle in next to him.

You quickly snuggle into his side, resting your head on his bare chest. Azriel pulls the covers up around your shoulders tight to keep you warm. You gently pull his face down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. “Goodnight Azzy. I love you, so much baby.”

Azriel cradles your head, letting out a small hum. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

[coff33andb00ks]

45 + lando caus i need some angst in my life rn

"Lies. Just lies."

driver + number = drabble <3

angst and lando go together like me and red flag men tbh

warnings: angst, mentions of mental health struggles, accusations of cheating, lando's not a good bf

He hasn't looked right lately. He hasn't looked right since...

Miami, really. Once the exuberance of his first win wore off he's been... Different.

At first you could ignore it. Lando prefers it that way - just ignore it until he's ready to talk about it. He'll always struggle with his mental health, you're aware of that, and over the course of your relationship you've grown accustomed to how he handles it. You may not always agree with how he does, but you can only stand by his side and offer support.

Rather, you would, if he'd let you.

"You don't have to come this weekend," he's saying as he packs up for the trip to Austria.

You blink,freezing in front of the closet. You know that most of the other girlfriends and wives don't go to that race - darling there's literally nothing to do? - but it's one of your favorite tracks. The scenery, the atmosphere... You love going there.

Lando knows this. And he doesn't want you to go.

"Heading straight home after the race, spend a couple days with the family," he continues, either not noticing or not caring that you're looking at him with annoyance and worry. Zipping up his suitcase, he pushes it to the floor and rolls his shoulders. "So I'll see you at mum's?"

Don't say it don't say it don't say it–

"Oh am I allowed to go there?" you ask, surprised at the bitter coldness in your tone. You can remember when snapping like that would have Lando overflowing with apologies and reassurances. Now, he barely flinches, and you feel dread chilling your heart.

"Go. Don't. It's whatever," he says, his jaw tense.

"Lando–"

"I get it, alright?" He grabs the hoodie lying on the bed and pulls it on. "You don't like my family anyway."

"What are you talking about? I love them," you insist.

He snorts, running his fingers through his hair. "Sure."

And you finally snap. Fuck waiting around for him to be ready to talk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Lando isn't meeting your eyes. "Nothing," he says, gathering his wallet and phones. "Just tired."

"For almost two months?" you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. "You've been like this since Miami–"

"Like what?" he asks, and you notice he's growing more tense.

You gesture aimlessly. "This," you whisper. "What happened?"

He opens his mouth and you hear his slow inhale. But instead of speaking, he snaps his mouth closed and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm just stressed, okay?"

The words slipped out before you could stop them. "Did you cheat on me?"

"Babe no, of course not. I'm just... Tired."

"Not too tired to go out every weekend."

"So I can't have any fun?" he asks, rolling his eyes.

"Lando, we–" You stop when you see him grabbing the handle of his suitcase. "Lan–"

"I gotta go. I'll see you in England. Or not."

"We promised we'd talk about problems, Lando," you say, following him from the bedroom. "You said–"

"Lies. Just lies." He slaps a cap onto his head. "Because neither of us wants the truth do we?"

And with that, he leaves, the slam of the door echoing in the apartment.

[mitskicain]

navi | m.list

. ⁺ . ✦ ‘sayang’ is a double-edged sword — kuroo x reader

© mitskicain all rights reserved. the modification, translation, and plagiarism of my work is strictly prohibited.

synopsis: based on the headcanon of a half-Indonesian kuroo. in which he learns that the language is full of contradictions.

content warnings: ANGST, mentions of bullying, homesickness

word count: 3.5k

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

Sayang. A two syllable word that was the unofficial translation of love in the Indonesian language. Technically love was ‘cinta’, but you didn’t like how it felt in your mouth—bulky and awkward—too big for anything. You liked the way ‘sayang’ sounded better, the way it rolled off the tongue so easily—fleeting, almost carelessly. Sayang.

Aku sayang kamu. I love you.

Your mother called you sayang. You recalled running up to her after school, her arms outstretched and wide open, waiting to wrap around you. The sweet scent of her skin that was like honeysuckle and summer, the warmth of her smile—beaming at you from the driver’s seat as you babbled about your day. She would call you that term of endearment whenever she had the chance.

Sayang, come down for dinner. Sayang, it’s time to wake up. Sayang, have fun at school!

Indonesian was your mother tongue. The first language you had learned how to speak. In a way, your entire childhood was defined by it. There were things in your everyday vocabulary that didn’t make sense, or were different when translated. In that way, you always felt like there was something missing when you spoke English or Japanese. When you left Jakarta during the 1998 riots, your mother, alongside a handful of other families, managed to escape from the fiery wrath of the protestors, sought asylum from any other country that was willing to take you. Some of your friends moved to Singapore, others, Malaysia, or Taiwan—for you it was Japan, a country that once had colonized yours but was now your saving grace. With only two suitcases to your name and your mother’s limited Japanese learnt during her high-school years, the two of you tried to make home in the foreign country. You were starting all over again. Language. School. Friends. It would prove to be difficult.

Japanese kids were mean. Not beating-you-up kind of mean, but snickering-behind-your-back mean. Back home, they would say things to your face, pick fights and shouting matches with you, but here, they talked about you in hushed whispers and lingering gazes. It was in the sharpie doodles on your school shoes and the scattered laughter that echoed whenever you slipped up when you read aloud for the class. You were still bad at Japanese—the language a tangle of syllables in your mouth. Your mother told you that it was because your tongue was just used to speaking Indonesian. You thought it was because Japan was foreign to you, in the bad way. In the way that your body silently rebelled against it by fixing your jaw in ways so you couldn’t say things right—so that years later, even after you became fluent, the trace of your mother tongue still lingered.

That was the first thing that Kuroo Tetsuro pointed out. You talk funny, were his first words to you—finger pointed straight between your eyes. A rage bubbled in your chest at the mention of it. It was something that you were insecure about, something you felt the need to hide. You didn’t even know you were muttering to yourself when you played in the playground’s sandbox until he pointed it out to you, and you hated that, and you made sure to let him know how much you did—through a mash of fists and bruises and a black eye (his, not yours).

Your mother made you apologize—the Japanese way—kneeling, on the floor. You were red hot and flushed, humiliated for having done so. Not for beating up the kid but rather for having been caught, and having to apologize. Why should you? He started it. He was making fun of you. “You talk funny,” psh, he looked funny. His sharp cat-like eyes and almost permanent bed head—how could his parents let him out of the house looking like that? Someone might mistake him for a stray.

That apology was how you found out Kuroo was a little bit like you—half-Indonesian, from his mothers side. The tiny Indonesian population in Japan meant that whoever was from the motherland clung together like thieves at sea. Maybe it was because of familiarity, maybe because of homesickness. In a way, all they had left of their home country was each other, speaking the same language, knowing the same songs, the same streets—sometimes even the same people. For them, this was the closest thing to coming home. This was how you eventually became friends with Kuroo, after years and years of living down the street and your mother inviting him over and attending the same school and making the two of you befriend the other.

It was rough at first. You refused to speak Japanese around him, fearing the same insult would come and jab at you when you would. Despite his mother’s nationality, he was never able to understand or speak the language that you did—part of himself almost denying that part of him after his mother left. Maybe that was his way of getting revenge, refusing to acknowledge his mother’s culture, her homeland.

The two of you would pass the time playing congklak, the Indonesian version of the mancala. You practiced counting this way, dropping the shells in each divot one by one—starting again if there were any remaining. He babbled on about TV shows he watched, or mangas he read, trying to make a point about how Japanese he was, how un-Indonesian, and by extension, how unlike his mother. Sometimes you would watch Ikkyu-san together. Sometimes he would flip through the comics you had brought over—Mahabhrata and Gundala and Bobo. You remember the look on his face as he traced over the pages, his nose scrunched in confusion.

“It’s too confusing, all these words look foreign to me,” he would say, putting them back on the shelf.

“So what?” You shot back, “I had to do the same thing when I came here. Kanji still looks like scribbles to me.”

There was no mashing of fists or sound of crying this time, just a mutual understanding of the others’ struggle. You watched him swallow the lump in his throat and pick up the book again, finger tracing the sentences, sounding out the words—like a child learning how to read for the first time. You sighed, defeated, and sat down next to him, trying to teach him. He was a persistent child, often needing to get his way regardless of whatever circumstances but here he was—docile, obedient. Something between the two of you shifted.

Kuroo began to grow out of his shell in middle school; making new friends on the volleyball team and tagging along during their after-practice escapades, oftentimes raiding the local convenience store for all the goodies. Sometimes you would come with, slipping into the background of conversations and keeping to yourself. You still didn’t like talking in front of anyone—so you kept your lips pressed together and our gaze downcast, a faraway look in your eyes. Of course, this caught the attention of some of his teammates.

“Is she mute?” One of them had asked, hands shoved in his pockets, walking a few steps ahead of you. Despite you hanging back, you could still hear him, but then again, it wasn’t like he made any attempt to speak quietly either. Or maybe he thought that you were also deaf.

“Dude,” he sounds, offended for you, “she’s right here.”

“So? It’s not like she ever says anything. It’s like she’s deaf, or mute—or both.”

Kuroo frowns at this statement. At home, he sits across from you, pencil tapping against the pages of his ignored math homework. You look up at him with your eyebrow cocked, as if, beckoning for him to spit it out already.

“Would it kill you to make some friends?” He asks, words sharp and unforgiving. Your shoulders slump at the question, and you give him a deadpan look before returning your attention to your assignment, already miles ahead of him.

“I don’t need them,” you mumble, “too much of a hassle.”

“How do you survive without them? Like seriously, nobody to lean on?”

“That’s how I like it.”

He grumbles inaudibly under his breath at your response, a mixture of frustration and annoyance echoing through his voice. He chews on his bottom lip before speaking up again, this time, rather boldly.

“You’re not alone.” You look up at him, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. He thumps his chest with his right hand almost solemnly, like making an oath. “You have me. I’m your friend. I’m here for you.”

Your eyes widen in shock, a blush creeping up to your cheeks. You press your lips into a thin line, not knowing what else to say. Instead, you nod your head in acknowledgement, and return your attention back to your homework. When you are done with the practice questions, you flip over your notebook so that he can copy your answers.

The first time he called you ‘sayang’ was in the spring of your freshman year. He said it after having heard your mother say that as she bid you goodbye for school. He had let it slip, almost by accident, as he repeated the word over and over in his mind as the two of you walked—sounding it out, feeling the weight of it in his mouth. He liked the way it rolled across his tongue, and something about it—the curve of the letters when spelled out, the softness of it seemed so you. When you had heard it, you stopped, the hair on the back of your neck raising as you looked back at him, almost incredulously. He stares back, puzzled at your reaction. This was the first time he had ever seen your reserved demeanor crack.

“What? What did I do?” He asked, genuine concern evident in his voice.

“What did you say?”

“What, ‘sayang’?” His hands move up to straighten his tie, suddenly nervous. “I’m sorry, was that a bad word?”

“No, it’s..” your voice trails off, cheeks reddening. You turn around and stomp forward, hands tight around the straps of your backpack. “Forget it. Don’t call me that.”

He stays at his place on the street, feet glued to the pavement, wondering what he had done wrong. The guilt creeps in, and in an attempt to absolve it, he hands you a steaming hot pork bun in between classes, even though the heat burns his skin and his fingertips are still red at the end of the school day. It’s something he’s willing to do for your forgiveness. Over the years he will find that he’s willing to do a lot for it, actually. Later, over dinner, he finds out through your mother that it's actually a term of endearment, something close to ‘my love’. The two of you exchanged awkward, embarrassed glances across the table.

The second time he called you ‘sayang’, it was by accident again—spoken absentmindedly as he thanked you for explaining the assignment. Thank you sayang, he said, before realizing and slapping his mouth with his hand. You looked at him with an equal amount of shock and horror. You excused yourself to the bathroom to compose yourself, and when you returned, the two of you acted like it had never happened. He wanted to apologize, but apologizing would mean having to explain himself, and that explanation would mean having to tell you that he had tried learning Indonesian and thought of calling you ‘sayang’ the same way they did in your mother’s sinetrons (Indonesian soap operas).

And you weren’t sure the exact moment that things had changed for the two of you. Before, it was a co-existence, the understanding that you existed in each other's worlds and just that. Now, it had warped into an odd and unfamiliar shape. He was running up to you in the hall, babbling on and on about every single thing—he was more Kuroo than he ever was before around you. And you couldn’t help but notice how much bolder and brighter he seemed. In the mornings on the walk to school, next to you, smiling through his stories of his strange dreams—you couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were actually hazel and not brown, and for a moment, before your consciousness kicked in, you thought he looked beautiful.

The third time he called you ‘sayang’, it was on purpose. No longer a freudian slip or accident, but deliberately—with intention.

The two of you were in the infirmary—you, pressing an ice pack to his swollen cheek, and him, wincing at the sharp sensation. A fight had broken out. It was his friend, that same friend, calling you mute again, but this time Kuroo wasn’t as forgiving. There was the mashing of fists and bruises and a black eye again. His, not yours. Just like when you were kids the first time you met on the playground.

“You didn’t have to do that for me,” you speak up, finding some strength in the words. A rage bubbled in your stomach. You couldn’t make up whether you were upset at him or for him. He reaches out to touch the skin of your wrist, the first time he had ever done anything of the sort, and tries his best to keep his swollen eye open. The red will turn ugly and purple within a matter of hours.

“I wanted to,” he says softly, almost like a whisper, voice hoarse from yelling. “They don’t get to do that. Not to you.”

Your expression is almost pained, torn between screaming at him for his showmanship or kissing him for it. You couldn’t decide.

“Still,” you sound, “you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” he repeats, this time, even softer. His other hand plucks out the second button from his uniform, his chest peeking through. He removes the ice pack and slips the button in between where your hand and his cheek meet. It’s still tender and aching, but the skin of his neck, where your pinkie finger grazed over, was so warm and inviting—so soft it seemed like a shame not to touch. You run your thumb over his jaw, tracing over the shape of it, and he winces. Still, he grabs your wrist and presses your hand against his cheek even harder, turning his head to plant a kiss on the skin of your palm.

You didn’t know your hands could ever feel like that. It was as if there were a hundred million nerves that you didn’t know previously existed, and now, suddenly all firing. It was almost too much.

“Sayang,” he mumbles into your hand, lips tracing on your skin—you don’t pull away. You are mesmerized, struck. How you went so long without having reached out for him you wouldn’t know. Again he calls you sayang, whispering it with his eyes closed, almost like a prayer. You bite your lip.

“Yes?” You answer.

His eyes flutter open, a small look of shock painted that is immediately replaced with relief, and then—a grin splitting his face, lips stretched as far as they could with the swelling. His hands wound tightly around yours, and again, that feeling of electricity, soaring right through you.

“You answered,” he says, almost breathlessly.

“You called,” you reply.

It would take 2 weeks for the black eye to heal completely, but even less time for him to slowly integrate ‘sayang’ into his everyday vocabulary. The word that once seemed awkward and bulky now slid off smoothly from his mouth every chance he got. He liked it. Liked the way it felt rolling off his tongue, liked the way you looked every time he did, but most importantly—he liked how nobody else (apart from your mother) called you that. Like an exclusive nickname, but thousand-fold. He tried learning Indonesian again, as an easy way to impress you. Selamat pagi (good morning). Terima kasih (thank you). Cantik (beautiful). On your birthday, he had prepared and memorized a little speech in your mother tongue. You laughed when he said ‘aku cinta kamu’. You tell him nobody says ‘I love you’ like that.

“They only use ‘aku sayang kamu’”, you explain.

“Why not ‘cinta’?” He pouts, flustered at his mistake. “Cinta also means love, right?”

“Cinta and sayang are different,” you explain, cutting into the cake your mother had baked: pandan with coconut and brown sugar frosting. She searched for the ingredients for weeks.

“Cinta is a declaration. Sayang is a promise,” you place the slice of cake on his plate, pushing it towards him, “sayang is the promise of loving someone no matter what—whether that love is reciprocated, whether it is burdensome.”

He shoves his mouth full in an attempt to soothe his embarrassment. The cake is fragrant and light, a foreign medley of flavors on his tongue. He looks over in your direction, happily digging into the treat, and worries that no matter how much he tries to learn about your culture, there will always be a divide—some unabridged gap he will never be able to cross. When the two of you join a cultural exchange trip to Indonesia in the summer before your senior year, he witnesses firsthand how you spring back to life—like a wilting plant finally being watered.

