#do you ever speak and just...feel the weight of history in your mouth

[midnite-c6]

guilt sex w namgyu, reader guilting namgyu into sex or the other way around idc

i see alot of ppls reqs are more needy!nam-gyu hmmm. i miss this man everyday (fuck YOU minsu) ty guys for all the love in my inbox ♡⁠(⁠˃͈⁠ ⁠દ⁠ ⁠˂͈⁠ ⁠༶⁠ ⁠)

warnings: 18+, sex, degradation, dubcon, fingering, nam-gyu guilts you into sex, humiliation kink, exhibitionism, nam-gyu's high asf ∆ nam-gyu x fem!reader || ⁠✧

～⁠ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆ you know nam-gyu, all too well. too caught up in his head, too caught up in whatever people had to do and think about him.

meeting him in the games was surprising enough, for you and for him, but it wasn't surprising to see him cling onto the only guy who had some power and pride: thanos. he was weak. without anything he was weak. with pills though? he was anything other than it. he frightened you more than the other players. he was strong enough to reach the game with only 24 players left, hell, you're not sure why you're still alive right now. you shouldn't. and he knows this. takes full advantage of it too.

so with his wasted mind, too polluted with colorful pills, maybe in mourning to his good friend— who he really didn't consider as a friend. more of a rival. because it felt like the world revolved around people like thanos, not the lackey. he drags his body, walking over to you. he had only made a few interactions with you upon entering the games. nobody needs to acknowledge past relationships, you liked that unspoken rule. but it seems he'd told thanos about your "history". he was so dependent on the key approval of others, he had to "flex" you.

"babe. babe." he called out from just a few feet away, you had just finished eating lunch, staring at the floor as you try to let the feeling of seeing countless deaths in the span of a few days. "baby, can'tcha hear me? did someone cut your ears?" a sober, less thanos-consumed, nam-gyu wouldn't have called you that. you don't reply to him, and obviously his dependent personality takes the hit, he's probably getting pissed off by the second. "shut it,"

he immediately sits right next to you, back pressed against the wall, his right arm wrapping right around your shoulders, mouth pressed right against your ear. "you know you shouldn't be alive right now." you forget to speak, earning him a squeak, "but i'm glad we have a chance to talk, yeah..." you shake your head. and he chuckles. you speak, "no we don't." but of course you won't get it, he thinks.

"just tell me, tell me what you're feeling right now, i know you're lonely." he rubs the back of your neck, your shoulder blades, anything to rile you up. "’cause i'm so lonely too. you know that?" he looks you in the eye, face just centimeters apart. maybe if he acts all sentimental and emotional, you'll believe him.

"you are?" he nods immediately, grateful for any sort of response from you. "i'm... really scared." you quietly confess, he only purrs, that's what he likes to hear, you're finally starting to give yourself. "aww... yeah? you're scared? i know you are." his hands move to the back of your head, "so many people dying... so many killings..." he'd switch the facade just as fast- "like- i could kill you, right now- during lights out, babe." the hand on the back of your head tugging roughly on the strands, a pyschotic smile plastered on his lips. "but i won't cuz- cuz i'm scared like you, it's okay." you were confused, and feeling all too much at once accompanied with the weight of the games.

"and i miss you so much! sososo much, your skin n' all...i wish i could've fucked you that time we met." his hand would now wrap around your neck, tightening ever so slightly, "’m so sad you barely noticed me right in here," his left hand would graze the center of his pants, rubbing at the point where you would think is the tip. "i was jerking off in the bathrooms, thinkin' of your sweet ass..." he bites his lips, hands fidgeting slightly from symptoms of overdose. he barely gives you any space to talk back, because what would you even reply to that?

"...and who knows, we might die tomorrow, hm? right? what if i get eliminated on the next game? my only wish is to fuck you..." the hand on your neck moves immediately past the waistband of your pants, "are you not charitable enough to make a dyin' man's wish come true?" he pouts, looking at you like it was your fault he would have a probability of dying tomorrow, the tips of his fingers would linger at your clothed clit, rubbing lazy circles on the sensitive nub. "so please, would you do it f'me? you're obedient enough..." you're not sure if you did nod or not... you just know it might be worth it in the end.

you're glad that your beds placed on the corner, but it was still a public place...

now your back's pressed against his chest, legs spread apart by the arm and hand working underneath in-between your thighs, pants now moved to your thighs. "c'mon, you're a good whore, i know it, you made it this far," you shake your head, "they're starin', ah...nam-gy-" he'd cut you off, thrusting his dick deeper inside your wet heat. his other hand presses against your mouth, "let them look, it's okay, you're sososo pretty..." he whispers praise, despite the absolute filth of an act you two were doing. "letting me do this to you... just ’cuz i asked you, huh?" he'd even block your nose for a few seconds so he could see the way you panic, panic with his dick inches deep inside you. he was humoured, and don't you think he wouldn't notice the way you'd clench tighter when he does it. "you like it when i'm in control... didn't expect any better..." you frown, mixed with a whimper, "i don't-"

"you do. you're enjoying it, i'm so smart to think this, don't cha’ think?" he looks down over at you, fingers still lazily tracing against your sensitive nub, just so you could squirm more and more. he didnt need to move that much, just balls deep, kissing you cervix was enough. "im sure you are... yeah... ’cuz your eyes are rolling like those whores in pornos, wow..."

he's fucked you hard enough to forget about the games for a brief second, maybe that's his little sabotage tactic so you're caught off-guard when you compete in the next round. "mmph- wait, gonna- gonna give you a gift-" he bounces your body with his hands, rapidly, as if he was in a hurry. but he was desperate just like you. you could already feel the warmth spilling out to paint your insides, that's when you moan just a little bit too loud, "you're makin' such- such a fool outta' yourself, that's right, fuckin' moan more-" when he's fully satisfied that's when he'd break character, when he knows he's gotten what he wants. "good slut.. won't fuck this pussy in the real world though." he mumbles to himself, enough for you to hear.

but god did his dick contain the pills he was consuming too? ’cuz you sure are addicted now. no matter what mean words he says.

a/n : idk if u guys still like myunggi enough to accept a myunggi and namgyu threesome or like myunggi fucking you as an apology...

[loves0phelia]

hello! hope you’re okay after the ending, honestly I don’t think any of us are.

I wanted to request a rafe x pogue reader where it’s that boat storm scene and instead of Sarah falling it’s reader and she’s just drowning and Rafe jumps in after her. He doesn’t know why he did it but he just has a soft spot for her and it’s just really angsty but also cute.

thanks! I love your account btw!

In The Sea

Summery: the anon

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: grammar mistakes

A\N: thank you to everyone who has been requesting it makes me very happy xxx

You stand at the edge of the deck, clutching the railing as the boat rocks, waves rolling against the hull. The salty breeze whips your hair around your face, and the peaceful ocean sounds made you think about the current situation.

You didn't expect Rafe to save you and your friends from being arrested, much less expect him to find a boat big and resistant enough to drive you all to Morocco Africa to find the blue crown. It was truly a surprise considering you and Rafe's history.

“So what? Are we just on our way to Africa now?” Kiara asked the group as if she couldn't believe that Rafe Cameron was willingly helping them.

“Quick little weekend trip?” She added to her previous sentence.

“What about Rafe? We know what he did to the cross and now we want to go after the crown with him?” You and the rest of the pogue's lips go into a thin line at the memory.

“Sarah, you're his family, how do deal with him” John B said, finding no other options.

“I don't- I don't know, I think maybe y/n might have a chance of convincing him to behave but..” she shrugged and you felt the stares of your friends burn holes through you. Your past relationship with him was a secret to nobody.

“We- we just have to talk to him, or at least try” You proposed earning a frown from JJ.

“Talk to Rafe? When has he ever just communicated with us?” 

“Talking to him is the only option we have, but you're definitely not talking with him,” John B said and as expected everyone nodded and hummed, agreeing. JJ was in no place to talk with Rafe.

“Why not? What did I do?” He asked, getting almost frustrated.

“We all know you and him are far from being civil, the last thing we need is you triggering him and causing trouble” His girlfriend, Kiara, tried to explain the easiest way but he still got defensive. After a couple of bickering from JJ and John b You finally decide to go speak with him, who was driving the boat not too far away from the deck.

“Hey,” You knock on the metal and rusted door before entering and walking up to him. His eyes catch yours and there's a tension between the two of you. But Rafe only tilts his head to acknowledge you.

You swallow, feeling the weight of his stare. "We just want to talk," you say, steadying your voice as the rest of your friends beside JJ follow behind you.

“All right let's talk” Rafe chuckles, and it’s low, almost a whisper. 

Your mind goes almost blank as you take him in, you haven't been this close since you were forced in the same room by Sighs men last year. You had almost forgotten how much you missed him.

“You guys be cool I'll be cool” His voice snapped you out of your daydream, realizing you had missed a bit of the conversation.

“So now you want peace?” Pope leaned back and scoffed, not believing a word that came out of his mouth.

“I just saved all your asses, how about a thank you?” He glanced at all of you one by one, but he only earned silence,

“Listen I don't want any part of your little fairytale treasure hunt bullshit, I'm just looking for Groff” He’s breathing heavily, holding himself back from adding more snark,

“Hey, Rafe!” Before anyone can react, JJ’s fist flies through the air, cracking against Rafe’s jaw with a force that echoes.

Rafe’s head snaps back, his expression stunned for a split second before he crumples, hitting the hard metal floor. For a moment, everyone is frantic, staring at the lifeless form sprawled across the floor, his eyes closed, completely knocked out.

“holy shit”

“Jesus JJ what's your problem”

“Whoo that felt good” Tired of JJ's crazy actions the girls walk away shaking their heads in disbelief until you are the only one staying behind.

JJ stands over him, breathing heavily, the adrenaline still pulsing through him as he looks down at Rafe. His fist is red, already bruising, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“What is wrong with you?” You look at him, feeling a rush of shock mixed with panic. You fall to your knees next to Rafe and quickly look over his injuries, softly rubbing your thumb on his jaw.   “If he didn't do it I was going to do it” Pope added only worsening the situation. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows at his sentence.

After the pogues agreed it was probably not a good idea to let Rafe free in case he woke up and decided to shoot you all with his “peacemaker” you tied him up in a small cabin. His head hung low, his wrists were bound to a stainless steel pole and his legs were uncomfortably folded beneath him. Your heart clenched at the sight of him but still decided to leave him there until he woke up.

You open the door to the cabin slowly with a tray of warmed-up canned spaghetti in hand, it wasn't the best but it was all the boat had.

“I brought you food..” You whispered before bending down to place the tray in front of him.

“great” he sighed.

“I found aspirin in the medicine cabinet, I figured you'd have a headache, maybe even a concussion” 

“Right… are you gonna throw it in my mouth like a seal or something” He scoffed again clearly angered,

“They don't trust you Rafe… but if you do the right thing maybe they will open up a little bit”

“I am doing the right thing! I helped you” He tried pulling against the restraints but failed. 

“I know okay? I know but unfortunately, I don't have a choice but to let you in here until we get there, I'm sorry” you whispered and pushed the tray closer to him. “Please eat,” You said and left closing the large door behind you.

For a moment you stayed behind the door listening closely. “Y/N come back!” he grunts and kicks his feet on the ground. “Fucking untie me please!!” he screamed and you jumped when you heard the tray you had just put down on the floor fly into the wall.

Pope leaning over the side, is the first to spot the flicker of movement beneath the water. "Guys! I see one!" exclaims, his voice a mixture of excitement and focus. He scrambles for the fishing rod, almost knocking over the tackle box in his rush.

John B is right beside him, laughing. “We've got our dinner!" he laughs.

“Guys, this one’s huge!” Kie giggles with the boys knowing we were all set for dinner time tonight.

You all spent the rest of the day cooking the fish you caught and preparing side dishes with some good music in the background.

Until it was time for Rafa's second meal.

You open the door carefully and his eyes catch yours, this time you don't speak, simply set the tray of seasoned salmon down in front of him.

Has you were about to close the door you hear him.

“Wait, y/n. Can you please- can you give me the fork” his tone is much softer than before so you can't deny him. 

You get down and pick up the utensil his bound hands couldn’t reach.

“Thank you” He murmured, and you barely heard him as you closed the door behind you once again.

The sky darkens ominously as thunder rumbles in the distance, low and threatening. Waves crash harder against the hull of the boat, tossing it with a force that leaves you gripping onto anything within reach. The storm monitor flashes red to show the storm coming ahead of you.

“That's not good,” John B says.

“We're gonna have to try to blast through it,” Pope says, not finding any better options.

“Why can't we go south?” Kie asks genuinely.

“The current is gonna be against us we don't have a choice” John B agreed even after trying to find safer options, the boat's roar has Pope push the lever controlling the engine to the max. 

The waves make the boat shift side to side making it difficult to stay up and steady.

Another massive wave crashes over the side, drenching them all, and you lose your footing, sliding across the deck until Kie grabs your arm, pulling you back.

“Hold on to something” Kie yells at you pope and Sarah and you all grip onto the nearest thing.

“Hey!” a distant voice echoes through the walls.

“Cut me loose! Y/N! Somebody!” Rafe screamed and banged his fists on the wall.

“Get me out of here!” Everyone listens but doesn't move a finger.

“We have to let him out” You scramble to your feet but jerk back when Cleo grabs your wrist.

“No!” she says trying to stop you but you pulled back.

“He's gonna drown” You pull open rapidly the drawers trying to find something sharp, able to cut the thick ropes wrapped around Rafe's hands.

The storm is relentless, its fury tossing you around like a rag doll as you try to reach him.  

You cling to the railing, struggling to stay upright as the boat lurches violently, nearly sending you sprawling across the floor. Your legs buckle under you. You come crashing through the door and walk onto the water-soaked floor knife in hand.

“Cut me loose” he begs.

Crouching in front of him you began frantically cutting the rope. Your muscles burn with how much pressure you're using.

“Shit,” You say when a sudden jerk of the boat makes your face come inches apart from his, lips almost touching. You don't have time to think as you regain your balance and continue cutting the bounds.

“There! Come on” you yelled and quickly grasped his hands to pull him up from the floor.

