#if anyone can word this better than i please go ahead
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neims-skeleton-obsession · 1 year ago
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spoilers for dark days beneath the cut.
i have. a lot of feelings about skug in book 4 and him being Not Too Great after being tortured for nearly a year by gods. which is understandable but the whole thing is somewhat brushed off- largely by skug, because thats what hes like.
and i was reading the grimoire section on dd and it is.. the same. val makes some jokes about it, to a degree so does skug and just i dESPERATELY want someone to give skug the chance to actually fucking talk about stuff that's happened to him. without making jokes about it like goddDAmn dude :,[ no i do not care that skug would probably be unwilling to discuss Things in a way that was at all serious but this man needs some goddamn assistance
aND. i mean. val got the "mmmhm yeah lets get you some. some. lets address this" wHY NOT SKUG. HMMMMMM????? SKUG NEXT, D E R E K. im so sorry this is an incoherent mess i am just. lots of feelings mmmmMMmMmMmMm yep
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starmocha · 3 months ago
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but if it's forever, it's even better Sylus/Reader | 4610 words | AO3 “Did you just…say you were…ovulating?” A/N: I finally have a new proper desk again. And I decided to christen it by writing Sylus smut. MDNI.
Sylus had always made it explicitly known that his home was yours to do as you pleased. He had never once forbidden you from treading into any of the rooms, never once told you that you were not allowed to touch his belongings or use his staff as needed. In fact, he had actively encouraged you to make yourself at home, to treat his place as yours—a home away from home.
Yes, he had made this offer explicitly clear.
It still, however, did not prepare him for just how comfortable you had made yourself in his spare room.
Having awoken not too long ago, Sylus had originally planned to check in on his houseguest. A seemingly innocuous decision that somehow led to him standing outside the guest room, his hand gripping tightly the doorknob as he unwittingly listened to the faint buzzing noises inside the room, mixed with the wanton moans you were making.
“This…girl…” Sylus’ breath quickened, his hold on the doorknob unconsciously tightened, as his mind reeled with images of you shamelessly pleasuring yourself in one of his many beds. He knew he should leave you to…finish, but at the same time, the noises he was hearing was so enticing and sweet, like a siren’s song keeping him trapped in place.
He could hear the vibration adjusting to a different frequency, changing from quick, short bursts to an aggressive pulsation that made you moaned louder, voice reaching a new pitch. Sylus took a glance around the hallways, wondering to himself if you even realized that the walls here were in no way sound-proofed. However, if this was going to become a regular occurrence for your future visits, then perhaps, he should add that change to his home in the near future, Sylus thought wryly.
“Ah—what? No…fuck!”
The buzzing stopped abruptly and Sylus heard your immediate frustrated curse from behind the closed door. He smirked, realizing what might have happened.
He should leave.
However, he would rather mess with you instead—in more ways than one.
He gave three swift knocks, startling you immediately. “Battery died, sweetie?”
He laughed when he heard your mortified shriek.
“You heard?!”
“It’s my house,” he reminded you as if that was enough. “Let me in.”
“No!”
“Sweetie, I do have the keys to all of the rooms in this house,” he said calmly, smirking again when he heard your panicked shuffling inside the room, “I’ll come in one way or another—”
“Wait, wait, wait, wait!”
Sylus crossed his arms, shaking his head in amusement as he heard more panicked noises behind the door. Even he couldn’t imagine what state of mortification you were in. He blinked when he heard you let loose a string of curses as it sounded like items were being thrown haphazardly around. Just as he was about to speak again, the door swung opened and he stared down at you, wrapped carelessly in the bed comforter, face completely scarlet, and your breathing rapid and uneven—possibly as a result from your little private time, but more than likely it was a result of being caught by, of all people, the leader of Onychinus.
“Now I know I offered my home for you to use freely, but—”
“Oh, just get in here!” you quickly yanked Sylus by the arm into the bedroom, promptly shutting the door before anyone else could catch sight of the scene. You immediately locked the door again, turned around, and slid down the door in a state of absolute humiliation. You could barely bring yourself to look at Sylus in the eyes.
“I…I can explain…”
“Go ahead,” Sylus said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, legs crossed as he stared at your pitiful state. “I’d love to know why Miss Hunter decided to play with herself in my home—and not invite me to join in the fun.”
You glared at him.
“Sweetie, it’s very impolite to glare at the host who so graciously offered you his home while yours is being fumigated for…what was it? Cockroaches?”
“Silverfish…”
“Right,” he said, “Now, sweetie, care to explain yourself?”
“Um,” you started, but honestly, you didn’t even know how to explain yourself to him exactly without making the situation worse. You wrapped the comforter tighter around yourself. “You know this comforter is very soft, Sylus. Maybe I should buy one just like this—”
“I can take you shopping for whatever you may need or want,” he interrupted, seeing through your flimsy attempt to deflect from this awkward conversation, “But only if you explain to me why you were fucking yourself silly with a sex toy just a moment ago.”
“I was…” you racked your brain. “That is to say I am…”
“Go on.”
“Well…I am…” you covered yourself completely in the comforter and the final word you said was completely muffled by your sudden blanket-cocoon.
Sylus sighed, mildly exasperated, and stood up, crossing the room quickly in just a few strides. He bent down to your height on the floor and reached forward to pull the comforter back. He frowned when you avoided eye contact with him. “What was that last word?”
“Sylus…”
“The longer you stall, the worse you’re making for yourself,” he said.
“Ovulating.”
There was an immediate deafening silence in the room as Sylus stared at you, completely unprepared and blindsided by that one word. You stared right back, cheeks burning up even more as you realized what you had just told him.
When Sylus managed to find his voice again, he started hesitantly, “Did you just…say you were…ovulating?”
You nodded.
“And that meant you…”
“I was horny.”
Sylus found his brain shutting down again by your bold confession. He cleared his throat, trying to recompose himself. “And you happened to have brought along your…toy?”
“Well…”
“And you forgot to charge it?”
You flustered and glared at him, hearing that insufferable trademark teasing tone in his voice again. “I thought I did!”
“Well, you thought wrong,” he quipped, amused, “There is one thing about this whole situation that is a bit upsetting for me.”
“Upsetting for you?!”
He nodded, unabashed. “If this kitten was feeling a little frisky, she does know I am just a few doors away, right?”
“Oh, we are not having this conversation!”
Before you could even get up, Sylus pulled you into his embrace, and he stumbled back on the floor with you in his lap. He steadied his balance with one hand behind him while his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping you close to him. He laughed lowly, “You’re right, this comforter does feel soft.”
“What do you think you are doing?!”
He cocked his head to the side in amusement when you glared at him again. “Now, sweetie, I just had to listen to you play with yourself for god knows how long—you don’t think that did something to me?”
“I…I just told you I was ovulating…”
“Mmhmm, you did,” he agreed affably.
“Sylus…” You gasped as he lowered the comforter, revealing your nude body underneath. He smiled appreciatively at the sight while you struggled to speak under his scrutinizing gaze. “I’m not on birth control…I could…I could get pregnant…”
“I know,” he said, unconcerned. Before you could respond, he smiled at you roguishly with a slight knowing tilt of his head. “Would that be a bad thing, sweetie?”
“Wh—what?”
“You pregnant with my baby,” he murmured, his hand skimming over your flat belly.
“A baby? You’re joking…”
“Oh?” Sylus looked up, smirking, “Did it sound like I was joking?”
“Sylus, quit teasing me…”
You yelped in surprise when suddenly he shifted you so you were straddling him. Sylus tightened his hold around you, the comforter falling completely off of your body as you found yourself trapped in his embrace. You shivered, unsure if it was because of the sudden cool air caressing your nude body, or more than likely, it was because of the man before you keeping you in his lap. Sylus’ face moved closer to yours, and you attempted to avert his gaze again, but he grabbed your chin, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. You felt your stomach dropped when he spoke, his voice held none of his usual teasing.
“Sweetie, I am serious,” he murmured, loosening his grip from your chin, but you found yourself now unable to tear your eyes away from him as he spoke, “I wouldn’t mind seeing this belly of yours all round and swollen with my baby.”
He leaned in and pecked your lips, smirking briefly when you widened your eyes in surprise. He continued, “I wouldn’t mind if people knew it was me who knocked you up—in fact, I’d like that very much.”
“Sylus…”
“I wouldn’t mind if…we have a family together.”
Sylus gauged your reaction, seemingly mindful of his words for fear of scaring you away, but in his eyes, there was a strong resolve. When you didn’t outright object or react negatively to his words, Sylus smiled.
“Mm…” he pressed his forehead to yours, his warm breath brushed against your lips, “We would make such a beautiful baby together…”
Your cheeks tinged pink, but you found yourself at a loss for words, unable to rebuke him. The way he was speaking was making you tingle, feeling a tiny shred of embarrassment, but surprisingly more than that, there was a sense of enthrallment by his words.
“Half you, half me,” he continued, his eyes had brightened when he had said ‘you’. Sylus reached for your hand, guiding it to his lips. He tilted his head to the side again, smiling, “Doesn’t that sound nice?”
You nodded numbly, almost instinctively, as if his deep, smooth voice was hypnotizing you. He continued to speak, but you were barely hearing him now, lost in your own thoughts as you watched this man before you wearing an expression of almost pure joy. You weren’t sure if you had ever seen Sylus as happy as he was now talking about having a baby with you.
The more he spoke, though, the more the thought became enticing to you. Sylus loved you unconditionally and wholeheartedly. All you had to do was ask and he would move Heaven and Earth for you. The depths of his love for you would extend and magnify a thousandfold for the child you two would have together.
Dependable, protective, loving—could you ask for anything more in a partner?
You watched him, seeing his large hand covered your entire tummy, and you could see the almost wistful look in his crimson eyes. Your head tilted a little in wonder, remembering that Sylus had never once brought up the subject of family—his own growing up or even the prospective future. This was the closest the two of you had ever treaded on the topic, and the fact that he was the one who had suggested it first made you realized that he had pondered about the matter before, enough so that he had decided that his future was you and the family you would have together.
You swallowed slowly, feeling a swarm of butterflies fluttered in your belly. You were nervous, a little scared, but more than anything, you had never felt surer of what you were about to say than now.
Your future was with him. That was all you knew, and all you wanted.
“Sylus…”
“What is it, sweetie?”
“I…” you swallowed hard, face flushed with arousal as you locked eyes with the man in front of you, “I…need you…to fuck a baby into me.”
Sylus’ breath hitched the moment those words left your mouth. He steadied his breathing the best he could, but he could feel his heart racing at the thought, at the plea in your soft voice. “Is that what you want?” His words were barely above a whisper, as he could feel himself hardening at the thought of impregnating you with his baby. He continued, the rasp in his deep voice noticeable, “You want me to knock you up, sweetie?”
Just from the sound of his voice alone had you clenching, and you nodded. You had already decided on this, already spoken the words out loud. There was no going back now. You wanted this.
“Use your words,” he commanded, “I want you to say it.”
I need you to say it, his eyes seemed to implore you.
His hands were already around your waist, pulling you up flushed against his body. Your hands rested on his toned chest and you gazed up into those scarlet eyes darkening with desire, the mere sight stealing your breath away as your body trembled with anticipation of what was going to happen tonight the moment you reaffirm your earlier plea.
“I want…”
You could feel Sylus’ fingers digging into your hips, there was an air of impatience around him as he waited for you finish your sentence. You could almost hear the sharp hiss of breath from his barely parted lips as he gazed at you intently.
“…your baby,” you finished, “I want to…have your baby.”
The moment that last word left your lips, you gasped sharply as Sylus immediately lifted you into his strong arms, your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist for support as he carried you to the bed. Within seconds, he had you pinned down on the bed, his larger body hovered over you. “That’s a dangerous thing to tell me, sweetheart,” he murmured, his finger tipped your chin up, exposing your neck to him, “Because now I have no intention of letting you leave this bed until you’re knocked up with my baby.”
You bit down on your lips, holding back another gasp as you felt his large hands trailed down your body, feeling familiar curves with practiced ease. “Ah—!” You squirmed when his lips trailed down your chest to your belly, his hands caressing the flat abdomen with revere.
“Your body is already so gorgeous,” he murmured, kissing your belly again, unaware of your reddened cheeks, “And it’ll become even more beautiful when our baby grows inside you…”
You felt your heart skipped a beat. The way he was speaking as if you were already pregnant made you blushed in embarrassment. You squirmed again, but Sylus immediately gripped your hips, keeping you in place.
“What…” you racked your brain for words, feeling suddenly insecure by his keen attention to your body. When Sylus looked up at you questioningly, you couldn’t help but frowned a little, “You’re just saying that…men don’t really find pregnant women attractive…”
He laughed at your words, making you even more embarrassed. He shook his head in disagreement. “Sweetie, how can a man not find the woman carrying his baby the most beautiful being in the world?”
Sylus loomed over you, his lips hovering above yours as his eyes gazed down at you with deep affections. His hand caressed your cheek in comfort as he spoke, “Sweetie, I can barely restrain myself from touching you now.”
“Hmm?” You looked at him quizzically, making him smiled wider.
“I won’t be able to control myself,” he continued, brushing his lips against yours, “Mm, I’m gonna want to feel you all the time—feel our baby in your womb.”
“Sylus…you’re making me embarrassed now…”
“I’m just stating facts,” he responded, brushing your flyaway hair out of your face, “So trust me, sweetie, I mean it when I say you are the most beautiful woman in my life.”
As if to prove his point, he covered you in endless kisses, responding to your pleased gasps and sighs with his own knowing hums. “We’re going to make such a beautiful baby,” he murmured. “I can’t wait…”
“Sy—”
“Can’t wait to see you grow, to see you swell…” he continued to mumble lazily into your skin, his lips leaving trails of kisses all over. “My beautiful hunter…my beautiful…goddess…”
From his tantalizing words to his expert ministrations, you could feel yourself throbbing, aching to be filled by him. You tugged at his shirt, and he laughed at your impatience before he undressed himself, taking off piece by piece as slow as possible to further tease you, the amusement on his face a complete opposite to your frustration. When the last article of clothing—his boxer briefs—was removed, he allowed you a moment to rake your eyes over his toned body. Sylus ran his hand over his hair, pushing it back as he looked at you with a look of pure lust.
“God,” he muttered, “This is happening…”
He nudged your thighs apart, pleased that you were already so wet, willing, and ready for him. He grasped his hardened member, giving it a few strokes as he prepared to line himself up to your waiting entrance.
“Already this wet, sweetie?” he questioned, his tone light and teasing, “From your little solo playtime, or perhaps, me?”
He didn’t even leave you enough time to respond. You gasped and arched forward, feeling just the tip pressing in. You wrapped your arms around his neck, bracing yourself for the massive intrusion.
“Answer me, sweetie,” he murmured, letting more of himself in.
“Y—you!”
He hummed in satisfaction.
You gasped as more of him entered, the feeling of how massive he was bringing tears of both pain and pleasure to your eyes. “Oh—oh, god!” you whimpered when he bottomed out, filling you completely.
“My sweet little cock-warmer,” he murmured, planting more sweet kisses down your neck.
“S-Sylus…please…”
“Please what, sweetie?” he asked, though you both knew he was well aware of what you desired in that moment. When you didn’t respond, he nipped your left earlobe, his sinfully deep voice sending shivers down your spine and straight to your core as he whispered, “Say it, and I’ll give you everything you desire, sweetie.”
You panted softly, almost convinced that with just a few right words, his devilish voice alone could make you cum, but right now, in this particular moment, with his cock situated so perfectly inside you, you needed more.
“Please…”
He raised a brow, an amused smirk tugging at his lips as his crimson eyes gleamed in satisfaction at seeing you already so helpless and needy. You could feel his large hands gripping your hips tighter, fingers digging into your flesh, almost as if he was waiting for you to break the final restraint he held.
“…Fuck me,” you uttered at last, voice soft and vulnerable, “Please, Sylus, fuck me…”
You gasped suddenly as he pulled out slowly and then slammed back in, that first thrust already making you see stars and ripping out a cry of pure pleasure from your throat.
“Is this what you want?” he asked, already knowing the answer as he set a steady pace, “Is this what you need, sweetie?”
“Yes!” you yelled out, arms encircled around his neck tighter as you let him take control.
“Doing so well,” Sylus crooned, his thrusts steadily becoming harder, faster, “What a good—hnngh—fucking—hah—girl you are…taking me—ah—so well…”
You were barely aware of your back touching the mattress again as he lowered you back down, taking you in deeper. Your arms loosened around his neck, fingers finding their way to grip the bedsheets. You tossed your head to the side, moaning when his mouth took in your nipple, suckling on it gently at first before his skilled tongue swirled over the sensitive nub, the sensation was enough to have you arching up into him again. He pulled away, making you whined in frustration at the sudden loss of attention, but just as quickly his hand took over to massage your breast, keeping you moaning helplessly for him as he teased and pinched your nipple, feeling it firming under his expert touch.
“Your breasts will fill up with milk for our baby,” he murmured, already picturing you nursing his baby. He smiled at the thought, unable to contain his excitement. He squeezed your breast harder and you cried from the feeling of his calloused hand on your soft flesh.
Amidst the pleasurable stimulations of him massaging your breast as he drove himself into you, you had a thought—a need, really. “I…” you felt your cheeks warming up again, embarrassed or otherwise, you weren’t sure anymore, but you still voiced your newfound desire aloud, “Sylus…I want…”
“Hmm?” He tilted his head a little, his gentle smile remaining as he waited for you to finish your thought. With his thick member so deep inside you, you could barely think straight, your focus shifting back and forth between the feel of him and his arousing words that spawned your new thought.
“I want you…to have the…first taste.”
His smile faltered. “What?” Sylus paused, but there was an intense look of intrigue in his eyes, never once expecting such words to leave your lips, but the bold suggestion had him excited by the prospect. He watched you intensely, waiting for you to repeat the sweet offer and confirming that he had not misheard you.
“My milk,” you clarified, face flushed red, “I’d want…you to taste it first…”
“You want me to…” He couldn’t even finish the sentence as he laughed, delighted by this surprising offer. The look he gave you was a mix of arousal and absolute adoration. “Oh, sweetie,” his voice was breathless as he pulled you in for another intense kiss, “You are going to be my fucking demise.”
You whined against his lips, your voice swallowed by him eagerly. The overwhelming stimulations of his relentless kisses and renewed strength had you fumbling with your thoughts and words as the only thing you could focus on was just the feel of him touching you—inside you.
“Oh god, oh god!” you whimpered when he started moving faster, driving into you harder, deeper. “Ah—Sy-Sylus!” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling the beginning of the familiar tightening that signified your impending release.
Lost in your focus on the feeling of your approaching climax, you didn’t even notice that Sylus’ movements had become more hurried, graceless, and eager. His eyes greedily drank in the sight of you beneath him losing yourself to this state of euphoria. His mouth parted, panting, as he gripped your hips harder, enough that there would be bruise marks by morning. He could barely hold back a groan as he felt your walls tightening around him.
This is it.
You were so fertile right now, the perfect moment for him to fill your womb full of his virile seed. Watching you unraveled before him, Sylus’ eyes darkened with pure lust, a haze washing over him as he was consumed with only one thought and goal.