The two of you ravage through the city, attending bustling night markets and festivals. He watches in shock as you devour heaps of sambal with your food. You bargain with a lady for a fair price on batik, a souvenir and reminder of Indonesia that you wanted him to have. You wear these in weddings, you tell him. His mind wanders to you wearing white, walking down the aisle. You run up and down beaches, drink out of coconuts, plumeria flower tucked behind your ear, and chat with the locals—relieved to finally be surrounded by people who looked and talked like you. He watches you throw your head back laughing, and feels his heart ache. You had been homesick all this time. Trapped in a foreign country and forced to abandon your culture for his, living in a society that merely tolerated her identity, never embracing it. His home was not yours, this he now understood.

So when you told him that you were going to move back for college he wasn’t surprised. The country had recovered from the bloodbath of ‘98 and was now brimming with potential for growth. Even Forbes had called it the tiger of Southeast Asia. Some of your friends were also returning. It was a land of undiscovered opportunity.

“I have to go back,” you explained to him. “In Indonesia, I can be somebody; here, I am always second-class.”

And it stung, because he knew you were right, and he knew that it was cruel to make you stay—like keeping a butterfly in a jar. When he sends you off, he can’t help but think of his mother. That was one of the things the two of you had in common: the both of you leaving him. However, this time he doesn’t cry or scream or beg the way he did. He lets you go, maybe even with a little bit of grace, and he does so because cinta and sayang meant different things and he meant the latter.

“Aku sayang kamu,” he tells you as he waves you off. I love you. I love you enough to let you go.

When the two of you meet again, it will be years later and you will be older. You will be dressed in white and he will be in his batik that you had gotten for him all those years ago. He will stand, awestruck, as you walk down the aisle—not towards him, but towards somebody else, and his heart will ache in the way that it did only for you.

Sayang, he will think, but not in the affectionate way. In the way that implies unbelievable loss.

Sayang. A two-syllable word that’s used to convey both love and loss in the Indonesian language. It was strange, the way something could mean the exact opposite of itself, but Indonesian was strange like that. A language that was filled with metaphors and contradictions. One that is hard to forget, and even harder to unlearn. Each word carried a weight, a duality that made almost every conversation a dance between clarity and ambiguity. It was as if the language itself knew that life was never just one thing; it was a series of paradoxes, constantly contradicting itself, where joy and sorrow often walked hand in hand.

Its counterpart definition implied grief. You used it when talking about missed opportunities, or something that goes wrong when you wish it hadn’t. It almost means: what a shame. It was just one of those things that can’t be translated just as is, because the definition was so much deeper. The same way its first definition meant to love someone unconditionally, the second meant to describe the heartache that lingers in the face of loss, a longing that never quite fades. A word that blended affection and regret all in one and could only be understood by someone who felt both at once.

He felt it then, watching you get married to somebody else.

Sayang sekali, he says.

I love you, and also, what a waste.

· · ─────── ·{ ✐ᝰ.ᐟ}· ─────── · ·

author’s note: my debut entry in the haikyuu fandom and its angst 😭😭 aNYWAYS WHERE ARE THE KUROO FANS MAKE SOME NOISE 🫵🫵🗣️🗣️‼️‼️ huge shoutout to @zumicho for having to hear me ramble on and on abt the fic and take forever to write it but it’s finally here !!!! and I’m so excited to share more w u guys aaaa I hope you guys like it 🥰🥰💥💥💥💥

[writeoffside]

SILENCE HAS OVERTAKEN

♯ harry styles x fem!reader - angst / sad

summary: Harry doesn’t trust himself by talking to you , he wants to keep you safe but it really isn’t helping any of you.

warnings: arguing, swearing, nightmares, kissing

info: english isn't my first language, i apologize in advance for all the mistakes (if there are any!)

a/n: first post on here, enjoy !!

The days had gone by since the last ‘i love you’ has been spoken between the two so-called lovers. The silence has taken over the sweet and loving house they used to call a home. It has no longer been a home. For neither one of them.

The uncomfortable silence during the dinners everynight was heavy. The only sound during this time could only be the knives and forks sounds scraping over the plates. Neither one of them even bothered to start a talk, not even a small one.

Everytime he finished his food, he would drop his cutlery on the side and leave the table without a word. Not even bothering to say a little ‘thank you’ for preparing the table, making the food or anything.

All the nights were terrible. Terrible couldn’t even be the word to describe how unpleasant the nights were. 

When he would leave the dining room, he would mostly go to his room or his studio and lock himself there. After locking himself away from everything, the uncomfortable silence would take over the house again. 

It was all just silence.

“Harry! C'mon! Are you fucking mental?” The screams echoed around the house. There was no more of silence. Only the sounds of screaming, yelling, swearing and throwing words around.

“Me? Fucking me? Y/n, you’re the one who started this shit!” I screamed loudly, hitting the top of the counter with my palm. Hissing the moment my hand met with the cold surface of the countertop. 

I had enough of this shit and all this arguing.

“Y/n! For fuck’s sake! You've been saying all this shit for so damn long! Don't you think that you’re the main problem there?” I yelled back at her, my last sentence echoing around the house. My eyes burning into hers as my knuckles turn white from gripping the side of the counter. 

“Fuck you, Harry! You've been locking yourself away from me for weeks now and when I wanna talk to you for a damn minute, you start all this!” She throws her hands in the air, pointing at me and her. 

Between us. 

I see a tear slip down her cheek and she quickly wipes it off with end of her sleeves. Her eyes are fully watery and her hands are shaking as she stands there in front of me. 

“Screw you, Y/n! Fuck you seriously! This is all your fault. If you wouldn’t be there, everything would have been fucking fine! Don't you see that you're the problem between us? Hell... I don’t know what else to say! Fucking hell!” I yell out. My hands are now digging into sides of my head as i close my eyes, my teeth biting into my lower lips as I manage to draw out blood—

I suddenly jolt awake. A gasp coming out of me. My hands gripping the sheets as I sit up, eyes flying open. 

Shaky breaths coming out as I try to catch my breath from the dream… No, a nightmare I've just had. 

Sweat drips down my naked back, as I sit and breathe. Closing my eyes and digging the palms into my eyes as I take deep breaths and try to stbilize myself. My heart beats quickly.

This isn’t the first night I've had this exact same nightmare. It has been happening for weeks now. 

And it's all my fault.

I push the sheets off my legs and stand up. My whole legs feel like they are about to break down just there. I cannot even stand straight.

The world is spinning around me as I try to stand. I breathe out as I collapse back onto the bed.

I sit at the edge of the bed, hands holding the sides as I lean myself over and close my eyes. I suck in a breath and let my eyes close for a brief moment. 

I sit still. The only sound I can overhear is my breathing and quiet ringing in my ears. 

My head feels like it will explode anytime soon.

“Fuckin’ hell…” I mumble under my breath as I once again try to stand up. My body swaying a bit, my feet waddling over the cold floor. My head spins when I reach towards the handle and pull it to open. 

Then I'm suddenly met with a person standing right in front of me. 

Their eyes wide opened as they stare back at me in shock. Their mouth drops a little when their eyes make a full eye contact with mine. My hands start to sweat as I hold the handle of the door. 

“Harry…” She mumbles out into the darkness of our house. The voice coming out soft and calming to my ears. She stands still and she doesn’t reach her hand to brush my cheek like she usually does, or doesn’t lean in to plant a little kiss against my cheek or right on my lips. She just stands still, her eyes deeply looking into mine. 

It feels like I've been staring into them for hours, falling into them. 

“Hey...” I whisper out, my voice coming out raspy. I lean myself against the doorframe, hand leaving the door handle and I cross my arms over each other against my chest. My legs still feeling wobbly and I feel like i'm about to break down just there and fall down right in front of her. But i stay still. 

“What... What are you doing here? It's late…” I mumble out, my eyes holding the eye contact, deeply staring into her orbs. 

We haven’t spoken for days now. I haven’t talked to her in multiple days in a row. I haven’t looked into her eyes. I did nothing. 

Absolutely nothing for her.

She shifts from one leg to other, clearly uncomfortable. My stare stays put on her as I await for her to answer. My eyelids feel heavy but I keep them up just to see her beautiful face. I wouldn't want to miss a second. 

I haven’t appreciate her in days. I haven't seen her, haven’t complimented her, haven’t kissed her… 

I've done nothing. 

“You've… Um... You've been doing something in your sleep," she says, her stare shifting away from mine. Turning her head to look into the hallway, ignoring my hard stare. 

She sways a bit, back and forth slowly.

“What?” I question her and shift a bit on my legs. Already slowly growing anxious over this conversation... I haven't spoken to her in weeks and this must be our first conversation in such a long time.. In middle of a night, her standing in her night pajamas and me leaning onto a doorframe with just a pajama pants. Sweat still dripping down my back from the usual nightmare.

“You've been screaming a lot in your sleep lately... Especially my name, Harry," she answers quietly , her voice so small that you couldn't even properly hear her if I wasn't that close to her. 

My stomach turns as she answers.

“Oh…” This was the answer she probably wasn’t expecting to hear. 

“Oh?” She repeats my answer and turns her head back towards to me. Her eyes coming back to mine as we stare at each other.

I missed the nights we used to sleep next to each other, when I could hug you, kiss you, tell you how much I love you. I just couldn’t bring myself to hurt you in any possible way. I don’t want to continue our relationship like this. I want us back.

I wanted to say to her. Wanted her to hear how it’s tearing me by being like this. Away from everything. Away from her. 

“Harry," she whispers to me, tearing me away from my thoughts. She breathes out a small breath as I stare down at her. 

“I'm sorry..” My words come out in a broken whisper. A breeze runs down my back. The hairs on my neck and arms stand up. And then it comes.

I suddenly break down.

I take a step towards her smaller frame and push myself against her. My arms sneak around her body and pulling her against me. My face falls against her crook of her neck and I hunch myself, letting my body collapse. Taking her scent in. 

I tighten my hold against her body and hug her the way I never did. My face lays against her neck as I breathe out.

I feel her shoulders move and then i feel it. Her smaller hands on my back as she holds me back. Her head moves a bit and I can feel a small kiss being planted on top of my head. 

Tears run down my cheeks and sobs fill the silence in the house. My body aches and shakes against hers. My eyes are shut and tears run down like waterfalls. 

My legs feel like they’re about to break against the hard wooden floor and fall down with my whole body. Shaking as I stand against her and the silence is fully overtaken by my cries and sobs.

“Shhh... It's okay. Let it out," she mumbles against my hair. I start to shake my head, disagreeing quickly to her.

“No... No, Y/n. It's not okay.. I was, no, I am a fucking idiot! I'm- I'm sorry, okay? I wasn’t thinking. I don't know…” I stutter my words out, pulling my head away from the crook of her neck. My eyes running all over face.

“I was scared? I didn’t know what to do," I take a step away from her, my voice shaking as I spill my truth out to her, “I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t want to hurt you," i tell her with broken voice. 

“Hurt me? Harry, what do you mean?” She asks in her soft tone. Her sleepy but adorably beautiful and blown out eyes look straight into mine. Her eyes are searching for something in my eyes. She can see that I'm scared. 

She can see the fear in me.

“No, no, no…” I mumble out, my eyes shutting as I walk back into my room. My hands fly upwards to start gripping the side of my head, “You.. You don’t understand, Y/n. you won’t understand it," I cry out as I walk around my room stressfully.  

“Harry. I'll try to understand," she answers and walks towards me. Then she slowly and softly touches my cheek. Holding her palm against my cheek. Her eyes finding my teary ones.

“I just… Don't want you to get hurt because of me," I whisper to her, looking into her eyes. Finding the much needed comfort in them. My tears are stained on my cheeks and some are still trying to escape the hold of my eyes. 

“Harry... I want to help you. But, you need to explain to me what has been going on with you lately. You lock yourself away from everything and don’t even say a single word for days," she says, looking into my eyes and putting both of her palms against my cheeks. I lean into her touch, closing my eyes for few moments. 

I take a deep breathe and answer, “I know... I am just scared. I keep having this dream. Every damn night. And it scares me, fucking terrifies me," I open my eyes looking straight at her, “I don’t want to hurt you, or loose you. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. I feel so fucking bad for ignoring you, it has been tearing me," I breathe out, putting my hand over her hand on my cheek. 

My voices shakes through my answer. My vision is blurry from all the crying and I cannot form my sentences without stuttering or sobbing in between the words. All the fear is going on me as I talk more and tell her all the truth what has been holding me for past few weeks. 

“I snap a lot... in the dream. And I don’t want it to happen in reality as well. I snap and I say something that I would never say, never," I say, my voice shaking and my hands trembling, “sometimes I don’t wake up and it end up worse. I snap at you and I end up doing something what I would never plan on doing to you,” I whisper the last part, my eyes closing as my voice tremble. I tremble uncontrollably as I tell her the truth. 

“Harry... is that why you’ve been ignoring me?” She whispers, her eyes searching in mine as we stare into each others eyes deeply, "why didn't you tell me? I would try everything I could to help you, or at least try to help you," she moves her hand to my hair, gently holding me. My lips are slightly parted and I take deep steady breaths. 

My eyes close for a moment and I put my forehead against hers. Our breaths matching each others.

“I love you so so much, sweetheart," i whisper into the silence, “so fucking much,” the words spill themselves into the darkness of the room we’re standing in. 

“I love you too, Harry… so much.” she whispers back, “but you don’t have to be scared. you won’t hurt me, i know you too well..."

Then I feel it.

I feel her soft lips against mine. She kisses me against my lips for the first time in the weeks. Slowly leaning in, I kiss her back deeply. Showing her all the love i’ve been holding back. Her lips are like made for me. Our lips collide together as we quietly kiss in the darkness of the night. Her hands slide from my cheek to the nape of my neck and she pulls me closer.

“You don’t have to hide now, Harry. You wouldn’t hurt me. I'm here and always will be," she whispers to me. Her voice soft and quiet, like a dream.

“I'm so fucking sorry for locking myself away. For not being there for you... I'm so sorry. I love you so fucking much," I pull away slowly, my eyes fluttering open.

“Just... If you’re going through something… anytime, please tell me," her words get to me. 

“I will, I will... My love," I whisper to her. Tears, once again, forming in my eyes. 

The two lovers found themselves slowly rebuilding the connection between each other, what they both have thought that they've lost. The silence has been finally broken by the lover's confessions of his unspoken fears. 

my first writing on here! (don't ask me why my first ever writing was a sad one hahaha) hopefully you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! :)

give it some love if u liked it !! yayyy

[puppywilliams]

just to ruin things.

summary: you and ellie’s cant run from your past forever.

warnings: toxic!ellie, mentions of drugs (cocaine), mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of relapsing, angst, implied bi reader

a/n: hi! ive been sooo very busy but heres a little smth i wrote! this might be boring but i need to post </3 also listened to memories by conan gray while writing this if you care

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some stupid party got you exactly where you always ended up. in ellies truck. it made you so fucking angry the way she always swooped in to save that day like she was some superhero, like she was doing you a favor. you couldn’t blame her too much, you always gave in like a lost dog finding its owner.

part of you Needed her to save you, the unfortunate truth you weren’t ready to unfold, its one you couldn’t face in fear of what it might do to the wall you’ve spent Too long already rebuilding, 7 months and 13 days of rebuilding to be exact. you tell yourself you’re not counting, its just an estimate. like this, its just friendly, this is what friends do. they drive you home. you’re not even that drunk, you knew you were getting into her car, you knew you were letting her right back into the place you needed to keep her out of the most.

her eyes were straight on the road with her knuckles around the steering wheel. you looked at her, freckles splatted across her face like god himself hand picked each one. “youre a fucking idiot you know that? all over that guy? you dont even know him. he couldve slipped something in your drink, youre gonna get yourself killed.” she spat venom through the atmosphere, turning everything sour like she managed to do every damn time.

“fuck you.” you spat back. it wasnt worth it, never was nor ever had been. but ellie argued either way.