You both run to shelter but the boat jerks side to side even more violently,

“Something is wrong I have to go see!” 

“No!” Rafe tried holding on to you but you were already rushing away onto the deck where waves came crashing, a massive wave rose out of the dark, towering over the boat like a shadow.

You barely had time to think before it crashed down, an icy, unforgiving wall of water that slammed into you with the force of a sledgehammer. The impact was too strong and you were thrown backward, landing hard on the deck. Pain explodes through your shoulder, the wind knocks from your lungs. Dazed and gasping, you try to get up, but the boat tips again, and before you can stand, another wave strikes.

This one is worse, merciless, catching you just as you struggle to rise. Your fingers graze the edge of the railing, but the slick metal slips through your grasp. In an instant, the world spins as you are thrown away from the boat, the cold, raging ocean swallowing you whole.

The water is a shock, freezing and chaotic, disorienting you as you plunge beneath the surface. You thrash, fighting to reach the surface, lungs burning, but the waves toss you back and forth, each effort to rise met with another rush of icy water.

Back on the boat, Rafe catches a glimpse of you disappearing over the side, and his heart stops. “Y/N!” he screams, panic cutting through the storm. Without a second thought, he scrambles to the railing, nearly slipping himself as he peers out into the dark, searching for any sign of you.

“Where is she!” Sarah came rushing to her brother

“She fell overboard” he yells already reaching for a rope with the floating boyee. He’s soaked, exhausted, and barely steady, but there’s no hesitation as he jumps in after you.

“Rafe no!” She screams after her brother.

A wave slams into Rafe. “Y/N!!” he yells in the water as he sees you trying to stay above the water far away.

With the last of your strength, You swim faster and harder towards Rafe and reach out when you're near, fingers brushing his arm, grasping it tight. Rafe holds you with everything he has.

“I got you” But you don't hear him in the storm.

You both hold on to each other your arms around his neck and his around your waist as the boat floats away and the night turns into a void.

“Hey, open your eyes, look at me” You feel gentle hands grasping on your face as you finally sit up coughing out the water that filled your lungs.

“That's it” The hands rub your back in a comforting way.

The sand is hot beneath you, warming up your skin, and with exhaustion, you fall onto Rafe's chest.

“Hey you okay?” panicked, he grabs onto your shoulder and pushes you a little bit to take a good look at your face.

“You jumped after me,” you whispered.

“Of course I did”  You look up at him, heart pounding, feeling a rush of gratitude, fear, and something deeper—something that’s been smouldering beneath the surface, unspoken, for far too long. Your eyes shine with tears, not sad and not happy either but grateful. 

His hand reaches up, brushing a strand of wet hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin. His touch is warm, and grounding, and you feel your heart racing even faster under his gaze, intense and unreadable, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

Without another thought, you lean in, closing the space between the two of you as you press your lips to his, a spark igniting into a wildfire the moment you connect. Rafe’s surprise melts away instantly, and he kisses back, fierce and unrestrained, his hands finding your waist.

The kiss is charged, fueled by adrenaline, and a longing that neither of you can deny any longer. Your hands find his shoulders, clinging to him, grounding you in his warmth, his strength, the feel of his heartbeat thundering beneath your touch. 

Rafe’s fingers trail up your back, sending shivers along your spine, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that speaks of everything left unspoken.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, Rafe’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes searching yours as he lets out a shaky laugh, almost in disbelief.

“You saved my life” you smile, brushing a thumb over his cheek, still feeling the warmth of his kiss lingering on your lips. “I love you, I've always loved you” you whisper, and before you know it, you're kissing again, the ocean waves crashing nearby, the world forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other.

“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered.

Send request xxx

[itsalliny0urhead]

Almost (Dick Grayson (Nightwing) x wayne!reader)

You and Dick Grayson grew up side by side — training partners, best friends, Bruce Wayne’s legacy in different forms. But after a mission nearly takes you from him, everything he’s been hiding breaks wide open. Years of silence, shared history, and feelings too dangerous to name finally reach a boiling point. And this time, neither of you walks away pretending.

dick grayson x reader

He’d known you his whole life.

You were there the night Bruce brought him to the manor, scraped and silent, ten years old and already learning to bury the grief. You sat with him at the edge of the courtyard in the rain, legs swinging off the stone ledge, offering him a broken cookie from Alfred’s tray like it was a peace treaty.

You didn’t speak much back then. Neither did he. But you understood each other.

Later came the training. The late-night stakeouts. The sparring sessions that turned into arguments, then laughter, then something quieter — a tension neither of you knew how to name.

You’d always been there. In every room he walked into. Every mission. Every memory. And now—

Now, you were bleeding on the medbay cot, skin pale and jaw tight, pressing gauze to your side while Kory tried to clean the wound.

Dick stood across the room, fists clenched, teeth grinding together so hard his jaw ached.

He couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t even look at you.

Because he had almost lost you.

And that thought— that image— had carved itself so deep into his chest, he could still feel it twisting every time he blinked.

“Lucky it didn’t hit your kidney,” Kory said gently.

You huffed a breath. “Guess I still have one good thing going for me.”

Your voice was steady, even with blood staining your shirt. You were always steady.

It pissed him off.

“You’re an idiot.” The words ripped from his mouth before he could stop them.

You blinked. Slowly. Then turned to him with that familiar edge — tired, raw. “You want to try that again?”

“I told you to wait for backup.”

“There wasn’t time.”

“You disobeyed the plan.”

You scoffed. “And saved three hostages. You’re welcome.”

“That’s not the point—”

“No?” You stood slowly, clutching your side, but your voice rose with every word. “Because from where I’m standing, I did what we were trained to do. I made the call. You’ve made worse.”

He stepped forward. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face.”

“Then stop acting like I died out there.”

The room went quiet.

His breath caught.

You froze.

And that’s when you saw it.

The tension in his shoulders wasn’t just rage. It was fear. Cold, gut-wrenching fear.

“I thought you did,” he said. His voice was low. Shaking. “For twenty-seven seconds, I thought I was too late.”

You didn’t speak.

“I saw you go down,” he continued, quieter now. “Smoke everywhere. No response in your comms. Blood on the concrete. And I thought—”

He stopped. Couldn’t say it. Wouldn’t.

You felt something crack in your chest.

You took a slow step toward him, your tone softer now. “Dick…”

“I’ve lost too much.” His hands trembled as they rose, like he didn’t know what to do with them. “Jason. Donna. Everyone I’ve ever let close…”

He looked at you. Finally. And gods, his eyes—

You’d seen him bruised, broken, nearly bleeding out in Gotham alleyways, but you had never seen him look like this.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

You swallowed. Hard.

Your fingers brushed his forearm. He didn’t pull away.

“You won’t.”

He laughed — sharp, breathless. “You can’t promise that.”

“I can promise I’ll keep coming back.”

He stepped in close, so close you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’ve been everything since we were kids, you know that?” His voice cracked again. “You’re the only thing that’s made any of this bearable. Bruce. The suit. The weight.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, pulse roaring in your ears.

“I know your tells,” he said. “I know when you’re about to lie. I know when you’re about to cry. I know how you take your tea, how you fake being fine, how you always put everyone else first—”

“Dick…”

“I’ve loved you since we were kids.”

The words stopped the world.

“I was going to tell you before you left for Blüdhaven. Then again before we started the team. But every time I looked at you, I got scared.”

“Scared of me?”

“No.” He reached for your hand, held it gently. “Scared of what it would mean if you didn’t feel the same.”

You stepped in, closer still, until your forehead touched his.

“Of course I feel the same,” you whispered. “I just never thought you’d say it.”

His breath hitched.

“I didn’t want to risk what we had,” he said, voice barely a breath. “But almost losing you… I can’t keep pretending.”

You looked at him then — really looked — and in his eyes, you saw all of it. The pain, the history, the love.

So you kissed him.

Slow, deep, and sure.

It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t practiced. But it was real.

His hand curled at the back of your neck, grounding you. Yours slid into the front of his suit, holding on like you’d never let go.

And for the first time in all those years, he kissed you back like he didn’t want to pretend anymore.

[joedirtymadre]

Imma need a part 2 of bothersome🫣🥺PLEASEEE

Bothersome - Part 2

LAW X READER!! (PLEASE SEND MORE REQUESTS! PLEASE! 🙏)

You stood at the edge of the ship, watching the sunset slowly set. After Punk Hazard, you all returned back to the ship. Out to Dressrosa, to help Law with whatever he was planning. “So you’re just going to ignore me?” That deep voice called out to you. You continued staring out to the sea, hearing footsteps behind you come closer. You could sense him standing next to you, staring at you.

“What’s wrong with that? You did it to me throughout our relationship,” you said softly.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). Please forgive me, what I did was wrong and I don’t want this affecting the allia-“ you quickly cut him off. “Why would our past affect the alliance? Did you honestly think I haven’t moved on by now?” You laughed. “I-… No I didn’t think that, but…” he trailed off. “Don’t worry, I’ll happily accept my captain’s orders… even if it means having to be in alliance with you,” you said coldly.

You turned around and headed towards the girl’s quarters. “(Y/N), I wasn’t done speaking!” He said, as he followed me. “Ok, so what else did you have to say?” You asked as you turned back to face him. “U-Uh… well you look… nice. How have you… been?” He asked awkwardly. “You really want to have a quick catch up?” You scoffed. “Well like you said we’re in an alliance now, so we should be able to have civil conversations,” he explained. You raised an eyebrow, “Traffy, weren’t you the one that tried to explain to Luffy that an alliance doesn’t mean we’re friends?” You asked.

“Not you using that dumb name too… a-and I did but-“ you cut him off. “Exactly! Thank you for remembering! Now I’ll be off to my room,” you said as you turned back and quickly entered your room before he could stop you.

You threw yourself on your bed, “Just another example of having the worst luck ever… Now I have to see and help my ex for who knows how long,” you sighed as you stared at the ceiling. “This is all so stupid and awkward!” You said to yourself as you rubbed your head. Out of all people, him?! At this point you would’ve preferred if Kidd showed up or something… And what the hell is up with him trying to have small talk with me? Does he expect me to be buddy buddy with him like nothing happened?

You quickly sat up, and shook your head. “Stop thinking about him. We’re over him, he doesn’t affect us anymore…” you said to yourself as you felt tears fall down your face. “God I’m so stupid!” You yelled.

Suddenly you heard the door open, and you quickly wiped away any tears. “(Y/N)? Are you awake?” You heard Robin call out. “Hi Robin,” you sniffled. “What’s wrong?” She asked as she sat on the edge of your bed. “It’s nothing, just some bad memories…” you said, as you avoided her eyes. “You know you can tell me, I’m your friend (Y/N),” she smiled as she placed her hand on top of mine. “I know, thanks,” you smiled softly. “I came to check on you, because I saw how upset you looked after speaking with Trafalgar,” she replied. “Yeah, I just don’t feel too comfortable around him,” you confessed. “You should tell Luffy, I’m sure he’ll under-“ you quickly cut her off. “No! No…” you repeated. “I can’t let him know! I can’t-“ you shut your mouth, afraid of your voice cracking.

“Let him get to you? I don’t understand,” she said, confused. You sat there in silence, pondering whether to tell her or not. “(Y/N), I’ll always be here for you. Do you and Trafalgar have a past history?” She asked. “Mhmm… I used to be a part of his crew, before I left…” you trailed off. “You left? Why?” She asked. “We were dating… until he shared his true feelings with me. I couldn’t stay there, not after what he said to me… So I left, while he was distracted by some Marines,” you explained, feeling a heavy weight fall off your shoulder. “Oh my,” Robin gasped. “Yep, so now we’re in an alliance with him. It’s weird, and I’ve moved on… but it sucks seeing him,” you said slowly.

“I see,” she said softly. “It’s ok, we’ll show him that you’ve grown. That no matter what he does, he can’t hurt you. Especially when you have friends here that will support you,” she smiled as he wrapped me into a hug. “You’re right!” You grinned. Your beautiful moment was quickly interrupted by your stomach growling. “Ah… I guess all this talk got me hungry,” you said sheepishly. “Let’s go get dinner,” Robin said. You nodded and the both of you quickly headed to the dining table.

You sat in between Robin and Luffy, and across from… Law. “Here you go everyone, dinner’s ready!” Sanji smiled as he sat down to eat. “Thank you,” we all said and quickly began eating. You reached forward for a rice ball, and brushed your hands against Law’s. You immediately flinched, looking up to see him staring your way.

You quickly grabbed a rice ball and pulled your arm away. You began to eat, trying to look anywhere but his direction. “Hey (Y/N)!” Said Luffy, breaking you out of your concentration. “Y-Yes?” You stuttered as you looked next to you. “Are you gonna finish your meat?” He asked, drooling. “Luffy! Leave (Y/N)’s food alone!” Sanji yelled. “It’s fine, you can have it Luffy,” you smiled as you handed him your plate.

“Thanks!” He smiled, but it quickly turned into a frown as he stared at you. “Something wrong?” You asked. “Yeah… one sec,” he said as he moved his hand to your face. Slowly wiping away at your cheek, you felt your cheeks heat up. “Sorry, you had rice on your cheek,” he laughed. “Oh, thanks,” you smiled. “Ow!” Luffy yelled, causing everyone to focus their attention on him. “Someone stepped on me!” He huffed. “Huh?” You questioned.

“You’re just imagining it,” Nami said. “Here Luffy, take my sandwich,” you said as you placed it onto his plate. “Wow!” He said, quickly changing his focus back onto his food. You slowly turned your eyes to the man in front of you. You almost fell out of your seat, once seeing the daggers that this man was staring into you.

“I-I’ll think I’ll call it an early night, night you guys,” you said as you quickly headed out of the dining room.

“Man that was tense,” you sighed as you walked towards your room. You slowly reached for the door knob, before suddenly being turned over and being pushed against the wall. You grunted as your back hit the door, you quickly opened your eyes to see that you were trapped by… Law… “T-Traffy?” You asked nervously. “So I see that you moved on, but I didn’t know you had a thing for captains,” he said coldly. “Woah… Woah… you think I moved from you onto Luffy? You’re crazy,” you laughed.