She’s perfect.
So perfect.
Gonna fill her up.
Knock her up.
Mine, she’s all mine.
Fill that pretty little cunt.
Pump her full.
Breed her.
You screamed in pleasure as without a word, Sylus pumped you full of his seed, emptying into you so much that there was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant from this encounter.
“Sylus!” Your legs wrapped around his waist tighter, pulling him in deeper, needing him to fill you completely. Your walls tightened around him, squeezing and milking all of him for your womb. You were going to get pregnant. You were going to have his baby.
Sylus’ baby.
You whined and sobbed into his shoulder as you felt both his release dripping down your thighs and the lingering aftershocks of your orgasm still coursing through your spent body. His arms wrapped securely around your waist, keeping you held against him, close enough that you felt all of his body heat and the warm sweat that glistened on his skin.
“Good…girl,” he gasped, rubbing your back up and down as you came down from your high, “Such a good girl for me. Only me.”
Sylus lowered you back down on the plush mattress, your half-lidded eyes gazed up at him, meeting his pleased smile. You lay on the bed boneless, drained, and satisfied, feeling his heavy body still hovering over you as you listened to his deep voice murmuring, unsure whether he was speaking to you anymore or to himself.
“…Mine. Mine to have.”
Mine to breed.
He stared down at you, almost in a state of awe, the realization of what had happened made his heart speed up. His eyes focused on your belly, already imagining that it was going to grow bigger, rounder, in the coming months with his child in your fertile womb. There was no way you wouldn’t get pregnant from this session, but even if you didn’t, Sylus had already planned on fucking you until you showed the first sign of pregnancy. Hell, he wasn’t sure if he could even restrain himself from taking you even when you were round and full with his child.
“Oh, sweetie…”
You looked up at him doe-eyed, making his heart softened further. For all of his talks about his lack of luck, he knew he had hit the jackpot with you. The greatest fortune of his life was meeting you, and he was willing to risk all of the good luck in his lifetime to keep you in his life by his side.
Sylus’ cheek brushed against your head before he leaned inward and pressed his lips there. His hands continued to rub you up and down while you both recovered from your shared climaxes. “Shh, I got you, I got you, sweetie…”
When he pulled out of you, Sylus laid down on his back on the bed, dragging you to lay on top of him. He continued to hold you close to him, clearly having no intention of letting you out of his embrace any time soon. Just as well, because all you wanted in that moment was to remain close to him—skin to skin and heartbeats in-sync.
“Sylus…”
He hummed softly, his hands still rubbing your back gently. You could feel your heart calming down, your breathing returning to normal. You rested your head on his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall as his own breathing evened out.
The world suddenly felt so still and quiet, as if you and him were the only occupants remaining. You raised your head from its place on his chest, eyes widened when you made out his loving smile. You sighed happily when he caressed your cheek and his thumb brushed over your lips.
Your heart fluttered as he spoke, his normally deep voice a light, soft murmur:
“My pretty hunter.”
“You’re so full of it…”
He laughed and shook his head, amused by your weak attempt to counter him. His eyes wandered down, lingering on your flat stomach once more. He looked pleased.
“Your body is going to change so much,” he husked and your heart skipped a beat once more, “It’ll be all my fault that you’re nice and swollen with my baby.”
“Sy-Sylus!”
He chuckled again and pulled you deeper into his embrace. Your cheek pressed against his chest again, his large hand resting gently, but firmly, on the back of your head keeping you in place. Your stomach did flips when he spoke again:
“Rest for now, sweetie, the night is just beginning.”
“What?”
He laughed. “Oh, sweetie, we are just getting started,” he said, eyes twinkling in amusement when he caught sight of the pretty blush rising on your cheeks, “I meant what I said earlier: you are not leaving this bed until you are pregnant with my baby.”
You started to protest, but he captured your lips with his, parting just long enough to whisper: “I’m going to enjoy you all night long, sweetheart.”
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saltofmercury · 2 years ago
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Pairing: König x reader
Plot: Someone breaks into the house at night while you and König are sleeping.
A/N: Had a random idea about what would happen in this scenario.
“The Break in.”
Over three break-ins had happened over the weekend. All unfortunately 4 blocks away from your apartment. Break-ins didn’t scare you. You felt like your apartment complex was in better condition than most of the apartments surrounding the neighborhood. In addition to that, you weren’t too concerned because you were tucked away for the weekend with König.
You didn’t think a person who saw him would even attempt to do something, especially at his own house.
König, on the other hand, was worried sick.
“Maybe you could stay here for a couple more days. It wouldn’t be a bother, honest.”
You didn’t like the sound of it. Breaking into his routine which he then would be uncomfortable with. You knew how he liked his space. He needed a couple days to recharge, be with himself, and then come back to you.
You remember how antsy he got when you overstayed your welcome one weekend. He kept finding excuses to be alone.
“I’m going to read in my office. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
“I’m going to the gym for a workout. I'll be back soon.”
“I know you want to finish your show, I’ll be watching the game in my bedroom.”
It wasn’t until you were getting the shower that he had crept up and asked shyly if you needed company.
You laughed.
“Oh now you want my company?”
He traced his finger along the bathroom counter looking down.
“I never said I didn’t want your company, we just always shower together.”
So you knew keeping yourself here would only have him finding excuses in his own house to find privacy.
König would deny this. He loved your company, he loved waking up next to you with your legs on top of his. Seeing your toothbrush next to his on the counter. He loved seeing your products lined up on the bathroom shelf next to his. Your clothes piled on his dresser, your bras hanging on the doorknobs in his bathroom, or scattered around the floor after hastily getting to devour each other in bed. Small little pieces of you throughout the house reminding him you were home.
Sure he liked his space, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t distance himself from another room for him to recharge and come back to you.
He was adjusting rapidly to you being around him all the time. He wanted you around all the time.
Which is why he wanted you to stay here, in a house, where someone could protect you.
*
König never told you the missions he was on. You sort of preferred that way. He would just tell you the gist of the mission. He was very careful about not scaring you away with what his real job was. He was good at what he did, but he preferred to keep what he was out on the field away from you.
Calmly, while watching you, he gave you just enough to not try and scare you.
“It was a room of about 15 people. I was first one in.”
You stared at him. You knew he was hiding the real him. “Mercenary” was the word he used, however he never described the things a mercenary did.
There was nothing scarier knowing König was a shark at sea but there could be a bigger fish that would one day end it.
Part of you was glad he could protect you and himself from anyone and anything given his training and ruthless alter ego out on the field, but another part of you was worried someone out there would be quicker or one step ahead of him.
*
You packed your overnight bag with your dirty clothes.
“Where are you going?” He stepped out of the bathroom watching you collect your clothes.
“Home, I have a lot of work to catch up on and do laundry.”
“Okay we bring your laptop back here and we can start a load of colors here.” He replied so casually.
You laughed.
“Although that is tempting, it’s fine. I’ll be back this weekend.”
He didn’t like hearing that.
“Baby please, you know how dangerous it is around where you live right now. Just stay one more night. I’ll go pick up your laptop and —“
You cut him off:
“It was 4 blocks away, König. It wasn’t even my apartment. I know I’ll be safe.”
“Well I don’t care if it was in another town, I don’t like the idea of you staying alone when someone is out there like that.”
You turned to him, raising an eyebrow.
“You don’t like the idea of someone robbing houses when your job is ten times scarier?”
He leaned against the bathroom doorway, raising his eyebrow at you.
“Exactly. What if this guy is like me and he’s out there attacking houses because he knows how to do it so well that he’s not getting caught?”
You rolled your eyes
“I'm sure a trained military man is out there robbing houses for fun.”
“y/n!” He stopped you. “This is serious, would you want to run into me?”
You smirked, stood up, and went over to him.
“Yes I would actually, because I know your weaknesses.”
You gently ran your fingers down his stomach.
“I would know how to take someone like you down so easily.” You whispered.
You stood on your tip toes and kissed his chin.
He didn’t like the idea of you flirting when speaking about your life. With that, he took your bag and shoved it into the top shelf of the closet.
“You’re staying here and that's final. I’m not going to risk anything.”
He ended up taking you to your apartment, telling you to get extra clothes, your laptop, and anything else you needed. You settled back into his house again.
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You asked one last time.
“Of course not. I can never have enough of you.”
*
You both had dinner, showered, and got in bed.
He pulled you against his chest and held you close.
“Thank you for staying here. It gives me peace of mind. I enjoy your company.”
You blushed, leaned in for a kiss, and mumbled “if it’s not bother then okay…”
You settled into the night routine you both had. He watched a show on his iPad, while you read through a book before both falling asleep.
*
It was around 3AM when you heard the speakers in the living room turn on. Your eyelids still closed, you searched for König with one arm. An empty space in bed. You sat up, fear crawling up your throat.
König was already up and placed himself by the doorframe, a bat in hand, mask covering his face, and shoes on.
Had someone come inside the house? Another crash, scratches on the floor, and some scrambling.
König looked back at you, told you to stay put.
“Do. Not. Leave. This. Room.” He said it low, his accent had come out. He looked at you, but you didn’t recognize this König. He stood different, sounded different. You felt your stomach turn, the hair on your neck rise.
Where did he get the bat from?
Now you were scared. You weren’t ready to see this kind of person he was.
You heard his calculated footsteps as he checked the hallway bathroom and guest room, slamming open the doors so hard and loud they bounced against the walls. He continued to stomp all the way down towards where the sound was.
You suddenly felt safe, how thorough he was checking all the rooms and how bravely he went into each room announcing himself with just his body. You were now glad you stayed with him.
… then out of nowhere, you heard him laughing. A loud, boisterous, breathless laugh.
You shouted from the room “Who is it?!”
You hear him drop the bat, the bat clinking on the floor. Footsteps followed closer to the door.
“Not who schatz, but what.” His voice had come closer. Standing there, he was holding a small baby raccoon. The raccoon was being held up by his neck with one hand, and his other hand placed underneath him.
You screamed —“Becareful! We don’t know where it’s been!”
König tilted his head at you and then mumbled “it’s only Monty’s baby.”
Monty?
König went to the backyard and placed the small raccoon outside. He came back into the house, washed his hands, and walked into the room.
What just happened?
“What was that?!” You were confused, at a loss for words.
He settled himself back into bed and pulled you close.
“Monty is the raccoon that lives in the backyard. She had babies.”
You looked up at him still confused.
“All this time you’ve been staying here and you haven’t seen Monty and her family?” He asked innocently.
“I’ll tell you all about them.” He turned the light off.
What was happening? Was this a dream?
Part of you was still confused but you settled in and relaxed anyway. The other part of you was secretly relieved that because of him, you felt safe enough to go back to sleep.
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countcvnt · 8 months ago
Text
Experiment
Chapter One: Scrambled
[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]
Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3
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Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.
“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.
“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”
‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.
You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.
A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.
“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.
He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.
Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.
You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.
“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”
“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”
Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.
“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”
That stings. “Who?”
“Which one?”
“Both.”
“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”
You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.
The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.
You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.
So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.
Anger.
Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.
A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”
He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.
“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.
You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.
You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.
“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”
Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.
“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”
You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.
“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”
“Yes, sir.”
The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.
“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.
“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”
You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.
“Why?” You point at it.
“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”
“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”
Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”
You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”
With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.
“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”
Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”
“No.” Price shakes his head.
“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”
“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”
“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.
“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”
“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”
“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”
They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”
“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.
“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”
“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”
“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”
“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.
Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.
“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.
Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”
As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.
“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.
“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.
Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.
Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.
“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”
Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.
“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”
“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.
So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?
“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”
“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”
“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”
You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”
The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-
Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.
The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”
“What?” Soap is the first to question you.
“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.
“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”
Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.
“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.
You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.
“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”
You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”
“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.
“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”
Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”
You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.
Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.
You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”
“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”
“She what…?” Soap tenses.
Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”
“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”
“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”
“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”
It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”
“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”
Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.
“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
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i-cant-sing · 4 months ago
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Time Traveller AU part 9
Part 1 is here. Part 2 is here. Part 3 is here. Part 4 is here. Part 5 is here. Part 6 is here. Part 7 is here. Part 8 is here. Time Traveller au masterlist is here. Check out my MASTERLIST for more!
Part 10 is here.
"I think you should take off your veil now. You need to impress the princes so that one of them could take pity and marry you. Or you could try black magic-"
"Baris, I will pull your tongue out and strangle you with it if you say another word." You muttered, holding your head in your hands.
After Baris landed the "marriage bomb" on you last night, you've been stressed. Why did I have to teach Mihirmah? Why did I have to accept the bracelet? Why did I-
"You have bags under your eyes, and considering that they're the only feature visible, its not good-" You threw a pillow at him, which he dodged easily. You hadnt slept at all, how could you? You tried to figure out a plan, that didnt work. You tried to fix your time machine, that was not going to work at all without tools.
"You could be wrong." You mumbled, opening your eyes as you stared ahead. "This bracelet could be nothing but just a kind gesture. It is not a marriage proposal. You're wrong-"
Baris cut you off. "I know it seems impossible, considering how you look, even I'm surprised- but I'm never wrong, Y/n. I've worked here for more 25 years, I know what everyone thinks." You stared at him with a pinched expression.
"You have to help me, Baris."
He smiled. "Of course, you'd be lost cause else wise! I'll get the seamstress to make you some new clothes-"
"No, I meant- you have to help me escape. I cant- I dont want to get married!"
He scoffed. "Darling, we're alone right now. You can drop the "I dont wanna marry a prince and enjoy the luxuries of the world" act."
"I mean it!" You huff.
"And why is that?"
"Because-" you bit your lip. What excuse can you possibly come up with to satisfy him?
"I love someone else."
"How tragic." He said monotonously. "Love has no place in the harem. You're here to attract, serve and please the royal family." He walked closer to you, leaning down as he lowered his volume. "And I'm going to give you some advice: you better not use that excuse again, never even MUMBLE about having a lover again, not unless you want to be tortured and executed for being a traitor."
You knew what he was referring to. The harem, the concubines, the whole palace was filled with jealousy. If anyone were to hear about this, they would use it against you, conjure up such vulgar lies that the sultan will chop off your head.
"Baris I cant-"
"You dont have a choice, Y/n." He cut you off harshly. "I suggest you suck it up and pretend to be happy or else you'll be in for a hard life."
"Now, get ready. You need to teach a lesson."
-
"You look sick."
You resist rolling your eyes. "Yes, I know I'm ugly. Thank you for keeping me updated."
Mihirmah shook her head. "No, I mean you dont look well. Are you alright?"
No, I lost sleep because of you and-
"Just tired, Mihirmah. I think we've should stop here today." You watched her beam.
"Finally! Now we can celebrate!" Mihirmah clapped her hands as the servants brought in some tea and sweets. She had initially wanted to celebrate her victory from last night as soon as you came in, but you wanted to get the lesson done with so that you could leave.
"You enjoy it. You did a good job." You tried to excuse herself but she frowned.
"I did. And so did you! I mean, the way you made Mahidevran shut up! It was amazing!" She took a piece of sweet and handed it to you. "Besides, my father appreciated your efforts as well-"
You looked down at the bracelet. This was more of a death sentence than a gift.
"Mihirmah." You took off your bracelet. "I- I appreciate the sultan's gift, but I cant accept this. Its too much- its-" you mentally rolled your eyes at your next excuse. "Its above me."
She furrowed her brows. "Even if that may be the case, which its not because you fully deserve that after the showdown, you still cannot refuse or return a sultan's gift, much less one that he made himself!" She tilted her head. "What is really going on? Why do you not want the bracelet? And dont say its not to your taste, because lets face it- you probably have not seen jewels like this in your life."
Biting the inside of your cheek to prevent the insults from slipping out, you took a breath.
"I... heard that..." you took another breath. How do you say "I dont want the bracelet because I dont wanna marry any of your brothers" without sounding narcissistic. "I... I heard that there might be a different meaning behind the bracelet. That it may signify... something else."
"Which is...?" She prompted you.
You exhaled.
"That I might be considered to be... a spouse for a sehzade."
Mihirmah snorted as you looked down to conceal both your embarrassment and fear.
"I'm sorry- what did you say?" She was laughing now. You continued to look down. As long as she's laughing and not getting mad at you for even suggesting such a thing, you're fine. Besides, if she's laughing then it means that all that bullshit Baris was spewing earlier was just that- bullshit.
"You think- my father, the sultan, wants you- YOU, to marry one of his sons?" She wiped a tear away from her eye as she laughed. "That is the most ridiculous idea I've ever heard. True, father does only give handmade gifts to those he considers close, but I dont think thats true in your case, Y/n. You're just my teacher, that's all. Besides, even if you were to be considered as a potential spouse for my brothers, you have my mother and Mahivdevran standing in your way. And trust me, they're going to marry their sons to someone they like. You- they cant even tolerate you as my teacher at this point of time."
Sighing in relief, you nod. "Well, that's great to hear-"
"Wait." Mihirmah narrows her eyes at you. "If you thought that my father wanted to marry you to one of his sons, why did you want to return the bracelet? Did you- did you not want to marry my brother?"
Oh shit. "Mihirmah no-" You tried to pacify her.
But she snapped at you. "What? You think you're better than my brothers? Any of them? You'd be lucky if Mehmed or Mustafa chose you, if such a miracle does happen."
Your eyes were wide at her venomous tone. You dont know whether it was because she was protective of her brothers, or if she just really hated the idea that you would consider rejecting royalty.
A few more moments of silence went by. "You misunderstand me, sultana." You chose her title to please her. "I know of my status, and I am well aware of how... lowly I am to be a part of this family. The only reason I was returning the bracelet was because... I didnt want the harem to assume things and threaten or hurt me. I am aware that the sehzade have their favourite concubines, much better equipped to their tastes. But if they were to see this bracelet gifted by the sultan on me, they would... it would cause misunderstandings. I just wanted to avoid that."
Your words were carefully selected to not aggravate her any further, which it didnt but they also didnt calm her down.
Mihirmah's face was still sour. "The concubines are smart enough to figure out who's a competition and who's just a mere servant. You have nothing to worry about."
The words stung but... you just bowed and took your leave instead of slapping her across the face.
Mehmed had just turned the corner when he saw you leaving Mihirmah's room with tears pooling in your eyes, the niqaab only causing them to look more prominent.
He entered Mihirmah's room, finding his sister looking angry as she gazed into space.
"Mihirmah?" He sat down beside her, noticing how she didnt immediately light up as she always did when he came. What did you do to piss her off so much?
He cupped her face to look at him. "What's wrong? Tell me."
-
You're laying in your bed, arm over your eyes as you try to think of a way out of here.
When will the time machine work again?
Its not like you can go out of the palace to get help or even tools to work on it, and you always fear that someone just may walk in on you tinkering with the machine. The only place where you can get privacy in this palace here is the dungeons, only because its dark and oh-so-daunting that it doesnt really attract people there.
There's a knock on your door. With a grunt, you get up and open the door, only to find no one there. Your room was in the harem, but it was on the upper floor, so you could see the whole area from above, including the silhouette of someone leaving the harem doors.
Normally, you wouldn't have bothered with the "door bell pranks", but you made your way down because 1. you're not familiar with what this might mean, maybe some royal summoned you and you're to follow the servant. 2. you're bored.