“what? you still cant handle the truth?” she piled on, it was like a never ending mound of what you did that she didn’t like or approved of, it pushed your buttons in a way ellie knew it would. when you spend enough time together, the memories you’ve engraved into your head don’t expire. ellie knew you like she practiced your coding. every nook, every cranny, every corner, every place she knew and altered as she pleased. ruining you every time without so much as an apology. it angered you so much, for someone who swore she didnt care, it hurt.

you looked down and fiddled with the hem of your dress, hyper focusing in on one thing so you didnt burst like a can of shaken soda, youd been on the edge of your breaking point since you had broken up. so many words you didn’t say, so many words you wish you didn’t say.

“cant speak now? what? have too much to drink? bet you remember that guy you were all over. probably remember him more than you remember anything about me.” she pierced daggers right into your pressure points, only fueling the fire that endorsed your temper.

you took a breath before turning your head to look at her. “you dont have the right ellie. youre a fucking loser. you know that?” you looked right at her. the way you knew she despised when she couldn’t meet your gaze. “i dont Need you to save me, we’re long past that. what i do and who i do is none of your god damn business!” you threw your hands into the air finally letting yourself lose your calm facade, not missing a beat in fear she might cut in and ruin what you know you Need to say, for yourself and maybe its a plead. you dont think, only spoke.

“youre acting like when we were together you didnt drink your ass off every fucking night. sitting on My couch, watching My tv, crawling into My bed pissed out of your mind, you dont have any idea do you? none?” you breathed heavily with tears in your eyes looking Right at her before moving your gaze again to meet the hem of you dress. knowing the battle you say is with ellie, is actually with yourself. its one you always lose. “im so fucking m-mad at you still..i dont need this, or to see you at all…id listen to silence and see nothing but black just to know id never get confirmation you still existed..i cant stand you..” ellie stayed silent, the way she always did. white knuckles gripped over the steering wheel, her jaw clenched, but you see the gloss over her eyes. you see the way she breathes like shes making sure its the perfect rhythm.

you closed your eyes, the silence was so deafening you thought you got your wish, but she opened her mouth proving you wrong and teaching you once again to not get your hopes up.

“you want me to got care anymore? you fucking got it.” she put it simple, you should be grateful but you cant seem to be. its your weakness, and its one you’ll never strengthen, her weight always dragging you back down like a purgatory, but your shackles will never be lifted, so potentially its a sugarcoated way of calling it hell.

you turn to look out the window. “thank god.” you utter under your breath, a chunk of your soul hopes she doesn’t hear, of course she does. “dont ask me to pick you up at 11pm anymore. im not coming.”

she makes a good point, a great one even. one that not even you could manage to figure out if you tried.

“then stop picking up.” its all you say, its all you Needed to say. you glance at the way shes losing internal fight in the torn up seat of her truck.

“you know i cant do that..” she whispers as a single tear falls from her eye. she tries to wipe it away with the knuckle bound to her thumb before you see. “i know.”

“then why? why pull me in to push me away? why?! why do you do it?” you fall silent, its a conversation you hadn’t prepared for, but its a hole you dug so long ago it feels like centuries, but like every past, it catches up to you. its something so long overdue it churns your stomach like a knot in a rope you cant seem to unravel. “what am i meant to do ellie? come crawling back to your doorstep and repeat everything i spent so long trying to mend myself back together over? seeing your face is the worst kind of relapse. its a reminder of what i worked for, to self sooth for months and act like kissing someone else doesn’t still feel like cheating. i do what i Have to do ellie, i cant plead with you, not when youre not mine and im not yours, because just like you. i have no fucking right..” your voice shook with emotions you didn’t know you we’re still capable of feeling.

ellie doesn’t try to hide her tears anymore, its pointless. its something rare, something you so selfishly cherish. its like feeding a sweet tooth that cant be settled unless you have empathy, you crave it every day knowing you never got it. you tell yourself shes crying for You and not yourself, its the fix of what will get you through this conversation, through tonight, and through next week.

“you think thats what i want?” she dryly chuckles before scoffing, using her pointer and thumb to wipe at her tear ducts. you fucking hate it. “you think thats what i want? i want you to be happy believe it or not, even if its not me. but god damn, it kills me seeing you with someone else and you dont even Care.”

you take her words as something thats malicious, but deep down somewhere in your heart you know its just the truth, maybe you’re not ready for this, you might never be. “you made that decision a long time ago. its out of my control now.”

her face hardened and her eyes stayed put on the road ahead. “you gave up on me. you put everyone else and everything else before me, was i supposed to stay?” she breathes out through her nostrils. you looked at her like she had said something outrageous, like it was a life altering claim.

“thats what you think huh?” you scoffed rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest looking back out the window.

she raised her voice, her temper always did run thin. something you didn’t miss. “yeah, it is!” she bit the inside of her cheek and took a deep inhale.

“no ellie. i tried, and thats what you never give me credit for. i tried to help you get sober, i payed for your rehab bill so you could come back home to me, but the first thing you did when you got home was snort a line before you even looked my way. we’re not dogs, i cant lick your wounds and tell you they’ll heal, i had myself to worry for. you put drugs above me, so i stopped trying. i stopped begging you.” she fell silent for what you hoped would be the last time tonight, you watched the way she went to speak but shut herself up.

her voice still appeared a few seconds later. “i know i was an addict, i know i fucked up but you gave up on me regardless.” you looked at the tense expression she had as she drove, not even sure if she was driving in the right direction anymore. as much as you

wanted this to all be over you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“you gave up on yourself. i didn’t even get a sorry.” you said dryly, looking back at your feet. everything seemed to consume you. “well im saying sorry now. and for the record i still love you.”

you wanted to recoil, to scream at her and tell her to fuck off, but you softened. you wiped your eyes, sniffling. “i still love you too, it drives me crazy.”

it was the truth, one you ran from. something you denied to your friends and family, knowing if you said anything remotely to the truth you’d see the way their face morph into an disapproving expression.

“i know ill never have you again, but for what its worth i’m thankful you were mine.” its something ellie never intended to say out loud but she used every resource she could.

you gave in to something she wasn’t even asking for, just something you needed to ruin you.

“for what its worth if you asked me to be yours again i don’t think i could say no.”

“then dont say no.”

[k0juki]

It's just a vase

Kimi Räikkönen x fem!reader

gn is alright too!

Warnings: blood, sad reader, maybe slight panic attack, mentions of y/n BUT soft Kimi that loves y/n so mutch. And one Google translate

Hurt/Comfort angst and bit of fluff I guess? It's longer than I wanted it to be, but 💁‍♀️

summary: Kimi calmly reassure reader when she drop a glass, gently checking her hands for any injury.

Words: 680

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It wasn't her fault, it really wasn't. That stupid vase just slipped out of her hands.

That's what she told herself. 

And y/n being y/n, clumsy as always didn't mean to destroy it, even if it was by an  accident, she still feels horrible. It's just a stupid glass, nothing that you can repair, but still, she feels horrible.

 She doesn't want him to know that she broke his favorite one, the one that she gave him on his birthday, as a present from her.

And what she doesn't want him to know, is that she had accidentally cut herself when she started to clean up the shards.

Y/n told herself that she's gonna clean it up before Kimi comes back. But her hand hurts and is still bleeding. At first it didn't hurt at all and the bleeding wasn't that bad, but the more she tried to help, the more it bled and hurt.

She couldn't do anything more than sit there, lean back against the couch and cry. She felt pathetic, "why i wasn't more careful?" now, fully crying, she didn't heard that Kimi came back from his training. 

When he opened the door, he knew something wasn't right, maybe it's because he didn't got his "hey Kimi, you're finally home, I made your favorite" or "we can now watch that new movie you were talking about", no, the only think he heard was soft cries from the next room.

Without a second thought, Kimi storm to the living room of your shared apartment, to find you sitting on the floor crying with bloody hand and about millions of shards next to you. The bood now staining the new carpet she bought last week and how happy she was when they bought it, to their home.

"Hey, hey it's alright, y/n you hear me? It's alright ". Kimi said, calmly reassuring, kneeling in front of her. "Let me see your hand okay? It's alright I promise". He took her hand and examined it, upon seeing the large but not deep cut he knew it wasn't anything serious, but was still careful and conscious of the pain she must be feeling in the moment.

Carefully, he helped y/n stand up and go around the shards. "I'm sorry " was all she was able to say. "It's all right love, there's nothing to be sorry for". He got her shaking form to the bathroom and gently picked her up, to make her sit on the counter. "What happened Lumihiutale?". Kimi said as he started wrapping bandage around her hand, after he disinfected it.

Y/n looked at him, when her cries died after while, but was still shaking and had lump in her throat. "Well I-I was cleaning" she started speaking, voice weak and wobbly "a-and I accidentally dropped the vase and then it s-shattered and tried to clean it, but I had cut myself and it hurt a-and I..." she almost started to cry again, but Kimi had stopped it before she could. 

"Hey, hey, look at me, it's alright, it's just a vase, yeah? A vase." He softly said to her. Putting his hands on each side of her head, looking straight to her eyes, his piercing blues looking into hers, kissing her slowly. 

"Don't apologize, okay? I'm just glad that you are alright now" he said after he pulled away. Helping her down and making sure she was fine he said "c'mon i will clean it up and then we'll watch some movie, how about that, hm?"

Now when y/n wasn't crying anymore, she turned to him, carefully wrapping both of her hands around his torso and resting her head on his shoulder. Finally feeling better after the mess she accidentally made. 

"Thank you Kimi" she whispered as she felt his arms wrapping around her, his left hand holding the back of her head, gently massaging her scalp and his other wrapping around her waist, kissing the top of her head.

"There's nothing to be thanking for Lumihiutale, I love you, alright?"

"Love you too Kimi".

---

Lumihiutale = snow flake

DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK!

I promised nsfw, but I felt angsty...so tomorrow or maybe later today will be nsfw 🙏 bear with me

English is not my first language so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors!

The picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[kamii-2]

I'm loving your recent Azzi fic, can you do a friends to lovers jealousy with smut ft Azzi please

hi anon!! i love how all the azzi lovers have found my account and request for her constantly 😭 anyway this is straight smut with little plot

warning(s): cussing, smut, jealousy, angst (?), “public” sex

genre: smut & angst (?)

pairing(s): jealous!azzi fudd x reader

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azzi was staring at you from across the room, barely looking away from you. you were at a random house party, talking to your friends about drama and other random stuff when you noticed that azzi, one of your closest friends, was staring at you and looking sort of jealous, but that would be crazy, right? your closest friend who acts pretty straight being jealous that you were talking to other girls. maybe she’s jealous because you aren’t talking to her or maybe she’s not jealous at all and the drinks are getting to you, you weren’t sure.

your friends had walked away and went to talk to other people so you went over to azzi. she was now sitting on the floor on her phone, not looking up when you came over. “hey.” you greeted as you sat next to her, sipping your drink. hi.” she muttered still on her phone. “you okay?” you questioned, “mhm.” she answered. “no you’re not, what’s the problem?” you asked while setting your drink down and scooting closer to her, “nothing y/n, i’m fine.” she sounded irritated. “azzi stop lying.” you were starting to get irritated too, you were trying to help her but she was being rude. “i’m not!” she snapped while setting her phone down on her lap, you got up and walked away the moment the words left her mouth, she has no reason to yell.

azzi sighed and felt bad, the reason she was mad was because she wanted you in more ways thank one and now you were God knows where probably mad as fuck. she got up off the floor and want to find you, she checked the whole house then went outside and found you sitting on the sidewalk on your phone. “hey.” she said while sitting next to you. you didn’t respond to her, “i’m sorry.” she apologized, “show me.” you muttered. “what?” she was confused if you were really asking her to fuck you right now, “you heard me,”you said a little louder, “show me.” you repeated again to her. she grabbed your face and roughly kissed you, one hand going to your neck to pull you closer. you put your hands on her face and squeezed her cheeks to make her mouth open so you could slip your tongue in.

she moved both of her hands to your boobs, grabbing them through your tank top. azzi removed one hand and went down to your jean shorts, “can i?” she asked and you replied with a head nod. she immediately started unbuttoning your shorts and slid them off, setting them to the side. she moved your pants to the slide and dipped her tongue in before quickly pulling it out. you let out a moan, immediately covering your mouth so other partygoers didn’t hear you. “please don’t tease me i need you so bad.” you begged, she smiled and sucked your clit harshly, adding two finger aswell. you were moaning into your hand, trying so hard to not be loud.

“azzi.” you moaned out while pushing her farther into yourself. she sucked and licked faster, making you moan louder than before. you were so close to cumming, your legs were starting to shake. “im close, oh im so close.” you moaned with your hand still over your mouth. “cum then.” she replied, slowing down a little. as you came es she helped you ride it out, licking and sucking up any of your juices.

“is that a good enough apology?” she smiles, “yea, but let me show you how okay it is.” you replied with a smirk.

==================================

i’m so sorry it’s short and took a billion years to get out but i hope you liked it, anyway i hope you all have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Do you think that the whole cake island would be the first place sanji and nijis fiancé darling meet?. Or did he know about her/see her during his childhood but was never permitted to speak to her because of his status as the weakest Prince. And potentially causing possible issues with the political alliance if it looked like judge was going to offer a betrothal with the noble girl/princess and his weakest child as that would be considered a insult

Initially, I had planned for that to be their first meeting, but this ask quickly made me considered the other option and it spiraled out of control from there. Here is the result.

I decided to use (y/n) instead the the name established throughout the au since this was supposed to be a reader insert originally. I apologize for any inaccuracies that there may be in this. I haven't gotten to this arc yet, so I'm just working off of random spoilers and wikis.

Confrontations and Complications

Sanji x Princess Reader

2.9k words

warnings: implied afab reader, this is straight up angst no comfort

Heels click loudly against the floor as you run through the quiet hallways. The skirt of your dress and your petticoats were bunched up in your fists to prevent you from tripping. There was no telling how long of a window you would have to do this, and you refused to miss your chance at this.

Niji became distracted at the perfect moment for you to slip away undetected, and Reiju had given her word that she would do her best to redirect him should he notice your absence. While you and Reiju weren’t on the friendliest terms as of late, she appeared to be acting in your best interest for the time being. It was debatable how trustworthy she truly was, but you were willing to take the risk in this one instance.

This was of the utmost importance.

The flurry of clicks from your shoes slow as the door you’ve been searching for comes into view, then eventually comes to a complete halt. You pant as you catch your breath and stare at the door. You make a hasty attempt to fix your clothes and hair, then straighten your tiara that had been bouncing freely on your head as you ran. After all of this time, you didn’t want to look unkempt when he saw you.

Steeling yourself with one last deep breath, you grasp the knob and open the door.

Sitting at a small table and absentmindedly flicking a lighter on and off was just the man you were hoping to see. Reiju had not led you astray with her directions. The man, Vinsmoke Sanji, looked startled at your sudden intrusion and was staring at you questioningly.

Oh. In your haste to confirm that this was, in fact, his room, it had slipped your mind to knock and you had just let yourself in. How unlike you.

“Can… Can I help you, miss?” Sanji removed the smoked down nub of a cigarette from his mouth and snubbed it out in a shockingly full ashtray before reaching for the cigarette pack on the table. His exposed eye kept darting back to you while waiting for an answer.

Ah. So he did not recognize you… This fact pained you, but it wasn’t wholly surprising. It has been a very long time since your last meeting. You swallow thickly and step the rest of the way into his room before closing the door behind you, “Please forgive me for barging into your accommodation. I was so overcome with emotion that I forgot my manners.”

Sanji offered a small, but noticeably forced smile, “No need to apologize. I would never complain over being sought out by such a lovely woman. I don’t believe we’ve met.”

“We have.” You inch closer to him while wringing your hands nervously. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were certain that it had nothing to do with your previous exertion. “Though I do not blame you for not recognizing me. The last time that I was in your company, we were mere children sneaking into a kitchen to prepare a lunch for your dear mother.”

The fresh cigarette that was dangling from Sanji’s lips falls onto the table as he stares at you with a wide eye. He is momentarily slack jawed before he finds it in himself to whisper out your name.

A genuine smile spreads across your face as you see the recognition in his eyes. “Yes, Sanji. It’s me, (Y/N).”

In an instant, Sanji is up and out of his seat. He stumbles a bit from tripping over the leg of the table, then comes to a halt in front of you. His hands reach forward, then pause, unsure of whether or not he should touch you. You take the decision out of his hands and quickly close the gap. Your arms wrap around his middle in a tight hug, which he returns after only a brief moment of hesitation.