You noticed a light pink hue on his cheeks, as you continued to laugh. “Well why the blushy face when he reached for your face?” He questioned. “Well… wouldn’t anyone blush if you had food on your face and your friend took it off?” You asked. “I- Uh-“ you quickly cut him off. “Look like someone else needs to move on,” you laughed again, while slowly turning around to open the door. But was quickly turned back around, “Stop messing with me!” He yelled.

“What do you want from me? Do you still wish that I head head over heels for you, well tough shit cause you messed that up!” You yelled. You noticed that he was slightly taken aback by your response. “So what if I end up liking Luffy or whoever! That has nothing to do with you! You’re nothing to me, nothing,” you growled as you pushed him away.

“I’m not the same girl anymore, that would follow your every word. Or kiss the floor where you stepped on,” you glared. “So just leave me alone… haven’t you done enough?” You asked as you were finally able to open the door to the girls’ quarters. You quickly entered the door, ignoring Law’s calls for you. As you went to slam the door, a foot stopped it from slamming.

“Jesus Christ, you just don’t know when to leave a girl alone…” you groaned. “I’m sorry… I just want to say that I’m sorry,” he peeked through. “Ok now mov-“ he cut you off. “I’m sorry… for what I said. When you left, I realized how much I missed you- needed you… We went back to the island, but you were already gone. I don’t know what went over me, I-I missed your laughs, your smile, you interrupting me from my work, calling me honey… I know I screwed up, and seeing you now… Just reminds me of when we were still together… but I guess that’ll never be the case again,” he confessed. You stayed silent. “I’ll leave you alone, or as much as I can… I just wanted to let you know how I felt,” he said softly before removing his foot. Finally allowing you to shut the door.

You let out a deep sigh, and slowly slid down against the door. “Why do I feel like this?” You asked yourself as you clenched your hair. “What do I do now…?” You softly cried into your arms.

[morelikeravenbore]

✨Sebastian Sallow fluff alphabet

My personal headcanons based on the way I imagine and write Sebastian in How to Make a Villain.

This template is from this post by snowluvs and is definitely worth a read and a reblog! I loooove reading Sebastian headcanons so feel free to write your own, too!

🌶️ Find my Sebastian Sallow spicy alphabet here.

A - Attractive - what do they find attractive about their partner?

We all know that Sebastian has a bit of a savior complex, so he's attracted to a partner who trusts him with their vulnerability by letting him protect them, care for them and fuss over them. However, he also likes a challenge, so someone with a bit of backbone to go with their vulnerability would really pique his interest. It doesn't matter what form that backbone takes, be it academically-focused, impressive duelling prowess, or just someone whose not afraid to call him out when he's acting out of line, Sebastian is undeniably attracted to that spark.

Read on 👇

B - Body - what is their favourite part of their partner’s body?

Given that he craves deep and genuine emotional connection with a partner, he's very drawn to the face: stroking your cheeks, kissing the corners of your mouth, your eyelids, your brows. He finds any excuse to touch your face, whether it be brushing your hair back behind your ear or tenderly wiping food or smudges from your chin with his thumbs. When being intimate, he holds your face between his hands, pressing his forehead to yours, never breaking eye contact.

C - Cuddle - how do they like to cuddle?

Sebastian is a squasher. He needs to feel physically close to you and will often forget this own size and strength in his desperation to hold you closer, closer, closer. He hugs you so tightly you can't breathe, or else lays his entire body weight on top of you when you're lying down together or sharing a bed. You often have to remind him to back up a little lest he squeeze the life outta you with his love.

D - Dates - what does their ideal date look like?

Sebastian is spontaneous and impulsive, but beneath all that bravado and charm, he is also quite afraid of rejection, so he might not always straight out "ask" you on a date. Rather, you might find yourself accidentally having dinner together at the Three Broomsticks, or huddled for hours in a cozy bookshop he "stumbled upon" at random. Sebastian considers any time spent alone with you a date, and would later tease you about how many "dates" you've already been on without ever being asked.

E - Equal - are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

Generally speaking, Sebastian has a hard time relinquishing control to another. Given his history, he is used to taking charge, solving problems on his own and shouldering the burdens of everyone he cares about — and it goes without saying that he can be incredibly stubborn about accepting help or support, even when he genuinely needs it. However, this does tend to lead to mental and physical overwhelm; decisions become impossible, his body aches with exhaustion, and sometimes the boy just needs you to baby him — while still giving him the illusion that he has everything under control ;)

F - Fight - would they find it easy to forgive their partner? how are they fighting?

My personal headcanon that Sebastian is a Virgo sun, Aries rising. His Aries means he's reactive and oftentimes at the mercy of his more intense emotions (such as anger, jealousy — being ruled by Mars). He doesn't always communicate in a healthy way, he lashes out, snaps, or jumps to wild conclusions that don't make any sense. However, being a Virgo sun means he's ultimately a caregiver with a deep need to fix things and look after you, so he's very quick to apologise and make things right again.

G - Gifts - how do they feel about gift giving? what are their habits when it comes to this?

His gifts are either very practical (something you'll use every day), or something very sentimental (something that once belonged to his mother).

When it comes to receiving gifts, he doesn't believe he deserves them, so giving him something uselful like an interesting book, a set of quills, or a planner is the best way to spoil him without making him uncomfortable. However, if you gift him something sentimental, or something you made especially for him, he'll treasure it for the rest of his life.

H - Holding Hands - when / how do they like to hold hands?

If this boy can hold your hand, he will hold your hand, and if he can't hold your hand, he'll play with your fingers, trace the lines of your palms, brush his pinky against yours. You're his anchor, and your hands are the easiest part to hold on to.

I - Injury - how would they act if their partner got hurt?

Given his history with his parents and his twin, he is completely overbearing any time you're sick or injured. He'll fuss, worry, devise a strict recovery regime, won't allow you to lift and finger, and make you stay in bed long after you're well again. He'll research cures, studies, information about whatever it is that ails you, and will likely tell you all about it in great detail. This is where that lovely backbone of yours will come in handy, because you'll definitely have to sit him down and tell him to relax.

J - Jealousy - do they get jealous easily? how do they deal with it?

For all his wonderful strengths, Sebastian suffers from insecurities born from a lifetime of losing those he loves. His jealousy stems not from your actions, but from a deep-seated fear that you're eventually going to realise that he's as rotten as he believes himself to be and leave him. He can be a bit much, but communication is key.

K - Kisses - how do they like to kiss their partner?

Sebastian loves to kiss your face aaaall over, but once he gets started, he finds it hard to stop. Boy is a kisser, and he can get messy.

L - Love Language - what’s their love language?

Acts of Service and physical affection. Being useful gives him a sense of purpose, and touching gives him a sense of peace, so expect to be well looked after and loved. When receiving love, he responds just as strongly to physical affection, as well as words of affirmation. Tell him he's appreciated and that he's done a good job, and he'll be yours forever.

M - Mornings - how are mornings spent with them?

If you manage to get him into bed before he falls asleep where ever he's been reading or studying, it's a hard job rousing him again. He likes to cuddle, and you'll usually wake up half squashed under his body or tangled up in his arms and legs. He speaks in grunts and groans rather than words, and has super adorable bed hair. He's also usually very hungry in the mornings, so the promise of breakfast will be the motivation for finally getting him up.

N - Nights - how are nights spent with them?

Sebastian loves staying up late and doesn't need much sleep to function. His brain is always running a million miles a minute, so winding down takes him quite a while. He tells you he does his best work at night when the rest of the world is asleep.

O - Open - when would they start revealing things about themselves? how would they do it?

Typically Slytherin, he's evasive about himself and prefers to know everything about you before he opens up. Further to that, theres a lot of pain in Sebastian's heart that he won't share with anyone unless he trusts them completely. But, as Slytherins go, once he does trust you, he'll trust you unconditionally; his secrets will become yours, and yours his, and nothing short of death or betrayal will ever break that bond.

P - PDA - how comfortable are they with pda?

He's a real cheeky little smart arse about it. He loves you so much that he wants everyone to know about. He'll pick you up and spin you around as a standard greeting, sit you in his lap, kiss you midway through a sentence. Sebastian doesn't do things by halves, and the same goes for being in love.

Q - Quirk - what is a random ability that helps the relationship?

His optimism, his adventurous spirit and unquenchable thirst for knowledge means there's never a dull moment in your relationship. Above all else, Sebastian likes to have fun, and your life together will be full of it.

R - Romance - how romantic are they? cliche or creative?

There is nothing conventional or cliche about Sebastian Sallow. In fact, he thrives on being just the opposite. He probably courted you by acting like he was your boyfriend until suddenly he just was, there was likely never any conversation about being official, and the first time he said he loved you was probably in the middle of a heated argument or else said in a way that implied it was already common knowledge to you. But despite his quirks, Sebastian is hopelessly, singularly and passionately devoted to you — just don't expect any grand or sappy gestures of love.

S - Security - how protective are they?

Sebastian is so overprotective that it borders on being overbearing. Truth is, he's terrified of losing you, the one person he loves more than any other, and is prone to bouts of severe anxiety about your health, your commitment to him, and your general safety. His inability to relax is a point of contention in your relationship, and one that you both need to continually work on overcoming together. Communication is key, even when Sebastian jumps to conclusions and assumes the worst. He's not perfect, but he's trying.

T - Talking - what do they like to talk about?

Being a highly intelligent Slytherin means Sebastian loves getting deep. Nothing excites him more than discussing magical ethics, or taboo subjects like the Dark Arts or the use of the Dementors kiss against prisoners. He's unafraid to argue his point and loves a lively debate, but he has mental capacity to respect all viewpoints — even if they conflict with his own. He yearns to understand the inner workings of the mind and takes great pleasure in trying to understand opinions and perspectives that differ to his own. Any subject that expands or challenges his understanding of the world is taken on with great enthusiasm.

U - Understanding - how well do they know their partner?

He's a fast learner, very observant, and madly in love with you (obviously), so he knows basically everything about you. But sometimes he likes to think he knows you better than you know yourself. He needs to be reminded every so often that you are capable of looking after yourself, and that he doesn't need to solve every little problem on his own without being asked.

V - Vaunt - what are they proud of? do they like to show their partner off?

Aside from his intelligence, his quick wit and his sense of humour, he is most proud of his innate optimism, which (thanks to your help) has remained in tact despite all the tragedies and hardships he's endured in his comparatively short life. But more than that, he's proud to have you by his side: the embodiment of goodness and love that he never believed he deserved.

His egotistical side enjoys showing you off — you are, after all, the most attractive person he's ever seen, and having you by his side gives his confidence a little boost — but he can become a bit possessive or jealous if he's feeling insecure.

W - Whole - would they feel incomplete without their partner?

Abandonment issues and childhood trauma means Sebastian holds his loved ones very, very dear to his heart. Without you, he'd still be the driven, intelligent and ambitious Sallow he was born to be, but he'd likely lose the motivation to reach his full potential. Having lost every important person in his life, his desire to better himself after all his past mistakes is soley inspired by you.

X - XOXO - are they affectionate?

Physical affection is both how he expresses love and how he feels love; physical touch grounds him in reality and reminds him that you are safe and near. Smooth back his hair, tenderly touch his face, or play with his fingers and watch how fast he melts.

Y - Yearning - how well do they cope when they’re separated from their partner?

Since you are his home, he feels incomplete and off-kilter when he's away from you. And though he tries to honour your individuality, if you're apart for too long, he'll start to have intrusive thoughts about every bad thing that might happen if he's not there to protect you. Needless to say, when you are finally reunited, he greets as you if several decades have kept you apart — like a big, needy puppy.

Z - Zzz - what are some sleeping habits of theirs?

This boys sleeping habits are a nightmare, precisely because he has a lot of them. In fact, he actively avoids sleep, preferring to stay up reading or researching until he's tired enough to fall into an immediate slumber. Usually, you'll find him slumped over on a table or still snoring on the couch, still fully clothed, but if you do happen to get him into bed, he can't sleep without some part of his body touching yours.

[thetriumphantpanda]

i think he did it | javier peña

Take The Weight Off His Shoulders - Chapter Ten

Chapter Summary | you and Javi face the fallout of your investigation together.

Chapter Warnings | mentions of head injuries and injuries caused by others (not Javi), mentions of the drug trade, drugs and drug related violence and death, Javi being soft, allusions to smut but nothing explicit, more of a filler chapter but I hope you still love it.

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.2K

Authors Note | I am so very sad that we're nearing the end of the story with these two - we only have two chapters left to go! They have been a joy to me and I have loved sharing their story with you. Thank you as always for being so patient in waiting for updates. If you are enjoying this then reblogs and comments really do help and if you’d like to support me further, please consider a donation to my Ko-Fi. 

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

There’s a dull ache settled behind your eyes when you wake up the next morning. A throb that pulses perfectly in time with the heartbeat settled beneath your ribs. When your eyes flutter open, there’s streaking sunlight throughout the room that’s still too bright for you to be able to manage, so you clamp your eyelids shut once more, groaning as you roll over onto your back, right into the solid weight of someone sitting in bed.

It’s the only thing that could get you to open your eyes, turning over and looking up at Javier, with his neck craned down, looking at an open file in his lap. He flicks his eyes towards you, and you’re expecting the lecture, the tone of I-told-you-so, but instead, his attention just turns back to the file he’s reading.

“What’s that?” You croak out, finding your mouth dry.

“A file,” He answers plainly, as if he thinks you must be blind, “Thought if you’re going to ride off into the sun on your own to do the heroics, you should probably have some backup.”

He shifts his knees down and twists the file so you can see it. You scoot up, trying to make sense of the words in front of you, when you feel his hand, warm and supportive on the back of your head, his lips pressed to the top as you read.

The file looks to pretty light, there’s only a few sheets of paper inside it, but from what you can get a sense of, it must be all the police have on the drugs raid.

“I’m sorry,” You mumble, moving your face into the warmth of his arm, “I didn’t think he would hurt me.”

There’s a pause and you can feel his body stiffen next to you, but then there’s movement and the arm you’ve currently got your face pressed into moves and envelops your shoulders, pressing you into his side.

“It’s okay,” He says softly, “I’m sorry too.”