When you left the harem and looked to your left, spotting the back of a girl in red dress, you knew she was baiting you to follow her. So you did, turning around the corridor only to be body slammed to the wall.
3 women surround you, blocking any escape routes. They're all glaring at you, and you recognise their faces. They're the concubines.
You clear your throat. "Well? I suppose you have something to say that you couldnt say in there."
The brunette in front of you narrows her eyes. "Who do you think you are?"
"Why dont you tell me?"
Her glare intensifies. "You think you can just bat your lashes and whore yourself to the sehzade?"
"Heh?"
The raven haired girl on her right grabbed your throat and banged your head against the wall behind. "Dont play dumb! We know you're trying to marry the prince!"
The blonde on the left banged your head against the wall this time, gritting out "Stay away from sehzade Mustafa!"
"And sehzade Mehmed!" the brunette warned, repeating the same assault as the other two.
You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you rubbed the sore spot on the back of your head. "None of your accusations are true. Unlike you, I actually have a respectable job here-"
"We saw the bracelet! You think you can just prance around here, pretending to be this holy and pure, untainted girl while we work ourselves to the bone to get in bed?!" The brunette screamed at you, getting in your face.
You pushed her away. "First of all, I am not interested in marrying anyone. Secondly, the bracelet means nothing than a job well done. And finally- you seem to mistake your status over me. I dont work for you, or under you. So, this is for earlier-" You slapped her hard across the face, making her fall. The other two were in shock, and you took that as an opputunity to slap them too.
"Now, we're even." You huffed, adjusting your niqaab before turning on your heel to leave. You needed to slap them, not only because you need to let them know they cant bully you, but also because you needed to release some steam. It felt good, you wont lie. You may have even imagined some people's faces as you smacked them-
"Omph!" You're pushed to the ground, flipped over onto your back. You grab on to the hands that are wrapped around your neck, eyes wide as the brunette starts to choke you.
"You stupid bitch!" She screamed as you fought hard to pull her hands away. She yanked the veil off your face, smacking your cheek hard enough to scratch you with her sharp nails.
"Laira stop-" the blonde tried to pull her off you but Laira continued to beat you.
"Hand me the torch!"
"Laira-" The blonde started again but the raven haired grabbed the fire sconce off the wall and handed it to Laira.
You stared in horror as she brought the torch closer to your face, the heat radiating. She grinned manically, one hand still squeezing your throat.
"You're not even that pretty for a sehzade. Did you use black magic on them?" She clicked her tongue, while your eyes were fixated on the torch. "I guess, it wont be futile to ruin your face for guarantee."
"Please no-" she choked you harder with her man hands that you just couldnt seem to pry off, and you sort of became paralysed as the dancing flames took you back to the night in the desert, when the assassins set your tent on fire. Everything slowed down, and noise drowned out like in the movies.
Salauddin. Help-
The flames suddenly vanish from your view as Laira is thrown off you.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?!" The man roared behind you. Your eyes moved from the shaking concubines to your saviour.
Ibrahim pasha.
"Pasha bey-"
"Shut it. Guards! Throw them to the dungeons!" Ibrahim yelled and automatically, 4 Janisarries appeared from behind him and dragged the wailing girls away.
Ibrahim looks down at you, his eyes shifting from rage to sympathy. He crouches down and helps you sit up, his touch gentle.
"Are you alright, Hatun Y/n?" You're staring at him in a daze, your body has not recovered enough to physically react, almost on autopilot.
Say something.
"Y/n?" He asks again, his brows furrowing as his concern deepens. Why does everything sound so far, so low?
He snaps his fingers near your ear, and your brain finally reacts.
"Y-yes." You tear your gaze away, looking at the fire torch lying on the ground far from you.
Fire. Second time you were almost burnt to death.
"Come on." He helps you up, gently tugging you to follow him. A few shaky steps later, you follow him to your room.
He sat you down on the bed. "There we go." Ibrahim pasha scanned your face for any burns or injuries, noting the nail marks from the slap.
"Baris Agha!" Ibrahim called and a few seconds later, the eunuch stumbled in.
"Yes, pasha- ya Allah, what happened to-"
"Baris." Ibrahim snapped at him. "Get me bandages and healing balm. And keep quiet about this." Baris only nodded before following orders.
You cleared your throat. "I... thank you for saving me, pasha." Ibrahim smiled courteously as he sat on a chair nearby.
"It was my duty. Sultan Suleiman had asked me to keep an eye on you."
Your brows furrowed. "Why?"
Ibrahim looked at the bracelet around your wrist. "I suppose you did something to make him pleased."
He relaxed in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest. "So... what happened with the concubines?"
"Misunderstanding." You said dismissively.
"And what that might be?" He prodded. When you didnt reply, he sighed. "I am the pasha, the sultan's right hand. I am supposed to know what happens in the palace."
"Its nothing of significance. You can let the girls out of the dungeon."
"I'm afraid that decision is not upto you." Ibrahim deadpanned. "If you do not wish to tell me, fine. I have other ways of finding out." He made his threat clear and began standing up.
"Wait!" You clenched your niqaab, looking at the veil in your lap. "I'll tell you, but... you cant tell anyone."
Ibrahim stared at you before nodding, sitting back down.
"There may have been a rumour... the cocncubines- they think that the bracelet, a gift from the sultan means that I am... special." You mumbled the last word.
"Special how?"
"They think... that the sultan wants me to be his... daughter-in-law. Actually, they think that I am wooing the sehzades- Mustafa and Mehmed."
"And are you?" He asks immeadiately.
"Of course not!"
"Why not? Anyone would love to marry a prince."
You scoffed. "I would never want to be a part of this family, not even as a teacher."
He raised a brow. "Hate the Ottomans?" You shake your head. "No. But I wouldn't want to be a part of it." You clicked your tongue. "Everyone in this palace is a slave. The concubines, the servants, the wives, the kids, you and me too. The wives of the sultan, they have all the luxuries one could imagine... except for the loyalty of their husband. Not to mention, they have to live in constant fear of being replaced and be in paranoia forever because everyone who is not family, is a threat to her. The kids? If you're born a boy, sure- you are immediately given a superior status, but with such power and princely status also comes with its own drawbacks. The boy will have to always be compete with his brothers, not because he wants to be the next sultan, but for survival."
In Ottoman empire, there was a common practice of fratricide- a tradition where once the next sultan is chosen, the new sultan is allowed LEGALLY to kill his brothers, stepbrothers, nephews and even female relatives (sisters included) as well, so as to get rid of any future competition or betrayal by his own family. In a nutshell, it was done to prevent civil wars.
"If you're born as a girl, then you may have a better chance of survival than your brothers, but that's still not guaranteed. Not to mention, you are raised to be married off to someone that will strengthen the royal family. Not to someone you love." Ibrahim watched you as you continued. "Its not better to be a servant either. Always being threatened, questioned about your loyalty, having to take the fall for the higher ups. The eunuchs, who think they are all high and mighty and control the court, you and I both know that their job to "protect the women of the harem" wasnt even their choice. To be forcefully castrated as children, forcefully ripped from their families, forced to serve the royals... they dont have a choice. I dont have to tell you how degrading it is to be a concubine."
"And me? How am I a slave?" Ibrahim asked.
You smiled sadly. "You know very well, and youre just trying to see how much I know. Your past is not a well kept secret, pasha." You kept quiet, and Ibrahim realised you already knew about his life.
Ibrahim, born as Orthodox Christian, was enslaved during his childhood. He and Suleiman became close friends in their youth, or perhaps forced to convert to Islam and then raised to befriend Suleiman. Suleiman appointed Ibrahim as grand vizier when he took the throne.
"How do you know?" Ibrahim's gaze was sharp. "I know a lot of things, pasha. But dont worry, I have no ill intent. If anything, I want to be as far from this life as possible. Perhaps... you could help me with that?"
He raised a brow. "I dont think that is an option for you right now." At your frown, he explained. "The safest place for a woman like you is here."
"Did you just forget that my face was almost burned off moments ago?"
He chuckled, shaking his hand. "Of course not. But you need to understand that you cannot just up and go without a word, especially after the sultan just gave you a handmade gift, and whether or not it signifies that he's considered you for one of his sons, it does mean that he considers you important. His majesty will not just accept your leave for no reason." Ibrahim leaned forward, clasping his hands. "As for your safety, you can leave that to me. I will make sure no harm befalls you again. I promise."
"But what about the sehzade? The rumours?"
He hummed thoughtfully. "If you're so concerned about that matter, then you should just avoid the princes as much as you can. Keep your niqaab on, continue your lessons with the princess and avoid interacting with people as much as you can."
Well, its not a bad suggestion. If you make yourself scarce and draw less attention to yourself, you can slip out of the palace and leave unnoticed.
"Oh, pasha?" You called him as he stood up to leave. "Can I request you not to tell about this incident to anyone?" You pointed to bruises on your face.
He grinned and nodded. "Of course. But it is not me you should be worried about talking." At your confused face, he chuckled.
"Baris Agha still hasnt returned."
-
Mihirmah and Mehmed were in your room just a few moments after Ibrahim pasha had fetched the bandages from below and treated your wounds, further confirming that Baris was spreading the news about your attack all over the palace.
"Y/n! Who did this to you?" Mihirmah traced the bruises gently as she sat beside you on the bed, while Mehmed sat in front of you, on the seat previously occupied by Ibrahim pasha- just closer this time.
"I dont know." You lied, pulling yourself away from Mihirmah's concerned touches. Oh you're still mad at her.
Your evasiveness didnt go unnoticed by her, as she dropped her hand and her mouth settled into a thin grim line.
"Why did someone attack you? What happened?" Mehmed asked, cutting the tension.
You shrugged. "I dont know." You fiddled with the niqaab in your lap. There's a big bandage on your cheeks, so while you couldnt exactly wear your veil again, you suppose in a way your face was somewhat covered?
"Probably mistook me for someone else. Or just a misunderstanding." You tried to brush this off.
"Still, it shouldnt warrant such a reaction. We should investigate-" Mehmed started but you shook your head.
"Ibrahim pasha is already looking into the matter. He'll take care of it-"
"I am the sehzade. I will look into this personally." Mehmed stated before leaving the room before anyone could stop him. Ah, to be the knight in shinning armour for a distressed damsel.
You and Mihirmah sat alone now. The air in the room was thick, the silence thicker. Mihirmah glanced at your nonchalant face, your eyes fixated on the ground, not caring how uncomfortable the silence was making the princess.
It was clear she had to break the ice.
"Y/n." She called. "Yes, sultana?" You answered, but your eyes still remained on the ground.
Sultana. Not Mihirmah, like she'd allowed you to call her, but sultana.
She pursed her lips. "I..." She paused. What is she supposed to say? Sorry? The word is as foreign to her as it is to any royal.
"I dont like the things you said this morning." She finally stated. "You shouldnt have said those things."
You resisted the urge to scoff. Is she really trying to pin this on you and make you apologise? Entitled brat-
"You're right, sultana. I was out of line. I suggest we should just stick to our lessons and avoid talking about anything else. I'll be careful not to bring up any other topic." You stated monotonously.
Mihirmah frowned. Why are you saying this? Why are you being so difficult?
"Stop it." She warned. You nodded. "As you wish, sultana. I'll arrange another Quran teacher for you." Your words only enraged her further.
"I said- stop it." She ordered but you're hell bent on making her apologise- a dream, but still. You clicked your tongue. "I suppose I'll hand in my resignation to the sultan and explain to His Majesty that it was my fault for being a useless servant who is just not capable- ow!" You finally looked at her in disbelief.
She pinched you. Mihirmah pinched your arm. Hard.
And she had the gall to glare at you, with some anger and remorse in her eyes.
"What did you do that for?" You spat, hissing as you rubbed the area she'd assaulted. There was going to be a bruise, for sure.
Her frown deepened. "You- I told you to stop, didn't I?!" You watched her trying to contain her rage, her body shaking as she tried not to wrangle you by the neck. "I- I dont want you to leave."
"But sultana-" "Mihirmah. You call me Mihirmah." She emphasised.
You bit the inside of your cheek to suppress your smile. "I am just a dispensable servant-" You jumped back when she went to pinch you again.
"Will you stop doing that?!" Your arm still hurt from her first attack. Mihirmah's nostrils flared. "Will you stop acting like a brat?!"
Your throat made a sound of disbelief. "I am acting like a brat?! Have you looked in the mirror recently?"
"Yes and I look very beautiful! Unlike your busted face!"
"Oh so you just get to insult me?" "I am not insulting you! I am DESCRIBING YOU!" She screamed as you glared at her. Mihirmah took a few deep breaths to calm down. "I am not calling you ugly, I was just referring to the bruises on your face. How did you manage to get beat up so badly? Did you not learn anything from my sparring lessons?"
"Sparring lessons? You mean the times where you would flip me on my back or throw me against the wall?" She glared at your accusation. "How is it my fault that you dont fight back?"
Mihirmah's gaze flicked the arm you were holding, the one she'd pinched. "Does it still hurt?" Her voice was much softer this time.
"Would you like me to pinch you back to demonstrate how much it hurt?" You spat back and she scoffed. "I didnt pinch you that hard. You're just sensitive." "Sure, you must only have meaty man fingers." You grumbled as she gasped and smacked your bruised arm, making you hiss.
The two of you glared at each other before Mihirmah wrapped her arms around you and looked up at you with a small pout.
"This doesnt work on me." You muttered, making her grip tighten around you.
"You know you're not a servant." Mihirmah whispered, looking up at you with puppy eyes, but only you knew the real Ronda Rousey in her.
"You're my friend, Y/n. Or the closest thing I have to a sister." "If you were planning on beating up your sister, I'm glad your parents didnt have one."
"Shut up, you're ruining the moment." Mihirmah scolded you. "I dont want you to go. I dont want you to be hurt, either. So just- I'm willing to let things go back to the way they were before this morning, if you are."
You stared down at her. You knew you were never going to get a real apology, Mihirmah was too prideful. You couldnt make her feel ashamed for her actions, or hold her responsible. So, you'll have to make do with this.
"Fine." She broke into a grin and squeezed her arms around you tightly before letting go.
"Now, tell me! Who were these girls who attacked you? I'll skin them with my daggers!" Ignoring her sociopathic tendencies, you shrugged. "I dont know, Mihirmah. I dont know who they were- I'm still new to the palace."
She hummed before her face lit up in realisation. "Wait! Baris Agha did say something about concubines. I'll ask Mehmed too when he returns with more information from Ibrahim pasha!"
-
While you are trying your best to hide the incident about your attack, unbeknownst to you, the news has spread like wildfire in the palace. A maid saw Mehmed entering Ibrahim pasha's office, and when she reported it to her friend, she then told her about how she overheard the eunuchs talking about a fight breaking out between the concubines and someone else, and then someone added that they saw Ibrahim pasha, Mehmed and Mihirmah in your room, so you were involved too. It wasnt long before this news reached Hurrem and Mahidevran, only this time it was more dramatised.
"The concubines tried to kill Hatun Y/n! It was only by pure luck that sehzade Mehmed saved her! And now her wounds are being tended to by Mihirmah sultana while sehzade Mehmed and Ibrahim pasha are punishing the concubines!" Gul, the chamber maid, told Mahidevran.
Mahidevran narrowed her eyes. "Why did they save her? She's just a teacher." The queen didnt understand why the royal children were going through such lengths to get justice for you. Fights in the harem break out all the time.
Gul fumbled with her thumbs, avoiding eye contact with her queen. Mahidevran's frown deepened. "What is it, Gul?"
"I- sultana- I just heard some rumors, its probably not even true-" "Out with it!" Mahidevran snapped.
Gul licked her lips as she spoke. "Um- I overheard that sehzade Mehmed has been... spending a lot of time with Hatun Y/n. Especially after the dinner where Mihirmah sultana recited-"
Mehmed... spending time with you? Why? If he wanted to sleep with you, he could have any girl from the harem. So why you? Why you, a Quran teacher, a conservative girl who covered herself from head to toe? Surely, Mehmed hadnt been bewitched by your physical appearance- not that you had any, in her opinion. And then Suleiman seemed to like you to, so for Mehmed to fancy you would be because-
Mahidevran's eyes widened at the sudden realisation.
"Get me Mustafa. Now!"
-
"Hatun Y/n was attacked by the concubines! Ibrahim pasha saved her and carried her unconscious form to her room!" A maid reported to Hurrem.
"Why was she attacked?" Hurrem asked, bored.
The maid hesitated to answer. "I am not sure, sultana, but the word is that the concubines were jealous of the attention Hatun Y/n was getting from sehzade Mustafa."
Mustafa? No. What possible business could you have with Mustafa? From the past week's events, Hurrem was told that you'd spend most of your time with her daughter, and only moments with Mehmed when he visited his sister.
"Mustafa isnt interested in Y/n." Hurrem stated, more to herself than to refute the maid's claims.
The girl nodded. "I'm only telling you what I heard, sultana. And... I also saw sehzade Mustafa leaving Mahidevran sultana's chambers to visit Hatun Y/n earlier today, just moments before I came here!"
Hurrem halted as she tried to make sense of the information. Mustafa was out all day because of the hunt, he wasnt supposed to return before dinner. Which means, he was fetched, likely by Mahidevran. Who probably informed him about your attack and now he went to check on you.
But why? Even at the dinner the other day, Hurrem didnt detect any sort of affection from Mustafa for you, or you from him. You both barely glanced at each other.
Maybe he's just checking in on you. That's all it is to it.
"How badly was Y/n injured?" Hurrem inquired.
"I didnt get a chance to see her yet, she's been with Mihirmah sultana since the event, but I heard that her unconscious body had to be carried by Ibrahim pasha himself! And- and that he even bandaged her up-"
"Ibrahim pasha?" Hurrem whispered to herself. What business did he have with you? He could've easily had a servant tend to your wounds, so why did he personally do it himself?
Ibrahim. Mustafa. Mahidevran. What are they upto? Hurrem knows Ibrahim doesnt like her, that he favours Mahidevran and Mustafa over her, that he wants Mustafa to be the next sultan-
Hurrem's heart sinks as she pieces it together.
"Get me Mehmed. Now!"
-
Suleiman was having dinner with his family. Both of his families- Mahidevran and Mustafa joined him tonight as well. He was happy to have them together, all well and healthy.
Except... something was off.
Suleiman's gut could sense it. The children were making small talk, his wives as well, but he could tell. There was some sort of tension.
It was Mihirmah that made him finally speak up.
"Mihirmah." He called out the girl who was playing with her food. "You've barely eaten. What's wrong?"
The room immediately fell dead silent, the attention now focusing on Mihirmah.
She smiled nervously, taking a small bite. "I'm fine, baba."
But Suleiman could see that her usual bubbling aura was somewhat depressing. "Mihirmah." He called her name more sternly, and this time, her smile faltered as she finally spilled.
"I'm just worried for Y/n."
Suleiman frowned. And when he looked at everyone else, it was clear that they knew something he wasn't aware of.
"What happened?"