The harsh and overpowering scent of tobacco stings at your nose as you rest your face on his shoulder, but you wouldn’t dare complain over something so trivial. Not when you were experiencing such a foreign rush of joy and relief. 

With much reluctance, you force yourself to pull away first. Sanji held you a beat longer, but acquiesced to your action. His hands traced up and settled on your shoulders. The baby blue eye that wasn’t obscured flitted across your face, seemingly taking in every detail.

“I can’t believe it’s really you… I never thought I would see you again,” Sanji speaks to you in a hushed reverence that encourages your heart to feel ways that you know very well that it should not be given the current circumstances.

Your own hands are settled on his waist, not quite wanting to sever the physical connection. You offer him a half-hearted smile, “I could say the same for you. Prior to the last week, I believed you to be dead.” Your gloved hands clutch at his shirt, no doubt wrinkling it. A rude action, truly, but the only thing restraining you from cradling his face like you so desire. “I cannot quite put into words how relieving it is to see you alive and well.”

Sanji purses his lips and breaks the eye contact between you. He releases your shoulders and steps back, prompting you to relinquish your hold on him as well. It takes everything you have to not match every step he takes with one of your own. He heaves a sigh while reaching for his dropped cigarette, “I’m sorry. If there had been a way for me to let you know that I was okay, I would have done that in a heartbeat.”

“Oh, no!” The words come out so strongly and with so much force that it startles even you. You take a breath, then continue at a much calmer tone, “Please don’t misunderstand. I am not begrudging you for this. There are certainly people to blame, but you are not amongst them.”

A small smile is the reward for your clarification. Sanji flicks his lighter to life to ignite his cigarette. He takes a long drag of it, then exhales it. “Thank you. You’re too kind to me.”

“Hush, I am not. Dare I say, you could benefit from more kindness.” Everyone could, but you did not care about everyone right now.

Sanji chuckles, though it’s distinctly lacking any real humor. “You haven’t changed a bit since we were kids. I don’t know how you’ve done it.”

The silence that fell over you as he puffed away at his cigarette was neither comfortable, nor tense. So many things were left unsaid, and Sanji appeared to be content to leave it that way. You itched to ask him countless questions. How did he escape Germa? Where has he been this whole time? What was it like being part of such a notorious pirate crew? With so many queries running through your mind, it felt impossible to choose just one.

“What are you doing on Whole Cake Island, anyway? I didn’t think your family was close enough with Big Mom to be invited to a wedding.”

In an instant, your heart leaps up into your throat and you balk. This was precisely the topic you had hoped to avoid. Both for your own comfort, as well as his own. Ignorance is bliss, and you wanted him to know peace.

Unfortunately, your silence successfully attracts his attention. He turns to face you fully, and you can feel his eye boring into you despite the fact that you’re staring at the floor. “(Y/N)... Why are you here?” The thinly veiled urgency in his voice indicated that he was already coming to his own conclusions.

“I’m… here with my fiance,” the volume of your voice decrescendos with each word until ‘fiance’ comes out at a barely audible whisper.

It is unclear at first if the silence that followed was brought on by shock, or if Sanji simply hadn’t heard you. You get your answer shortly when he asks a quick and straightforward question.

“Who?”

Answering this was significantly more trying than explaining why you were here. You still couldn’t meet his eye, and you were grateful that he wasn’t forcing you to. There was no way to dance around or sugarcoat who it was. As much as you knew that he wouldn’t like the truth, he deserved to hear it.

“Niji.”

From your peripheral vision, you could see his cigarette hit the floor. Before you could be alarmed about the rug catching to fire, it was snuffed out under Sanji’s foot as he rapidly closed the gap that he had once made. His hands find purchase on your shoulders again, though he’s far less gentle this time. If it weren’t for the ironclad grip he had on you, you’re certain that you would have toppled over from the strength he took hold of you with. You’re forced to look up at him and take in his expression. The eye that you can see is wide with a shrunken pupil. The color in his skin has paled noticeably, and his mouth hangs open as his breath comes out in frantic pants.

His hands tighten around your shoulders more as he spits out an accusation laden in desperation, “You’re lying.”

Oh, how you wish you were. How you wish that there wasn’t an engagement ring weighing down your ring finger. But that simply isn’t reality. You hold up your left hand, actively ignoring the way it trembled under the intensity of Sanji’s gaze. His eye zeros in on the gleaming, blue jewel that was the centerpiece of your ring.

The sight of it repelled him. You were released from his touch once more as he backed away until he crashed into the table, effectively tipping it over and sending it crashing to the ground. The ashtray that had been sitting on it flew and rolled across the floor, spreading cigarette butts and ash everywhere, but Sanji paid it no mind.

“No… no, no, no! You can’t be serious! Niji?!” His raised voice startled you. While you had been anticipating a poor reaction, this was far worse than you ever would have guessed. His hands shot up and threaded through his hair. The way that he pulled on it had to be painful, and you held out your hand to try and coax him into letting go, but then he evaded you by beginning to pace. His steps were quick and forceful, the soles of his shoes making more noise than your heels had made when you were running to get here.

As much as you wanted to speak, it was beyond you what there even was to say that would soothe him.

Sanji abruptly spun around to face you again, making you flinch. He all but ran to you and took your hands in his, pulling you towards him so hard that you almost crashed into him. He speaks in a frantic but hushed tone, “You need to leave.”

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“You need to leave now. It isn’t safe for you to stay here.” His head snaps to the side and he lets go of your hand briefly to slam the window shut before grasping it again. “I need you to listen to me. My cr- My former crew is here. They will be more than happy to take you away and keep you safe. I’m not sure how I’ll get you to them yet, but I promise you that I won’t rest until you’re under their protection.”

All that you can do is stare at him. Your heart is thudding in your chest, but an undeniable warmth is spreading through it as well. Never in your wildest dreams would you have thought that this could happen. You squeeze his hands and speak breathlessly, “You wish to run away together?”

Sanji freezes at your words. His mouth opens and closes several times, and then he averts his eyes, “I can’t do that. This is just for you.”

You rip your hands away from his and step away. “What? What are you talking about?”

The way he looks at you as if you’re clueless infuriates you. He speaks slowly as he explains himself, “I’m getting married to Pudding. I’m sure that you know that.”

This explanation leaves you appalled, you all but shriek at him, “You’re actually going through with that?!” The entire reason that you were so desperate to have this meeting in the first place was because you had assumed that he would leave with his crew before the wedding could occur.

Your shouting startles Sanji, giving him a quick moment of pause. He clears his throat before doing his best to speak in a calm and assertive tone. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I? Our marriage will be a good thing.”

Hearing him say this breaks you. All grace and decorum is forgotten in your outburst. “A good thing?! Nothing good can come from marrying someone like Pudding!”

While you generally tried to be kind and gracious to everyone, you were unable to grant Pudding the same courtesy. Not after you became privy to her true feelings towards Sanji when you overheard a conversation between her and a few of her siblings. The way she spoke of Sanji was as maddening as it was sickening. It took all of your self control to not burst into the room and demand that she trade her fiance for your own if she disliked him so much.

Maybe you should have. 

“Pudding is a lovely woman… And the marriage is good for political reasons as well.” Sanji was refusing to meet your enraged gaze, which only fueled the fire within you.

A sarcastic bark of laughter escaped you. “A lovely woman?! She’s a spoiled brat who doesn’t understand how fortunate she is!” That girl had everything that a woman could hope for in a political marriage, and she had the audacity to look down on her betrothed as if he wasn’t worthy of so much as breathing the same air as her. 

When Sanji only stared at you with a shocked expression, it made all of the hideous emotions that you had been suppressing up to this point bubble to the surface and boil over.

“That girl has it all, and she can’t even be grateful for it! She won’t have to put up with her husband lusting over everyone but her! She won’t have to be little more than a mere obligation to her husband! She won’t just be used to bring about a new generation of living weapons!” 

You fall silent as the words settle into the air, thickening the atmosphere until it became difficult to breathe. Hot tears begin to pour down your face in a shameful display. You turn away from Sanji as raw, pained sobs wrack through you.

“(Y/N)...”

Sanji stepped towards you and rested a hand on your shoulder, but you ripped away from him as if his touch burned you. The last thing that you wanted was his pity. You hastily dabbed at your eyes with a handkerchief as you hurried to the door, but Sanji put himself between you and the exit.

“Please, (Y/N)... I know you don’t like it, but you need to leave without me. You have no idea how much danger you’ll be in if you stay.” His face and tone are equally pleading. His hands reach towards you once more, but halt just before making contact.

“I am many things, but please don’t think me naive, Sanji… I know precisely what is expected of me in my marriage.” Every word out of your mouth is bitter and laced with contempt.

“Then why are you being so stubborn? I know that you don’t want this.” Sanji is visibly exasperated. 

“The better question is: Why are you being so stubborn? You are not compelled to do this like I am! You have an entire crew that is willing to fight for you, yet you’re refusing their help!” You exhale and shake your head, “You are almost as ungrateful as Pudding, perhaps you two are meant to be after all.”

“This is not as simple and straightforward as you think it is. There is much more going on… It’s better for everyone if I go through with this.”

Your hands ball up into fists at your sides and you snap at him, “Oh, what a martyr you are! How brave! How proud!” Having finally had enough, you fully abandon etiquette and shove Sanji out of your way. You grasp the doorknob, but rather than leaving, you decide that you have one last sentiment to tack on. “Martyrdom is the coward’s choice! If you really care for the people in your life, you will fight to be with them, not sacrifice yourself at the first opportunity!”

With that, you wrench open the door and slam it behind you the second you’re out of the room. You take off down the hall with no clear destination, only desiring to put as much distance between yourself and Sanji as reasonably possible.

Despite what you had said, you realize that you were actually quite naive. It was foolish to have ever believed that this meeting would have gone any better than it did.

[houserautha]

This Body, This Flesh

Summary: You thought what you wanted more than anything was for Feyd-Rautha to return from the dead. You were wrong.

Pairing: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: mentions of fighting and death, angsty, some kissing

A/N: Dune Wiki describes a ghola as, “an artificially created human, who was replicated from a dead individual”. When I first read about a ghola in “Dune Messiah” (I’m reading the series for the first time, like a bandwagon fan) I thought it posed so many interesting possibilities and unnecessary angst😂😈 Excuse any inaccuracies

Feyd-Rautha was dead.

You had been there when Paul Atreides slipped the crysknife into the soft flesh of his jaw and into his skull.

So then why was he standing in front of you?

Your knees quiver. Was your mind playing a trick on you? Perhaps your grief had warped your sanity. You close your eyes, shake your head as if to dislodge the vision.

“Go away,” you choke out. “I know you’re not real.”

The Feyd-Rautha — if it could be called that, he certainly was a figment of your imagination — tilts his head slightly in a move purely reminiscent of your lover. “You are not pleased to see me,” he rasps, the same voice you heard when you could not sleep, haunting your dreams.

You feel the burn of tears behind your eyes. You close them. “Of course I’m pleased to see you. But you — you’re not real.”

“Maybe not as I once was.”

In the distance, the sound of fervent footsteps slapping the ground, accompanied by panicked breathing, force you to open your eyes. It’s a servant. A young one, wide-eyed and reddened, either by shame or exertion or both.

“Lady Y/N, my humblest apologies —”

You snap at him, “What is this?”

“Lady Y/N —”

“I am a gift. For you,” Feyd-Rautha says. His dark eyes are unsettlingly familiar, studying you as you grapple for a response.

“What is he…?” Your eyes flicker to him, then back to the servant, “…it… talking about?”

Your heart pounds furiously in your chest. This morning you lay awake, blinking the sun and tear-prompted crust from your eyes, and thought only of seeing Feyd-Rautha again. And now he was here. Your mind refused to cooperate with your battling emotions, waging war within you.

“I was supposed to explain, Lady Y/N. I apologize. I tried to stop him but he insisted on coming here straight away.” The servant shuffles his feet. “I-I couldn’t outrun him. He is a gift. A ghola. From the Bene Tleilax.”

A ghola.

Of course.

The foolish, childish hope that the real Feyd-Rautha had miraculously been resurrected slowly wanes, slipping through your fingers. Your chin wobbles as devastation seizes you.

The servant, mistaking your stunned silence, eagerly adds, “The Baron wanted you to have him.”

You offer a stiff nod. “Thank you. You may leave us.”

“Should I extend your gratitude to the Baron?”

“No.” On a different occasion, you might’ve ripped the boy’s head from his neck for proposing such a thing and implicating your rudeness. “Leave.”

The servant scurries away.

Feyd-Rautha is watching you closely, but does not speak.

You, on the other hand, are afraid that if you don’t you might tear apart at the seams. “How…How much do you remember?”

The urge to cross the space between you to touch him, to touch the fatal spot where the knife had slid in, robbing you of him, is too strong. You hope he doesn’t notice you staring. To refrain from indulging in the urge, your hands clench into fists at your sides.

“Not much,” the ghola admits. “Just…fleeting glimpses.” His gaze sweeps your surroundings, landing on you in almost a pleading way, like he’s hoping that you will give him answers. “I needed to come here. To you.”

“This was our room,” you tell him. You hesitate. “Do you remember me?”

“You’re Lady Y/N.”

Disappointment stabs at your heart. “You don’t.”

Feyd-Rautha — no, the ghola (you mustn’t let yourself think of them as one and the same) — shakes his head. “No.”

A strangled sob escapes from you unwittingly, and you turn away.

A gift? No. This was the most severe punishment: The man you loved returned to you, but with no memories of the life you shared, none of the substance that had initially captivated you about the na-Baron. The voice, the features — every goddamn look and gesture, but nothing more than a Bene Tleilax puppet.

“I may not remember you, but something in this flesh does.”

Hope flutters traitorously in your chest. “What?”

“I don’t know how to explain it.” The ghola takes a tentative step toward you. “I may not recall the memories of your past together but this body standing before you, this flesh, carries the echos of your bond. In this physical form, I am a testament to the love you once knew, a vessel for those memories.”

Moved by the ghola’s admittance, tears flow freely down your cheeks now. “You kept saying…you. Not our.”

Of course he didn’t. Why did you mention it?

“Yes.” His jaw clenches. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh bitterly. “Don’t apologize. Feyd never would’ve done that.”

Feyd-Rautha — what remains of Feyd-Rautha, anyway — flashes you a look of regret. Guilt. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable, Lady Y/N. I can leave.”

“No, please, don’t,” you say. You scrub the tears from your face, embarrassed by the display of vulnerability. “None of this is your fault.”

“May I come in?”

He had been standing in the threshold of the doorway, reminding you of the many times that Feyd had done the very same thing, discussing battle strategy and politics and even lovemaking. You avert your gaze and wave him in, hoping he didn’t see the sudden blaze of your cheeks.

However, you notice him stride past in your peripheral identically to your lover and settle on the edge of the bed. To keep yourself from further jabs of pain, you feign an interest in the view outside the window, fingers tapping restlessly on the pane.

“What was he like?” The ghola asks finally.

“You don’t know?”

You pose the question carefully, hopefully in a manner of nonchalance. What would the ghola think of their bloody origin? It must be terrible to belong to someone else entirely. Especially someone such as Feyd, who answered with his blade faster than he asked questions. A man with no restraint, no fear, and until the very end, no consequences.

You squeeze your eyes shut in an attempt to ward off the images of his final moments.

“I’ve seen…things. I was hoping that you would be able to elaborate.”

“Don’t you want to be your own person?”

“What do you want me to be?”

An innocent enough question. You swallow. “I want you to be someone who is gone.”

The flow of the conversation brings you to face him, reflexive, and the action pains you all over again. “I’m sorry, this is incredibly hard for me.”

His chin dips. “I understand.”

He rises to his feet and starts toward the door. Without thinking, you chase after him. You’ve let your emotions get the better of you and, before you know it, you’ve pulled him against you.

Fuck, he even smelled just like Feyd.

You find that everything is the same as you remember it, your muscles moving all on their own, pushing you up on your tiptoes and your lips on his.

He embraces you then. Immediately. Without any awkwardness or hesitation, and it’s just enough to make you forget that it’s not him.

The kiss is wild, desperate, full of unspoken things that you wish you could’ve told him as he bled out before your eyes. Pleasure uncoils from inside you like a snake seeking the warmth of the sun, slipping out from the darkness and into the light.