You wrap your arm across his middle, he’s not bothered to put a shirt on and you finally realise how much you’ve missed the feeling of his skin on your own.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask timidly, looking out into the expanse of his room as opposed to looking up at him.

You feel him suck in some air and let it out in a sigh, “No, hermosa, you didn’t, I-” He pauses for a moment, “I shouldn’t have looked through your things firstly, that was wrong of me, and I’m sorry,” You grip him a little tighter then, “Ever since I came back, everyone treats me like I did some big, heroic thing, when the truth is I think I probably made everything worse, sure there are some bad men in jail, but those bad man have other bad men to do their bidding, and I see it, every single fucking day, when those boats go up and down the river, all of the fucked up shit I did hasn’t made one bit of difference.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he’s quicker at continuing, and there’s something that tells you to keep quiet.

“All those newspaper clippings you had? None of them tell the truth, it’s all just American propaganda to make us think we’re on the right side of history, I’m not the man they make me out to be, I’m not the all-American hero from the stories, I did bad things down there, I killed people, I got people killed by making shitty choices, and I couldn’t bare the thought that you believed them, that you thought I was some saint.”

“Javi,” You murmur softly, finally looking up at him despite the dull ache behind your eyes, “I know you’re not a saint, you’re fucking your friend’s daughter.”

There’s a shift in his chest and a sound that you think is a chuckle.

“Is that all we’re doing here?” He asks softly, “Are we just fucking?”

It’s a question you hadn’t really thought about before, because it had been, right? The two of you enjoying yourselves, meeting the other’s needs. But he came when you called, despite everything, and that’s got to mean something right?

You shift a little, draping yourself across his chest so you can really look at him now.

“Are we?”

He offers you a small smile and you realise now how much you’ve missed being on the receiving end of it, how it makes your heart clench.

“I don’t know baby,” He sighs, reaching out to cup your cheek in his palm, stroking the skin with his thumb, “All I know is that when I found you last night, and you were bleeding and hurt, I wanted to hurt someone right back, and that I want to keep you safe, and that you are the one thing that makes me truly happy right now,” He shrugs a little, “So I don’t know, are we just fucking?”

You offer him your own smile now, leaning up to press a soft kiss against his mouth, finally feeling at home and at peace, safe and warm with the one person you never thought would feel the same.

“I guess not,” You mumble against his mouth, “All I know is I want you to be mine, and I know it’s complicated and messy, but I don’t care, you’re all I want.”

“I’m not going anywhere baby, I promise,” and moves to kiss you again, “Now lie back down before you make your headache worse.”

You relent, knowing that the pinching behind your eyes is only going to get worse if you don’t do as you’re told.

“So, agente,” He teases, hearing him open the file on his lap again, “Tell me what we need to know.”

It’s almost noon by the time he arrives at the station. He spent the morning listening to you take him through what you know and what your hunches are, and he has to admit, you’d give a fair amount of people at the DEA a run for their money.

He’s left you sleeping in his bed, a fact he thinks he might just be able to get used to, and has taken the police file your dad had given him, full of his own notes and yours, to the station to try and finish this. He knows you want to do it, you’ve worked hard enough to deserve the glory, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to let you take this on yourself when there’s a bunch of people who get paid far more then you do to do it properly.

“Hey buddy,” Your dad greets him, still riding high off his relaxing vacation, “What can I do for you?”

Javi wastes no time in putting the file down on his desk, sliding it across for him. He opens it, picks up the loose papers and the photocopies of deeds and old articles. He slips his glasses on and reads as Javi sits in one of the chairs across from him and lights a cigarette, waiting for it to all click into place.

“Jesus,” He mutters, “You didn’t waste much time, did you?”

Javi shakes his head, takes the cigarette from his mouth between two fingers and points to some notes you’d given him from your bag.

“Wasn’t me.”

It takes your dad a minute to register your handwriting, “You mean this was her?”

“Yeah, I mean it was her,” Javi’s tone is stern, “Followed up on that drugs bust story and has managed to uncover the fact that the mayor’s prodigy is helping scum drug dealers pump god knows what onto the streets here.”

Your dad let’s out a low whistle, “I knew she was good, but this is something else.” Then Javi watches as he closes the file.

“I’m gonna have to corroborate all this before we can move forward.”

It the first time that Javi see’s red since he came back from Colombia. Red fucking tape. He’s lost count of the times he’s been so fucking close and foiled at the last minute by bureaucracy and here is no different.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not denying she’s done good work, but before we can walk in and arrest the prodigal son, I need to make sure this,” He taps his finger to the file, “Is rock fucking solid.”

“You remember asking me to come back?” Javi asks, “All those weeks back, practically begging me to help solve the drug problem in town?” He sucks in a breath and tries to keep his cool, “Your daughter hands you everything you need and you want to waste time corroborating?”

Javi listens as the man in front of him sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose and looks genuinely tired. He imagines this is what he must have looked like to others back in Colombia.

“My hands are tied, Jav,” He speaks, “Just like they always have been, just like yours were, and will be if you come back,” Javi can feel himself rolling his eyes, “If we do this, we do it by the book because any whiff of something off and that boy is off the hook, and you know I’m right.”

He can’t listen to this anymore, so he stands, chair legs scraping across the floor. He stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray on the desk, and then turns, taking two strides to the door before his name is being called.

“She give you this last night?”

He could lie, he knows he could, but he’s tired. Tired of being wrong, and on the wrong side of things all the time. He’s a detective, and a damn good one at that, he’ll work it out sooner or later, and knowing you spent all night in his bed, that you didn’t go home and both he and your mom know that, he realises he’s done lying.

“Yes, sir.”

The office door is opened and closed before he can wait for the fallout.

You’re still trying to get rid of the dull ache behind your eyes when he comes home, door slammed rather than shut, which does nothing to help the pain despite you being in a completely different room of the house.

You can hear him talking to Chucho, who you think has missed his calling in life as a nurse with the care you’ve been given today. Painkillers and fresh water every few hours, a sandwich for lunch made just how you like them and a hot compress across your forehead.

Thankfully, Javi is more gentle with the door to his room, closing it with a soft click, when he enters. You keep your eyes closed, feeling the bed dip next to you and his hand on your waist.

“Feeling okay?” He murmurs, placing his hand over the flannel on your forehead.

“Fine,” You grumble, cracking one eye open, “How’d it go?”

He shakes his head and scoffs, “Gave him the file and got a bunch of bullshit about needing to corroborate it all,” He’s dragging the compress off your skin now, walking to his bathroom as he talks, “As if it’s not all there in front of him, as if you didn’t get hurt trying to prove it all,” His voice gets louder as he walks back, flannel back on your forehead now warm again, “Practically begging me to come back and putting up all the red tape, I-”

“Javi,” You interrupt, “Stop.”

“What?” He asks, but not unkindly, “It’s true.”

“And he’s right, you know he is,” You counter, “This needs to be by the book because otherwise that asshole walks.”

Javi takes a deep breath and then chuckles, “You are your father’s daughter, cariño,” Shaking his head, “That’s exactly what he said.”

You pull at his arm to get him to lie down with you, lying side-by-side with his hand in yours, silence blanketing you both for a moment, apart from the cicadas outside the open window.

“You wanted to leave all that behind,” You say softly, curling into his side, “The heroics, everything in the newspapers, everything in Colombia,” You feel him squeeze your hand, “So leave it there, Javi, let someone else do it.”

He turns to face you now, peeling the flannel from your forehead before one of his hands is cupping your cheek, kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

“Sometimes I wonder where all your sense comes from,” He muses, “But you’re right, I’m sorry, I know he’s only doing the right thing.”

You can feel your eyes getting heavy as you wrap your arms around his middle, face pressed to the crook of his neck.

“Sleepy?” He asks, tracing patterns up your spine.

“Mmhmm.” Is all you can manage.

“Then sleep baby,” His lips pressed to the top of your head, “I’ll be here in the morning.”

[rayaverra]

Love Amidst the Noise // Luke Castellan

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader

genre: fluff (i guess)

summary: you get a little overexcited while talking, and your friends find it annoying. When Luke finds you sad and quiet, he comforts you.

warning(s): none

wc: 654

notes: this actually happened to me in real life, so shout-out to my best friend for his kind words :')

english is not my first language, so there may be mistakes.

・❥・༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶・❥・

"And we visited this museum when my dad took me on a trip to Boston, and the art there was just amazing! So many different types of paintings... all these vibrant colours that matched... and the amount of detail..." You were sharing your winter experience with your friends, feeling passionate about the art. Now that summer break had started and you were back in camp, you were excited to share all your latest stories, but none of your friends seemed to really care.

"Yeah... yeah... we get it! Your father took you to see some old paintings," one of them said, rolling their eyes, and soon afterwards everyone else joined.

"Yeah, who cares about some old paintings that all look the same anyway?" Another one added, and your smile suddenly faded, feeling sad that they spoke like that about something you cared so much about.

"And you've been talking about it for almost an hour! Don't you let anyone else speak?" And with that, you closed your mouth, feeling unwanted; you didn't say anything for the rest of your friends conversation.

Later that day, you were sitting on your cabin's table earlier than everyone else, not being in much of a mood. You started to wonder if everyone thought the same as your friends. You knew that sometimes you talked too much, but you couldn't control it. Did everyone in camp think you were annoying?

A familiar figure approached you. At first, you didn't turn to see who it was, but soon you realized it was your dear friend from the Hermes cabin, Luke Castellan.

He noticed your unusual silence and your worried expression. "Hey, is everything okay?" He asked gently.

"Fine..." You said, avoiding his gaze. And that, with the fact that you replied without using many words, like you always liked to explain the details, made him curious as to who got you sad. Deep down, he was also slightly angry that someone would hurt his best friend like this.

"Come' on, I know you better than that." He smiled softly, reaching across the table and gently holding your hand. "You can tell me everything, you know."

You hesitate for a bit, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Do you ever find me annoying?" You eventually blurted out, surprising both Luke and yourself.

He furrowed his eyebrows, looking genuinely puzzled. "Annoying? Not at all! Why would you think that?"

You signed, looking into his filled-with-kindness blue eyes, giving him a weak smile. He was so gentle with you that it warmed your heart.

You sighed, finally deciding to share the weight on your shoulders. "My friends, they... They always complain about me talking too much and never let me finish."

Luke's expression shifted from confusion to understanding. "You're not annoying, not to me. I love how you light up when you talk, how your eyes sparkle. Your enthusiasm is one of the things I adore about you."

Your heart warmed upon hearing his comforting words. You realized that you had found someone who appreciated you for who you were.

"Don't let them get to you. You're amazing just the way you are, and anyone who can't see that doesn't deserve your energy." He said, moving a strand of your hair behind your ear. You smiled, remembering how fun it was when you explained to Luke the history of each painting, and him listening intensively.

"Thank you, Luke." You smiled, moving closer, sniffing a little, and resting your head on his shoulder after giving him a hug.

"Can you tell me about that painting with that couple on a swing again?" Luke asked, and you blushed, nodding your head and starting to tell him about the famous Cot's painting.

In that moment, the weight lifted, and you felt a newfound strength. As you continued your conversation, you found solace in Luke's understanding, grateful to have someone who valued every word you shared.

[kiddiewrites]

Command Me To Be Well pt.2

I'm so sorry I took this long to post, I had to make modifications and still this part is not proof read :'D So if there's

This is part 2 to the “Command Me To Be Well” fic, i wanted a happy ending but it was going to go two ways with this one, either I rushed the ending or I stretched the angst a bit for maximum relief and fluff in the end, I want to do a “sunshine after a storm” kind of fic

The text in italics are memories, mostly from the boy's pov but there are (y/n)’s too :D

Angst, T.F.141 x reader, Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, HURT, bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, extension of the angst, Injured TF141, MAJOR injuries, late night confessions, Poly!141, fluff, bit of relief.

PART 1

∞ Happier Than Ever ∞

“I don’t relate to you, ‘cause I’d never treat me this shitty”

As it turns out, transfers among the task force without a valid reason were not easy to pull off, Laswell very much told you so when you tried to apply for a unit on the other side of the country.

So the next few days were full of awkwardness between you and the rest of the unit, not for lack of trying from the boys, except for Ghost, barely managing two words to you before you turned away from them, under the excuse of files that needed reviewing or soldiers that needed patching up.

Speaking of which, the other soldiers noticed a shift in your dynamic and even under no fault of their own taking the brunt of it, mainly in the shape of a monstruos training program led by a very much pissed off Lt. “Ghost” Riley. It was almost a common occurrence from the last few days that soldiers arrived exhausted at the med bay with dizzy spells or injured ankles or even passed out from exhaustion. Desperate for some sort of relief in their “punishment” some of them tried to convince you to go to the training grounds and have a talk with him so that maybe he could tone it down out of concern for their fiscal health. You refused. Not because you didn’t think they deserved it or something like that, but because of the glares he had been sending to you since that day. 

The Death Stare, is what the soldiers called it. Even the mention of your name would get the poor soldiers under a heavy gaze full of hate, needles to say when you tried to speak to him regarding injuries or his medical history he would just turn away not before looking at you like he wanted to murder you.

Johnny tried his hardest not to look at the spot in the dining hall where you used to sit on your breaks, a task that he couldn’t really manage to accomplish due to the weight of guilt that hung heavy on his shoulders since that day, the words you spoke replaying in his head like a nightmare.

- I know I’m pathetic to you, I know that you think I’m… how you put it, Sergeant MacTavish?- At the mention of his name he looked up at you - “so fucking annoying”, I think was the term used.- 

He tried to apologize over and over again but you always shut him down, not giving an inch. Out of pride or hatred he couldn't tell but … your eyes… your sad (e/c) eyes adorned with heavy dark circles under them, made the regret multiply.

-Don’t sweat it, Sergeant, let’s just don’t let it affect our work- you’d say with a tight lip smile and a tired sigh. 

But that was just it, it may not affect you but it sure affected him… more than he cared to admit, he never thought that he’d miss your shining eyes and blushing cheeks, that he’d miss your shy giggles and the way you’d follow him around base with a box of cookies or a bag of gummy bears that you’d share. Oh, how he regretted every word that came out of his mouth that night but by all the Gods above, he would fix it. He was a stubborn one after all. 