-
Baris Agha was having fun riling you up. "So, you're telling me that both sehzade Mustafa and Mehmed, the two crown princes racing to be the next sultan, are visited you?" He snickered as you shot him a glare. "Can I just suggest you to remove the niqaab for the wedding-"
"Baris! Shut up!" You raged at him. "Dont think I dont know you were the one spreading the lies about-" "Lies? About what? About you being attacked? By concubines who are jealous of your- I dont know, I'm sorry what it is that these men seem to be enraptured with-"
There are hurried, intense knocks on the door. Baris opens the door as a servant stumbles in, out of breath.
"Hatun Y/n! Sultan Suleiman has summoned you! Now!" His tone signified that you're not to waste time.
"Why did he call for me?" You whisper to Baris as the two of you rush down the hallways.
"Perhaps he wants to formally ask you to marry one of his sons-" "Baris!" He grinned. "What? I have a sixth sense-" "YOU HAVE NO SENSE!" You yelled. "Have more sense than you." Baris grumbled.
"Why are you even following me? Dont you have a job?" You wanted him to stop vexing you.
He snorted. "And what? Miss out on all the fun? Besides, you know as the future sultana, you will need me-"
"I swear, as soon as I'm finished meeting the sultan, I am going to throw you off the roof."
The two of you turned the corner leading to the royal dining hall, and you bumped face first into Ibrahim pasha's back, the man catching you by the arms before you fell on your ass.
"P-pasha? What are you doing here?" You asked, backing up once you got your footing.
"Sultan sent for me. What are you doing here?" Ibrahim asked, equally confused.
"He summoned me as well. What do you think its about?" You watched the cogwheels in his mind turn and the realisation dawn on him.
"The attack earlier." He exhaled, closing his eyes as he tried to figure out his next steps. "We cant- you cant tell him the truth!"
"You want me to lie to the sultan?" He rose his brows. "Please, Ibrahim! I- I told Mihirmah and Mehmed and then Mustafa that I didnt know who the attackers were, or why they attacked me! If you tell them the truth-"
"Y/n." He grabbed your shoulders, staring into your worried eyes. "I promised to protect you, didnt I? I intend on keeping my promises."
You both entered the dining room together, bowing to the royal family sitting there.
"Y/n." You looked up at the sultan. "Is it true? Were you attacked?"
You were quiet for a few moments, resisting the urge to glance at Ibrahim to figure what to say, before nodding hesitantly.
"Y-yes, sultan." You trailed your eyes back to the ground. These people, they were warriors. They didnt have any technology back then, and they had to rely on body language to read people.
And you didnt want to risk him catching you in a lie.
"Are you alright?" Suleiman's voice was much softer now. "Did you go to the infirmary?"
"I'm well now, sultan. Thank you for asking." You meekly answered. "I was saved in time, thanks to Ibrahim pasha."
Mahidevran's eyes narrowed at you. Ibrahim saved you? Of course, you'd lie about that, so that no one would suspect you and Mehmed getting close. She thought to herself.
"Ah, Ibrahim pasha." Suleiman's voice turned serious. "You were the one who saved Y/n?"
"Yes, sultan." Ibrahim confirmed.
"And you have the attackers in custody?"
"Yes, sultan."
Suleiman slammed his fist on the table, rattling everyone. "Then why the hell wasnt I informed of it?!" Ibrahim kept his head down as the sultan continued to rage. "Why does everyone seem to be aware of this matter, except me?! Answer me, Ibrahim!"
Hurrem couldnt help the smile that curled on her lips. She was glad to see Ibrahim getting in trouble, perhaps Suleiman will finally get rid of him for once and for all-
"It's my fault, your majesty!" You announced suddenly, and everyone's focus shifted to you. "I- I was- I was shaken up from the attack and I- I made the pasha stay with me. I was too scared- I didnt think I was safe- so Ibrahim pasha left to make arrangements to assure me I was safe! He was busy because of me. I'm sorry! If- if anyone should be punished, it should be me!"
You held your hands together tightly to stop them from trembling. The room fell silent at your explanation, with you and Ibrahim holding your breaths.
"Is this true, Ibrahim?" Suleiman broke the silence.
"Yes, my sultan." Ibrahim answered. "After I had saved Hatun Y/n, I wanted to assure her of her safety, so I was busy interrogating the concubines who attacked her. After they confessed, I wanted to check if anyone else in the harem had any ill intentions for Hatun Y/n, so I was engaged in checking everyone who could be a possible threat. I was on my way to inform you, but you summoned me before I could."
"Concubines? Why did they attack Y/n?" Suleiman asked, wanting to know the result of his interrogation.
Ibrahim answered without missing a beat. "They were jealous of Hatun Y/n's bracelet." You looked at him but the pasha kept his eyes ahead at the sultan. "From what I gathered, Hatun Y/n refused to give up His Majesty's handmade gift, and when she put up a fight to defend your present, she was subjected to a harsh beating and had her face almost burned."
Suleiman's eyes widened. "Burned? Because of a bracelet?"
"It was what the bracelet represented, my sultan." Ibrahim's statement made your heart sink. He better not tell him about the "daughter-in-law" theory.
"The concubines think that you... favour Y/n over them." Ibrahim's words set fire to your cheeks and you had to bite your lip to suppress the gasp you almost let out.
Ibrahim decided to change the "daughter-in-law" theory to "3rd wife/bedwarmer theory".
"What rubbish?!" Suleiman slammed his fist on the table again, and perhaps everyone in the room was silently grateful for his rage and disbelief, as it disapproved the theory and quelled any future rumours. "I only see Y/n as my daughter, nothing else! How dare they slander me like that?! How dare they hurt someone I care about?! Ibrahim, execute those wretched concubines!"
Your eyes widened at the order. Preventing their death sentence was the only reason you lied and kept this charade up. You cant risk more people dying and history changing forever because of you!
"Y-your majesty!" You fell to your knees, your voice wet. "I- I beg you- I beg you on the behalf of the concubines, please- have mercy!"
Everyone watched in surprise as you cried for mercy for... your attackers?
"You... want me to forgive them? Despite what they did to you?" Suleiman asked, watching in disbelief at your tears wetting your niqaab.
"It- it was wrong- but please, they're just- they're just young girls. They made a mistake, they shouldnt pay with their lives!" You tried to come up with better reasoning. Aha!
"Sultan, I- we are Muslims. You are a role model for Muslims all over the world right now- but you have a role model as well- someone you havent met or seen, but you follow his advices and footsteps every day. Its Prophet Muhammad (PBUH)- and- and he advices us to be forgiving and merciful." Ibrahim watched you try to persuade the king.
"On the Day of Judgement, when we beg and grovel Allah for forgiveness, would He not forgive us happily if we show mercy to His creatures? If we forgive His mankind?" You pleaded and Suleiman was touched by your words, so-much-so that he walked over to you and pulled you by your shoulders before pressing a kiss to your veiled forehead.
"You're too kind, Y/n." He whispered, before nodding at Ibrahim. "Dont kill the concubines. But find a fitting punishment for them, Ibrahim." The pasha bowed his head obediently.
"And find Y/n her personal chambers in the royal wing." Suleiman stated, making everyone surprised.
No. Room in the royal wing only meant more contact with the royals themselves. This was the last thing you needed-
"Your majesty-" He held up a hand. "Dont protest, Y/n. You were hurt because of my present and while I appreciate that you defended it, I do not wish to see you hurt. Ibrahim, find her a room and shift her there by tonight. And assign a few guards and servants to Y/n as well. I dont want her to feel unsafe again." Suleiman looked at Ibrahim with a serious expression. "I trust her in your hands, Ibrahim."
"Of course, your majesty." Ibrahim nodded.
Suleiman looked back at you, a gentle smile on his face. "I would like you to join us for dinners now." He gently pushed your back and Mahidevran immediately scooted a bit closer to Suleiman's seat and patted the space beside her... and next to Mustafa.
Hurrem glared at the blatant display of intentions- Mahidevran showed her "generosity and humbleness" by letting you sit next to her to please Suleiman, and also make you sit next to her son to get close with.
At this moment, both queens are under the impression that Suleiman wants you to be his future daughter-in-law, so both women think that the other is making her son court you because the first one to marry you will produce a heir, further legitimising the prince's claim to the throne and becoming the next sultan, especially since Suleiman views you to be the perfect, pious woman who would be the perfect mother for his grandkids.
The only difference is- Mahidevran wants you to be Mustafa's spouse, not because she thinks you're a good match for her perfect son, but because she wants to speed up Mustafa's claim to the throne. She knows Suleiman prefers Hurrem over her (Hurrem's five kids are proof of that), and since she has no child other than Mustafa, Mahidevran is at disadvantage and she needs every advantage she can get, no matter how savoury it is- like you.
Hurrem on the other hand, does not want you as her Mehmed's spouse, because you're not what she had in mind for her precious son. She wants someone soft, demure, submissive, beautiful and more importantly- someone she can control. But she also knows what game Mahidevran is playing, and since Hurrem doesnt want Mustafa trying to steal the throne from Mehmed, Hurrem will have to just- get rid of you.
-
"So... the sultan just said that outloud?" Baris ate a date from the fancy table in your brand new chambers. "He just announced that you're his "daughter" to everyone?" He heard you groan a yes from your place on the bed- face buried in the pillows.
"And Mahidevran sultana made you sit between her and sehzade Mustafa?" He heard you groan another "yes".
Baris plopped down next to you. "So you're marrying Mustafa. Huh, didnt bet on that-"
"You bet on this?" You asked miserably, finally pulling your head up. "Of course, need to make money. Unlike you, not everyone has the oppurtunity to marry into royalty-"
You smack a pillow right across his face. "If I hear you talk about marriage again, I will strangle you."
Baris rolled his eyes, fixing his hair that you'd messed up. "I dont know why you're so upset. Did you want to sit next to Mehmed instead? If so, maybe I can still win the bet-"
"I dont want either of them!" You stated frustratedly, sitting up. "Do you not get it- I dont want to be a part of royalty! They're- they're all mad! My life would be in constant threat- from jealous concubines, possessive mother-in-laws, throne hungry princes. I dont want that!"
"Is it because you want Ibrahim pasha?"
You blinked at him. What? "What?"
Baris rubbed his chin. "Oh come on, I saw the way you two looked at each other before you entered the dining room- how the pasha promised to protect you, even from the sultan's wrath."
"Are you like- fishing for anything? For fun?" You shake your head at him.
Baris gave you a look. "Really? What about you going in and lying to protect him? He didnt even say anything before you took the chance to save him."
"I saved him because it was the right thing to do! Not because I love him!" You exclaimed, throwing your hand in the air. "If this is how you think, please- PLEASE resist the urge to ever help me! I dont want a proposal coming from you just because you saved me from choking."
Baris glared at you. "First of all- I'm never going to be as blind as the sehzade when it comes to love. Secondly, you'd be lucky to have me as a husband. At least your offspring will have a chance at looking somewhat normal-" You lunged at him and put him in a chokehold while Baris grabbed at your hijaab covered head to pull you off.
Your fighting match is brought to a halt as someone knocks on the door.
Mustafa stands outside your door, surprised to see Baris looking slightly disheveled when he opened your door.
"Baris? What are you doing here?" Mustafa asked, watching the eunuch fix his collar.
"Ah sehzade! Oh I was just helping Hatun Y/n adjust to her room. Shift her things in here." Baris faked a smile.
Mustafa nodded before lowering his voice. "Is she awake?"
"Yes yes- please come in." Mustafa walked inside just as you appeared out of the wooden divider screen, adjusting your niqaab.
"Sehzade." You gave him a courtesy. "How may I help you?"
Mustafa gave you a gentle smile, his moustache quirking up handsomely. "I would like to ask you to spend the day with me tomorrow."
You froze, and you didnt dare look at Baris who you knew was sporting a smug look because you didnt want to throw your shoe at his face in front of the prince.
"I- I think I am busy with Mihrimah sultana tomorrow-"
"No, I asked her. She said she's happy to skip her lessons for tomorrow." Mustafa cut your excuse. "I'll come by after breakfast. Good night, Y/n."
-
Even though Mustafa said he'll see you after breakfast, which for royals was just an hour before noon, you were woken up by Baris at the ass crack of dawn.
"Baris! What the hell?" You glared at him when he yanked the covers off you. Baris grinned at you. "As much as I'd like to believe in beauty sleep, its so not helping in your case. Come on, you need a bath and a lot of other stuff!"
He'd brought fine silk gowns and matching niqaabs (which you insisted on wearing despite Baris voicing his displeasure).
Currently, one of the maids had just finished doing your eye makeup- which in this case was kohl, and some dried berries crushed to a fine powder to make a rouge sort of shade.
"Since your eyes may be the only thing the prince sees, we need to make them bewitching!" Baris had commented before spraying you down with a lot of perfume.
"That's enough!" You push the bottle away as you coughed at the musky, earthy perfume. "Isnt that for men?" You ask coughing.
Baris's grin only widened. "Its sehzade Mustafa's favourite attar! I had to bribe his chamber servant to tell me this. And you my darling-" He sprayed you again. "-need to smell like him so that he thinks you two are a perfect fit!"
"That is literally the stupidest thing I've heard-" your insult is cut short as your vision is blinded by Baris flipping up your veil to reveal your lower half of the face and him applying some crushed berries juice to your lips.
"Just in case you have a change of morals and want to kiss the prince." He jumped back when you tried to slap him.
Soon, Mustafa came to fetch you. You two were currently walking through the royal gardens, with you giving curt answers so that he would lose interest in you and leave you alone.
Your dismissal didnt go unnoticed by him. "What do you like to do for fun?"
"Read." You answer looking at the well cut hedges. "Have you been to the royal library?" He looks down at you, finding you gazing at the flowers. "Yes. I've already read all of the books there." In college, of course.
"All of them?" His disbelief makes you look at him. Finally. Mustafa thinks.
"Of course." You answer, offended.
"Even the royal ancestry book?" Mustafa raises a brow at you.
"Yes." Your brows furrow. "Ask me anything."
He shakes his head and chuckles. "I doubt you know more about my ancestors than me."
When he looked back at you, you were still looking at him expectantly.
"Ask me."
Mustafa's curiosity got the best of him at your determination.
"This is- this is incredible." Mustafa commented, his eyes wide as he looked at the ancestry book from where he basically quizzed you. He didnt know he was talking to a historian who had pulled all nighters for pretty much every major empire for finals.
"How did you learn all of this?" He asks you, still double checking your answers.
"Oh... I have good memory." You mutter, making him shake his head at you with an amusing smile.
"Of course, I should've figured. You're a hafidha, you're passionate for learning." And passionate for making money in trivias.
Mustafa closes the book. "So, since you've read every book in here, I suppose you must be bored?" He doesnt wait for an answer when an idea pops in his mind. "Come on, lets go."
You follow him, trying to keep up with his fast pace. "Go where?"
"To get you new books." He looks over his shoulder and gives you charming grin.
Your steps falter. New books? "We're leaving the palace?" He hums.
You havent left the palace since you came here, mostly because you havent been able to leave.
You match his pace. "Lets go!" And Mustafa finally sees you excited for the first time today.
With a few Janissaries and some disguise, you all head out into Istanbul. You're looking around the city like a kid in a candy store, only you're looking for a something or someone to help you fix your time machine.
The market comes into view along with the sound of hawkers trying to attract customers. Of course, the only shopkeeper who wasnt yelling was the blacksmith, allowing his hammer to garner the attention of serious clients.
He could be of use. If you're able to find some tools, maybe even get some metal films, you could try to spark a charge and trigger the time machine to work.
You start to take a few steps towards him when Mustafa grabs your shoulder and pulls you back to him. "Where are you going? Stay close to me. I dont want to lose you." He tells you, almost in a chiding tone, but his hands carefully pulling your robes around you said otherwise.
He lead you towards a bookshop. Mustafa nodded at you to go ahead, explore and get any book you want. He'll buy it.
While you were busy browsing, Mustafa couldnt help but steal glances at you. He didnt understand why he was doing this- he couldnt really see your face, or anything except for your eyes.
Your eyes, they were pretty but its not their beauty that really captivates him. Its the swirl of emotions in them. The mystery in them, like there's... more to you. Like you're hiding something.
Perhaps it was your mannerisms. Your dismissive nature, your tendency to not be impressed easily by their eccentricities or status, almost as if you've lived with royalty before.
Maybe he likes how different you treat him him. How you dont bend over backwards to please his family, or try to pursue him or his brothers. In fact, you almost seem to be avoiding them altogether.
You intrigue him. Badly. Amusingly. Adorably.
-
"I dont understand! Where could she have gone?" Mihirmah whined to her brother at lunch. Mehmed only raised a brow. "Who? Y/n? She might be in her room recovering from yesterday's events. She was pretty shaken up-"
"I already checked! She's not there!" Mihirmah sighed before laying her head in his lap, and he began patting her hair. "She went out with Mustafa but she still hasnt returned! Its lunch time and I planned on teaching her sword fight! For self defense, you know- so that she doesnt get beat up like last time."
Mehmed's hand stopped patting. "She's with Mustafa?"
She nodded. "Since morning!"
"Huh." Mihirmah sat up, looking at her brother puzzled.
"What? What is it?" She asked him.
"Nothing." He faked a smile, but Mihirmah knew him like the back of her hand. "Mehmed. Tell me."
"I just... dont understand why Mustafa is spending time with her." He stated, standing up to walk to the balcony. "She's your teacher. What business does Mustafa have with her?"
Mihirmah watched her brother stiffen suddenly, watched the way his jaw ticked as he looked down the balcony. She stood up and joined him, following his gaze to see what he was looking at.
Its you. And Mustafa. Finally returning to the palace, servants holding piles of books following behind you two. What's even more bizarre is to see Mustafa smiling down at you while you giggled, covering your mouth despite the niqaab, making you look even more bashful.
Even Mihirmah hadnt ever seen you so joyful, and yet here you are- laughing so gleefully with her eldest brother. Step brother.
It rubbed her off the wrong way.
"You want her?" She asked him, her voice so hollow that it made Mehmed look at her.
"What?"
Mihirmah looked at him, her eyes stern. "Do. You. Want. Her?"
Unwavering determination. Thats what he saw in his sister's face.
Say the word, and it'll be done.
Mehmed stared at her.
"Yes."
-
"I hope you had a good time." Mustafa asked you as he walked you to your chambers. You nodded. "I did. Thank you, sehzade." Despite your best attempts at dismissing him, Mustafa was very persistent at breaking down your walls. And sure, part of you giggled and pretended to be flustered at his words, you mainly acted cordial so that he may take you out of the palace more often. He was your only way out at the moment.
You both stopped outside your door, the servants walking past you to place your books inside. Mustafa looked satisfied.
"If you ever need to go outside again, feel free to come to me, Y/n." He offered, before taking out a small box from his pocket and handing it to you.
Your heart dropped. A ring? Now? This fast? No no no no no-
You opened the box and you felt life returning back to you. It was a gold broach adorned with rubies and a diamond in the center, encaged in an intricate heart pattern.
"I may not share my father's gift of handcrafting jewels, but I do happen to be skilled at acquiring precious jewels on my conquests." Mustafa informed you as he took the broach from the box and looked at you for permission before pinning it to your hijab, just below your collar bone.
You were too stunned to stop him or even turn down the gift, though Mustafa took your silence as awe.
He adjusted the broach.
"Perfect." He whispered, looking into your eyes.