Feyd-Rautha grabs hold of your waist and together you stumble backwards, unable to differentiate where he began and you ended. He pushes you against the wall as your kiss deepens. Your hands rove his body — the slope of his shoulders, the plane of his chest, the ridges of scars from past fights that are only all too familiar to you. A thought emerges, unbidden:

This ghola had never been in those fights.

Couldn’t retell the story of each one affectionately the way Feyd did, as if they were done by a lover’s touch and not the blade of an enemy.

You plant your hands on the ghola’s chest and shove. Hard. The heat in your belly, unable to separate what you were feeling from what you knew, rebels against this, the absence of his touch. You have half the mind to reach out and pull him into you again.

The ghola just stares.

“This is wrong,” you manage to gasp. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

His lips swollen by your kiss, the ghola stammers, “I-I didn’t —”

“You should go.” An indescribable pain crashes over you, dragging you into the depth of its severity.

He nods once. Then again.

The ghola brushes past you to leave and every fiber of your being screams at you not to let him go. But you don’t listen. Instead you wait until he’s gone, ensuring that he’s not coming back, and then collapse to the ground on your knees.

You mourn the man you loved. You mourn the person you were before. And you mourn the fact that this ghola has taken from you the opportunity to mourn.

Feyd-Rautha was dead.

[byeuijoo]

jealousy, jealousy 𐀔 myung jaehyun

genre : fluff, a little bit of angst if you squint ⋆ warnings : jealousy, kissing? ⋆ word count : 794

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ୨ ✩ ୧

it was an afternoon like any other, hanging out with friends of yours, luring your boyfriend along for the ride. jaehyun's hand almost never left yours — but the drive home seemed much quieter than expected.

while trying to get some kind of reaction from him, you thought about everything you'd done today that could have lowered his mood. after joining the boys at the amusement park, you all spent the day having fun and running around to ride as many rides as possible. maybe it was because you hadn't shared your cotton candy with him? or because you didn't let him ride the ferris wheel at the end of the day? no, it all seemed far too trivial to make him sulk like that.

as you unlocked the door to your apartment, discarding your shoes and coat, you watched him out of the corner of your eye : he instantly moved to the sofa, scrolling through his cell phone without saying a word. a long sigh left your lips as you walked around the sofa to face him, and even if you wanted to slip into his arms, you felt it wasn't the right time for physical contact. turning on the television to take your mind off the whole thing, you let a sigh leave your lips, glancing repeatedly at your boyfriend.

his face, which was usually so luminous, seemed to be extinguished, as if a rain cloud were hovering over his head. where was his big smile hiding? biting your lip, thinking of some way to change his mood, you grabbed your phone,

then suddenly you realized.

was it because you'd done a whole attraction with dongmin instead of him, and because you'd been a tad clingy with each other? wasn't he just jealous?

it made sense, and would even be extremely likely. despite jaehyun's expressive face, you knew he didn't like to talk about this kind of topics because he found his reactions simply ridiculous. while you thought it was kind of cute.

so without thinking any further, you infiltrated his personal space, grabbing his phone ( which you lock and place further back on the sofa ) before coming to sit on jaehyun's laps, his questioning face raised towards yours. before he could object and stop you from doing anything, you leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek, before sliding your hands on his baby cheeks.

looking him straight in the eyes, you end up pulling up the corners of his mouth with your forefingers, drawing a slight smile on his face. « jealousy doesn’t suit you, » you say softly, causing a sigh to escape his lips, before you continue, « i like to see you smile more. »

with a keen eye, you could see the tips of his ears gently reddening. his hands finally moved and slid over your hips, putting pressure on your lower back to draw you against him. his face camouflaged itself in your neck, against which he placed a trail of kisses while murmuring a nonsensical apology. « don't apologize, you've done nothing wrong. » you reassured him, slipping your hand under his sweater to gently caress the skin of his hip in a comforting gesture.

a long sigh left jaehyun's mouth once more, and he nodded slightly, tightening his arms around you as if to prevent you from pulling away. « it's just.. you know.. » he began to explain, his voice settling on your skin in a muffled sigh, « seeing him so close to you made me jealous. »

« if it makes you feel any better, i too am sometimes jealous when i see someone a little too close to you, jaehyun. » you confessed, making him move slightly away from you, his eyes lost in yours for long seconds. then you placed a soft and warm kiss on the tip of his pretty nose, while slipping your arms around his neck, offering him the warmest of your smiles.

« i love only you, » you whispered between two stolen kisses, pecking at his lips under his watchful gaze, which seemed to see nothing but you, « myung jaehyun, i only love you. » you repeated, making the new kiss last a little longer.

his heart seemed soothed and reassured by your words — because he suddenly seemed so much more sure of himself than five seconds ago. closing his eyes to enjoy your exchange more fully, jaehyun's hand slipped into the back of your neck to hold your face in place, which drew a smile from you against his lips. but that didn't stop him from kissing you harder, more passionately, again and again, while murmuring some almost inaudible i love yous against your pretty mouth.

⠀

reblogs & feedbacks are highly appreciated !

[viceroywrites]

deja vu - part 5 (stan route)

planning out your road trip through the pacific northwest, you find yourself inexplicably drawn to the town of gravity falls.

little did you know that this town held more memories than you could have possibly imagined.

too bad you didn't remember any of them.

stan x fem!reader / ford x fem!reader

choose your own adventure / contains fluff and angst (w/ happy ending)

part four | part six

interested in ford route? click here for the masterlist

tag list: @awitchersbard | @theilluminatidragonqueen | @jazzypop-op | @jonndoe | @chaimshelii | @starship606 | @swimmingrascalbatdragon n | @stanfordsbaby | @gxstiess | @skrunkle11 | @valinbean | @funkyenby | @therealgoofygoober69 | @theblueraven | @adrian920155 | @im-kinda-bored | @miarabanana | @leo4242564 | @soupieoopieisloopie | @marvelous-maniac | @opossumclown | @m4x-3dw | @nothingbutcloud | @reivelmin | @grimometry | @walmartjim | @reiofsuns2001 | @bunni-teeth81 | @satorisgirl | @pen900 | @creat0r-cat | @lackingoriginalthoughts | @fries11 | @sunniskyies | @policedeer | @sadslasher13 | @kittenlover614 | @margibees | @lunnybunny12 | @the-hufflebird-girl | @sawendel l | @shamrockfish | @atseoks l | @luckybatbones | @ryuyukawa | @mekkori | @bigbodycity | @kawaii1369 | @333brat333 | @styxxcrossing

Stan was having a hard time falling asleep in the hammock, tossing and turning but this flimsy piece of knit fabric did not have enough support for him to get into a comfortable position. Just as he had turned to face the tents, he watched in surprise to see you slipping out of the tent in a panic, running straight for the lake.

Somehow, he was able to untangle himself out of the hammock and made his way over to you as you sat in front of the lake. His warm hand reached out to touch your shoulder, shaking it softly.

“Are you okay?”

The touch startles you, causing you to grab a nearby branch and hold it over your head as you whip around to see who was behind you.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, put the branch down! It’s just me!” The gruff voice said defensively, his hands reaching up to shield his face.

Your eyes register who’s in front of you.

Stan.

You drop the branch, dusting off your hands on your pants before apologizing, “Sorry, Stan. I thought you were-” Your explanation dies in your throat as you still don’t know who you were afraid of.

Was it Ford?

Was it… Bill?

Who was Bill?

Stan stood there with his hands on his hips, eyebrows raised as he waited for your response, “Who’d you think I was? Bigfoot, a zombie?” He pauses before explaining, “You know zombies are actually real? Found that out last summer.”

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh at Stan’s suggestions, “I did not know that, I’ll keep that in mind and study all the zombie apocalypse movies I can.” You stare at the ground before admitting, “I.. had another nightmare. Ford was in it.”

“Ford? What did you two get into a fight or something?” Stan asked in confusion. He knew his brother could be a bit of a know-it-all and had his own stubborn streak, which led him to act like a prick when defending himself, but what possibly could have happened between you and his brother to cause a nightmare.

“Sort of… he wasn’t acting like himself at all. Like he was possessed?” You muttered, trying to make sense of it yourself. “His eyes were almost cat-like… and they were vibrant yellow. He was warning me… to stay away from him.” Your hand reached up to grasp your necklace, glancing down at the sunstone that was pressed against your neck in the dream, “He tried choking me.”

You look up to see Stan standing there rigid. You were used to Stan being so lighthearted and loose that it was almost jarring to see him so tense. “I-I’m sure it wasn’t actually a memory… maybe it was just a nightmare.” You try to backtrack, wondering if you might have upset him by accusing his brother of doing such a thing.

“Y/N… did Ford call himself Bill in your dream?” Stan asks.

“... Yes.”

“Jeez, how do I even begin to explain this one? You know what, maybe we should wake up Ford, he can explain this better.” Stan begins to make his way towards the tent before feeling a tug on his wrist.

He turns around to see you staring up at him, your eyes giving him a silent plea as your grip around his wrist tightens, “Stan, please… don’t wake up, Ford. That’s why… I ran out here. I just couldn’t be near him after having the thought of his hand around my throat fresh in my mind and I just feel like I can’t… right now.”

Stan stares at you, a conflicted look on his face. On one hand, Ford should be the one explaining all these things to you - he’s the one who experienced them with you and Stan’s memory was still recovering. On the other hand, he understood your distress and confusion, being bombarded with uncomfortable memories and emotions that you didn’t know the context to.

“Fine..” Stan sighs, “Let’s take a walk, it’s gonna be another long night.”

-

Stan and you ended up hiking down a trail that led to an overlook, flashlights in hand. You both take a seat on the rock on the edge of the overlook that gives you a perfect view of the lake and your campsite below.

There Stan unloaded as much as he knew about Bill, describing him as a “a con man but one that was an interdimensional being with powers that allowed him to take control of the minds of whoever made a deal with him.”

“Pretty much Ford made a deal with him back in the 80s to help him build that portal… Ford didn’t know that he made a bad deal, thought he had a partner but in reality, Bill had conned him. That portal, I guess, connected our world with Bill’s… which wasn’t a good thing.” Stan explained in a disjointed fashion.

“But… didn’t you open that portal back up trying to get Ford back?” You ask, remembering Stan’s story from earlier in the evening.

“I did… which caused a riff I guess. I dunno, Ford explained all this technical mumbo jumbo but pretty much it led to a mini-apocalypse this last summer in Gravity Falls. Bill was going to take over the world as we knew it, we were doomed.” Stan glazed over the scientific pieces of the story, the memories from Weirdmageddon still blurry despite the kids and Ford taking the time to map out the story to him a few times.

You stare back at Stan blankly before asking, “You’re seriously not pulling my leg, right? Like this isn’t some elaborate scheme between you and Ford to prank me?”

“I wish I was but I swear I’m not..” Stan empathizes, having been in the same spot you were in just last summer, staring at the kids and Ford in confusion as they tried to explain the past to him, “Besides, I could come up with a far better and more believable story if I wanted to prank ya.”

“Well, clearly, you’re all here… what happened?” You ask, having to suspend your disbelief for the moment to understand how the Pines family and the town of Gravity Falls came out of a supposed apocalypse unscathed.

“That’s where I can’t give many details, toots. My memories from... what did Ford call it… Weirdmageddon... haven’t come back fully. But Bill’s gone… apparently, Ford and I switched places to trick Bill, and I made a deal with Bill, letting him enter my mind. Ford used the memory erasing gun to take out Bill but he had to erase my memories in the process. All of ‘em.” Stan trails off, waiting for your reaction.

“So Bill can go into peoples’ minds?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m assuming when he enters your mind, he could also potentially possess you, right? Take control of your body?”

“Never happened to me, but apparently Bill took over Ford’s body at one point.”

You sit there in silence for a solid minute, mulling over all this information. Your hands run through your hair in exasperation and you can’t help but let out a groan, “God, I need a drink.”

Suddenly, you hear a popping sound and a beer bottle is thrust in front of your face, causing you to look over at Stan who holds it out, the cap already popped off with the makeshift ingenuity of using his keys. You look up at him in surprise and can’t help but chuckle, “Wow, you came prepared.”

“Almost downed a whole bottle of whisky when Ford told me about why we stopped talking for all those years. Figured you might need a drink too.” Stan admitted, pulling out a bottle of his own out of the backpack.

You take a swig, chugging down the amber liquid before wiping the corner of your mouth, “As reassuring as it is to know that Ford himself didn’t try and choke me, it’s kind of worse to think that he let an interdimensional being take over him. Guess Bill really won him over.” You chuckle bitterly.

“That’s the part that I don’t get.” Stan scoffs, taking a drink himself as he looks out at the picturesque view before you. “I would get my brother falling for Bill’s whole schtick if he was alone by himself in Gravity Falls. Hell, I’ve gotten a little nutty living out here all these years.”

“But he wasn’t alone. He had you.” Stan turns to look back at you. 

“Maybe… I wasn’t enough.” You mutter, placing the beer down on the ground and stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Maybe I didn’t validate Ford’s efforts enough. Maybe I did just get in the way of him accomplishing his dreams.” The old insecurities that you weren’t even aware of days prior began to seep into your system. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your tear ducts, your vision getting blurry.

So this is what Stan meant by all those uncomfortable feelings coming back to you.

A warm hand envelops your knee, squeezing it firmly. You look up to see Stan staring at you with a stern look on his face through your tear-soaked vision, “Hey, none of that, sweetheart. Blaming yourself isn’t gonna do ya any good, trust me.”

“Listen, I know I’ve barely known you for like a few days, and I’m naturally distrusting towards most people, but seeing how great you are with the kids and how you even stayed to give Ford the benefit of the doubt tells me you’ve got a good heart.” Stan adds on, reaching up to wipe the stray tear that falls onto your cheek. 

“I wasn’t around during you and Ford’s relationship but I know you did the best you could.” Stan reassures you, “You’re a catch. I don’t even know how Ford got you in the first place. No offense to my brother, he’s a genius but he was an awkward mess with girls.” Stan chuckles.

You sniffle, a soft smile spreading across your features at Stan’s joke, “Not sure, that memory hasn’t come back yet. How bad could it have been though?”

“My guess is terrible, I watched a girl throw punch on Ford at our high school prom. Turns out he told the girl that her irises were interesting.” Stan recounts, “He had the right idea, I think he meant to say she had pretty eyes.”

Yours and Stan’s shared laughter echoes through the still silence of the night. You lean down to grab the beer bottle, taking another sip. “Okay, that’s pretty bad but I’m sure you couldn’t come up with much better.” You egg Stan on, curious to see what his response would be.

“Oh really? Is that a challenge?” Stan snickers, “You’re looking at the best pick-up artist out there. I got one-liners locked and loaded.” He boasts, his chest puffing out in confidence.

“Alright then, hit me with your best one, Mr. Mystery.” You tease, looking at him expectantly.

Stan clears his throat before looking up at the night sky littered with stars and the moon shining bright, “You know it’s a beautiful view out tonight.”

You blink, your attention averting briefly to take in how the stars look even more vibrant than they did earlier in the evening after the sky had turned pitch black, “Yeah… it is.”

There’s a pause, both of you staring up at the sky in silence.

“And I’m sitting right next to it.” Stan says, the smooth turn of phrase rolling off his tongue. 

You can’t help how your heart actually skips a beat, heat creeping up your cheeks and up to yours.

“Shit, you got me… I kinda walked right into that one.” You admit defeat with a grin, throwing your hands up in surrender, “That was pretty smooth, I gotta admit."

“Told ya. No one is immune to the ol’ Stan Pines charm.” Stan grins bashfully, taking a sip from the beer bottle that he’s been nursing in his hand. 

The hours start to fly by as you two exchange stories, almost helping each other fill in the gaps of time where you both weren’t in Ford’s lives. You share stories from Ford’s early adulthood, recounting all-nighters spent in the library and the time where you and Fiddleford communicated purely through morse code via hamboning which drove Ford absolutely insane. Stan tells tales about his adventures with Ford this past year on the Stan O War II, and how Ford had helped him slowly but surely regain his memories from his childhood.

In the back of his head, Stan wonders what he’s doing and how he ended up in this predicament. A sense of guilt washes over him, knowing he may be distracting you from reconnecting with Ford. His brother had spent the whole summer patiently helping him piece together the fragments of his mind and here he is, sharing stories with his brother’s ex over a beer.