Kyle was a bit harder to read, for such a calm and collected man he was feeling like shit. But he couldn’t bring himself to talk to you, not like Johnny or the captain tried to. He tried a more “actions over words” type of approach, trying to make sure you’d still take care of yourself and if you noticed it you didn’t say anything. In all honesty, he was about to give up, until one night where he stayed up late. It had been a rather slow day and he tried to catch up on his reading before they were inevitably deployed. He sat in a corner of the hardly used couch in the break room and there he stayed for a few hours until it was dark out, the clock reading almost 2am when he averted his gaze off of the pages. Setting the book aside, he stood up and stretched, a few joints popping while doing so. Recovering his book, he left the break room and headed for his dormitory. On the way back his mind drifted back to you and the way you always seemed to have the utmost care when patching him up, the way your brows would frown in concentration and your lips seemed to purse a bit. He remembered the time they came back from a mission, Kyle sporting a huge gash to his side and almost passing out when they landed. He remembers your voice, reassuring him he would be okay and giving instructions to the nurses who worked with you. He passed out but when he woke up there you were, still checking in on him.

The sun shone in his face, stinging his eyes when he tried to open them, the beeping of the heart monitor ringing in his ears and the distinctive smell of the med bay seeping into his nose. He groaned trying to get up, only to be stopped by your gentle hand guiding him back down. 

-Easy there, Sarge. You took a nasty cut to your side and lost a lot of blood, you’re lucky it didn’t go any deeper otherwise I don’t know if you’d been able to make it.- His eyes opened completely  and focused on your form standing next to his bed, with a gentle smile and tired eyes, no doubt from staying up all night saving him. With the sun giving you a different glow, he thought you looked almost angelical.

-It was a bit of a challenge to get the boys off of your side, I think Ghost threatened me when we took you to surgery.- you said with a small smile and a knowing look. 

-Something about framing me with murder of a ranking officer if I didn’t save you- you took a step back to check on his vitals in the monitor.

-I…-  He croaked, the lack of lubrication in his throat making it difficult to speak- I thou’ I was a goner fo’ sure- The reality sinking in once he was completely awake, the thought of not seeing the boys again forming a few tears in his eyes, you didn’t comment on them and he was grateful.

-Don’t worry, Kyle.- You said as you approached him and placed your hand in his arm, his name falling from your lips with such care that he felt a blush creeping up to his cheeks and looked away from you. 

-I won’t let you die on me, not when you need to go home- 

It was the way you said it, so gentle and reassuring. Letting a few tears escape, he felt your hand retreating and heard you moving around the room. It wasn’t until he heard the door open and your voice calling for the captain that he let the tears slowly and silently flow. 

-Captain, you can come in now, he’s awake.- Next thing he knew rough hands were cupping his face and turning his head, he saw the captain… no… not the captain, this was John he was seeing. Worried features and red puffy eyes. THAT  was John.

-You ok there, sarge?- his voice dripping with relief and fondness. Kyle stayed silent but gave a gentle nod. He soon heard other footsteps and turning to the door he saw Johnny and Simon, they approached with care. Johnny with a wide smile at seeing him alive and Simon with relief in his eyes, the baclava obscuring his face but they knew. Oh they knew their Lieutenant. 

- I’ll give you a moment, if you need me I’ll be right outside- your voice was soft but caring. Neither of them turned your way, except for the captain who turned back to you.

-Thanks Doc- he said with a tiny smile, at this yours grew a bit wider.

-Of course, cap- and with that you exited  the room, leaving the boys together to process what happened.

The memory brought a small smile to his face and he subconsciously reached for his side, where the now scar was. As he approached the barracks he walked by the med bay, where he saw that the light was on. He peeked through the small window and found you asleep over a few files, with a small smile and realizing a tiny sigh he walked in. Thanks to his years of service and the ability to walk almost imperceptibly helped him at the moment, very carefully he picked the throw blanket you had in one of the chairs before your desk and placed it on your shoulders. He heard you release a small sigh of relief and at that he let out a small chuckle. 

-Hav’ ye always been this hard’eaded?- he said in a low tone, trying his hardest not to wake you.

-We’re really sorry ya’ know?- He said it in a whisper, he didn’t really expect you to answer him, the way your chest was rising and falling made it clear that you were not conscious. 

He went for the exit and shot you a last glance before he left just as quietly as he entered. 

-I know- just a whisper… but he heard it, a small smile making its way to his lips.

-Goodnight, Doc- and so he left with a slightly better heart and in a better mood. 

“You made me hate this city”

Things seemed to be looking a bit better, at least you weren't entirely avoiding them now. 

And so, Soap saw his opportunity one morning and decided to talk things out with you.

There he stood with a little bag of pastries and a cup holder with two coffees, he had a whole speech prepared for this moment. But the moment he stood in front of your office door, he just couldn’t move. 

You could hear the shifting of his feet on the outside of your door, it had been a few days since he last tried to speak with you so you decided to take the next step, literally. 

You stood up from your desk and headed for the door, you opened it just as he was about to knock.

It is a funny sight, to see a man of his stature and build look like he was caught red handed, which he was. 

-Hiya there, sarge- And oh how he missed it the way your little smirk would accompany the way your head tilted a bit to your side as you looked up at him, it made him feel things, needy things. 

-Hiya the’e, doc- he said in a low voice and a small smile, he looked at you as if it was the first time he ever did, your hair pushed back with a headband letting him see your pretty (e/c) eyes. 

-May I com’ in, doc? I brou’ coffee and thos’ pastrees ye lik’ so much- It was the most gentle you ever heard him talk and it was heartwarming and really how couldn’t you say no to chocolate spread pastries and warm coffee.

-Come in, then.- You stepped to the side and he let himself in. 

You watched him for a bit before closing the door and making your way to the desk. 

You took a seat on your chair and signaled him to sit down, you cleared the few files that were littered across the desk so he could set the coffees and the pastries down. After everything was settled he reached over the desk to pass you your coffee, which you took from his hand accidentally brushing your fingers with his, you felt a little blush come up to your face. He sat back with a little smirk at your blushing face and sipped on his cup. You stayed there relishing in the silence and just looked at him, only to find him already looking at you. His beautiful blue eyes just staring back at yours, a little fondness to them but also with something else. Something that you really couldn’t figure out yet but had your stomach do a little flip. You stayed there for a few minutes just looking at each other, you couldn't help to release a little chuckle at the softness of it all. As if he’d never almost pinned you to your desk in a fight that day. 

-Some’in on yer min’, doc?- he said with a teasing tone, one that had you looking down at your desk to try and avoid his piercing eyes. 

As you looked up once again, you asked the question floating in your mind ever since he came in.

-Why are you here, John?- You’d never called him that, but it felt kinda nice saying his actual name. It felt good. 

-Shit, doc. I ain’ been call’d like tha’ since my ma was royaley pissd off at me.- The biggest grin plastered on his face as he said it, quickly changing to a light smile as he saw your gentle serious one. 

-I came t’ apologize, doc.- He looked down at his lap, not really wanting to meet your eye.

- I actet like a fecknig fool, I knew from the baggining you tried to geta long, but I jus…, I guess I realey couldn’ and wouldn’ want ta let ya in cos…- he went quiet, there was something else he wanted to say but saying out loud was a bit more difficult than he care to admit. 

-Johnny, it’s ok- His eyes shot up at you and he could see the smile on your face, a genuine forgiving smile. One that he would hold on to, even when he went onto the darkest of places. 

-I must admit I may have come on a bit too strongly and first, I know it could sometimes be a problem.- The sincerity in your voice was not lost to Johnny, almost as if this wasn’t the first time you had this conversation.

-And uhm, it’s not that I was mad at you for being annoyed with me.- At this Johnny frowned in confusion.

-Then… wa’ was it?- He was genuinely at a loss, he couldn’t really figure out what it was. 

You couldn’t help but laugh a bit, watching him furrow his brows and tilt his head to the side was cute, like a puppy. 

So you took a deep breath and said it… What was bothering you…

-It’s ‘cause you didn’t tell me from the beginning- His eyes were focused on you, your giggle sounded really cute but the reason behind it wasn’t something he expected.

-You’re not the first nor the last to say those things about me- His eyes widened and he felt the guilt starting to form in his chest

.-I…I’m sorry, doc…- He felt the shame rising in his chest along with something else, a tiny rage, a sense of protection coming over his entire self.

-You don’t have to worry about it, Sarge- Your smile was disarming, the genuine forgiveness coming in waves taking a hold in his heart. 

Blushing he smiled back and oh god, what a beautiful smile. All boyish and charming he looked so pretty… so you blushed.

-So, Sarge… wanna take the first bite?- The sly smirk and your low voice sent a tingle of excitement down his spine. 

-Ahh…I.. Eh yea’ yea’- his brain short circuited but it felt amazing, he reached for the chocolatey pastry and smiled.

You’ll be the end of him

“And I don’t talk shit about you…”

Something Price always found amusing was the way Simon would find “refuge” in his office when he didn’t want to deal with… anything really.

He would sit down in a chair, fold his arms and sulk, just staring at the wall and huffing.

First time he did it, Price tried to talk to him and all he got was grunts and hums. By the fifth time he sulked in his office, he just let him stay there for the afternoon and only addressed him after he finished his paperwork. Leaning back in his chair he stretched out and felt the satisfying pop of his back and arms.

He turned to look at Simon, who already seemed to be looking at him, a gleam of hunger in his eyes.

-Interested in a drink, Lieutenant?- He asked with a slight smirk and a tilt of his head, a soft satisfied growl was heard from the giant man as he stood up and made his way to the captain’s desk.

-I take any’hing ye give me… sir.- his seductive voice was muffled a bit by the baclava adorning his face but the tone was enough for Price to feel the effects of it in the most intimate part of his soul.

-Careful, Lt.- His eyes scanned the form of his second in command and found himself a bit hot under his uniform. The way that only a few words were affecting him made it so hard to resist, Simon knew exactly what to do and say to push his captain’s buttons and make him feel just the way he wanted to.

-Ye know we can’t be doin thi’ ‘ere- his voice was gruff and low and oh so inviting, his words were one thing but his body… it said something else entirely. 

-I den’ see ya resistin’- Simon caressed John’s face in a gentle manner, it was so gentle and so warm that he couldn’t help but lean into his hand. 

-Lieutenant, please.- His eyes closed and felt Simon settling into his lap, instinctively he wrapped his arms as much as he could over his wide hips helping his second in command to adjust to the size, when he opened his eyes he swears he felt something stir in his stomach, it was as if he saw them for the first time. The deep blue connecting with his in a very gentle and beautiful manner.

The intimate moment was held for a few minutes, relishing  in the silence where they stayed for a few more minutes trying to forget everything that had occurred for the last week. 

“Never told anyone, anything bad…”

The rising and falling of the captain’s chest was steady, however breathing was a bit difficult given the tattooed arm that rested across it, he turned his head to watch at the giant man that stayed with him all through the night. The silence was broken by the sound of the telephone ringing had the captain stood up from the bed to answer it, being a difficult task due to the insanely quick reflexes of the lieutenant, as carefully as he could he removed Simon’s arm and stood up to receive the call.

In the quiet of the morning Simon stirred in his sleep, he stretched his arm trying to find the warmth of the captain instead finding cold sheets he bolted right up, as he stood up, the captain came out of the bathroom with a towel draped around his hips.  He sat down in the bed, and caressed Simon's  hair while he informed him of their next assignment, one that would require you on the field since it would be a rather long deployment, “almost a month long assignment” he was told. So they couldn’t afford to bleed out while waiting for their extraction.

The growl that came from Simon’s throat was a dangerous one, he still hadn’t completely forgiven you for shoving Johnny, the rage stirring in his stomach at the thought of that day. 

-Ye’ know tha’ ye hav’ to get along with ‘er, ‘ight?- John tried everything he could for the past week to get you too to maybe bond a bit, but it was a tough task. He had been rude and you hadn’t backed down either, for every rude comment he made you responded with an equally cold and spiteful one. 

He didn’t like the idea of you joining in but… orders are orders. 

- Yes captain- 

And so one cloudy cold day with a medical bag strapped to your back you boarded the plane with your squad ready to be deployed. Not knowing what came ahead.

Tagging (If you'd like to be added to the taglist please comment here :D) : @blackhawkfanatic - @beebeechaos - @d3vils-adv0c8 @azkza - @asherwesley - @praying-for-the-sun @xbubbleduckx - @blepleaxelotle

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Timeless soulmates p.2

Hii guyss I hope you enjoy the fourth story of my Spooky Friday series, here's part 1. If you want to read the other ones you can find them on my masterlist :)

When a history student unearths a forgotten tale of forbidden love, she unknowingly releases a presence bound by time and longing, leading her into a darkly romantic mystery where the past may hold her heart captive forever.

The night air is thick with silence, the shadows from the old trees pooling around you both as Charles holds your gaze. His voice is deep, as though drawing from a memory that runs far deeper than mere words.

“We met in the strangest of ways,” he begins, his mouth curving into a bittersweet smile. “You had crept into my castle’s garden one night. You were stealing herbs, no doubt for one of the villagers, or perhaps your family. And I—” he hesitates, the memory flickering across his face. “I watched you from the shadows, planning to capture you for trespassing.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine, and he steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that’s both familiar and unknown. “But as I moved closer, something in me… changed. When I saw you, saw the way the moonlight touched your face, the look of defiance in your eyes as you searched through the night… I couldn’t do it. I’d planned to confront you, but I was captivated instead.”

You don’t know whether to pull away or lean in closer. The story he’s telling sounds impossible, yet something about it resonates with a strange ache inside you.

“I fell in love with you that night, without a word exchanged between us,” he continues softly, his gaze never leaving yours. “In the nights that followed, you returned again and again. Each time, I waited, and each time, I was helpless against this feeling that bound me to you.”

“The villagers warned you to stay away, to fear me, but I knew… I knew you were different. That night, in my garden, I saw it in your eyes—a courage unlike anything I’d ever known. And though I knew I should keep my distance, but I couldn’t.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine as he speaks, as though his words are casting a spell around you, one that’s pulling you deeper into his tale. “And that’s when you told me,” he says, his voice softening. “You told me you knew what I was. And that you loved me regardless.”