You watched him leave with a grin, finally able to breathe when he was out of sight.
With a sigh, you enter your chambers, half expecting Baris to be sprawled over your bed waiting to tease you for details on your outing.
What you werent expecting was... her.
"Did you have fun?" The sultana asked, her eyes sharp. "I've been waiting for you, Y/n. Lets have a chat, hm?"
Shit.
-
"You're abnormal." Your hands stop adjusting your hijab as you glare at him through the mirror.
"What?"
Baris tilted his head. "You're abnormal." He repeated.
You turn around from the vanity and glare at him. "Is this another way of calling me ugly?"
"Tch. No, I have words for that." He shook his head. "I meant, you've been acting weird since yesterday, after you returned from your secret outing with sehzade Mustafa."
"You're imagining things." You mumble, turning back to the vanity mirror and picking up the broach Mustafa gave you.
Baris scoffed. "I am not. I may have been busy with the younger royal kids yesterday, but I did manage to catch a glimpse of you giggling and blushing when you returned with the prince." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "So that means, the day went good. Something happened on the way to your chambers." He narrowed his eyes at you. "Did you kiss him?"
You whipped your head. "Baris!" He palmed his face. "Sorry, I forgot you're the religious prude. Did he kiss you?"
"No, Baris! No one kissed anyone." You began pinning the broach to your hijab, the same area where Mustafa had placed it yesterday. But you werent able to, too frustrated at the interrogation.
Baris grabbed the broach from you and pinned it in place. "So, you two didnt kiss, bought you enough books to make a you a scholar, and gifted you this broach, and you're disturbed because...?"
You frowned. "I am not disturbed. You're just reading too much into this."
"Fine, dont tell me. I'll find out on my own." You walked past him to teach your Quran lesson.
As much as you'd like to think that you're sly, Baris is right. Something did happen. After you'd returned to your room, you were met there by Mahidevran sultana.
You were reasonably scared because you thought that she's here to torture you or even kill you because you've been "seducing Mustafa" or whatever rumour Baris has spread about you.
But you were surprised when she told you that she wants you and Mustafa together, in marriage. As soon as possible. For the next half hour, Mahidevran basically told you all about the likes and dislikes of her son so that you would accustom yourself to them and then emphasised how supportive she would be of you to be her daughter-in-law. She even encouraged you to... sleep with him, she didnt say it directly but you got the meaning behind her words.
At the end of her lecture, she warned you to not spend time with Hurrem or any of her offsprings, besides Mihirmah because you are her teacher and even then told you to keep your interaction strictly formal and minimum.
When she was about to leave, she spotted the broach on your clavicle and beamed, almost proudly so. When you confirmed that Mustafa gave it to you, and started to take it off to return it to her, she stopped you and told you to wear it everyday. EVERYDAY.
"My son has given you something. You should be honoured. Cherish it." Mahidevran ordered.
The main reason you didnt tell Baris about Mahidevran and her confusing but threatening demands to court Mustafa was because of Baris's blabber mouth that couldnt hold a secret if his life depended on it.
And you have enough on your plate as it is.
You enter Mihirmah's chambers, bowing as you spot her.
"Ah! Welcome! Sit, sit!" Mihirmah pats down the seat next to her and you're slightly suspicious of her energy.
She's upto something.
You sit down beside her, opening the Quran. "I think we should start with-" She closed the book in your hands.
"In a minute. Lets talk first, hm?" She smiled at you. "How was your day off yesterday? Well rested?"
Your shoulders sag slightly. Of course, she wants to know about your day out with Mustafa. Baris probably blabbered something to spark her curiosity like this.
"Yes. A much needed break. Quite refreshing." You tell her, purposely keeping away from the details, lest she gets the wrong idea again and accuses you of whoring around your "ugly self" to her brother.
"Mmhm. Had fun with Mustafa?" Her sharp tone made you look at her.
Is she implying something?
"The prince was kind enough to get me some books." You told her cautiously, trying to ease the tension. "I think you'd like some of them-"
"Mustafa sleeps around." You blinked at her. What were you supposed to do with this unsolicited information.
"Okay...?"
She shrugged, picking up her cup of tea. "I'm just saying- he's been with a lot of women. The other day I was reading a verse from Quran where it mentioned adultery. Then I realised- thats what Mustafa is. An adulterer."
"You read Quran without me making you-"
"Mustafa is an adulterer, Y/n. Allah will not forgive him. He's doomed for hell."
"Actually, if he repents sincerely-"
"He's doomed, Y/n. Doomed." She reiterated.
"By that logic, so are most of your ancestors. I think most men, kings and princes commit adultery-"
"Mehmed doesnt." She stared at you. "He's never slept with anyone. He's a good Muslim man. Allah will be pleased with him."
What is going on here? "Um... okay. That's great news for sehzade Mehmed."
"And for you." Mihirmah announced. "You are the lucky one."
"What?"
She let out a sigh of frustration, as if she has to state the obvious. "Mehmed likes you- no, he loves you-" "Loves me?" "Shh! I'm still talking. You have caught his eye for some reason, so you should end whatever it is that you have with Mustafa and be loyal to my brother."
The room was silent, the two of you staring at each other- you, in confusion. Mihirmah, in determination.
A crow croaked outside.
"First of all, I have nothing going on with sehzade Mustafa. Secondly, Mehmed said he loves me?" You asked while trying not to show resentment.
Mihirmah scoffed. "He doesnt have to say it, I know it."
Your tension deflates to some extent. Okay, so she's just making up stuff. This can be handled.
"Mihirmah, I understand how-" you resist the urge to roll your eyes "-you may think Mehmed may be attracted to me, I am honoured, really. But I can assure you, Mehmed does not love me."
"No, I love you." Your head whips around at the sound of his voice.
Mehmed. He's standing behind you.
"Sehzade-" you begin standing up to bow to him, but he holds up a hand.
"Mihirmah's right. I love you." Mihirmah beamed proudly at standing correct.
Your eyes could only widen in horror as Mehmed sank down to sit right beside you, and with Mihirmah on your other side, you were trapped between the siblings.
"I. Love. You." Mehmed repeated, his hazel eyes staring into yours.
After several moments of silence, a crow croaked again. Mihirmah nudged you to say something.
"Um-" You cleared your throat. "Ugh... thank you."
Mehmed's brows shot up in surprise while Mihirmah broke into a fit of laughter.
"Thank... you?" Mehmed asked, and you would've thought he was mad if it werent for the amused smile on his face.
Mihirmah continued to laugh, and you had to look back at her to make her stop. "I-I'm sorry, Mehmed- this was- this was just too funny. I mean, she has a prince, the next heir of the empire confess her love and all she says is "thank you"?" She said, chuckling as she wiped the tear from her eye.
Mehmed glared at her playfully. "Well, maybe she's just shy around you." Why are they talking about you like you're not right there?
Mihirmah hummed, then nodded. "Perhaps you're right. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone. I have to do something-"
"What? Why? You dont have anything to do." You stopped her from standing up. You dont want to be alone with Mehmed.
"I do!" She narrowed her eyes at you.
"Like what?"
"Like-" her eyes zeroed in on your broach. "-pretty. Mustafa gave it?"
"Yes-" you yelped as she grabbed it and pulled it off you, ripping the niqaab it was pinned with along.
"Mihirmah!" Mehmed yelled at her, his eyes stern. You could only stare at her in disbelief before turning away from Mehmed to hide your bare face now.
"Oops! I'm sorry Y/n! I'll go get you a new niqaab- this one is all torn!" She said without an ounce of remorse before leaving the room.
Mehmed shakes his head as he watched her leave, before turning his attention to you- or well, your back.
"Y/n?" He called out to you softly. "I'm sorry for Mihirmah. She... she doesnt mean you any harm. She's just- she sometimes doesnt realise how hurtful her actions can be when she's trying to help someone."
When you didnt reply, Mehmed grew slightly worried. "Y/n?" He sighed when you didnt reply. An idea popped in his head as he looked around the room before looking down.
You heard the sound of cloth ripping, your heart dropping as you assumed the worst. He wasnt going to-
Your head turned around just as Mehmed's hands encircled around your head, a red cloth blocking your view of him.
"Mehmed?" You whispered, scared. His frozen hands seemed to snap out of it and began encircling round your head, the red cloth in his grip brought closer to your face. Thats when your eyes landed on the bottom of his red shirt (kemis). It was ripped.
Mehmed had torn his shirt to make a niqaab for you.
His eyes were focused on tying the makeshift veil, securing it before they landed on you.
"Y/n?" He called your name gently again, his concern growing at the sight of tears pooling in your eyes. He softly sighed as a his hand reached up to wipe a tear that escaped your eye.
"You're that scared of me?" After a few moments, you sniffled as more tears escaped your eyes and you shook your head. "Then?" When you didnt reply, or couldnt as you continued to cry mutely, he took it as a sign that you were humiliated because of Mihirmah removing your veil.
He took a deep breath and cupped your face gingerly before pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.
"My mind is occupied by you. I think about you all the time. Perhaps...I only think about you, moon." He wiped another tear with his thumb. "I love you, my moon. I fear I... I love you too much. My heart holds so much love for you, I can hardly call it my own anymore." He then kissed your teary eyes one by one.
"I know you... you dont love me yet, but one day, when you find yourself being generous, I want you to be the one holding my heart in your hands. Its yours, moon. Yours."
-
Baris waited with a few guards and servants outside Mihirmah's room, when Mehmed left the room with a satisfied smiled on his face. Baris noted the bottom of his torn shirt but before he could comment on it, Mehmed asked him where Mihirmah was.
"She went to see sehzade Mustafa. Shall I fetch her?" Mehmed waved him off, saying he'll go get her himself, after all- Mihirmah still had to finish her lesson with you.
Mehmed had just turned around the corner when you came out of the room.
"Y/n-" Baris called out to you but you sped past him, and he didnt chase after you when he saw your red eyes.
He'll tease you later, when you're not so sad. For now, he has to report the sight of this to someone.
-
Even if Mihirmah hadnt bumped into Mustafa and proudly showed off the broach he'd gifted you, the news would've still somehow made its way to him by the servants whispers.
"Oh this broach? Its pretty, isnt it?" Mihirmah smirked, showing it off to Mustafa. "Y/n gave it to me."
"She... gave it to you?" His gift. You gave it away?
She nodded. "Mmhm. She said it wasnt that precious to her, so she gave it. She was going to throw it away, but it went well with my dress so I took it."
You were going to discard his gift? Just like that?
"Mihirmah. There you are." Mehmed walked over to her. "Mustafa." He greeted his brother.
"Mehmed." He looked at his shirt. "What happened to your shirt?"
Mehmed grinned. "Nothing." He then looked at Mihirmah. "Come on, Y/n is waiting for you. I talked to her."
Mustafa could only watch the two siblings beam at each other as the taste in his mouth soured.
His broach. Torn shirt. Mehmed "talked" to you.
Mahidevran could feel her blood boil at the complaints Mustafa brought to her. Even if he didnt, the maids she'd hired to spy on you had already reported of everything they'd witnessed. You and Mehmed alone in Mihirmah's room.
Did you not understand a single word she said? Does she need to give you a more stern warning this time?
"Hurrem must've put them upto this." She muttered, before her gaze flickered to her worried son. She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Dont worry, Mustafa. I will fix this. You focus on Y/n, hm? You deserve her, my lion."
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So? How was it?
Part 10 is here!
929 notes · View notes
lovifie · 9 months ago
Text
Lift Me Off My Feet
Chapter 5: Home Sweet Home
Masterlist
Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12
Aprox 5k words
W: Captain Price x Reader x Kyle Garrick (the poly 141 is building).
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“I honestly think this is an improvement from your flat.” Ghost comments leaving your bag on a chair. “It is sad, but it's true.”
And he is right. The safehouse you have been assigned to is not ugly, it is just… artificial. Decorated to look lived in, but you know it isn't. Photos of people you don't know on the walls, books you haven't read and blankets you can tell are going to be itchy. But no one can trace you back here.
Ghost drove you here, Price made Soap and Gaz stay with him to have a chat with them. Chat, you are glad to be able to avoid, at least for now. 
The safe house is not too far away from the base, but still enough not to be linked to it. It is a nice neighbourhood, better than your last one, it makes you want to go for a walk. 
“Try to always stay inside, alright?” Ghost tells you sitting beside you. He caresses your thigh looking at your face. “I know it sucks to be stuck inside, but this whole thing would lose its purpose if anyone sees you leaving or entering the house.”
“So I can’t never leave the house?” You ask looking down. His gloved hand still caressing your thigh, and your hands find their way to it, playing with the fabric of his glove. 
“You can, just need to be careful. But never alone, unless it is an emergency. Please, if Price hears you are wandering around alone he'll have a stroke.” He chuckles, stops moving his hand and instead puts the palm up letting you play with his hand. “You should have seen him yesterday when he woke up.”
“Was it that bad?” You ask, guilt flooding your heart at the mental image of Price panicking because of you. 
Ghost nods. “He thought that we were pulling a prank on him, that we have you hidden. He made us show him our room, and then he went to look all around the base. Until I showed him the security footage of you leaving he didn't stop looking around.” 
“I feel like an asshole.” You admit, unable to look at him and focusing on your hands together with his. Your fingertips find their way inside the glove and you begin to caress the palm of his hand mindlessly.
“It was a pretty asshole move.” Ghost chuckles looking down at your hands. “But I can understand why you would do it, everyone else too. No one blames you for doing it, birdie. You know that, right?” 
It is then that you notice the current situation, Ghost is sitting side by side with you. Thigh pressing yours, one of his hands is on your lap with your own hand inside his glove caressing his skin, feeling the warmth. His other arm is resting on the back of your chair, and his hand find its way to your jaw, caressing your cheek with his thumb and moving your head to look at him. 
He is wearing a basic black balaclava, no paint around his eyes, and you can see his blonde lashes for how close he is to you. Unconsciously, you look to where you know his lips are and you notice movement under the mask, he is smiling. He sighs and presses his forehead with yours. “C’mon, birdie. I made a promise this morning, don't make me break it so fast.” 
“A promise?” You ask curious as you look back to the hands on your lap.
“Yeah, to Price. You are not supposed to know it.” He chuckles. “I shouldn’t tell you.”
And you shouldn't push it, you should be nice. But you are nosy and he hasn't said no jet. So you look up to him, through your lashes and ask softly. “I won't say anything… please?” 
He groans closing his eyes and pulls his head back looking ahead of you. “How can I say it?” He pulls the hand from behind your head to rub his face. “Price and I talked last night, about how since we met there has been an… attraction between all of us.”
“Okay.” You agree, feeling a light blush rise on your face. 
“And we talked about how we did a poor attempt at having control over it. And how we basically jumped you, and that was wrong of us, like, you were literally handcuffed when you were with Gaz.” He says sighing, feeling embarrassed with himself. “And I definitely shouldn't have done it the way I did.”
“It's okay.” You admit, still unable to look at his face. “I didn't complain… wait.” You say finally looking up at him. “You knew Gaz and I were…”
“Humping each other like teenagers? Yeah, I noticed.” He says chuckling when he sees your shocked expression. “Birdie, I took the car for maintenance the next morning to check the car's suspension because of how many potholes and curbs I hit. And you think I didn't do it or purpose?”
You cover your face with your hands chuckling in embarrassment, Ghost hugs you from the side bringing you close to his chest making you feel the vibrations from his laughs. “Are you getting shy now, birdie?” He asks and you nod, unable to answer. He then gets close to your ear and whispers: “You weren't shy when I had my tongue up your ass.”
You shriek slapping his arms to get away making him laugh with his whole chest and when you manage to get up, he grabs your hips keeping you within arm's reach. “Let me go, I'm going to sleep.” You say trying to keep some kind of pride. 
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, was just playing.” He says standing up and hugging you again. “Just like how I played with your clit.” 
“Shut up!” You exclaim, heating up, whether it is from embarrassment or something else, is not important right now. He laughs again and drops a kiss on the top of your head as a peace offering: “Go to bed, birdie. I'm sure you didn't get much sleep last night.”
You slap his arm one last time before walking down the hall, but he calls you again making you turn: “Take this, is a burner phone, so no one can track you through the phone. Price, Soap, Gaz and my number are already on. If you need to send anyone else a message or something, we will send it through your phone back at base, the antenna back at the base makes it impossible to track.”
You take the phone from his hand and slap your forehead when you see the time. “I need to call my boss!”
“About that, you don't have to worry about it. You are now on a witness protection system, so you actually can't just go. Price is going to talk to him, and he will figure it out. Price will take care of it, don't worry.”
You nod, not completely convinced, and after getting a kiss on your forehead you get inside the room, ready to sleep.
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A couple of hours later, the clatter of pans and dishes wakes you up. You look at the time and realise you have slept almost all morning, so you stretch still on the bed, stand up, wash your face in the bathroom and make your way to the kitchen when you are met with Kyle's back.
“Morning.” You say smiling walking up to him. He whips around looking disproportionately scared by the situation and you look at him confused.
“Fuck sake, doll. We gotta get you a bell or something, almost shit myself.” He says with a hand on his chest and you laugh at him.
“That's what you get for being a snitch!” You exclaim putting your hands on your hips.
A perfect smile appears on his face that gets you weak on your knees, and he cups your face still smiling. Dammit, pretty boy. “I just couldn’t help it, luv. You look irresistible when you are flustered.” He says giving you a peck on your cheek. “Are you hungry? I brought you some groceries and bought you lunch.”
You look over his shoulder to check what he bought, and satisfied with his choice you bit the bait of his peace offering. “You are safe for now.”
The safe house is far from a mansion, but still, it is much better than your flat. More than one person can fit into the kitchen, there is a sofa and an armchair in the living room with a TV on a coffee table. Down the hall, there are two rooms and a bathroom with an actual bathtub inside. So yeah, a lot better than the old one.
Kyle and you have lunch on the sofa, and after you both stay seated basking in each other company. You can't help but stare at him and think about the first time you were close to him.
In just the last two days, you have grinded yourself against Kyle's dick, kissed and gotten yourself eaten out and fingered by Price, gotten your ass eaten and pussy fingered by Ghost and kissed and throat fucked by Soap.
Truly an interesting Tuesday.
It's not like you had never done those things before, but still, before them, it has always happened after a relationship was built and not in the order it happened that's for sure. 
Fooling around with Kyle was rejuvenating, you are not even old, but still, it felt like fooling around with your first boyfriend. Horny enough to need to feel each other but not ready still to face the vulnerability of getting naked in front of each other.
With Price, he made you feel like a fucking goddess. As if he should be the one thanking you for eating you out. You could hear him moan against your cunt and there was not a centimetre of skin he didn't kiss that night. Such a soft way to make love it almost didn't make sense how nasty he make out with your pussy that night.
Simon was the opposite like a professor teaching a bratty student their place. Any of these men could have you on your knees begging if they put their mind into it, but Simon made you want to act up. Pull his string and step on his nerves. He left you so vulnerable, completely naked and exposed to him, and still, there was not a second where you didn't feel safe.
And Johnny. Oh, sweet, sweet Johnny. You couldn't wait to get your hands on him again. Something about the way he whined your name when you had only barely touched him, the way his pupils almost got a heart shape when you kneel before him. 