God, he even used a pick-up line on you.

The sound of your laughter cuts through his worries. 

Stan watches fondly as you throw your head back in laughter after he had shared with you the time that Ford created a robot to help him practice kissing properly.

Seeing the tears of joy forming and replacing the tears of sorrow that were previously there, maybe it wasn’t all terrible that you two were getting closer - he could at least be there to support you and add some lightness to your journey of getting your memories back. 

A tired yawn finally escapes your lips as you get up, having finished your beer, “We should probably head back and at least try to get some sleep.”

Stan follows suit, the two of you making your way back down the trail. Turning your flashlight off as you near the tents, you turn to Stan with an exhausted but gracious smile, “I honestly can’t thank you enough, Stan. You’ve really helped me out a lot these past few days, didn’t think you’d be such a sweetheart when I first met you.”

Stan’s cheeks redden, crossing his arms, “Not sure if I should be flattered or offended… but no problem. It’d be a dick move if I didn’t do all the things that I’ve offered.”

“Well, thanks for not being a dick.” Your arms make their way around Stan’s frame, hugging him tightly to show your gratitude. He finds himself slowly returning the embrace, his warm and strong arms wrapping around your frame.

Looking down, he sees you tentatively looking back at the tent and realizes that you might be reluctant to go back in and sleep next to his brother. He himself knows how hard it was when those painful memories of him and Ford’s fights came back, stuck on a boat with no other option than to be around the person that he was still pissed at. 

“Hey, you wanna sleep in the hammock tonight? I wasn’t gonna be able to sleep in it anyways, I have too many back problems to not have any back support.” Stan says gruffly, reaching behind to grab his lower back in exaggeration. 

You glance between his back and the hammock before staring up at him skeptically, “Are you positive?”

“Yeah, Ford’s used to my snoring anyways after we had to sleep in the same room the whole summer on the boat.” Stan lets go of you finally, “Get some rest, alright, toots?”

You nod, walking towards the hammock, “You too, Stan.”

Stan walks over to the tent, making sure you’re situated in the hammock that you climb into with much more ease than he did. After getting a thumbs up signal from you, he slips into the tent, seeing your sleeping bag kicked to the corner and Ford sleeping soundly, the rise and fall of his chest causing the fabric of the sleeping bag to rise.

Stan picks up the sleeping bag, grateful there was enough leg room for him to squeeze into it. He lay next to his brother, his hands folded over his chest as he stared up at the ceiling.

The last thought on his mind before the heaviness of his lids takes over is a fucked up one, but Stan can’t help but think that if he had been so lucky and met someone like you, he wouldn’t have neglected you the way Ford did back then.

-

Sunlight began to leak through the thin mesh material of the tent, stirring Ford from his slumber. Reaching up to rub his eyes, he realizes he passed out with his glasses still on, removing them briefly to remove the sleep from his eyes. As he puts on his glasses, he turns to his side, expecting to see you potentially still sleeping next to him.

To his surprise, he sees his brother, his mouth wide open as drool dribbles down his chin with his snores echoing through the small tent.

Ford stares in confusion, wondering when you and Stanley may have switched places. Maybe you had asked Stan to just sleep in the tent with Ford instead, not yet feeling comfortable to share a tent with him. 

Wanting answers, Ford gives his brother’s hairy upper arms a firm shake. Stan grumbles in his sleep but stubbornly turns to face away from Ford. Rolling his eyes, Ford shakes Stan with a bit more force and calls out, “Stanley, wake up.”

Stan raises his hand in protest, waving off his brother’s attempts to disrupt his sleep.

Stanford sighs.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Ford fishes through his backpack to pull out a water bottle that he brought and stands above his brother, unscrewing the cap and trickling the water onto Stan’s forehead.

Stan wakes up in a startle, shooting up automatically, “Mother fucker, Ford!”

Ford caps the bottle, staring down at his brother with slight amusement, “Keep it down, Stanley, the kids might hear you.”

Stan groans, reaching to pull his shirt up to attempt to dry off his face, “Why the hell did you wake me up?”

“Why are you in here? I thought you were sleeping in the hammock.” Ford asks with a straightforward tone.

Stan raises his eyebrow at his brother before rolling his eyes, “We slept on a boat together for almost half a year and suddenly sleeping next to your brother is the worst thing in the world.”

Ford pinches his nose bridge in frustration, “You know what I mean, Stan. Did Y/N sleep in the hammock last night?”

“Yeah, I offered to switch places with her.” Stan explains, slipping out of the sleeping bag as he knew there was no chance he was going to be able to sleep anyways.

“Was she uncomfortable sleeping next to me?” Ford asked, hungry for answers, “Did I end up snoring at all? I know you did say I sleep talk here and there…”

Stan hesitates.

What’s Ford’s reaction gonna be?

Is he gonna be pissed that Stan didn’t come and get him so he could explain the situation himself?

Stan took a deep breath, calming his nerves before scratching his chin awkwardly, “She had another nightmare… you were in it.”

Ford’s pupils widen in panic and he grabs his brother’s shoulders in a panic, “Well, what happened? Did she tell you? Did I say something terrible to her?” The questions tumble out of his mouth faster than Stanley can answer them. 

“Whoa, whoa, one at a time, Ford!” Stan raises his hand up. Ford’s tense posture slightly relaxes as he slows down his frantic questioning, “What did I do?”

“Bill was possessing your body. He pretty much told Y/N to stop distracting you from working on the portal… he almost choked her, Stanford… in your body.” Stan explains, unable to meet his brother’s eyes as he does so.

Ford’s body fills up with a mixture of emotions - horror, dread, anger - at the revelation.

First, Bill had been possessing his body much sooner than he had known.

Second, that he had used his body to hurt you in such a way.

“Oh god… how can I even begin to explain that to her?” Ford groans in defeat, his hands running over his face. He peers through his six digits up at his brother, “What did you tell her?”

“I pretty much explained to her that Bill was like a con-man, tricked you into a bad deal…” Stan gave an overview of what he had shared with you to his brother, “Told her Bill had the ability to take over people’s bodies once he had access to their minds. Couldn’t give her too many details past that considering I wasn’t around for it all.”

“She must be livid at me.” Ford laments.

“Eh.. mad isn’t really the right word… if that’s what livid means. She’s just confused and hurt.” Stan reassured his brother. 

“Why didn’t you wake me up to explain it to her, Stanley? It was my actions, I should have been the one to explain the situation to her.” Ford asks.

“Because she was afraid of you, Ford. The last thing she remembered before she woke up was your hand around her neck. Trust me, I wanted to go get you but she stopped me.” Stan explained, exasperation evident in his tone. 

The two didn’t realize that the volume of their voices were escalating.

Thankfully the kids were still knocked out, heavy sleepers taking advantage of their summer schedule.

Unfortunately, you could hear the two bicker faintly, waking you from your slumber.

Groaning, you run a hand through your hair, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes before slipping out to approach the tent.

“Let me go talk to her, Stanley. I need to at least tell her that I have no memory of what happened when Bill took over my body.” Ford sits up from his seat as Stan protests, “Ford, give her some time. She’s still spooked from it.”

As you’re about to open the tent, Ford does it before you. 

“Y/N…” Ford calls out.

Your eyes flick from Ford to see Stan standing behind his brother, an apologetic look etched across his features.

Stan told his brother about your nightmare.

“I’m assuming you want to talk… to discuss my latest discovery from last night.” You ask Ford, who nods, caught off guard by your directness. 

Stan watches as the two of you walk off, heading towards the lake to step away from the campsite in case Dipper and Mabel woke up.

“I’m sure you have questions for me…” Ford says carefully, gazing out at the lake. The light refracts off the water, distorting the reflection of your bodies standing before it. 

“That may be the understatement of the year. Where do I even start?” You say, a bitter tone lingering underneath your words. Ford winces at it but he can’t blame you after all.

The tension between the two of you is thick, heavy like the morning dew that coats the leaves of the trees that surround you.

Let’s start here. You think to yourself before opening your mouth to ask, “Stan told me Bill tricked you… what did he do to trick you?”

Ford hesitates to answer the question at first. He knows any discussion of Bill could open a can of worms could unravel the potential of you two getting closer. Looking into your eyes, he feels like he’s back in the 1980s - your gaze piercing and almost cold. 

He knows all too well after last summer where secrets lead. He knows he can’t even begin to repair any sense of a relationship - whether it be romantic or platonic - with you if he doesn’t tell the truth.

“He instructed me to build a portal. A portal that I thought would be the answer to my research, an opening that explained all the anomalies that existed in Gravity Falls.” Ford explained, grabbing a stick to draw out the portal in the dirt beneath your feet, “In reality, it would have caused his realm - the Nightmare Realm - and ours to collide, giving him free reign to bring chaos into our world.” 

You stare down at the drawing, the exact image of it clear from your dreams. 

That wasn’t exactly the answer you were wanting.

“I guess what I meant was… how did he get you to trust him? I mean this is an interdimensional being… and you just followed what he said? Let him into your mind?” You pressed him for answers.

Ford wants nothing more but to sink into the ground at your questions. He wondered himself how he was able to fall for Bill’s flattery so easily. He always prided himself for being a logical man and yet he mindlessly followed and listened to this being that he had barely any understanding of.

“He said he was a muse… that he hand selected a brilliant mind each century to inspire.” Ford sighed, “He… made me feel special, made me feel seen for the first time in my life. He knew my weaknesses, preyed on my insecurities.” Ford looked at you regretfully, knowing he touched a sore spot deep inside of you with his words at the way you grimaced when he said the word muse. 

You inhale sharply, trying to suppress the tears that threaten to bubble to the surface. Exhaling out, you finally meet Ford’s stare, “Did you know what he was doing with your body?”

Ford shakes his head vehemently, “I did not. I assumed that when he had free reign to my mind, he was just using it to give me knowledge. I… didn’t realize until much later the unspeakable horrors he was doing with it… I found out a few minutes ago from Stanley that he hurt you in my body and I can’t describe how sorry I am.”

You look into Ford’s eyes, pools of brown swimming with regret and sincerity. 

You remember being told that eyes were the windows to the soul.

He was telling the truth. 

You felt you had enough pieces to puzzle together the answer to your final question but had to hear it from Ford himself, “Is Bill the reason why we went our separate ways?”

Ford paused. He had an opportunity at this moment to blame everything on Bill, using his manipulation as justification for his actions. 

He couldn’t though. Not after knowing that the last words that he said to you were what caused you to let go of him for good. 

Ford had to take accountability for his part.

“Yes and no. He caused a rift between us but my words and my actions were what caused us to inevitably split apart.” Ford admitted.

You slowly nod, realizing what happened all those years ago was still much more complex than what you understood it to be.

The sound of birds chirping fill the silence between the two of you.

“I want my memories back as soon as I can. I need to fully understand everything that happened before I can make any judgments about you… about all of this.” You finally speak, “What’s the fastest way of getting them back?”

Ford blinks in alarm at your declaration before pondering your question, “Well… there’s a good chance your memories may be stored in the Gravity Falls Museum of History. That’s where Dipper and Mabel found Fiddleford’s memories and were able to piece back together his fragmented mind.”

“Let’s get them tomorrow… you, me and Stanley. I don’t want the kids to be around if there’s memories of us fighting… or worse.” You trail off, the memory of Bill’s hand around your neck still fresh in your subconscious.

“Understood, we’ll sneak in at night. Are you sure you want to bring Stanley? We could-” Ford is interrupted by you, “No, I want Stan there… as a mediator of sorts. In case I might want to deck you after I get my memories back.” 

Ford winces at the thought. He knows from experience with Stanley regaining some of his memories of their fights that that was a realistic possibility on the table. 

“Until then… I’ll need some space, Ford. I’m just conflicted about how to feel about you at this point and I can’t ignore what my gut is screaming at me.” You admit.

To your surprise, Ford nods in understanding, “I will give you that space then.” He walks off, looking back at you with a wistful smile before calling out to his brother.

“Stanley, we’ll need your lock-picking skills tomorrow evening!”

“Finally, my time to shine!”

You watch the two brothers laugh as they seem to joke about their antics during their travels. Stan looks over Ford’s shoulder and you see his expression morph into one of genuine concern. 

‘You okay?’ He mouths.

You didn’t quite know how to answer that question.

You had just discovered that your former partner put an interdimensional con-man above you. Above your relationship.

Yet, Stan seemingly with one gaze made that anger that was boiling to the surface fizzle out.

You felt seen. You felt understood.

‘I’m ok.’ You mouth back.

[7ndipity]

Safe Space

Seokjin x Reader

Summary: Just a lil blurb about comforting Jin after a tough day.

Warnings: slight angst, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @casuallyimagining and @feminympho for requesting this, as well as the lovely anon who sent this headcanon! This is a lil eh, but I tried.🤷 Hopefully you’ll still like it!💜

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin let his bag hit the floor with a thud as he entered the house, heading straight into the living room and falling face down on the sofa with a thump, letting out a muffled groan of frustration.

“Bad day?”

His head popped up, not realizing you were home yet.

You stood in the kitchen doorway, cup of tea in hand, eyeing his tired form with cautious concern.

“It’s nothing.” He said, slumping back against the cushions.

“Are you sure?” You asked, coming to sit next to him, rubbing his back soothingly.

“No.” He said after a moment, looking up at you. “But I don’t want to drag your mood down just cause I’m frustrated.”

You frowned at him. “Do you feel dragged down when I vent about my problems?”

“No.” He said in a small voice.

“So why would it be any different for you?” You smiled at him encouragingly. “I know it’s difficult sometimes, but whatever you need, I’m here for you.”

He hesitated, sitting up slowly before beginning to speak.

“It’s just…” He sighed. “The company made a big deal about rescheduling rehearsals for today, even though we were exhausted from traveling the past few weeks, and when we got there, the choreographer was late and kept getting annoyed at everyone for messing up. And then…”

Once he started, it was like he couldn’t stop, releasing all the day's frustrations, all of the shitty feelings he had been bottling up for the past days and weeks in order to just get through.

You didn’t say anything, just humming along as he spoke, dragging your fingers across his back in the same soothing pattern you did to help him fall asleep.

By the time he had finished, his voice had crept up into a yell, leaving the room starkly quiet in contrast as he finally fell silent, the hands that had been slowly clenching into fists in his lap finally relaxing again.

“Sorry.” He said, softening his tone. His throat was dry, causing his voice to crack slightly, but his chest felt five pounds lighter, able to breathe properly again.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” You said calmly, passing him your forgotten cup of tea. “You need to let it out sometimes.”

You had known something had been bothering him, he had been quieter than usual, his smile slightly forced, not fully reaching his eyes. And although it hurt you to see him pull back as he had, you had tried to be patient and wait for him to talk about it when he was ready, not wanting to push him.

When he lifted his eyes to meet yours, you were smiling at him softly, but not pityingly.

“Feel any better?” You asked gently.

“A bit,” He let out a weak chuckle. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for letting me in.” You said, brushing your thumbs over his cheeks. He hadn’t even realized a few stray tears had slipped out till you were gently wiping them away.

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “How about you go change into something comfy and let me look after you?“

“Okay.” He replied, but he didn’t move just yet.

Staring down at you, he was suddenly struck by how lucky he felt to have you. You never judged him or tried to fix his problems for him, you just let him be. He never had to pretend with you, he could let anything out, good or bad, without fear of rejection. Although you may have only been together for a comparatively short time, you had become his safe space.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” You asked, shifting awkwardly under his gaze.

He shook his head.

“I just love you.” He said simply, earning a flustered grin from you.

“I love you too.” You said quietly.

He pulled you close, resting his head on top of yours, taking in the scent of your shampoo as he let out a deep breath, feeling peaceful for the first time in days.

His problems might still be there, but they didn’t seem as bad right now, knowing that he had you to lean on and to keep him safe.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Let's Talk About That

And if I'm honest, I just never saw this comin' (7)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!fem!Reader x Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You've lost the Civil War, but you've also lost the only love you've ever known so where does that leave you?