You draw in a breath, startled. “You… you’re saying I knew you were—”

“A vampire,” he finishes. “Yes. And though the village feared me, you loved me still. It was that love that bound us together.” His voice falters, as though the memory alone wounds him. “It was that love that would ultimately lead to our separation.”

He steps closer, his presence wrapping around you like a dark embrace. “That night, when they came for me, we fled together, disappearing into the forest. And in that quiet darkness, we made a promise—a bond of magic, forged in our blood and words. That no matter what happened, our love would keep us bound, through life or death. Nothing would tear us apart.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, his story drawing you in, each word stirring up something deep and aching inside you.

“But they found us.” His voice drops to a whisper, as though saying it louder would bring back the horrors of that night. “And they tore you from me… forever. They struck you down, and as I watched, they forced me into that crypt—condemned to an eternity without you.”

You take a shaky breath, barely able to process the weight of what he’s saying. And yet, looking at him, at the way he gazes at you with a desperate familiarity, you can’t shake the feeling that somehow… this story is true. It’s too strange, too powerful to be anything else.

“Now,” he says, his hand reaching out toward you, “you’ve returned to me, as we promised. Our bond brought you back, just as I knew it would. And I am free… to love you again. To keep you safe, this time.”

You take a step back, heart racing, confusion and wonder mixing together. “This can’t… it doesn’t seem real.”

But as you look at him—at his face, his eyes, his presence—everything in you whispers that he isn’t lying. You’ve felt it ever since you opened that crypt, a feeling that something was watching, waiting. And now, as he stands here, that feeling feels like it’s finally come home.

“What… what was my name?” you ask, almost afraid to know.

He smiles, the sadness slipping away, replaced with something tender. “Amélie,” he says, his voice soft, almost reverent. “You were my Amélie.”

The name rings through you like a bell, familiar and distant all at once. You don’t remember the life he’s describing, yet somehow, in his presence, you feel closer to it than ever before. And as he steps closer, a hand lifting to cup your cheek, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, bound by a promise made across centuries.

“Now that we’re together again,” he whispers, his thumb brushing gently over your skin, “nothing will separate us, my love. Not this time.”

And despite every rational thought, you find yourself leaning into his touch, part of you feeling as though you’ve been waiting for this moment for lifetimes.

Charles’s hand moves to cradle your face, his touch achingly gentle as he gazes at you, his eyes filled with a love so deep it feels like it’s carving its way into your soul. He leans in, and as his lips brush against yours, warmth spreads through you, soft and consuming. His kiss is slow, like he’s savoring every second, like he’s been waiting centuries for this one perfect moment.

As his lips press against yours, memories begin to break through in flashes, flooding your mind. You see yourself in that midnight garden, surrounded by moonlit flowers, his figure stepping out of the shadows. You feel the thrill of that first touch, the wonder as he looked at you with something close to reverence. His whispers of promises, the warmth of his embrace as you vowed to be together forever. The fear as you both ran through the dark woods, clutching each other in desperation.

And the grief—your last sight of him as they tore you away, his eyes filled with helpless horror.

The memories come crashing down, filling you with the weight of a love that survived death itself. You pull him closer, deepening the kiss as if trying to make up for all the lost years, for every stolen moment. His hand slides down to your waist, holding you firmly as if he’ll never let you go again.

When you finally pull back, breathless, tears are slipping down your cheeks, and he brushes them away with his thumb, his eyes bright with emotion.

“Amélie,” he whispers, the name like a vow on his lips. “You remember.”

You nod, feeling the weight of a thousand lifetimes, of a love that’s spanned centuries. “Yes, Charles. I remember everything.”

A smile, tender and triumphant, breaks across his face, and he pulls you close, pressing his forehead against yours. “We have a second chance,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “Nothing will separate us now. We’re finally free to be together, just as we promised.”

You lean into his embrace, feeling like every piece of you has fallen into place, like the two halves of your soul have been joined again. And as you stand there, wrapped in his arms, you know that this is the end of a long, agonizing journey—and the beginning of the forever you’d both dreamed of.

With the stars overhead and the weight of eternity lifted, you smile up at him, your heart overflowing with joy. “Forever,” you whisper, and he smiles, kissing you once more.

Tag list :

@alldaysdreamers

[bardhobibi]

TW: Discussions about trauma

I come from my video in TikTok because LIMIT CHARACTERS, and I need to get out of my mouth how much I love this young man even if English is not my first language.

Jason Todd is one of my favorite characters in history and my favorite DC character. Is my comfort character? Devastation character? Both.

His story is one of the greatest tragedies ever written and one of the most unjust, and he as a person is someone extremely interesting in my opinion, and that is why I am fascinated (negatively) by the mischaracterization he suffers both by his writers and by some readers. He is known as the "Violent Robin", "Batman's Disappointment", and many other nicknames that do not justify him, and something interesting is that many of these opinions do not treat him as his own person, but inherently relate him to other people. Because unfortunately Jason's story has always been written in relation to others, and not in himself. He was the violent Robin (which I can still debate here and now) just because of an unfair comparison with Richard. Batman's disappointment is a relationship with his father figure. But he is almost never treated as an independent human being, mainly because his traumas, which are unfortunately the basis of his character in many areas, are most intrinsically related to other people and their betrayal. Even when it doesn't, something happens that causes the trauma to end up being appropriated by someone else. His own death, for example. I rarely see it explored, properly speaking, how dying has affected HIM, AS A PERSON, rather than how it has affected others or their relationship to others. Which is just as interesting, but he is rarely approached as an independent person. Because Jason's character, or his own death, exists in the plot to haunt the narrative (while Richard Grayson haunt the narrative in the same way but with his life, because he exists, they are two sides of the same coin, on another day I will talk about it because I adore him too)

And in many subjects, he is for me a very comforting and devastating character at the same time. How his traumas are not taken seriously, how he wants to scream to make himself heard but is ignored or labeled as dramatic despite having all the damn right in the world to fall to his knees and cry for days because every event that has happened to him has been injustice after injustice. How he stands up and keeps fighting when others can't.

And that problem I feel, happens in many aspects of Jason's life. One of the things I like about Jason is how terribly complicated and easy he is at the same time. As his main emotional conflict is very easy to describe: His father did not avenge him. And since that is nothing more than a tremendous SIMPLIFICATION of all the weight he carries on him, and it is the betrayal, CONSTANT, of those who genuinely love him. A betrayal can come from someone you trust but who doesn't love you, but it's a hundred times worse when it comes from someone who genuinely loves you and has STILL betrayed you.

Jason is a character very loaded with physical and emotional traumas. Physical, because I feel that people forget to what extent physical pain, being kidnapped and tortured, being taken away from your own autonomy (being literally immobilized and then murdered) at such a young age, is in itself a mental trauma. That physical pain is something that will recur in his memory forever, and it is something that ONLY he can feel. Because it's HIS trauma, and no one else's. Obviously others can establish a connection with him. Barbara herself I feel that she is the one who has that capacity the most. Being tortured and removed from their autonomy not for something personal against them but for screwing over another person, as collateral damage, is something they have very much in common. But it is important to establish that it is NOT the same trauma. And I will never say that one is worse than the other. Because although they are similar, each person experiences and suffers them in different ways. Because each trauma is part of each different person. And emotional, because this type of trauma unfortunately (and I mean emotional trauma as trauma not caused by a physical event), Jason has been carrying them since he was born.

He carries both his own trauma, and those of others. And he is so much more than just his traumas. But, and I say this from experience, traumas cannot be separated from their personality. It's something that's fused into it at the cellular level. It is part of their way of being. It is a trait of hers as much as he likes to read. And I feel that the opinion of him is very much given because we have not met a pre-trauma Jason. You'll tell me "Jason Robin is pre-trauma Jason" and I'll tell you "no baby, Jason Robin already had previous trauma from his childhood. It was only easier to put up with him because he smiled and was young." And maybe there's that image of Violent Robin, which is given by the fact that precisely this Robin came from a very unfair environment, literally from the streets. His childhood is a trauma in itself. He was born into that trauma. He has simply learned to navigate that hell until a greater trauma arises. His own death. Here I am going to say something from my own experience and many years of trial and error in my own mind: No one can take traumas away from you, they are part of you and you cannot pretend to move on from them or try to forget them, but they do not define every aspect of your life, and little by little, you can let go. Each person is different, but it is what I see as most appropriate in most cases. And Jason hasn't gotten over his trauma, I doubt, he never quite will. But that doesn't mean you can't move on with your life. That one day he sees a crowbar, and sees it as a mere instrument instead of relating it to his trauma.

So I'm not going to say that "he's never done anything wrong," or "he's totally justified in his actions," etc. Because be careful, he has done many things, in my opinion, wrong. It would be simplifying its character. He is, after all, an anti-hero and that is what makes him such a wonderful and interesting character. He need a redemption? In my opinion, no. Especially if this "redemption" involves making peace with the family, because it involves reaching an agreement on who is right about whether to kill the clown or not. And it's not something that can be agreed to because in my genuine opinion, both sides are right: Jason for wanting Batman to kill him, Batman for refusing. His redemption cannot happen because of that, in my opinion it would be betraying both his character and Batman's.

But he is much more than his traumas. He is Jason Todd. A little school genius. An attentive child. Fanciful, who likes to read and get lost in classic stories. Someone who loves their loved ones too much. Impulsive and somewhat naïve. That he trusts too much. Someone attentive to the injustices of others. That takes role models and turns them into gods to follow. Bruce and Richard. Like after his death, deep down, he is still a bit of all that. Because although the waters of Lazarus have changed him at the molecular level, he is still Jason Todd. An attentive, analytical young man, a genius considered a danger to Gotham. A fantastical young man, who because of his excessive love for his loved ones, feels even more betrayed by them. Traumas change a person, but they never stop being who they were, no matter how much their attitude may change. And as one of his main defining traits is, in fact, the love he feels for others. For Bruce, for Richard, for their mothers (both of them, despite what one did), for Gotham.

And part of how my favorite character is is that. How, although many do not realize it, it is still the same person deep down. As even though his actions have changed considerably, and surely his young self is disappointed to see what he has become, he is still him. Jason Robin and Jason Red Hood are STILL the same person.

In conclusion, I FK LOVE JASON TODD. Someday maybe I will do something with Richard because he is my second favorite, and his dynamic with Jason is incredible for me.

(and I could say EVEN more because UFFFF, don't get me started on Jason's simultaneous infantilization AND adultification and the parallelisms with certain cautionary children story)

[sr71blackbirdd]

Y’all ever write fanfiction of your own story?

None of this is canon to my story but it was fun to write.

CW: Nazism, suicidal ideation, tobacco use

“Dieter is dead, Erich is dead, my father is dead. I have gone AWOL and today will go down in history as the capitulation of Germany. I, Albert Edelstein, retreated from my post on May first. Only a week ago. I am barely even a traitor to my nation and that makes me almost sick. I’ve been sick. I’ve been sick and I’ll be sick a while. I arrived at the Ziegelbauer residence six days ago. Munich was in ruins when I arrived. The Führer’s brain was full of lead when a Soviet shell almost pierced my own skull. Faced with bullet fire as a last stand for Berlin, I found for the first time in a four year military career, I ran. I ran and I didn’t stop until somehow I had found my way back home. I would hardly call this home anymore. I barely recognize it, not only because of the bombings. Through my time in the military the city has become disfigured until it was entirely unfamiliar to me. Streets I once navigated with ease I am no longer able to trace. How I found Ziegelbauer’s home perplexes me, but when Frieda saw me at the doorway she let me in without question. She recognized instantly her family friend who hardly looked like a man anymore. Who was broken and bent and foaming at the mouth like a rabid dog. She recognized instantly a man who I would never have been able to identify as Albert Edelstein. The first thing my sister did when Frieda called her down was take from me anything I could use to kill myself. The pistol I’d put in my mouth, the knife I’d held to my wrist, the rope I’d used to take measurements of my neck, the lighter that has already stolen years of my life. The second thing she did was hug me. Subconsciously I leaned on her, I put all my weight on her, and she held me like it was nothing, if that tells you anything about the dire state of our supply lines. She untied for me my boots, she undid the layers of uniform that my frozen stiff fingers could never hope to work their way through. She ran me a bath. How long had it been since I last had a warm bath? Long enough that my muscles had gone stiff like that of an old man’s. Long enough that I let my body relax in the hot water until it went cold. Ernst saw me after I was dressed, he also gave me a hug, one as tight as his arms—plagued with atrophy as insulin had presumably become harder to come by in recent years—could muster. He took me to the kitchen and told me to eat. He said I looked as sickly as him. I complied. That’s all I’m good for. Following orders.

I couldn’t keep it down.

Ernst said he’d give me advice on nausea management in the morning. I asked him to light me a cigarette. It could stave off the hunger for the next 8 hours. The greatest proof I have that he loves me, or is, at least, still subservient to me, is that even after all of these years, he took a draw from the cigarette before putting it in my mouth. Just as I had asked him to do the first time. Ernst Ziegelbauer doesn’t smoke unless I tell him to.

I slept over 14 hours that night. I wish I could say it was just last night that that happened. Yesterday I slept the whole day away. Ten hours straight, wake up, use the restroom, get water, snack on something light enough not to make me nauseous, smoke, go back to bed until god next woke me. I’m sick with something.

I really ought to cut to the chase, no? Apologies, it has been a while since I’ve journaled, they’re a security concern. I overheard Ernst speaking to my sister today, he said: ‘I do quite like your brother, Alice. I wouldn’t mind him staying even now that the war in Europe has ended.’ And I will admit, that made me go red and kick my feet. It is nice to know I can still feel things like that, even if it is for stupid, stupid reasons. It’s hard not to be in love with a boy like Ernst Ziegelbauer. I am still yet to ever in my life experience sexual arousal, but I would imagine it feels something like Ernst holding my hand—shaky with withdrawal—still as he lights me a cigarette. I believe, the tone I am taking in this is one of someone very disconnected with their feelings. I must always be a perfect German specimen, I suppose. But I would let you know I am not. I am overcome by them all the time and the only thing that seems to heal me from his malady emptiness and exhaustion is my sisters dearest fiance. I live an accursed life, doomed always to fall by the wayside and be my sister’s shadow. I can delude myself into believing it is secretly me he’s after, and I will continue to do so until my mouth no longer demands the taste of cool steel, my wrists no longer the prickling of a blade, and my neck no longer the comfort of strangulation. And I will grow out my brown hair, for I am no longer a soldier, my father is dead, and Germany is free.”