But that little shit had a big mouth, not that he meant to cause harm, you know that. Unlike Gaz, the second little shit truly was striking for gold this morning. And now, he was sitting on the other side of the sofa, with your feet on his lap looking all innocent and completely unbothered by everything. 
So calm.
It bothered you.
Little shit doesn't deserve peace and calm.
Little shit deserves a kick on his balls.
But just when you are about to, you remember his face last night when he saw you enter the mess hall, looking terrified and like a wounded puppy. He looked so worried, and he hugged you so warmly. So the kick doesn't arrive, instead, you plant the heel of your foot right on his crotch forcing a grunt out of him.
“Easy, luv” He says rubbing your ankles.
“You deserve worse.” You say looking at his face as you keep pushing around.
“Rude, why do you say tha-at?” He asks half moaning the last word.
“You were going to rat me out this morning.” You answer beginning to move your foot up and down his growing erection.
He closes his eyes, resting his head on the back of the sofa. “You just look so delicious when you are flustered, doll. Couldn't help myself, would you forgive me?”
“I'm not sure yet, I'm still deciding.” You respond, pressing with a bit more force on his tip earning a moan from his throat.
“Take all the time you need.” He mumbles as he starts to move his hips against your feet.
Confusion floods your brain for a second, Ghost couldn't even kiss you this morning because he had given his word to Price but Gaz was happily humping your feet for his satisfaction. 
Did Price don't make him promise? No, that doesn't sound logical. Kyle was the one who started everything, Price must have made him promise more than everyone else. Kyle simply doesn't care about it. 
Price won't like that. 
If only Price got to know Gaz had broken his promise.
There it is, your kick on his balls. 
Figuratively.
For now.
You sit up, removing your feet momentarily earning a whine from Gaz at the loss. He looks at you with a pout on his face, cheeky bastard. It only lasts until he sees you undo his belt, and then a boyish smile appears on his face. 
He reclines with a smug smirk on his face and looks up to you as you get his growing boner free. You lick a thick strip of spit into your hand and start to stroke his dick slowly. You look at his face and he looks back delighted.
“If you treat me like this every time I bother you, I'm not stopping ever, luv” He says between whispered moans.
“Do you ever shut the fuck up?” You ask chuckling. 
“When my mouth is busy.” He admits, licking his bottom lip and leaving his mouth half open so moans can slip easily.
“It's that so?” You ask, and with your free hand you raise your t-shirt exposing your tits with a little bounce that Gaz doesn't miss by the way his dick twitch in your hand.
“Fuckin’ hell, luv.” He says beginning to move his head, but you pull his hair back and pressed your tit against his head which he gladly begins to suck onto making you groan softly. 
“Much better.” You sigh closing your eyes enjoying the feeling of his warm mouth against your nipple, you move your hand from his head down to his jaw caressing it and feeling the muscles of his jaw flex as he makes out with your boob. 
Slowly and shamelessly, Gaz's hand find its way down your back. He doesn't bother to play coy, and as soon as the hand reach your waist, it goes under your pants and your underwear grabbing a handful of your ass cheek making you whine. 
You press your thumb and index in his cheek, pressing between his teeth forcing him to open his mouth and say: “Play nice or I won't play with you, Garrick.” 
He smiles at you as much as he can with his cheeks pushes and sticks his tongues out to lick your nipple. “Yes, ma'am.” 
You could still kick him, literally. It would be faster and it'll probably erase the stupid smug smile from his face. But patience is a virtue.
So you shove his face against your boob again, and sigh when you feel his fingers travel down your lips. He moans when he feels your wetness just for your disgrace, the last thing you needed was to grow his ego. He slips them between your lips, gathering up the wet arousal pooling on your panties. He moves then to the front and begins to rub your clit with his fingertips. 
There is precum leaking from his tip, and you bring your fingers up to press your thumb against his slip and circle it, smearing his precum around it, making him moan. 
“Let's go to the bed, Kyle.” You half mumbles half moans.
“Let me just do it here, doll. Inaugurate the living room” He mumbles against your skin. You slap him on the back of his head and stand up.
“I'm planning on having most of my meals on this sofa, so get up.” You argue pulling his hand.
“If you are still hungry, I have something you could eat.” He jokes as he stands up, making you look at him with a grimace look on your face making him laugh.
“Don't ever say anything like that, Kyle. For god sake.” You say shaking your head as you walk your way to the room. You open the door and quickly take the rest of your clothes. You look back at Gaz who is looking at you a bit stunned and you chuckle. “I think it would make it a lot easier if you took off your clothes.”
He pulls his t-shirt from the back of his head throwing it somewhere, and gets rid of his clothes as he walks up to you. When he was almost bent over himself on the sofa, whining around your boob, it was easy to get confident and boss him around. Now, with both standing up and as he gets closer to you, you need to look up because of the size difference. He notices it too, how you start to speak softer and your expression is kinder. 
He chuckles to himself, positioning his hands under your arm and effortlessly throws you back on the bed, crawling over you instantly. You try to sit up, leaning on your elbows but a firm hand on your chest gets you flat on the bed soon. 
You look up to him and see him cock his head like a dog. “What?” You ask and it makes him smile with that fucking toothpaste ad smile. “There it is, I thought you lost your voice. You went silent so suddenly.” He teases.
“Oh, shut up, Kyle.” You say chuckling and pinch his nipple making him chuckle as well. For a second you stay chuckling, looking at each other and enjoying the opposite company. Until suddenly it feels a bit too intimate, and almost at the same time, you make eye contact feeling shy regardless of the lack of clothing. 
So you cup his face with both hands and pull him close kissing him on the lips. If he can’t see the affection in your eyes, he can't accuse you of anything. 
He caresses your hip, drawing circles with his thumb as he slowly reaches your mount and you slightly spread your legs involuntarily.
“Eager little thing.” He mumbles against your lips smiling, and you bite back: “I can feel you leaking onto my thighs, Kyle. Don't get cocky.”
He chuckles under his breath and without more preamble one of his finger finds his way inside your cunt as he uses the palm to rub your clit making you moan. Wet kisses travel down your throat when you move your hands to the back of his face, his finger’s movement becoming faster and not for long before a second one finds his way inside as well. You lower one of your hands to rub his erection against your tights, feeling the wet spot at his tip growing. 
Fuck does it feel good to be desired.
Little moans of your name leave Kyle's mouth against your neck giving you goosebumps and causing you to squirm in his hand needy of more. 
“Kyle… please” You moan throwing your head back.
“Not yet, doll. I wanna see you come as prettily as you did on the car again before I get my dick inside this little tight cunt.” He groans against your cheek.
You moan at his crude words arching your back, twisting your face to kiss him. Teeth clashing in the process, but too desperate to care. The band on your stomach snaps almost surprising you, and for a second you can hear your ears ring. Kyle’s hand is still rubbing your clit, but almost like a feather now helping you ride out your orgasm. 
You make eye contact with him, checking on you to see if you are alright and when he is satisfied he sits up, pulling you closer circling your legs around his slim waist and palms his erection; rubbing your clit with his tip. “Are you all right, luv? Need another second?”
“Fuck me already, Garrick” You tease propping yourself up on your elbows. 
Kyle smirks at you and slowly enters his dick stretching you out; he leans down closer to your face and you both moan on each other mouth as he enters. Slowly enters, and then draws back, just to enter a bit more. Little by little, as he kisses your mouth passionately. Your hands on his back slightly scratch his skin making him groan softly between moans, his tongue enters your mouth caressing your own.
This all started as a way to get Gaz in trouble, but honestly, you are starting to hope it doesn't work. Just so you have to try again. 
“Fuck, doll. Such a sweet lovely cunt” He mumbles, already losing his mind, punctuating each word with a roll of his hips. “Sucking me in so fucking nice.”
It shouldn't turn your own as much, such crude words, but you are not really thinking clearly and every word that leaves Gaz’s mouth is like a compliment to your core that makes you clench against his dick. 
“Do you like that, doll?” He asks against your neck dropping little open mouth kisses. “Hm? When I tell you how fucking godly you feel, luv?”
“Yes, fuck, yes” You moan back, curling your legs and pushing him closer, wanting him to go deeper as if you were not feeling him up to your cervix already.
His hand found its way down to your clit, circling it with his fingertip, making you meowl at the sudden extra stimulation. You can feel your orgasm approach, and you open your eyes to look at Kyles's face.
But when you open your eyes, the first thing you see is Price leaning against the doorframe; cigar in hand, a disapproving look on his face and a formidable hard erection on his pants. You lock eyes with him, a shameless smile creeping in and making Price shake his head with a similar smile on his face. 
The focus quickly moves back to Gaz when he starts to thrust more shallowly, rubbing your clit quickly. “Cum for me, please. I wanna feel you come around me, please, please, doll, please.” He moans against your skin, and completely ignoring Price's presence, you come undone in harmony with Gaz. 
Little black dots blur your vision for a second because of the surprising pleasure, almost missing the way Gaz moans your name we come undone following you. You are not sure if you are seeing or imagining when you see Price walk out of the room, and when you try to raise your head to see you come face to face with Gaz. “You okay, luv?” He asks with heavy breathing looking at your face and smiling.
You nod at him smiling, simmering in the afterglow of your orgasms. Only breaks away when something drops next to your head on the bed.
Gaz and you turn to look at Price who is now standing behind Gaz. “Shit.” Gaz mumbles trying to peel away from you, only for Price to press a hand on his back pushing him back against you making you both groan since Gaz is still inside you.
“No, no, please, don't stop on my behalf. I wouldn’t like to bother you.” He says dryly, no vestige of humour in his voice.
Gaz looks at you, making eye contact for a second until both of you turn to look at whatever it was that fell next to you, and when you see the lube bottle it finally sinks in what the two of you have just done. 
Both of you quickly try to look at him, kind of guilting the other to not get the short side of the stick. “Settle down you pair of brats.” Price says, he sits on the back of Gaz’s thighs, pressing him deeper making both of you softly moan again. He uncaps the bottle, pouring a fat blob of it in his fingers and pulling Gaz’s hair back making him arch his back once he throws the bottle back. “Unlike this brat, I’m not gonna fuck you, birdie. But the two of you put on such a show that has me in need of some… release.” He says while he caresses Gaz’s hole with his fingertips, getting through the muscle ring as he enunciates the last word.
“Shit, Captain…” Gaz moans, feeling your cunt clench when you feel his dick twitch back to life for a second time. “Don’t “Captain” me now, Kyle. What about your truce? Did any of my words get to your head or was all your blood down on your dick when I was talking to you?”
Gaz is not the only one getting the reprimand, a new cocktail of feelings is developing inside you. There are some hints of shame, the shame of getting caught mid-orgasm, the shame of Price barely acknowledging you at all, and the shame of feeling like you are intruding on whatever arrangement they had before you came into the picture. Again, the little self-aware thoughts that permanently reside in your mind appear, making you aware of the situation.
A loud moan from Gaz brings you out of it before they can materialise, and you come face to face to the fuck out face of Price after bottoming inside of Gaz. Having sex with Gaz was gentle, with more roll of hips and deep thrusts; but Price? He is obviously annoyed with the both of you, and his hard and fast thrusts are proof of it.
You can feel Gaz’s dick hardening inside you stretching you again. And even though he isn’t physically pulling in and out, Price's thrust forces his hips to roll against you giving you a delicious constant stimulus both inside and against your clit. That, joint with the fact that Gaz is moaning in such a filthy way against the skin of your neck quickly has you moaning in tandem with him. Bitting your lips to quiet them, feeling like they are not wanted, like you are just collateral damage to Price and Gaz's little get-together.
You force your eyes close when you feel Price look at you, he furrows his eyebrows when he notices you looking uncomfortable. Are you not enjoying it? Why do you turn away from him?
He switches his rhythm, caressing Gaz’s hips with a hand and bending down to cup your face with the other. He grazes your bottom lips freeing from your bite and drops his thumb inside your mouth making you lick it. He drops down to your ear to whisper: “Don't run from me, sweetheart. Not again, please.”
He raises his hand on Gaz's hips to hug him on his chest, pulling him close to him, and biting him on his shoulder. With what little space that earns Gaz, he begins to move between you and Price, earning a moan from everyone in the room. 
It is such a filthy scene, so porn-worth, still, there is such a palpable sense of care from everyone involved. Fuck, the moment they get bored of you it's going to hurt like a bitch. 
“I can't!” Gaz moans, the overstimulation getting the best of him. Poor boy getting his prostate destroyed and his dick milked at the same time. You can't barely manage yourself, you pity him. But again, that's what he gets for snitching. 
“Yes, you can. And you will.” Price moans against his neck, and at the same time he drags his hand down your body just to rub your clit causing a chain reaction when you clench for the reaction, causing Gaz to groan and clench as well. 
Is not much longer until you feel Gaz finish inside you for a second time, drooling against your shoulder skin while he hugs you needy of something to ground him. You quickly hug him back when you feel yourself spilling over the edge, and just a couple of seconds later Price finishes as well inside of Gaz. 
He drops himself over the two of you earning a groan from you for being squished by both men, but you only get a chuckle in return from the both of them. “At least like this, we know you aren’t going to go running again.” Gaz murmurs against your skin only for you to hear, warming your heart.
“The two of you are gonna give me a headache, I just know.” Price mumbles kissing his bite mark on Gaz’s shoulder while making eye contact with you. “Get washed, dressed and come down to the living room. We have a little meeting the five of us.” 
When he goes to sit up, you quickly grab his shirt pulling him close and ask softly. “Can we stay like this for a little more, please?” The neediness and clinginess being too hard to ignore.
Kyle and Price look at you as if you are the most precious thing on the whole planet and quickly nod going back to the weird body pile you were on. “Yeah, of course we can.”
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Heyaa, how are you? 💗
Hope you liked the new chapter, please please drop a comment if you like it or if there is any scenarios you would like me to include 💗
Thank you again for all the support, you guys are the best
Taglist: @pagesfalling @thevoidwriting @darkangel4121 @tf141glory @skyler-loves-rick-grimes @ghostlythots @readerofallthingss @onewattson6529 @mynameismothra @xinyiline @shadowtfpcod @infpt-zylith @renabear88 @lolliepopsicle @reap3erslov3 @tooloudarts @dontworryboutitokie @cassiecasluciluce @sodavrr @missmidnight-writes @anirok2
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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago
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Code of Conduct 1
Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as cheating, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.
Summary: your boss has a difficult time keeping his personal life from bleeding into his work. 
Characters: Steve Rogers, this reader is known as Rosie.
Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜
💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼
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“Mr. Rogers’ office. This is Rosie, how can I hel--” 
“Where is he?” Peggy’s voice cuts over your own. 
“Oh, hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s currently in a meeting--” 
“Get him.” 
“Mrs.--” 
“Don’t argue with me. Go get him. Are you not his assistant?” She challenges brusquely. 
Her accent adds to the sharpness of her words. Her curt demeanour is a stark contrast to her husband. Your boss is always amiable, accommodating even, but the few times you’ve dealt with his wife have been similarly tense. You put a smile on so she can’t hear your anxiety. 
“Of course, Mrs. Rogers,” you preen, “I’ll put you on a quick hold.” 
“No, you will get him. No hold.” 
You suck in a sigh and hold your breath in your chest, “of course.” 
You set the phone down. You don’t see how her hearing your desktop will be any better but you wouldn’t want to irritate her further. It must be urgent. 
You stand and smooth out your dress. You step out from behind your desk, digging your nails into your palms as you ball your fists tight. You get nervous about most things. Answering the phone took your months to get used to and even now you tend to fumble over your words. 
You go to the door and brace yourself. You don’t know why you expect Mr. Rogers to be upset. He’s never been anything close to rude. Maybe short in times of stress but not unpleasant. You knock and wait as you twiddle your fingers against your striped pleats. 
It isn’t Mr. Rogers who answers by Mr. Barnes. You give a sheepish smile, “excuse me, doll.” 
He steps past you and you bid him a good day. He leaves without further courtesy and Mr. Rogers calls your name from within, “need something?” He asks. 
“Oh, yes, Mrs. Rogers is on the phone.” 
He doesn’t seem happy about that. His cheek dimples and he nods, wiggling his pen at you, “patch her through.” 
You go back to your desk and pick up the receiver, “hello, Mrs. Rogers, he’s available now--” 
“I don’t want to talk to you, honey. Where is my husband?” 
You transfer her without another word. Phew. You almost feel bad for your boss as you hear him pick up in his office. His tone is low and dull. 
You try not to overhear, letting his conversation drone into a buzz. There’s enough work to be done without worrying about his personal life. Your own afterhours concerns are more than concerning. You wouldn’t say you have much going on and that’s the problem. It’s moment like those that ease your envy of others’ full plates. 
You haven’t seen the girls lately. The group chat’s been quiet but you suppose you could go ahead and say hi. Your weekly cocktails petered out to biweekly, then monthly, and now you can’t remember the last time you let go with a mimosa. 
You peek over your desk and back at your screen. It’s not only on them to keep things going. You pick up your phone and open the chat. The last message is a meme Elfie sent about printers. You shake your head and send a little waving sticker, keying in a message. 
‘Long time no see! I’m in need of drinks. Anyone free? When’s best? Hope you’re all taking care.’ 
You’re professional tone shines through even on WhatsApp. It’s a bit lame but you’re an entirely different person in text. Most people are surprised to meet the mousy secretary hiding behind her screen after the lively back and forth in Outlook. 
You set your phone down and try not to stare at it. A reply never comes while you’re waiting for it, nor does water boil when you’re watching it. As you click around and try to remember where you were, the silence sinks in. Your realisation brings your eyes up as quickly as Mr. Rogers shadow. 
You bat your lashes at him in surprise, “need something, sir?” 
He gives a half-smile, the type weighed down by disappointment. He sighs and crosses his arms, leaning on the door frame, “you hungry?” 
“Um, well, it’s only eleven,” you shrug. 
“Mm, yeah,” he unfolds one arm to rub his neck, “I’m restless. You feel like getting lunch early?” 
“Sure, I can run out and grab you something,” you stand eagerly. 
“No, uh,” he drops his arm back over his other, “together. I had a reservation for me and Peggy but she canceled. I’d hate to inconvenience the restaurant and I just can’t sit and mope in my office.” 
“Oh, okay, I guess that works...” 
“Do you need to ask your boss?” He scoffs. 
You laugh at his joke, “do I?” 
He smiles, a real smile and drops his arms, “my treat. You know what, you earned it. You work so hard around here, a little employee appreciation is overdue.” 
“That’s so nice,” you chime, “uh, sir, I... I should leave an away message, should I?” 
“Oh, who cares, come on.” 
“Well, I mean...” 
“Ah, I get it, boss is a real hard ass,” he winks. 
“Sir,” you giggle nervously and teethe your lip. He watches your mouth. 
“You can catch up later. Come on, I haven’t played hooky in years.” 
“Hooky?” You stammer. 
He laughs, “a goody two shoes. It’s why I hired you but it’s okay to let loose once in a while.” 
“I know, Mr. Rogers, it’s just... it’s work.” 
“Too much of it and you’ll turn into me,” he huffs. “Please, I’m sure your husband would hate if you were never home. Never answered the phone.” 
“If I had one, probably,” you blurt out then look away shyly. 