Word Count: 4.4K

Warning: Mostly angst, but some fluff too! Mentions of edging

A/N: Let's dive into Infinity War

July 10th 2016

After a hard fought battle all of us who sided with Cap except for Steve and Bucky were taken to The Raft, a newly built prison especially for us. Wanda and I confined to straight jackets and power dampening collars. Barley able to move at all. The collars and jackets coming off of the two of you rarely. Then just like it was before the avengers suddenly they were testing the stone in your chest. Poking and prodding at it. They even tried to pull it out which the stone ended up hurting them when they tried it.

That is where Sam, Clint, Scott, Wanda, and yourself stayed for close to two months. Then finally on July 10th Steve and Natasha rescued you. As soon as Tasha took off your collar and jacket you hugged her finally having the ability to touch again.

"Fuck..." you buried your face into her neck. Running your hands up into her hair and just being able to touch someone again was a feeling you thought you’d never get to have again. It made you want to cry like a full blown sensory overload, but in the best possible way.

"You're okay, Y/N, you're safe," Natasha whispered, hugging you back. She lifted you ever so slightly off the ground. The weightlessness of it felt nice.

You looked up and saw Wanda being released by Steve. That's when Vision came in, letting you know that there wasn’t much time. Wanda ran to him, hugging him tightly. Just like that, with no more words between the two of you, you knew it was over, and your worst fear had come true. You looked away, re-burying yourself against Tasha as you felt tears prick the corners of your eyes.

"Come on, Y/N, let's go. I have someone I want you to meet," Tasha told you. Tugging on you a bit, but you were more than willing to follow her at this moment. You knew there was no way you could look at Wanda without having a full breakdown and Vision? You might tear him to pieces if you stay here any longer, feeling the anger boil over at him for taking her from you. "We're going to a safe house together. We're going to lay low for a bit."

You didn't argue, but you did look back at Wanda, hoping she'd protest or say anything, do anything. But she didn't. Her hand easily slipped into Vision's as a tear rolled down your cheek. She didn’t look at you, the smile she used to give you was now directed at Vision.

"Let's go, Tasha. No need to stay here any longer," You said coldly, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. Once you were in your own vehicle and flying away, Tasha cloaked and put it onto autopilot, she pulled you into her and let you just cry. No words exchanged for a bit as she just rubbed your back.

"You deserve so much better. Did she even tell you it was over?" she asked. You shook your head.

“She just pushed me away.... I'm sorry I left you that day. I-" She put a finger to your lips. You shut up quick from that.

"No need for apologies, sweetie," You looked up at her and finally took in her new hair.

"Blonde... hmmm.." It was also shorter than the last time you’d seen her a few months ago. You could only wonder what she had gotten up to, but you could only assume she did it because she was in hiding.

"You don't like it, do you?" You shook your head a soft smile coming to your face.

"It's not that... I just prefer redheads," you mentioned with a shrug.

“Well I’ll grow it back out. No more blonde after this, okay?” Natasha asked as if your answer would be the end all of her dying her hair. You simply gave her a nod and moved back to your own seat.

“I still don’t know how to fly...or drive...” You spoke up making the blonde chuckle.

“You were being held captive for two months I wasn’t expecting you to learn.” Her voice had turned light and airy, a bit of laughter coming out. “Here sweetie flip that switch.” Natasha pointed to a switch on the dashboard which you did. “Good! So that turned off auto pilot. Now I’m going to show you how to actually keep this thing up in the air.”

Time Skip

May 2018

I was awoken by someone jumping on the bed, startling me awake. "Harley Adams wake up already! I'm going to have to leave soon and then who knows when you'll get to see this face again!" I hear Yelena's thick Russian accent and I smirk, a chuckle coming out of my lips as I reach out and grab her, pulling her into a tight hold she can't get out of without hurting her of course. She still tries though,

"Mmmm Teddy." I bury my face against her.

"No Y/F/N I'm not your Teddy. That is Natasha's job." Yelena protests, but still I hold her there until she stops and then when Natasha comes through the door I hear her laugh.

"I feel like it was really your own fault Lena." Tasha remarks. I hear her come over to me, peppering kisses on my cheek. "Let her go malen'kiy." I do as asked and release Yelena. Turning now to Natasha, bringing her into my vice grip,

"Mmm Teddy."

"It's time to get up malyshka." I groan at Tasha's reminder, but also release her and sit up. I rub my eyes and yawn.

"I don't want to." I state with a pout.

"I know, but we all have work to do. Yelena is going to be heading out to go save more Widows. You have to work at the office, and I get to stay here and take care of the house." Tasha reminds me and I look over at Yelena. She gives me a small smile. I know she doesn't want to leave us again.

"I'm sure you'll be back before any of us know it." I smile at Yelena, holding her hand. I let my thumb rub the back of her hand.

As Yelena's smile fades into a more somber expression, she squeezes my hand gently. "I hope so, Harley. But you know how unpredictable these missions can be." There's a hint of sadness in her voice, but also determination.

"I'll be counting the minutes until you're back," I assure her, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze before releasing it.

Natasha comes over and sits on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. "You know she'll be safe out there. She's one of the best, just like you."

I lean into Natasha's touch, finding comfort in her presence. "I know, but I still worry," I admit softly.

"We all do," Natasha says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "But we trust her, just like she trusts us."

Yelena stands up from the bed, her expression turning more determined. "I better get going. There are lives to save."

I nod, giving her a small smile. "Take care of yourself out there, Yelena. And don't do anything reckless."

She grins back at me. "Wouldn't dream of it, Y/N." With that, she heads out of the room, leaving Natasha and me alone.

Natasha turns to me, her gaze softening. "Ready to face the day, malyshka?"

I sigh, but nod. "Yeah, let's do this."

Together, we get up from the bed and start getting ready for the day ahead, knowing that no matter what challenges come our way, we'll face them together as a family.

May 30th 2018

As you go through the days at the office you’re constantly reminded of your old life that for the time you've left behind. You know it's been two years, but you could never let go of that lingering feeling that something was always around the corner for you. Everything felt quiet too quiet as you listened to a patient talk to you about how their new meds are doing. How they're helping them with their episodes and I smile. Remembering that this is all you’ve ever wanted. Just to help people like this. Yet now? It didn’t feel like it was what you wanted. You missed the action. You missed saving people. You missed Avenging.

"This was a good session Jean. We'll set up another appointment for next week okay? Just let her know at the desk." You smile as she exits and you let out a breath as you slump back in your chair.

Your chest, more specifically your stone, seizes up, as you clutch at your chest struggling to breath for a moment before it passes. Recently it's been doing that. These random bursts of seizing coming from your stone and you couldn’t figure it out. It had never done anything like this in all the years since it decided your chest was it’s new home.

As you finish up for the day you head to your car and head home. Taking out your key and turning it in the lock. As you drop your keys in the bowl by the door and start taking off your flats your chest once again seizes up. "Tasha!" You call out, your voice strained to make it’s way out. You hear Tasha's steps along with a heavier pair. You look up through pain filled eyes to find Steve. As you struggle for a moment to breath, you lean against Tasha.

"What's wrong Malyshka?" She asks worry etched on her face.

"First Vision and now you..." Steve says under his breath as you regain your ability to breath you take in a deep breath.

"What do you mean first Vision?" You hadn't thought about him or Wanda in a long time.

"His stone has been hurting him. He's been with Wanda the past few days and Wanda let me know about it." you bite your tongue until you taste metal.

"Do we know why?" Steve shook his head. That wasn’t the answer you wanted to hear.

"I came here to grab you two so we could head over to Scotland. The two haven't communicated in a few days." You feel your chest tighten, but it's not the stone this time.

"Will you be okay Harley?" Steve asks and you nod. The ability to talk felt foreign when it came to seeing Wanda again. Facing something you’ve run from for years. Though words bubble up to the surface like water boiling over,

"Oh yeah...yeah I mean it's been two years and we ended on shit terms so yeah I'm totally looking forward to seeing my ex and her current synthizoid." You don't even give him the satisfaction of being a boyfriend. That would mean that he'd have to actually be human. You push past both of them. "I'm taking a shower before we leave." You say without letting either of them say anything.

As you step into the shower, the hot water cascading over you, you let out a shaky breath. The memories flood back, unwanted but unavoidable. Thoughts of Wanda, of Vision, of everything the two of you had been through together and how it all fell apart. You can feel the pain in your chest, not just from the physical discomfort, but from the emotional turmoil stirring within you.

Closing your eyes, you try to push the memories away, to focus on the present moment. But they linger, stubborn and persistent, like shadows creeping in the corners of your mind. You can't shake the feeling of regret, of wishing things had turned out differently.

As you wash away the day's stress and tension, you try to find some semblance of peace within yourself. But it's elusive, slipping through your fingers like water, leaving you feeling hollow and empty.

When you step out of the shower, you find Tasha waiting for you, concern etched on her face. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asks softly, reaching out to touch your arm.

You force a smile, trying to push aside the turmoil raging inside of you. "Yeah, I'm fine," you reply, though even you can hear the falseness in your voice.

Tasha gives you a knowing look, her eyes filled with empathy. "You don't have to pretend with me, Y/N/N. I know it's not easy."

You sigh, letting your guard down for a moment. "I just... I don't know how to face them, Tasha. After everything that happened..."

She pulls you into a comforting hug, holding you close. "You don't have to face them alone, Y/N. We'll get through this together, just like we always do."

"Why do you put up with me?" You ask standing in front of her, dripping from your shower. She gives a soft smile, grabbing your towel and helping you dry off.

"I love you. That's why." You sigh.

"But I..."

"You're still caught up on her? I know."

"So how can you love me? Why put up with me? Why me Tasha? We've got a 10 year age differ-" She cuts you off by pulling you into her lap and kissing you.

"Stop. Don't do that to yourself. You don't deserve it. I love every little bit of you. Especially that you still hold feelings for her." She tells you and you can’t fathom why that could be a reason to keep loving you when you couldn’t fully give yourself over.

"Why?"

"You've been through so much and yet you still keep your heart." Tasha stops a moment. "My mother asked me, 'how I kept my heart even through everything' do you know what I told her?" You shake your head, droplets of water flying, hitting various objects including Tasha.

"You. You showed me what it meant to always keep your heart through everything. You always had the answers. Every conversation we had you always had the answers. You always knew what to say, what I needed to hear. You always reminded me of the good. It was all you. So I'm going to love you at your highest of highs and your lowest lows. Your moments of jealousy when a girl looks my way, your angry outbursts, the bar fights you start with the guys when they squeeze my ass. I know you love me just as deeply as you do her. I don't ever question it, even though I know you still love her, you hold me in just as high of a regard." Tears are streaming down your cheeks.

"I didn't ask for a whole therapy session Tash..." You go to rub your eyes, but she stops you, brushing her thumbs at first and then she leans in and licks your tears.

"What can I say? I love seeing you cry Malyshka. Though usually out of desperation from edging-" You cover her mouth.

"Shhh Steve is gonna hear." You whisper. She smiles and laughs against your hands.

"Let's get you dressed and head out. We're going to Scotland and then hopefully back to the compound. I'm leaving Lena a note on where to find us." You nod and move off her getting ready to face being a superhero again.

As Tasha helps you get dressed, her words linger in your mind, comforting and reassuring you in a way you hadn't expected. Despite your lingering feelings for Wanda, Tasha's unwavering love and support fill you with a sense of gratitude and warmth.

"Thank you, Tash," you say softly, meeting her gaze with a mixture of affection and vulnerability.

She smiles, brushing a stray strand of wet hair away from my face. "Always, Harley. I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

With her by my side, I feel a renewed sense of strength and determination. Whatever challenges lie ahead, I know that together we can face them, just as we always have.

As you prepare to leave for Scotland, you take a moment to appreciate the depth of Tasha's love for you, feeling grateful for the unwavering support she provides, even in the face of your own uncertainties and insecurities.

With Tasha's hand in yours, you step forward, ready to face whatever the future may hold, knowing that as long as you have each other, you can overcome anything.

When you get to Scotland Wanda and Vision are in a heated battle between two alien beings. Vision is hurt and Wanda is by his side. You push your feelings aside when you see them coming at Wanda, rushing in and using more power than you had in a while as you use a bit more than expected and the bigger one goes flying backwards. Fumbling back through the building you found yourself in, coughing up something akin to blood you could only assume.

"Don't. Touch." Your possessive nature takes over. As you kick off of your feet the ground beneath them breaks away, sending you flying forward to the smaller one. "Run." You say a wicked look in your eyes and when he doesn't you grab his neck, lifting, squeezing as you watch him struggle. "You two hurt something I hold close and for that," You tighten your grip before throwing him like a baseball player would a ball. Sending him flying into the other alien creature before they beamed themselves back up. A low growl coming out of you, breathing heavily as you turn back. Tasha and Steve helping out Vision as you go over to Wanda.

"Are you okay?" You ask, worry in your voice.

"I'm fine." Her voice is cold. Her accent mostly faded away. You simply nod.

"Vision. I heard your stone is bothering you as well?" He's clutching at his side; you take notice that it’s torn open.

"Yes it seems it had something to do with those two." He tells you, his voice a little strained.

"Well lets hope so because I'd like to keep breathing." You tell him and Wanda.

"You weren't breathing!?" Wanda finally has some worry to her voice.

"Yes when my stone reacted to them. It would clench around my lungs. Remember me saying that? The stone has tendrils around my heart and lungs. So every reaction I'd struggle to breath." You explain and you see the emotions swirling, bubbling up to the surface on Wanda. You look away. "Let's go." You take Tasha's hand and go to the Quinjet while Sam and Steve help Vision to the jet.

In the Quinjet, the tension is palpable as you make our way back to the compound. Wanda's worry for you is evident, but the emotional distance between the two of you remains, a reminder of the unresolved feelings lingering from your past.

Tasha squeezes your hand reassuringly, silently offering her support. You appreciate the comfort she provides, grounding you in the present moment. As the jet soars through the sky, you can't help but reflect on the complexities of your relationships and the challenges that lie ahead.

Arriving at the compound, you assist Vision in getting the medical attention he needs. Wanda's concern for him is evident, and you can't help but notice the subtle shifts in her emotions. The air is thick with unspoken words and unresolved tensions.

Later, as you sit with Tasha in the quiet of your shared space, you can't shake the heaviness in your chest. The events in Scotland have stirred up old wounds and exposed the fragility of the connections you once shared.

"Tasha," You begin, your voice hesitant. "I don't know how to navigate this. The past, the feelings. It's all so complicated."

She looks at you with understanding in her eyes, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. "Y/N, we'll figure it out together. We always do."

In her comforting presence, you find solace. The complexities of your emotions may linger, but for now, you are grateful for the anchor Tasha provides in the storm of uncertainty.

Tasha tilts your chin up to meet her, she leans in and gives you a full kiss. Your hand reaching up to cup her cheek as you slowly move against each other. Its a kiss full of love and passion and you almost don't notice Wanda storm off then Natasha smiles against your lips, pulling away from them to whisper in your ear. "I think she still likes you." You smile and push Tasha playfully.

"You think so?" You reply, a hint of amusement in your voice as you glance in the direction Wanda had stormed off.

Tasha nods, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I know so," she teases, her lips curling into a playful smirk.

You shake your head in disbelief, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside of you. Despite the complications of your past, the lingering feelings between Wanda and you are undeniable. But in this moment, with Tasha by your side, you can't deny the warmth and comfort her presence brings.

Leaning in, you press a gentle kiss against Tasha's lips, silently thanking her for her understanding and unwavering support. Whatever the future holds, you know that with Tasha, you are not alone. Together, you'll navigate the complexities of your relationships and find your way forward, one step at a time.

"I think I should finally be an adult and actually try to talk with her." You say to Tasha standing up. She offers you a smile and a reassuring squeeze to your hand as you go off looking for where Wanda went. You find her in one of the small rooms on the jet.

"Hey can we talk?" You ask, leaning on the frame of the door.

"I don't really have anything to say to you." She snaps.

"Well I do so just listen." You say moving into the room, closing the door behind you. There isn't much room in here and you’d rather not sit next to her on the small cot so you opt for squatting down in front of her. Sitting flat on your feet and holding your knees to your chest. "When everything between us started I was only 19 and you were the first person I ever truly let in. When I was going to school that's all I focused on. So you were my first everything and I may be smart, but I did a lot of stupid things in our relationship Wands. I was overly jealous in all my actions and I accused you of things that weren't true because I was insecure. I had my own mental health problems that I pushed to the side and by doing so I threw them at you. I was still a kid and I acted like one. Instead of talking things through I yelled and screamed at you which wasn't fair to you." You take in a deep shaky breath. "Tasha told me that Tony purposefully separated us during the accords. It's why Tasha took me with her. I wanted to make it clear that back then I didn't cheat on you. I'm not that type of person. It wasn't until after we were rescued and I saw you with Vision that I did anything with Tasha." You explain, looking up at her.