[buckysouvenir]

at the fair

chapter 3 of healing hearts.

reblogs, likes and comments are always encouraged and highly appreciated! thank you ♡

⋆ series masterlist 　　⋆ steve rogers masterlist

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

as days turned into weeks, y/n found herself seeking comfort in steve's company more often than not. with each passing day, their conversations grew more comfortable, and the weight of her heartache seemed to lessen just a little.

they talked about everything and anything, sharing stories, laughter, and even a few moments of comfortable silence. y/n found herself opening up about her dreams, her fears, and her plans for the future. steve, in turn, shared his own aspirations and reflections.

"hey, y/n," steve called out, his voice gentle yet carrying a note of curiosity.

y/n turned, a surprised smile forming on her lips when she saw steve approaching. "hey, steve. just finished a bit of a workout."

steve nodded, his blue eyes scanning her face. "you okay? you looked lost in thought there."

y/n sighed softly, her shoulders relaxing as she met his concerned gaze. "yeah, i guess i've just been going through a lot lately. trying to keep myself occupied, you know?"

he understood the sentiment all too well, given his own history of seeking comfort in physical training. "i get it. sometimes it's good to have a way to clear your mind. you can call me if you want... company to workout, i mean."

she chuckles, "yeah... if i ever need a new punching back, your number will be the first one i'll be calling." y/n says as she grabs her workout bag from the floor and starts to walk away.

"well, speaking of things that might make you feel better, i was wondering if you'd be up for something." he spoke louder to get her attention.

"of course! what is it?" she stopped in her tracks to start paying attention to the super soldier coming to her diction.

"there's a dog adoption fair happening this weekend and i'm invited to help as... you know, captain america... anyway, uh, would you like to go too?" steve said while fidgeting with his water bottle, afraid the other avenger could sense his nervousness but y/n's excitement completely blinded her.

y/n's eyes lit up with excitement. "A DOG ADOPTION FAIR??" she squealed.

steve smiled, encouraged by her enthusiasm. "i thought you might like it. you're such an animal lover, and-"

she jumped and hugged him, "YES! oh my god thank you yes i'll go with you. you have no idea how much i love dogs."

"i'm getting an idea of how much" he said, patting her waist but lingering a little bit longer.

"sorry" she said, embarrassed, letting go of him. "and i'm so sorry i'm sweaty"

steve let out a soft laugh, "it's ok, i'll get a work out in now anyway"

y/n gave him a pressed smile, "ok, uhm... send me the details then?"

"yeah, sure!"

they said their goodbyes as y/n practically skipped away. steve couldn't help but feel a sense of joy himself, her genuine enthusiasm was infectious. with a contented smile, he pulled out his phone and sent her a message with all the information.

the weekend had finally arrived, and y/n's excitement was palpable as she got ready for the dog adoption fair. She stood in front of the mirror in her room, adjusting her outfit and trying to find the perfect balance between comfort and style. the fair was just a short while away, and she wanted to make sure she looked presentable.

as she put on the finishing touches, she heard a knock on her door. she crossed the room and opened the door to find steve standing there, dressed in his full captain america suit.

her eyes widened in surprise, "hey... what are you doing here?" she said, letting out a chuckled laugh but quickly slapping her mouth.

steve looked a little taken aback by her reaction. "i came here to pick you up... what's so funny?" he asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

y/n put her hand down from her mouth, but a smile still played on her lips. "it's just... the captain america in full uniform"

steve's brows furrowed slightly, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "we've been on missions together with me wearing this suit all the time. what's so funny?"

"it's just that... it looks a little out of place outside of a mission context." y/n's laughter subsided, and she smiled at him warmly. "But don't get me wrong, you look great buddy!" she said patting him on his shoulders like a child.

he grinned, rolling his eyes playfully. "i can't win with you, can i?"

y/n chuckled again and crossed her arms. "you win all the time, cap. it's just a little different seeing you like this in civilian settings."

he shook his head, "fair enough", a fond smile on his lips. "you ready?"

y/n nodded enthusiastically. "absolutely! and i promise not to burst into laughter when we're there."

steve chuckled. "i appreciate that."

the dog adoption fair was in full swing, and the atmosphere was filled with excitement and joy. y/n and steve had arrived together, and their presence only added to the event's liveliness.

steve, dressed in his full captain america suit, had become an instant hit among the attendees, especially the children. his charismatic smile drew people towards him like a magnet. he was a natural with the dogs, his gentle demeanor instantly putting them at ease.

y/n found herself busy helping people take pictures with steve, ensuring that everyone got a chance to capture a memorable moment. she laughed as kids lined up, waiting for their turn to stand beside him. grabbing the parents phone, she snapped photos of the heartwarming interactions between steve and the children.

"say CHEESE" y/n called out, her grin matching the children's enthusiasm.

steve crouched down, his shield by his side, as he posed with a wide grin. "CHEESE"

"thanks for doing this, cap!" a father said, shaking steve's hand.

steve's eyes sparkled as he replied, "it's my pleasure."

the children cheered and giggled, their faces lighting up with joy. steve's genuine connection with them was evident, and y/n couldn't help but admire how effortlessly he brought smiles to their faces. amidst the laughter and excitement, her gaze often found its way back to steve, who was already smiling at her. she reminded herself that she needed to focus on the dogs and the event, not get distracted by her growing fondness for steve. after all, they were just friends, and she didn't want to complicate things further, she thought.

however, there was one challenge that y/n couldn't ignore. every time she walked past a dog in need of a home, her heart melted. each wagging tail brought a smile to her face.

steve slowly walked up to her while she was holding a puppy, "you know, you can't have them all y/n" he said, earning a playful pout from her.

"i know!" she replied, rubbing her face on the dogs fur. "it's just... they deserve loving homes."

a fond smile on his lips as he watched her interact with the dog.

"and they will find them, with or without us adopting them all."

"yeah... but i would chose the adopting them all ourselves option if you wouldn't mind."

steve laughed, "i think it's a great idea but i don't think the rest of the tower would agree."

y/n rolled her eyes but agreed with a smile on her face.

"though i have to say, you'd make one heck of a dog mom," steve teased.

"STOOOP! don't give me ideas."

he chuckled softly, his gaze lingering on her. "you just have a big heart, that's all i meant."

y/n met his gaze, her heart fluttering at the sincerity in his eyes.

as the day went on, y/n found it harder to focus on anything other than steve. she caught herself stealing glances when he wasn't looking. she watched as he patiently listened to children's stories, posed for countless pictures, and interacted with the dogs as if they were his own.

each time she caught herself, she reprehended herself for feeling this way, especially given her recent breakup with bucky, especially for the fact that he is her exes best friend.

eventually, she allowed herself a moment to appreciate the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled and the genuine laughter that escaped his lips.

as the sun began to set and the event came to a close, y/n and steve shared a quiet moment. they leaned against a nearby railing, watching as families left with their newly adopted furry friends.

"you did amazing today, steve," y/n said with a soft smile.

he looked at her, his blue eyes warm. "it was a team effort. you helped make today special for a lot of people too. mine included."

y/n's heart swelled. as they stood there, side by side, she couldn't help but feel joy.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

#taglist: @yoruse @pattiemac1 @mrsevans90 @lauraashley93 @ozwriterchick @elthoughtzos

[aerinva]

[ HOOK ] sender hooking a finger beneath receiver's jaw

winter, 2017.

the rooftop is nearly silent, save for the low hum of the wind skimming over concrete and and rusted railings. the sky is an overcast state, bleeding the last of the afternoon light. snow hasn’t fallen yet, but it’s forecasted to do so soon.

karina leans against the wall, arms limp at her sides, head tilted slightly down. her fingers tremble despite how she looks. her skin is pale, paler than usual, and there’s a faint crimson hue gathering at the edge of her irises. she keeps her eyes low, trying to regulate her breathing and trying to ignore the slow, pulsing hunger crawling beneath her skin.

she hadn’t meant to lose control today, but it’s getting harder.

the metal door creaks open, she doesn’t look. footsteps follow. measured, even. they’re too familiar. she doesn’t need to turn around to know who it is. leo.

“you missed history.” his voice cuts through the silence. he walks towards her like he’s not in a rush, like it’s just another thursday. “so?” she still doesn’t look at him, she refuses to. he stops in front of her, just a few steps away. “you’re slipping again.” karina clenches her jaw. “it’s none of your business.” she says it like it’s a warning, but her voice lacks the usual weight and she hates that he hears it. “unfortunately for you, it is. your hands are shaking.”

she tightens her fist instantly, forcing them still. but he’s right. her body betrays her every time. and it infuriates her that he’s always there when it happens. still, she doesn’t move when he steps closer. the scent of his blood, of him, stirs something primal in her. she can smell it beneath layers or fabric. his heartbeat is steady, unbothered. “get away from me.”

“you’re starving.”

“i can handle it.”

“yeah? looks like it.”

leo watches her, calmly, almost clinically. then his hand rises, his knuckle brush against her chin. her breath catches, just for a second before he hooks his finger beneath her jaw, lifting her face up until their eyes meet. “look at me.” karina wants to look away, but she can’t. his touch isn’t gentle, but it isn’t cruel either. it’s grounded, controlled, as if he’s reminding her she’s still human enough to choose. her voice breaks around the edges when she speaks. “why do you keep doing this?”

“because if you lose control here, someone’s going to die.”

he drops his hand and kneels down, unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt. he pushes the fabric up enough to expose the inside of his wrist, holding it out it in front of her mouth. not like a sacrifice, like a command. her eyes widen slightly, her voice a whisper. “don’t—“ she stops when he grabs her by the nape of her neck and pulls her forward, holding her in place with a firm grip as he presses his wrist to her mouth. he narrows his brows, his gaze never leaves her. “take it.”

karina’s body doesn’t move at first. her fangs ache behind closed lips, her instincts pressing hard against her ribs like a scream. she hates this. she hates him. she hates how much control is needed not to lunge. but slowly, she reaches forward. her fingers wrap around his wrist, cold against warm. she can feel the blood beneath his skin, humming steady. her voice cracks when she speaks, “i hate you.” leo rolls his eyes, calm as ever. “i know.”

and without another word, she leans in and sinks her fangs into his wrist.

[dakhokhe]

Earth Movers

The earth is a vast thing, and so we move it. That’s the short, non-mystical version of what’s happening here. When we dig into the ground, whether for mining, urban development, or demolition, we don’t just move dirt and stone. We perform a kind of planetary computation, a necessary evil that distills the earth into commodities. The machinery, the bulldozers, the excavators, the cranes, they are the contemporary cavalry, the iron clad heralds that signal our relentless transformation of the world. We might think of it as construction, or destruction, or something in between. But if I am honest, what’s really at stake is much subtler and more insidious, earthmoving anxiety (more like trauma lets be real).

This is where the problem gets slippery, like when you are trying to get a good grip on a wet shovel. At the time of writing, earthmoving anxiety is still a theoretical condition. It exists in emails, quotes, a lifecycle of a product that doesn’t exist yet. It’s like the shadow of a thing, a mirage of something real, but just outside your grasp. It’s not real, not in the sense that it’s a fully fledged object with weight and substance. No, it’s more like an intention waiting to happen, a speculative event waiting to be realised through the movements of heavy machinery and the labourers who control them.

But let me back up. I am not just talking about excavation in the literal sense. I am talking about excavation as a performance, as an abstracted action that coordinates with the human body and time itself. In a sense, the operators of these machines, who are skilled in the ancient art of moving mountains, are now being asked to dig into the intangible, to excavate immaterial things like meaning, history, and identity. Can this labour ever be redefined as something other than the brute force act of digging for raw materials? What happens when an excavator, that god of machinery, is asked to mine something more slippery than earth, something conceptual, something that dwells in the ether between the human and the mechanical?

At its core, this earthmoving anxiety is not a work of social emancipation, it’s not about saving the world from the dystopia we are busy digging ourselves into. Instead, it’s an attempt to create a space for dialogue between those who know how to shift the earth and those of us who, perhaps naively, think we can shift it with our minds. This is not about transforming the land in the usual way. No, it’s about understanding how the machines themselves, these creatures of hydraulic power, experience the act of excavation. How do they feel, or more accurately, how do we project feeling onto them? And in this projection, how do we discover new ways of interacting with the world?

I have framed this inquiry in the context of labour, as all good theoretical exercises must be framed. The excavator operators are skilled technicians, paid upwards of $100 an hour for their expertise. They are the specialists, the ones who know how to speak the language of heavy machinery, and I want to learn from them. Theirs is a craft honed through years of experience, a craft that allows them to shift the earth in ways that others cannot. But the question is this, What happens when the earth isn’t just earth? What happens when the material we are digging into is not just raw stone, but something more abstract, something slippery and theoretical? Can excavation itself be reimagined as a kind of choreography, a dance between man, machine, and the materials they work with? Or is this just another instance of our constant need to rewrite the world in terms of our own understanding?

To answer this question, we must first look at the lifecycle of the product, this theoretical product that may or may not exist yet. What role do the excavators play in this lifecycle? What is the role of the mouth and the hand, of the body, in the process of transforming raw material into something consumable, usable? And what does it mean, then, to shift the focus from the raw material itself to the process of transformation, the choreography of the body, the machine, and the earth?

It’s a strange thing, really. The earth is full of mysteries, and we are busy trying to control it, to digest it, to make it work for us. But what if the earth, in all its material complexity, is also something that can move us, shift us, change us? Perhaps this is the real work of excavation, not just moving the earth, but discovering how we, in our own human way, move with it.

[nyxunwritten]

SOUL TIES SLAM

I know I lost you— But damn it, I still feel you in my bones. Your silence is a graveyard where my name is a ghost, haunting the spaces we swore we’d fill with forever.