“Really? I thought...” he begins and shakes his head, “doesn’t matter. I’ll grab my jacket and we’ll go. I missed breakfast.” 
“Um, sure, sir,” you agree and put your hand on the phone. 
When he turns, you look down. Missie sent a reply; ‘please, drinks are required!’ Ooh! Yay. 
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ange11icyuri · 13 days ago
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PICK A PILE ♡
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Based on some quotes I randomly chose with my eyes closed lol let’s see if this resonates! :) pick a pile and in each pile shares a deep message that may or may not resonate with you but if it did resonate please leave a like or comment below bye bye now!
Pile One. ♡
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I feel like a lot of you want to be loved. You want your heart to be filled. You want to be loved more than anything. To be happy. To be understood by someone. You long for something that you may feel would never happen for you but oh yes it would. It can happen for anyone. It takes time. Just because it hasn’t reached you yet doesn’t mean you wouldn’t find the love and happiness you’re longing for. You will find the person who will love you and understand your soul better than anyone. Just keep positive.
Pile Two. ♡
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When people do you wrong or hurt you, you feel the need to brush it off or say that you’re okay or it’s okay or you’re fine even when you’re not. Maybe you don’t really know how to talk about these feelings or maybe you do know how but you may feel afraid that if you put it into words how you felt hurt by a certain situation the other person would not understand you maybe you feel like you get misunderstood a lot when all you want is to be understood and not taken the wrong way. You also want to be able to express how you feel without it being a big deal and being able to work on those feelings rather than sit on it and not say anything at all when you’re hurting. You want to find your voice but you’re afraid. It’s going to be okay don’t be afraid!
Pile Three. ♡
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You may feel afraid to start new journeys, or to go through those changes that may feel scary at first because it’s something new that you’d never experienced and the scariest part to anyone is starting but once you got the hang of it you won’t feel so afraid anymore so push forward and go ahead with the start of your day even if it’s scary because at the end of the day everything takes time to get use to but you still get use to it and it becomes a normal for you.
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samandcolbyownme · 5 months ago
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Summary: After years of being split apart from your group, due to being taken and relocated by the Saviors, you run in to not only one familiar face, but specifically, the one you were searching for this whole time.
Warnings: strong language, apocalypse setting, swearing, mentions of knives, guns, bows, other weapons, mentions of killing (both humans and zombies), some descriptive text, reader gets taken by the saviors, mentions of scars, fighting, AGE GAP - friends to lovers, reader likes Daryl, Daryl hides the fact that he likes reader, some flirting, nothing too spicy lol
Word count: 4.9k | not edited also my first Daryl fic so be nice :)
A/N - I’m writing this for me, yes, but I’m also this for the ones who have a problem, I mean… are attracted to men old enough to be their father, so please do NOT read if age gap relationships make you uncomfortable! This also is more or less my version of the walking dead, the group meets Negan, but not like in the show.
ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ᖭི༏ᖫྀ
FIVE • Y��ARS • AGO
There was no denying that you were Daryl’s favorite person to go on runs with, anyone that just showed up could tell you that.
You were fast. Efficient. Very get in and get out type of girl. You didn’t fuck around, and Daryl loved that - but he’d never tell you that himself.
He also swore to never tell you that he wanted you around him because you made him happy in ways that he didn’t really like to talk about.
You were like a breath of fresh air to him, you picked up what he liked and what he didn’t like almost right away, you were one of the very few people that he didn’t get tired of being around all the time, hence why you join him every time he goes on a run.
He wasn’t much of a talker, the very first two runs together, you got a few mumbles out of him, mainly telling you where to go and when to look out.
But, that was until your third run of many run with Daryl. It would be silent, and he would almost scare you with just talking outright.
It wasn’t more than a, ‘how’s your day?’
Or maybe a, ‘ya sleep last night? Y’look tired’
You would always give him a quick, straight to the point response, ‘tossed and turned all night, might need a new blanket or somethin’
Or you would tease him slightly with something along the lines of, ‘Days better now that I’m out runnin’ around with my bestie.’
He says he hated when you called him that, but he would always chuckle and try to hide his smile by pointing out something ahead.
You would go with it, rolling your eyes subtly before you squint, “Daryl, I think you’re seeing things.” You look over at him, “or you’re just scared to talk to me.”
He’d scoff, “Ain’t scared of nothin’, darlin’.”
All you could do was smile and look away, mainly to hide the red on your cheeks from being spotted.
It really wasn’t that Daryl was scared, it was just, as slightly embarrassing as he thinks, he didn’t know how to talk to you.
He would always try to remind himself that you aren’t this delicate little flower, you can handle yourself. If you couldn’t, he would have never stumbled upon you.
You both would keep moving, not really stopping unless a walker or something came out of the tree line. The more runs you added to the list, the more you realized that you were patient enough to wait on him.
You really did have all the time in the world.
Were you also young and twenty one years old? Sure. But in this world, you’d always like to think, What’s it matter, really?
You had to roll with what you found, and you got lucky that day Daryl found you under a fallen tree - long story short, he helped you out and as soon as he knew your name, he couldn’t help but want to bring you home with him.
And that’s what he did.
Daryl has also spoken, well, more or less make comments to Rick about the girl from the woods. He’d beat around the bush as his eyes followed you across the way, watching as Carol showed you around, “y’know that girl I brought in?”
Rock would nod, “Y/n?”
A smirk would play sure Daryl’s lips as he replays you taking out two walkers at the same time, “Little young, though. Ain’t she?”
Rick shook his head, giving Daryl’s shoulder a squeeze as he stood up, “You deserve what ever makes you happy, Daryl. We make our own rules now.”
——
“There was a convenient store on the corner of one of these roads.” You look at Daryl then glancing behind you, “I figured.. if we don’t find it today.” You glance back and then forward, “We can try and hit it another day.”
“Would ya stop fuckin’ doin’ that?” He looks behind you and then at you, “really freakin’ me out today, y/n. What’s goin’ on with ya?”
“Sorry.” You sigh, shaking your head, “I just have this really weird feeling like we should have just stayed back today.”
“You wanna go back?” Daryl stops as you take a few steps ahead before turning around. He nods back, “We’re not that far away, if y’feel safer goin’ back-“
“I’m not letting you go out there alone.”
“I’m not goin’ back.” Daryl was stubborn, but so were you, “Then so am I.”
He scoffs quietly, shaking his head as he nudges you with his elbow, indicating you to walk with him. You turn, staying a little bit closer to Daryl as you make your way down the road.
About an hour away, you stand up from the last of the boxes in a semi fallen down shed, “Nothing.” You turn to Daryl and he shakes his head, “Got the same over here.”
“No where?” You look around the room and he shrugs, “should prolly just head back, it’s gonna get dark here soon.”
The weird feeling you had from earlier returns and you sigh, “Not to be annoying, but I can’t shake this feeling.”
Daryl clenches his jaw, “Alright, it’s alright.” He picks up his crossbow, “C’mon now.”
It’s the way Daryl makes your heart warm with the simple, nonchalant ways he makes sure you’re okay, trying to make sure you’re calm without actually letting you know that that is what he’s doing, but you know.
You’ve come to know Daryl better than anyone in the few short months you’ve been at Alexandria.
“Did somethin’ happen or, what?” Daryl asks as he glances over at you, trying to keep up with your slightly faster pace.
You shrug, “I just feel like something is going to happen, Daryl.” You look over at him, “Something bad.”
——
Your feeling was proven to be worth something because the moment you entered through the gates, you were gunned down, Daryl, too.
“Gimme your guns.” A tall man says in a sing-songy tone as he bends down, looking you right in your face, “And your cross bow.” He looks over to Daryl and Daryl wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.
The man stands up, walking over to lean down in Daryl’s face, “Now.”
“Y/n. Do it.” Rick says catching your attention. Only your eyes move towards Rick, hands up as a gun is pointed right next to his temple, “Daryl. You, too.”
“I’d listen to your boss man, alright. I don’t feel like killing anyone today, which is..” the man tilts his head, scratching at his temple, “Odd, but anyone. Consider this your one time act of kindness because I can promise you, from here on out, ain’t gonna be purdy.”
You tilt your head, taking your gun from your shoulder and laying it down. You take your pistol and set it down next to the rifle, “That’s all I have.”
“Mm.” The man tilts his head, “I don’t believe you.” He grips your bicep hard, causing you to yelp as he yanks you forward and onto your feet.
“Let her fuckin’ go!” Daryl yells, and you know he’s already trying to get up, but the moment you get to look back, there’s a gun in his face, blocking his view of you.
You’re thrown up against the side of the old and dusty moving truck, groaning as your head ricochetes off the side with a thump, “Fuck, ow!”
You bring your hand up, pulling it away to see red when you feel a wetness on your skin.
“You mother fu-“ Daryl starts to yell, but the man puts a gun to your temple, “I’m just trying to do my job, now shut the fuck up or I’ll really give you something to fucking yell about.”
You keep your eyes on Daryl, watching as his eyes quickly move between you and the man holding you hostage.
“I’ll keep it professional.” He taps your shoulder, “Arat. Come check her for weapons.”
You were scared shitless.
You didn’t want to die, or anyone else to die.
Who are these people, you thought as the woman behind you slid her hands roughly over your body, “Simon. This is her.”
You head shot up as Simon, supposedly, laughs, “No fucking way.” He steps back, “Negan is going to love this.”
“Who’s Negan?” Rick asks and Simon turns around slowly to look at Rick, arms spreading out to his sides slowly, “We’re all Negan.”
Simon points to you with his thumb, “Load her up.”
The uproar that happens within your people is instant and there’s a shot fired into the air, making you flinch.
“That’s e-fuckin’-nuff.” Simon yells, “The girl is coming with us, and there’s-“ he raises his voice, “Nothing you can do about it.”
He walks you back to the truck, motioning with his gun for you to get in.
You take one last look at Daryl before you start to get in, heading Simon chuckle as he sighs, “Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t. We’ll be back with more orders. Until then, stay the fuck here or more we will kill your beloved.. whatever she is to you.”
Simon looks at Daryl, “You got that Robin Hood?”
Daryl holds his heated stare onto him and that’s the last thing you see before the door shuts.
——
“Well, well, fuckin’ well. What do we have here?” A deep voice boasts from behind you. You wiggle your wrists and close your eyes, feeling a presence move around you to your front.
You open your eyes and you’re met with a rugged dude in a leather jacket, a baseball bat that’s wrapped in barbed wire tightly secured in his fist, “You must be the girl who knows her way around those dead fucks out there.”
“What are you talking about?” You look up, eyes meeting the tall, older man and he just chuckles, “A few of my men saw you take on a group, I dunno, five or six deep..” he points to you with each word, “..All. on. your. own.”
You shrug, “I’ve been out there a while.”
“And how longs a while, sweetheart?” The man asks, squatting down in front of you.
“Two years with a group, three on my own.” You say quietly, your brain reminding you about the night had no other choice but to go off on your own.
“Holy shit.” The man shakes his head, “You hearin’ this shit, Simon?”
“Arat said it was her. I can get Gavin to confirm, too.” Simon answers and the man nods, standing up to pull a chair over in front of you, “If I untie you, you promise you’ll play nice?”
You were disgusted. You wanted to go home.
You wanted Daryl. You wanted Daryl more than anything.
You nod, hands gripping the arm rests as his knife slides between your skin and the rope, flicking the blade upward to get it to cut open.
He repeats it to the other side and leans back, “You seem like you have a pretty name.” He tilts his head, fingers rubbing over the stubble on his chin, “Do you have a pretty name, sweetheart?”
“Y/n.”
“Y/n.” The man repeats in a whisper, “Damn. That is pretty.” He shakes his head, smirking as his eyes take in your, very nervous figure sitting in the chair, “Look.”
The man leans forward, “I’ll tell you this, alright.” You keep your eyes off of him, which seemed to upset him. His voice grew louder and his hand reached up to tightly grip your chin, “Look. At. Me. When I am talking to you.”
You force your eyes to his and he picks up speaking where he stopped, “You’re a little spit fire out there, okay. Which mean, you’re a delicacy to your little asshole groupies back at that shithole, what was it called? Alex- some for bullshit?”
“Alexandria.” You mumble out, keeping your eyes on his. He tilts his head back, his hand still gripping your chin, “Oh, oh. Right. Yes. Alexandria.”
The door behind you opens and the man drops his hand, “Gavin, my man. I need you to tell me if this is the girl you say in the woods a few weeks ago.”
The man stands up, spinning the chair around for, presumed, Gavin to see you. His eyes move over your body, “Does she have a tattoo or some sort of mark on the back of her left arm?”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“When she lifted her arm, it-“
“Lift your arm for me, sweetheart.” The man spins you towards him and you have no other choice but to oblige, you strongly feel that the other choice is death, which you can not allow to happen now.
You pull your shirt sleeve up and the man scoffs, “Bing-fucking-o.” The man shakes his head, “Get a team together, we’re going to meet the people of Alexandria earlier than expected.”
He looks to you, “Take her up to a room. A good room. She hasn’t done anything to not deserve it yet.” He winks at you and you look down as you feel a hand grab your bicep to lift you to your feet.
“Do you have any questions for me?”
You stop, turning to look at the man with the baseball bat resting on his shoulder, “Who are you?”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He walks over, tilting his head as he looks down at you, “I’m Negan.”
——
Your first day here was scary. You cried yourself to sleep, worried both about Daryl and the rest of Alexandria.
By the next morning, You were itching to get out, constantly looking for a way to escape, but they had so many people, no matter where you looked, you had eyes on you at all times.
To your surprise, the last week you spent with what you heard them call themselves, The Saviors, wasn’t in a stone cell like you pictured them doing the second you left that room on the first day.
You really didn’t know why.
You kill zombies, big deal. Doesn’t everyone else on this fucked up planet?
“Come with me, honey pie.” Simon says as he pulls you along with him, “Your time to shine.”
You’re taken outside, squinting at the brightness of the sun shining down from above. You couldn’t help but take a deep breathe, it’s the first time you’ve been outside in days.
“Get in and scoot over.” Simon commands and you climb up into the truck, your eyes meeting Negan’s as he steps up to sit into the passengers seat.
You don’t say a word to him. You just face forward as Simon smooshes you between him and Negan as he closes the door.
“So you and Robin Hood, huh?” Simon asks, referring to Daryl. You shake your head in response.
“Listen, sweetie. One thing we do around here, is answer people questions, with the words we learned how to speak. Got it?”
“Yes sir.” You say, clearing your throat, “No, me and.. Robin Hood are not a thing.”
“Seems to care about you like he does. You catch onto that Negan? The way he wanted to rip your throat out yesterday?” Simon chuckles, “Aw the look in his, man. I tell you what though, if looks could kill, you would have been dead.”
“Gonna have to take more than a nasty look to kill me.” Negan chuckles deeply, “Oh looky here.” He points, looking over at you as he sings, “honey.. we’re home.”
Your heart was racing as you seen Rosita motion to open the gate.
You watch her face shift into a shocked look when she caught glimpse of you through the windshield.
As you drive in, coming to a stop, you already see Daryl, front and center with Rick.
“C’mon.” Simon motions to you and you slide over, allowing him to help you down before you follow him around the truck. He pulls you closer to him, the click sending a shiver down your spine.
“Alright. Here’s the deal. You all want your badass, Duffy the zombie slayer black, but I don’t know.” Negan glances back at you, “She could be useful to me.”
You see Rick tighten his grip on Daryl’s vest and you send him a loving look.
“That thought didn’t even cross my mind, but you know what, how about this, If you want y/n back, give us half of your food today, and I want, we’ll make it easy.. ten guns by next week.”
“T-ten guns?” Rick asks baffled, “by next week? Negan that’s.. don’t you think that’s a little impossible?”
“Fine, make it fifteen by Friday, or you can say goodbye to the only chance you all actually have at surviving.” Negan points to you, “As you can she, she’s alive and well, now.”
Negan motions to the truck, “Let’s go.”
You shake your head and Simon grabs your arm roughly and you pull back, letting your fear get the best of you, “No, please. Nono, please no! No!”
Your pleads only set everyone on your side off, yelling and trying to push past the wall of Saviors.
Knives are drawn and you’re held to Negan’s chest, “Listen here! I make the rules. I have something you want and now, you’re going to go off and fuckin’ get me what I want. I’m done negotiating.”
“Negan, please. Just let y/n stay an I pro-“
Negan cuts Rick off, “You promise what, Rick? Huh? You already doubted yourselves with getting ten-“ He gasps, “Sorry, I mean fifteen by next Friday.”
He laughs, shaking his head, sighing as he brings his bat, Lucille, next for your face, “what makes you think you can handle the load of getting this thing here back.”
Daryl’s eyes squint as Negan calls you, this thing.
You swallow, glancing around.
You can take on six walkers, but not this many saviors, the walkers didn’t have rifles pointed at the people you’ve come to love and care for.
“Why are-“ Negan scoffs, “Why are we even still discussing this? You know what. Fine.” He pushes you to the back of the truck and you stumble, silently begging for help.
“If you’re going to cause this big of a fuss instead of just doing as I say..” Negan looks at you, “Then no one can.”
He shrugs, pointing Lucille at the open back, “Get in, or I kill someone.”
——
P R E S E N T • D A Y
You held your breath as you pushed your back up against the tree, waiting for the stray walker to move past you, knife at the ready just in case.
You slip around the tree, opposite way from the dead before you continue your journey through the woods.
It’s been, almost five years since you were left stranded in the middle of god knows where by Negan and his Saviors.
You weren’t even sure if they were still a thing or not, but jokes on them, you’re still alive.
And you’re full of fight.
You stopped at the river, bending down to feel the cool water on your fingertips. You’ve been walking all day, and you just needed to take a second.
You look up, taking in the scenery for a few moments before it all starts to becomes, familiar.
You stand up, looking around as your heart starts to pound. You shake your head, laughing slightly as you bend down to grab your bag.
If this is the river you were thinking of, then this river runs directly past your grandfathers cabin, and you can only hope that if Daryl was alive and out there looking for you, that he comes this way.
He should know about this, you stumbled upon it while on a run the one day. You remember about it, but all you knew was that it was next to the river that looked really pretty when the sun was setting, and it still does.
You only had about two hours of sunlight left, and you didn’t know how far you had to go yet, or even if you were going in the right direction.
If this cabin was here, maybe you could finally get a decent nights sleep, that is if it isn’t destroyed by walkers and the storms that plow through.
“I’m going to go get some more firewood.” A woman’s voice sounds through the trees. You stop, moving, furrowing your brows as you try and listen, but she’s already moving, walking away from the small building.
Your cabin.
You feel like you could throw up.
You turn around, trying to see if you can get a glimpse of who she was talking, too, but nothing.
“Raise your hands and turn around slowly.”
You whip around, catching her off guard before her face settles, “Holy shit.” Carol laughs slightly, “Daryl is going to lose his mind.”
She pulls you into a hug and you hear her sniffle, “oh my god, look at you.” She leans back, hands sliding over your hand and down your face, “You grew up.”
You smile slightly, your mind going back to who’s in the cabin, “Is he in there?”
“Every chance he got.” She shakes her head, “So much has happened.” You see the pain in her eyes but you opt to keep things happy right now, “we can talk later. I want to see Daryl first.”