As you pour your heart out to Wanda, you can feel the weight of your words hanging in the air between us. She listens silently, her expression unreadable as she processes everything you've said. You hold her gaze, searching for any sign of understanding or forgiveness.

"I know I hurt you, Wands," You continue, your voice softening with sincerity. "And I'm sorry for that. I've had a lot of time to reflect on my actions and the mistakes I made. I just want you to know that I've grown since then. I've learned from my past and I'm trying to be a better person."

Wanda remains silent for a moment, her eyes flickering with a mixture of emotions. Finally, she speaks, her voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability. "I appreciate you being honest with me, but it's not just about what happened in the past. It's about trust and moving forward."

You nod, understanding her perspective. "I know rebuilding trust takes time, Wanda. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes to earn yours back. I just want the chance to prove that I've changed."

She sighs, her gaze softening slightly. "I'll need some time to think about everything you've said."

"That's all I ask," You reply, offering her a small smile. "Thank you for listening, Wands."

As you stand up to leave, you feel a glimmer of hope flicker within you. Despite the uncertainty of what lies ahead, you’re grateful for the opportunity to finally address the lingering tensions between you. And with time, you’re hopeful that the two of you can find a way to heal and move forward, whether together or apart.

You make your way back to Tasha, settling into her lap, wrapping yourself up into her. "How did it go?" She asks.

"Probably about as good as I could hope. Said she needed time to think. Said we need to rebuild our trust and all that." You tell her, feeling Tasha's lips on the top of your head before her fingers run through your hair.

"Good. I'm glad you finally got to say your peace to her. Watching you struggle with it for the past two years was hurting me." Tasha tells you. "Seeing you hurt, hurts me. I just want what's best for you and I want you happy." You smile against her neck.

"I want the same for you Tasha."

As Tasha holds you close, her comforting presence enveloping you, you can’t help, but feel a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over you. Despite the complexities of your past with Wanda, You’re grateful to have Tasha by your side, offering unwavering support and understanding.

"I'm lucky to have you, Tasha," you murmur, nuzzling closer to her. "You've been my rock through all of this."

"And you've been mine," she replies softly, her arms tightening around you. "We'll get through this together, Y/N. Whatever happens, I'll be here for you."

You lean up to press a tender kiss to her lips, feeling a surge of affection and appreciation for the woman who has stood by you through thick and thin. In that moment, you’re filled with a sense of hope and determination, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, as long as you have each other, you can overcome them.

[wordslostforever]

Couples Therapy

Ch. 1 "Work with me"

Pairing: Wanda/fem!reader

Summary: When your marriage with Wanda starts to fall apart, you both decide to have a last chance by going to a professional, for your son's sake, and your own.

Warnings: 16+! Established relationship, Angst, mentions of cheating, mention of Vision, implied sex (not smut), arguments, cursing, gaslighting, mentions of divorce. 

A/N: Honestly, this is the first Wanda fanfiction I’ve ever written, and I hope I did somewhat okay, plus a little warning, I made up everything about couples therapy, apologies in advance.

Also, my first language is not english, so I’m sorry for any grammatical mistake.

Word count: 2.9k

You don't remember the last time everything with Wanda seemed fine, right. 

Little by little, your marriage was becoming untenable with the constant fights and stupid arguments about things that weren't an issue at all, it was as if you didn't know each other, as if your wife didn't know you anymore.

Little by little, the love you once had was vanishing into thin air like smoke in the wind. You tried wearily to pick up those pieces, but they slipped from your hands.

"I never asked you to give up everything for me."

Everything was falling like leaves in autumn, from the ground you tried to grab the dying leaves that changed color.

"I never said you did, Wanda. I gave up everything for you because I wanted to, because I love you. If you brought that up, it's because you resent yourself for it."

So green, so full of life, the leaves turned brown, dry and empty.

"You're unbelievable. I resent myself for what? For making you stay? You're so unbelievable, so damn egocentric and narcissistic" Wanda paused at her words, red eyes crystallized with tears. Her lip quivered as she glared angrily at you, so angry at your straight posture and frown. "I don't even know how I got with you in the first place, you are so full of yourself that I don't know if I fit there with you."

Those eyes looked at you with nothing but resentment, and the love that was hidden in them, faded amidst all those thoughts.

"Jesus Christ!" you said, offended, as you tried to not let out a louder scream. Wanda looked at you indifferently with a raised eyebrow. Your heart was breaking at her gaze, wondering if you would ever see the love you once possessed. "If you want to go and fuck Vision, you should have done it long ago then! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time on you either as you seem so fond on thinking that I suck and I'm not worth your fucking time."

"And you brought that again, what the hell is your problem with me and Vision?"

"The problem is that you screwed him all over and I had to forgive you, I had to forgive your crap all the time, but when it comes to me doing something wrong, for once, you're at my neck annoying the crap out of me."

"I can't- You keep making me feel guilty about it, we said- You said you were over it. I'm over it, that's why I stopped apologizing."

"I was never over it, you made me get over it with your shitty apologies and excuses. Fuck! You even made me feel guilty about it." Maybe those were the words that ended what little patience your wife had, maybe your simple words broke what little was left of your marriage. "'Oh, Y/n, We have children together, Tommy and Billy will be broken, we can't do that to them' So full of crap, you're so full of crap."

Tired, it was all too exhausting for you, for her, the words coming out of a part you both didn't know existed.

"Get out." Wanda said ending the conversation, and you laughed indignantly. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked at you, firm, letting you know she meant it this time. "Get out! Leave!"

"And there you go running." At that you turned around grabbing your jacket from the couch roughly, and shook your head. "Again. You're unbelievable."

"Screw you, y/n."

With that you walked out of the house, closing the door delicately trying to calm the rage gathering in your chest. Wanda, on the other hand, burst into tears, frustrated tears covering her cheeks. It wasn't until a sound came from the staircase that she wiped the drops from her face with her palm, trying to fake a smile.

"Where's momma y/n, mom?" The little boy looked at Wanda in confusion, one of his hands gently scratching his eyes as a yawn escaped his mouth.

"She had to work, honey, just go to bed. Is Tommy awake too?" Wanda asked softly, watching him nod. Her heart broke at the images of her children listening to the fight. "Go to bed, I'll go with you in a few minutes, okay? I have to turn the lights off."

You didn't know what happened, how it happened. You loved Wanda as much as she loved you, but from one moment to the next, days passed from fight to fight and everything fell apart. Maybe it wasn't so abrupt, maybe you should have seen it coming after everything that happened between you.

One of the things that you loved most in the world was slipping through your fingers and you had no idea how to fix it... You had no idea if you wanted to fix it.

You spent the night out at Natasha's house, your best friend and co-worker. Tired, you couldn't sleep and when it was time to get out of bed it was almost an impossible mission, but you still did it, and with a forced smile you went to work.

You needed the distraction, work until your brain couldn’t remember the reason why your heart felt tight and broken inside your chest.

“No, what do you mean by that?”

“I mean, maybe if you try to listen to her and put yourself in her shoes, there may be a way for you two to stop fighting.” You gave your best friend an inexpressive look, making her roll her eyes in annoyance. You sighed, fixing your gaze on your plate with salad, rethinking the point Natasha brought up.

“That’s all I have done since that day, I have listened to her. The problem is not me, it’s her. She is the one fighting, she is the one that complains about everything I do. At this point, I think she just hates me.” You said with a grimace, meeting Natasha features, who resembled your expression. “What?”

You turned around in your chair as soon as Natasha pointed with her head at the door of the restaurant. Your eyes fixed on the figure of your wife, who looked around trying to find you, making you bite the inside of your cheek with irritation. 

Wanda found your eyes and she walked to you. 

Instinctively your eyes roamed through her body, looking how the red dress she was wearing hugged her curves. 

"Wanda." You said her name as soon as she approached you with dark circles under her eyes, but you didn't change the serious look you were giving her. "What are you doing here?"

"Can we talk?"

You bit your tongue trying to hold back the words of rejection that threatened to come out and nodded. With a regretful look at Natasha, you got up from the table grabbing your jacket.

You and Wanda walked out of the restaurant in silence and all the way to the small park nearby. You sat down on one of the benches with Wanda next to you. Your gaze remained fixed on the scenery and the people passing by, feeling Wanda's gaze on you, however, you didn't look at her, you didn't want to, knowing perfectly well that all the anger you felt would vanish in those green eyes.

"The kids are asking for you," The mention of your children made you turn your gaze to her and lock your eyes together. Wanda let out a shaky sigh before swallowing the ball that formed in her throat. "And I don't know if they are buying the work excuse anymore, Y/n, they are asking if you are leaving the house."

"I'll pick them up today and we'll go out. We can discuss what to tell them about us now."

"So, you're moving out? Are we done forever this time?" Wanda winced in pain in her place, hands shaking. You looked at her with your head tilted, feeling your chest constrict as her eyes moved from yours closing.

"Isn't that what you want?" Your eyes met Wanda's again, and you sighed when she shook her head. "Then, what do you want?"

"I want to keep loving you."

"I want that too, but this, my love," Your gaze softened at her and you gripped her clenched fist gently as you opened it. Wanda looked at you intently, melting at the nickname, and opening her hand letting it intertwine with yours. "this is not working anymore, you know we aren't."

“Do you want to divorce?”

"What choice do we have? All we do is fight, Wanda." You saw a tear come out of Wanda's eye and you wiped it away with your finger, trying not to cry. "We have a beautiful family and wonderful children, but our marriage is so broken. You're not happy anymore and neither am I."

"We can try to be happy, we can make it work, we always do. Why should we stop now?"

"Because maybe it's too late. Maybe we're too far apart."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Then let's try one last time." Wanda said, placing her hand on your cheek. You closed your eyes feeling the touch and the warmth her hand transmitted. "I want to be with you, Y/n, I want to fix this."

"I want to be with you too." You moved closer to her, your forehead meeting hers delicately as her thumb brushed your lip. Your hands traveled to her waist squeezing gently as you felt her body tremble at the sadness and despair building up in her.

"Please work with me." You felt the warm air of her breath as Wanda whispered the words above your lips as closed her eyes.

"I always will."

*___________________*

After washing your hands, you looked in the mirror one last time, running one of your hands over the dark circles under your eyes and pinching the top of your nose with irritation. Leaving the bathroom, you walked down a long hallway, if you didn’t know what the place was, you would have assumed it was a hotel, but it wasn’t one.

Couples therapy.

How ridiculous. You knew you were doing it for Wanda more than for yourself, you knew the last thing you wanted to do was talk about your marital problems to a complete stranger who would start judging your every decision. You didn't need this, you didn't, but Wanda did, so once again you decided to put aside what you wanted to do for her.

Wanda seemed excited, you would even say happy to be there when the two of you met in front of the office door. She smiled at you and you forced a smile.

"I left the kids with Pietro and Monica."

"Are they back together?" You asked confused as you opened the door and made way for Wanda to enter, before walking in yourself.

"They never broke up, they just took some time apart." Wanda answered, before greeting the woman sitting on a couch, which happened to be across from a longer couch. "Hello."

"Welcome, you must be Wanda Maximoff. Please, take a seat." Wanda sat down on the couch and patted her side looking at you encouragingly. You sighed defeatedly before sitting down as well.

"She is-" Wanda started, but you cut her off with a polite smile toward the woman who nodded while writing something down in her notebook.

"I'm her wife."

"Y/n Maximoff?"

"Oh no, uhm." You stopped in your place clearing your throat at the situation, you knew the last name issue had been a problem between you and Wanda in the past. "I didn't take her last name, it's just Y/L/N."

"We decided after a couple of talks that we didn't want to change them." Wanda explained and you had to bite your tongue to hold the words that formed in your mouth.

The therapist tilted her head and settled back in her seat, looking intently at your actions making you feel self conscious. Wanda looked at you with narrowed and steady eyes, and you scratched your neck tensely before you heard the therapist's voice.

"Why don't we start now then? Y/n, you were about to say something about what Wanda said, but you held the words" You sighed as the therapist looked at you encouragingly. "You can talk here, this is a space where you two can talk freely, say what you really want."

"It's nothing really, it doesn't matter."

"No, I want to hear it." You looked at Wanda incredulously, irritated at the condescending tone she used.

"You decided that we shouldn't change our last name."

"No, we both did, you agreed."

"Because you made me agree, you barely let me say anything."

"Well, it's not my fault that you can't express your mind."

"You don't let me do it. You always overstep on what I say or turn it into something totally different from what I meant." The look in Wanda's eyes made you sigh tiredly, shaking your head in denial. Your gaze softened as you looked back at her, having no energy to fight. "I wanted your last name."

"Fine, then, let's change it."

"No, it's too late. We have been married for eleven years, it wouldn't make sense now."

Wanda rolled her eyes in irritation before crossing her arms in front of her chest and falling silent, turning her attention back to the therapist who seemed to be listening intently to the conversation. You, on the other hand, clenched your fists in frustration looking back at the therapist.

"I see, maybe we should start with the beginning. What do you think is the problem here? I want both of you to be really honest about this."

You snorted at the question before you felt a soft smack to your side from Wanda scolding you for your behavior. You clenched your jaw for a second, then settled back into place and feigned a smile.

“I don’t know, there are many things that could be or… maybe there’s none and this is useless.”

“Why do you think this is useless, Y/n?”

“Don’t you see it, isn’t that supposed to be your job? Figure out what’s wrong?”

“Don’t be rude.” Wanda scolded you, and you frowned. “She is trying to help.”

“I just don’t want to waste my time on this, you know, I’m not even sure if this will work.”

“We could just try.” Wanda said angrily, scoffing when you shook your head. “Just answer the damn question, Y/n.”

“You answer it then because I can think of a million reasons why everything is wrong.”

“So, there are millions of things that I do wrong?”

“I didn’t even say your name, why do you keep doing that? This is not only about you, it’s about us.”

And so the session continued until the hour was up. The truth is that you were tired, tired of the fights and the useless progress you had made. Wanda assured you that it was only the first session and with that you stayed quiet for the rest of the way home after picking up your kids.

Dinner passed as normal, you and Wanda, Billy and Tommy at the table eating and living like a completely perfect family. That wasn't a problem for you, pretending everything was fine with Wanda in front of your kids, pretending the fights behind closed doors didn't exist. That wasn't the problem. The problem came when you had to go to your room and close the door, at that moment the perfect facade of the perfect marriage fell from your hands.

Again, it was back to the same thing, the meaningless fights, the condescending tones. All that was killing you slowly, so slowly that you thought it didn't exist, but the tiredness would come, the headaches, the pain in your chest that prevented you from breathing. The sadness that invaded your being completely.

“You said you’ll work with me.” Wanda said while she took her clothes off, and you stopped in place, dropping the shirt you were trying to get off. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying.”

“It doesn’t seem like you are.”

“Really, Wanda? Now?” You bit the inside of your cheek looking at her as she pulled the oversized shirt down her body, falling closer to her knees. You took off your pants before shaking your head and taking off your shirt. “I’m tired, just please, don’t start.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” Wanda said once you had your pajamas on, and turned to her. She sat on the edge of the bed, looking at you. “I want us to work.”

You tilted your head towards her as you saw tears falling from her eyes. You approached her gently, kneeling down in front of her as you grabbed the hand that was on her thigh, and giving her a small kiss on the knuckles. Wanda looked up at you, wiping away the tears with her other hand and calmly grabbing your neck, nuzzling you.

That was the first time in months that you saw the love in her eyes, the love that was hidden in between the anger in those fights, the love that you thought no longer existed.

“I love you.'' You released the words naturally, softly, and before standing up, you left a short kiss on her thigh. “I will always love you.”

“I love you too, y/n” Wanda opened her legs to grab you from the waist, pulling you close to her. You smirked when your eyes locked together, watching her eyes darkened slightly and her cheeks take a soft pink color.

Your hands went to her neck after, and a sigh came from your lips when her hands slipped inside your shirt.

You at least had to try, for her and for the love that you had.

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."