I don’t do anything right. Not looking at you. Not breathing. Not speaking. Even my jokes turn to ash in your mouth, choking out every “I love you” before it ever gets a chance to land.

One stupid joke. One stupid fucking joke about memes and cheating— and now you’re rewriting our story like I was ever the villain, like my hands weren’t always open, reaching for you, and yours weren’t the ones slamming the door shut.

You won’t find them. I told you that. And you heard something else. You twisted it. Let it sink in like poison, like venom, like I was the one slitting our wrists with misunderstanding.

I wanted you. I still fucking want you. Not in a “one day, maybe” way, but in a “no one else exists” way. You were my endgame, my always, my never-again-and-no-one-after. My love isn’t a thing I can reassign, like a seat on a bus. It’s carved into me. Burned in. Branded.

And now, I have to live with the wreckage. With the taste of blood in my mouth from screaming too hard. With my own damn fists through the window— proof that I loved you so much it broke me.

You called us a fantasy. A fantasy? A fucking fever dream? A hallucination? Like we didn’t build something real with our bare hands, like we didn’t map out a life between whispered midnights and tangled limbs?

Fuck you for that. Fuck you for making me believe in something sacred, and then spitting on the altar. Fuck you for making me feel safe enough to open up, and then using my ribs as a punching bag when I finally let you in.

You wanted this. The weight of us. The commitment. The goddamn blueprint of our future. And when the gravity got too heavy, you started looking for cracks instead of holding steady.

But don’t you dare call me unfaithful when my heart never learned another name but yours. Don’t you dare call this a misunderstanding when you let your pride stomp out every chance we had left.

You don’t want a family. Not really. Because love is a fucking battlefield, and you don’t know how to stand your ground. So you run. And I chase. And we bleed.

I was never your enemy. I was your mirror, your reflection, the one person who could see you— and maybe that’s why you couldn’t handle it. Because I knew your wounds before you could even name them, and I loved you anyway.

So now what? You wanna live in the past, let your fear hold you hostage? Or do you want to fucking fight for this— for us— for the wreckage of what could have been reborn in the ashes?

Your choice. But me? I’ll be here. Not waiting. Not begging. Just knowing.

Knowing that whatever the fuck this is, it’s bigger than both of us. It’s written in blood and history. It’s deeper than rage, deeper than love— and no matter how far you run, you’ll never outrun the weight of us.

Soul ties, baby. We were bound before we ever had a choice.

[cinderswrites]

Frayed ::

four

“How is your father doing, by the way?” Rhea asked as she set down the teacup.

Cynfael had brought her to a new restaurant, a place atop a hill overlooking the harbor and docks. They were seated in front of one of the large windows, with a view of the ocean just as he’d promised. The tables around them were kept clear to avoid any inconvenience to the prince, and Rhea didn’t miss the way those penetrating eyes of curious people bore into her as she had walked in and sat down with him. Alaric stood guard nearby, still as a statue and with a sharp eye out for any trouble.

Cynfael adjusted his posture and drank from his cup slowly, thinking over the question. “I could say he’s doing well, better than anyone thought he would. Honestly, I’m sure he’s tired. He feels the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, after all.”

“And your mother?”

“As elegant and content as ever. She enjoys the spoils of the life, but it’s not without its hardships. She’s there for my father in every way and helps him with challenging tasks. I’m certain he’d have renounced the throne years ago if it weren’t for her,” he laughed.

She chuckled as well, “Now for the most damning question, yet. How are you doing, Cynfael?”

He winced, frowning slightly, “I knew it was coming and yet I still feel unprepared to answer.” His following chuckle was low and morose, “To be quite honest, this role fits me like a glove. Too perfectly, perhaps. I loved my uncle, and I love my parents and my kingdom, but sometimes…”

“It’s too much?” Rhea offered hesitantly.

He met her eyes and nodded once, “Absolutely. The etiquette classes, learning the history, sitting in on military meetings, foreign affairs, all of it. And on top of that, needing time to develop my own personal interests and skills. Horseback riding, hunting, sparring, writing, music. Trying to find any free time in all that drivel is maddening!”

Rhea listened intently, feeling pain in her heart for her old friend. A child carefree and full of wonder at the world. Someone who used to want to fish for a living, told her his dreams about living on a boat most of the year. She couldn’t imagine how much he’d been struggling. Her own battles seemed less cumbersome as he continued to speak.

“About a year ago, I finally told my father, ‘Enough! I don’t need to know all of it! I need some damn room to breathe!’ And here we are. I’m allowed exactly two hours out of my day to spend as I please, and I use it to walk around town,” he grinned. “Not exactly relaxing, but it gives my mind a break and lets me see the real problems here. I’ve been making headway on a building on the other side of town. A refuge for the poor, if you will.”

“Oh, really?” her voice didn’t disguise her surprise.

“Yes,” he nodded, “it’s not quite open yet. The construction is rather slow, since it’s being funded by the gratuitous donations of the rich. As you may have already guessed, those are few and far between. There’s too many unknowns for my father to fund it directly, especially since it’s not an investment.”

The look on his face was resentful. She reached over and patted his hand, “It’s an amazing idea, my friend. If I had all the money in the world, I’d help you, you know that.”

His eyes lingered on her hand before drifting up to her face, “I do know that. You’ve always been a wonderfully kind and charitable person, Rhea.”

She blushed under the directness of the compliment and pulled her hand back. “Thank you.”

The conversation came to a halt as one of the women waitressing brought their food. They settled in to eat and were having one last cup of tea when Cynfael spoke again, “How are you doing, Rhea? Truly?”

She felt the corner of her mouth twitch. “I’m doing just fine,” she said after a moment, smiling at him.

“I can’t help but feel as if you’re holding back,” he assessed. “I know your mother’s death must have been hard on you. I got word of it too late, and I couldn’t make the time to visit, with everything going on. And then your father remarried so quick—“

“Yes, well, it’s been quite a few years since then. Thelma and her children are great, Father’s doing well, and I’m doing well also.” Rhea said, her voice sounding strained. “It’s been a blast, having siblings. Alice, the youngest daughter, is so smart and witty. I think you’d enjoy meeting her. Henri Jr. is such a little peach as well! A perfect little mini-me of my father.”

“What of Scarlett? The eldest daughter?”

“Scarlett is a carbon copy of Thelma,” Rhea hesitated. “Thelma has rather… strong ideals for the family. Scarlett happens to be the only one of either of us to fit that mold.”

“I see,” Cynfael cleared his throat. “Well, enough of family talk. Do you have any goals you’re working on?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. Before I was sidetracked by the market, I was planning on visiting the clothing shops in town to inquire about apprenticeships.” Rhea divulged, happy to move on from talking about her home life.

“Clothing shops? Do you desire to be a seamstress?” Cynfael seemed genuine in his interest.

“Yes. I’ve only recently come to this conclusion, so we’ll see how it works out.”

“Have you made clothes before?” he asked.

She nodded, “The dress I’m wearing today I made myself. Rather, I recycled old fabrics and made something new,” she added modestly. She didn’t miss the way his eyes quickly scanned her, and she fought the flustered feelings of being scrutinized by the prince of all people, regardless of him also being her childhood friend. “It’s fine work, if I may say so,” he said with a smile, “not that I know anything of that sort of nature.”

Rhea laughed, “Well, I’m hoping to learn more. I’ve got plenty of dresses to bring in as a sort of portfolio of my talents.”

Once they were finished with their tea, both of them stood and walked out of the restaurant. Alaric followed close behind as they made their way down a path towards the beach. Cynfael brought up her search for a job, “If I’m not being too forward by saying so, I’ve heard recently that my mother’s personal seamstress has been looking for an apprentice.”

Rhea’s heart almost stopped in her chest. “N-no, that’s too much. I hardly know a thing! There’s no way I’d be fit to apprentice for her.” “Excuse my manners, but that’s utter nonsense. I can see for myself the skills you possess. I’ll put in a good word for you.”

“But—“

“I don’t want to hear it,” Cynfael said, determined. “As your friend, Rhea, and as someone that cares for you, please allow me to do this for you.”

Rhea had opened her mouth to protest more, but just then several official looking men called out to Cynfael. He excused himself and walked towards them. Alaric stayed near Rhea, ever present and silent as he was. Meanwhile, Rhea had turned her attention back towards the beach. She walked over onto a nearby boulder, crouching down on top of it. A few inches down on another rock was a bright orange seashell. As she reached for it, her foot slipped and she gasped.

She was expecting to slide off into the other rocks, but felt nothing except for strong arms wrapping around her small frame, preventing her from going anywhere. Alaric’s voice sounded next to her ear, his breath tickling the side of her face. “Excuse my touch, my Lady. Are you okay?”

“Y-yes,” she replied, her voice small and trembling. He helped her off the rock and set her on her feet in a swift motion that took her brain a moment to comprehend. Once she was standing, he held out his hand, palm up. On it was the shell she was reaching for. She took it gently and looked up at him, “Thank you, sir.”

That serious expression of his cracked as he smiled and nodded. His smile made her heart beat faster and set off a dozen butterflies in her stomach, a feeling as strange and foreign as this day was. “Perhaps a walk on the beach would be safer?” he suggested.

“R-right,” she dipped her head in a small nod and turned, stiffly walking around the rocks onto the sand.

They had gone a few feet when he spoke up, “Your skills at de-escalating the situation at the market earlier were impressive, my Lady.”

“I wouldn’t call them skills,” she said quietly. “Simply just a matter of just being observant.”

“Thanks to you, the matter was resolved quickly and without further incident. It’s still impressive, none the less.” Alaric stopped to examine a snail shell that was empty, picking it up and handing it to Rhea.

She put it next to the orange shell and felt her mouth turn up into a smile, “Well, thank you for saying so. I didn’t know you saw that.” “Mm,” he nodded, “we had just arrived when he grabbed that poor woman’s wrist.”

“So you saw the fabric under the table as well, then?”

“I didn’t notice it until you pointed it out, actually.”

“How would you have resolved such a dispute?”

Alaric’s demeanor changed to something resembling discomfort. “It is our King’s policy to take all accusations of theft seriously. She might have been jailed for some time and charged a hefty fine if she weren’t able to prove her innocence.”

The shock that ran through Rhea almost stopped her in her tracks, “S-surely, that’s a little too much?”

“You question the royal laws?”

She swallowed hard, her throat dry. “N-not at all, no. I apologize, Captain. It’s my first time being in the public in a while, so I may speak out of turn.”

When she glanced at Alaric, she saw his shoulders shaking with his silent chuckle. “My apologies, Lady Rhea, I was only poking fun.” Her mouth gaped open in awe, and she quickly closed it, her lips forming a pout. “I see.”

“If I may be blunt, I have the same views on that particular law. It’s rash and allows anyone to cry wolf.” Alaric sighed. “It’s not only a waste of time, but of resources.”

“It sounds like it can ruin a few lives, too.” Rhea nodded solemnly. “What’s stopping a merchant from accusing another merchant?”

“Ah, therein lies the loopholes. Merchants are protected under clauses. Same with nobles. It seems only the commonfolk suffer from such a policy,” he explained. His sharp eye caught the glint of another shell, a pearly pink one this time. He quickened his pace to pick it up and walked back to Rhea, placing it in her hand.

Her fingers brushed off the sand and stroked the smooth side of the shell. “How long have you been serving the royal family?” she asked.

“I was born into it. My father was King Roland’s Captain, and I was trained under him.” Alaric looked up at the clear blue sky, eying a passing bird.

“Sounds tough. Was it something you chose for yourself?”

“I don’t hate it, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t see myself doing anything else. I enjoy the sense of servitude for not only the family but the kingdom as a whole. I don’t imagine many would feel happy about their duties and requirements in my position if they hadn’t grown up with it.” Alaric spoke honestly and Rhea listened with interest, “I admired my father as a child. Sword fighting, settling disputes, protecting people. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Then to me, it seems like you’ve found the right calling,” Rhea joked lightly. “That’s a treasure in itself.”

“I suppose it is.”

Rhea stopped suddenly, turning towards the captain. Over his shoulder, she could see the prince still engaged in conversation with the officials. “Tell me honestly, is the prince really doing well?”

Alaric searched her face for a moment, “There are days when he feels like he wants to leave and say ‘to hell with it all’, but for the most part, there’s no one better to fit the roles he occupies.”

“I see. I’m glad,” she said quietly with a smile.

“Pardon me if I’m being too brash, but I feel like it would be safer to warn you now that the prince is required to marry a woman of his father’s choosing—“

Rhea’s eyebrows raised dramatically and she stumbled over her words, “Oh, heavens, no! I-I’m not—that’s not—“ she stepped back and ran a hand through her hair, then turned to glare at the captain so strongly, he almost flinched. “I’m not interested in the prince,” she hissed quietly. “We’re childhood friends and I’ve always cared for him as such.”

Alaric blinked slowly, then laughed, “Forgive me, my Lady.”

She rolled her eyes and started walking back towards Cynfael, who had begun jogging their way. Over her shoulder, she snapped, “Quit calling me ‘lady’ as well!”

The captain followed after her, highly amused.

When they reached the prince, Cynfael informed them that he had to leave. “I’m so sorry, Rhea. Important matters have come up.”

“It’s not a problem!” she said quickly. “I’ve got some things left to do in town before I go home anyway.”

The prince looked at the captain for a moment. “Alaric, why don’t you stay with the lady today? Keep her company. I’ll be able to concentrate better knowing my old friend made it home safe.”

His concern made her flustered, and the captain replied, “Certainly, my Prince.”

He leaned in to whisper something to the captain before stepping away. Cynfael turned to Rhea, holding both her hands in his. “I will get a meeting with my mother’s seamstress set up and have word brought to you soon.”

Before she could say anything, he bid them farewell and walked back to the group of men he was speaking with. She huffed quietly, feeling frustrated at his imposing, but decided she couldn’t do anything about it. She looked up at the captain and he gestured towards the town and said, “Shall we?”

She sighed again and started walking away from him, back towards town. While most women would have done anything to be in her shoes today, dark thoughts swirled in her mind about the blatant interference into her life. So much for independence, she thought bitterly.