She nods, brushing hair from your face, “Im so happy you found your way back.”
“It was hell, but right now, totally worth it.” You take a deep breath, “You go in first.”
She nods, walking a head of you as she leads you back towards the cabin, “Hey Daryl.” Carol calls as she smaller back at you, “I found something that you’re going to want to see.”
You stand by the fire, the glow illuminates you as you stand there waiting to see his face for the very first time in five years.
The feelings you had, never went away.
“What’d ya fi-“ His face falls and his arms go limp by his sides as he shakes his head, “No fuckin’ way.”
Tears well up in your eyes as Daryl slowly steps down off the porch, “No fuckin’ way.” He looks at Carol and back to you before quickly making his way over to you.
“Where the hell ya been?” He grabs you, pulling you into his chest tight, “I thought you were dead, I-.” He leans back, looking over your slightly older looks.
“Negan told us that he watched you get attacked by walkers.” Carol chimes in, finishing what Daryl couldn’t, “He brought back your necklace, there was blood on it.. we didn’t..”
You keep your hands on Daryl, your fingers moving under the sleeve of his jacket, “Negan snapped that necklace off my neck before they dumped me in the middle of nowhere.”
Daryl scoffs, pulling you closer to rest his chin on your head. Carol smiles as she watches the affectionate radiate off of him.
“They drove me way past the city, too. I don’t know. I’m pretty sure they drugged me or something because I was out for most of the trip.”
You feel Daryl’s grip tighten with your words and you shake your head, laying a hand on his bicep, “So much happened.”
You think back to all the stuff you had to do just to make it back to here, cringing at yourself.
“Ya hungry?” Daryl asks changing the subject and you nod, “Starving.”
——
Since the minute you found them, Daryl hasn’t left your side, and Dog right by his.
You were able to handle the news of the deaths and destruction among your group and homes, it hurt to hear, but it’s better that you know how than walking in expecting everything to be all sunshine and rainbows.
ou cried, but there was one question you needed the answer to.
“Are the Savior’s gone?” You looked up at Carol as she looks to Daryl. Your attention moves to him and he nods, “Ah, yeah. Yeah. But..”
“What?”
“Negan is at Alexandria.”
You’re on your feet, “What.”
“It’s only tem-“
You turn, walking away from Carol as she tries to explain, but you walk over to a tree, pressing your hand into it.
As you take a few deep breathes, you feel someone walking up to you, “I just need a minute.” You tilt your head, closing your eyes as you swallow the feeling of wanting to puke away.
“S’alot to process.” Daryl mumbles, unsure of what to do, “Take your time.”
Do you resent him now?
Are you going to leave again?
He wanted you to know everything, but he wouldn’t have if that meant you leaving again.
“Daryl?” You wave your hand in front of his face and he blinks, “Sorry I just..” he shakes his head, “please don’t leave me again.”
“Leave you again?” You laugh slightly, letting out a sigh, “Why would you think that I’d leave you? I’ve been looking for you.”
“I haven’t stopped. I came here because I-“
You smirk slightly, “Because you actually paid attention to your bestie?”
He gives you a small smirk, shoulders heaving as he laughs ever so slightly, “You’ve changed..” Daryl brushes his hand over your hair, his thumb gently brushing over your face, His brows furrow, “when did you get this?”
His finger brushes over the scar on your top lip, “Did someone do this t’you?”
“One of those assholes that pushed me out of the car, hit my face on a rock.” You shake your head, “It’s just a scar, Daryl.”
Which was one of many you have received.
“Sorry I-“
“Don’t. Don’t do that.” You shake your head, “What happened to me wasn’t your fault, okay.”
All he does is nod but you frown slightly, “Have I ever told you that I liked you?”
“I don’t think you’d come on runs with me if ya didn’t.” Daryl looks at you and you tilt your head, “No, like..” you bite your lip and sigh.
He laughs slightly, “M’old enough to be your daddy, y/n.” You smirk up at him, getting ready to say something but he pulls you towards him, “Watch out.”
Natural instinct, you have your knife in your hand within a second and you both swing around, the blades of your knives entering the dead’s skull in unison.
You look at the knives and back to Daryl, “Either way I look at it.” You pull your knife from the walker, “You and I will always have unfinished business to take care of.”
Daryl shakes his head as he withdrawals his knife, “You think?”
You lay your hand on his chest, “I know.”
You couldn’t let yourself feel what you’ve pushed through, but both Carol and Daryl can see that.
“Hi, boy.” You bend down to pet Dog, your shirt riding up to reveal a slightly bigger scar than on your lip. Daryl’s eyes fixate on it right away and he clenches his jaw.
Before he can ask, you stand up, “You fix up everything?”
“Yeah, go take a look.” Daryl sniffles and walks towards Carol as you walk into the cabin. Memories of growing up here flood through, almost breaking that barrier until Dog pushes between your legs, whining as he trots in.
“Do you need anything?” Carol asks walking up beside you. You shake your head, hesitating to look over at her at first, “No, no. I’m good.”
“We can head back to Alexandria in the morning.” She rubs your back, “It’s really good to have you back.”
You smile, nodding, “It’s really nice to not be alone.”
“What happened out there?”
You shake your head sluggishly, “I don’t-“
“Okay.” She says quickly as Daryl walks in. You look up at him, “I think I’m going to go lay down.” You walk over to where your bag is and sit down.
You bring your knees to your chest, eyes focusing on Dog as he glows in the light of the fire.
A few moments later, Daryl’s footsteps move closer to you. He stays silent as he moves to sit next to you. He brings his arm out, laying it around your back as he pulls you into his side.
You immediately fall into him, your head on his chest, arm around his torso. He inches back, just enough to lean against the wall for support.
Daryl looked down at you, gently playing with strands of your now long hair, it was just a little past your shoulders when you were separated.
You lost weight from having to scavenge for any food that was safe to eat.
He knew what you went through was tormenting you, he just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone.
“Look at me, y/n.”
You roll over into your back, head in his lap as you stare up at him.
“When you’re ready to tell someone, m’here f’ya.”
You close your eyes as his hand strokes over your hair. You haven’t felt this safe in a while, so you were just trying to soak it all in without having to worry every single second of the day and most nights.
“I love you.” Daryl whispers, “Should’ve told you that years ago.”
“It’s about time you say those words to me, Daryl Dixon.” You sit up, keeping your chest on his arm as you lean in, “I love you.”
——
I started to hate this towards the end but I NEEDED to get this off of my chest. I hope you enjoyed. As always, I love you so much. Thank you for reading! 🖤
likes and reblogs are majorly appreciated!
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chugging-bleach · 3 months ago
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"SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO." - the 4 times you almost met jason and the one time you did.
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summary. you regret not speaking to jason todd in high school. then, another masked vigilante by the name of red hood seems to make all your regrets dissolve.
tags. fluff, light angst, slight hurt/comfort, slow burn, eventual happy ending
a/n. this idea came from a jason todd x <y/n> fic i am in the process of writing (if you would like to know when it comes out, follow or check out my ao3). i hope you enjoy reading this <3 feel free to request anything you would like to see me write.
the first time.
gotham high, located at the heart of crime alley, was for lack of a better word shitty. you hated studying, you never got along with anyone and prayed that the time went by fast. the only thing that made you keep going back to high school was staring at that handsome boy with bright blue eyes and ratty black hair who sat a seat ahead of you. how he made it to first place each year was a mystery to you since he was constantly skipping class.
what kept you going was looking forward to that one day he would attend class and then you could stare at the back of his head to make the time go by faster. one day you knew that you would want to freeze this moment and make it last forever, but for now, staring will do. not like jason would care and catch you looking.
then one day he completely stopped showing up. you thought he would come back. but then you graduated. without him ever returning. you hated yourself for never trying to talk to him. you should have spoken to him rather than staring holes into him. actually, staring at him must have been super creepy. were you the reason why he stopped coming to school? creeped out by the girl who bore holes into him, just staring and staring? regardless of the real reason, you know that you would always regret not talking to him. not being able to thank him for making school a little better.
the second time.
as was routine for gothamites, you get saved from some large attack from some big shot criminal at the hands of batman and robin. you were a bit upset at being saved since you really wouldn't mind dying at the hands of a rouge robber. you had nothing to look forward to. there wasn't enough money to go to university. bills piled up no matter how many jobs you worked.
you snap out of your thoughts when robin puts a shock blanket around you and instead of being grateful, you throw it on the floor. you remember that you have to get back to work otherwise you'll be behind on rent again.
"where are you going?" batman placed a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
"work," you simply say.
"stay put for a while. we need to make sure you're alright."
"well, i won't be alright if i don't work and miss rent. again."
you just talked back to the batman. maybe he will kill you and then you might die quicker than working yourself to death.
"let me handle this one," and then robin is making you sit down next to him. you were trying to avoid robin knowing that you will project your regret on to him. the regret of never being able to talk to jason since both jason and robin have eerily similar features. work is just an excuse. you need to leave.
"please. i won't make rent. let me go."
"mad respect talking to him like that. but, you inhaled some poison gas. take the antidote. then you can go back."
"give it to the others here. i don't give a fuck."
you know you shouldn't be this angry. but you are this angry. at yourself. and robin has made that anger surface.
"how about i give you something to look forward to? then you'll stay for the antidote?"
"the person i looked forward to seeing disappeared before i could talk to him," you say before you can stop yourself. you feel ridiculous admitting it, that just staring at some random boy gave you hope. but it did. and now that boy wasn't there anymore.
"that dumbass didn't know how lucky he was."
you shook your head. "he truly is lucky. he was adopted by bruce wayne. i just... he made school less shitty even though he doesn't even know who i am and before i could thank him he was gone. it's stupid, i know, but i just wanted to say thank you to him. like, thank you, jason. that's it. and i'll never get to say it."
robin puts the shock blanket around you again. he was silent. "i'm sorry for saying all that. but now that i said it, i'll thank you instead of him." you turned and stared at robin's eye mask, imagining it was jason. it wasn't that difficult, considering they both had the same bright blue eyes and ratty black hair.
"thank you, jason for not getting creeped out by all my staring." you feel much lighter. maybe you just had to talk to someone. robin rises from your side.
"i'm sure that dumbass heard your thanks, though i'm sure he doesn't deserve any of it."
third time.
life at gotham, heart of wacky and dangerous criminals, was for lack of a better word still shitty. you never saved up nearly enough to go to university but managed to get a decent-ish job at three diners which paid nearly enough for being located in gotham.
you were wiping down table tops and listening to the news playing the death anniversary of jason todd, bruce wayne’s adopted son. it was tragic to die that young. and you were surprised the news didn't leave you as heartbroken as you had thought it would.
you continued wiping down the counters, when for the third time today, thugs burst in and demanded to be served. as per policy, you served anyone especially the dangerous sort. before you could get menus for them and think of how to explain to the next diner that yes, thugs broke in after her shift ended yet again, a person wearing a red helmet/mask comes inside, drags the thugs outside with a "not so fast," and that's that. your shift's over. instead of missing the next job, you will be arriving late, which won't be that difficult to explain.
you finish tidying up and leave.
the strange man with the red helmet has tied up the thugs and left them at the side of the pavement. he is ready to leave on his motorcycle. you make a move to leave, accustomed to strange costumed people taking care of thugs like this.
"for all that trouble, want a ride?" you think being kidnapped won't be too bad. not like you have anything to look forward to.
"sure."
just as quickly as he had tied those thugs up without fanfare, you were sitting behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. you whispered the directions of the place adding, "didn't know this was part of the whole hero thing. giving people free lifts to places."
"you would be surprised how much money i burn on gas for these free lifts."
he drove way too fast. you tightened your hold on him, afraid you were gonna fly off. any conversation was impossible with the loud noise of the engine. but it felt freeing to go this recklessly fast.
"wonder who you need to see here."
oh no. you gave the wrong directions. you were not planning to do this. damn the news for reminding you. you promised last year was the last time you would do this.
before you can stop yourself, you're crying. you were heartbroken after all. "i don't know why i do this to myself each year. he never even knew me," you choke out. you had gotten off the bike at some point, expecting this person to leave.
"if it gives you peace to visit this person, you should. besides this punk is lucky to have you visit him."
ignoring the sense of deja vu you were getting, you shook your head. "jason was anything but lucky. he died so young. i never knew him. i wish i knew him better." he lended you his shoulder to cry on. you had more regrets than you had previously thought. "he did not deserve to die young."
your tears sat on top of his leather jacket and you moved to wipe them away with your napkin. instead, he stops you, wiping your tears away with the pads of his gloved fingers.
"he seriously is a lucky boy to have you visit and cry for him"
fourth time.
you were saving up money to move out of this shithole. nothing was tying you down to this place and there were new vigilantes and new villains rising everyday. none of the other cities were safe, but you had heard they offered better jobs and more affordable bills. less leaky ceilings. you never went to college so jobs still were a little difficult to get, but otherwise, you would be paid more as a server at anyother city, except gotham. if not working for wayne enterprises, jobs were a struggle in gotham. life was a struggle. you remarked upon how you made it this far.
then, someone broke through your window.
the first thought - for fuck's sake, who was gonna pay for it?
second - oh it's red hood, he will pay for it.
this is not the first time a vigilante crashed through your window. being a gothamite sucks.
you brushed the pieces of glass away from his leather jacket and surveyed him for damage. he did not seem hurt. only mildly annoyed. the red helmet wouldn't be enough to conceal his reaction from her.
"coffee as per usual? along with the window repairs and cleanup?"
you swear he is frowning under that helmet. not at you, but at the person who threw him. you don't wait for his answer, already preparing his coffee.
"help me up?"
"what? are your legs broken?"
"they are if you will carry me."
"red, combining you and the rest of your little clique this is the tenth time my window has been broken. sixth time by you, alone."
the person you met on jason todd's death anniversary was red hood. he was an anti-batman vigilante and you couldn't have given two shits. except, red made you give two shits. after that first day at the diner, he kept coming back to pick up food during your shifts. when the diner inevitably burned down, he came to the other diner you started working at. then it was crashing through your apartment window. then it was crashing with robin through your apartment window.
you were overjoyed when he came, but it was best you push him away before he got too close, and up and disappeared like jason had. looking forward to things like this was a curse.
"hope i make it to a seventh. seventh times the charm."
"charm for what?" you say, slamming the mug in front of him, with a little more force than you wanted to.
"for my charm to work on you." he winked and took a sip from the cup. his other hand rested on top of yours and your heart wrenched in your chest. you really wanted to know red hood better. you wanted him to keep crashing through your window instead of entering through the front door. but then he would die during patrol and you would have nothing more to look forward to. again. you carefully free your hand from his, ignoring his puzzled expression and the dejection you feel separating from him.
you have to stop this. "listen, you shouldn't see me anymore."
"why?
"i don't...don't need you to disappear too. jason disappearing was horrible and he wasn't safe with the most powerful billionaire in gotham. you break in through people's windows. what if next time you break something? like your spine or..."
you expect red hood to laugh at you. you were a minuscule, microscopic part of jason's life. he shouldn't be this huge a part of your life. if he were alive, you knew the regret wouldn't eat you up inside. but he wasn't alive. you couldn't hold that moment as a happy memory of a stupid thing you did in high school.
"all i'm hearing is, breaking your window is fine but not my bones. i guess that's doable."
you smack him, knowing that it wouldn't even hurt. "i'm serious. besides, once i have enough money, i will be moving out of gotham. don't come here. please." you were miles away from moving out. you knew red hood knew that.
you did this to save yourself the hurt and regret, but as you saw him leave from the front door, you knew you caused yourself more hurt and regret than last time. jason was far away from the beginning. you had chances to get to know red hood better. used to have chances.
jason was dead. red hood was right in front of your eyes and interested to keep seeing you. you had messed up.
he would never come back.
the last time.
instead of wallowing in your heartbreak, it was time to give back to the community you grew up in. moving out was an impossible dream you gave up on. instead, you got more involved in elder homes and joined their knitting circles.
it had been a month since red hood was gone. you couldn't believe it had been an entire year since you saw him, on jason's death anniversary of all days. yes, you couldn't help but regret that you made another mistake. red hood knew about you and wanted to know you better, to the point where he broke into your house.
like clockwork, you went to go see jason's grave, finding out that the grave wasn't there anymore. it wouldn't be there anymore at the request of the wayne family.
you cried outside the gates of the cemetery, knowing that this wasn't where he was laid to rest. jason's real body was in wayne manor, not here. this was for the public.
with red hood gone, you had nothing left to look forward to. you were a dumbass.
"need a ride?" you thought you were hallucinating. you looked up with teary eyes and confirmed it was the red hood. except, his helmet was off. you stared at him, dumbfounded. he had dishevelled black hair and bright, blue eyes. you sniffled, letting him drag you to your feet. you shook your head.
"jason's grave isn't here."
you were clutching the flowers in your hands. the red hood took them from you and bowed, pink flushing his cheeks.
"yes, that's 'cause i'm here. thanks for the flowers."
you gaped at him. "you're jason? you mean your name is jason too?"
guess it checks out. red hood knew about your strange connection to jason todd so he didn't tell you his real name. he chuckled, pulling you close, pressing a gentle kiss on each of your glistening cheeks. if you weren't shocked, you probably would be ecstatic about this development.
"it's time you learnt more about jason todd rather than staring and let me learn about you, <y/n>. i have been looking forward to learning more about you."
//bonus//
jason had no idea about before the diner incident. he remembered the (y/n) from when he was robin, once they arrived at the cemetery. but, he didn’t remember anything from high school as he barely attended. then, his crush on (y/n) was born.
the batsiblings were tired of seeing jason delay his confession, so they threw him through the window. once jason took tim with him. this totalled the count - three times tim as casualty, one time jason and tim, six times jason. all the costs were billed to bruce wayne as 'civilian casualties' code for ‘of course we broke through the window. it’s the batmove to pick up chicks.'
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woewriting · 1 year ago
Text
cherry lips
pairing: wednesday addams | reader warnings: mdni! ooc wednesday/soft wednesday, established relationship, implied sex at the very end, no pronouns used but the word 'girlfriend' is used once. word count: 1521 a/n: i'm late for wdw, i know, but i couldn't let y'all and @wesstars down... better late than never, right?
masterlist
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When you moved to the small town of Jericho and started working at the only coffee shop around, you didn’t expect to get anyone’s attentions, especially from the local “freaky”. Wednesday Addams was full of surprises and secrets and, apparently, everyone here knew a bit about her.
Gossips followed you around like fog in the morning after a raining night, the eccentric Addams always being the subject that echoed inside the brownish walls of the café.
“I’ve heard she eats raw meat,” a high school student dressed in black and blue uniform said to her friend, no caring enough to at least whisper.
The other just nodded, not paying attentions to her surrenders, not even when the little bell above the entrance door jingled.
“My father told me her dad killed someone in Nevermore when he was a student… imagine being the daughter of a killer.”
“Imagine being the daughter of a former police officer who was expelled from the police force for not being able to solve a simple case that happened more than 20 years ago.” The tranquil voice caught your attention, causing you to turn on your heels behind the counter.
Wednesday was standing next to the table where the two students sat, arms crossed and a deadly shine in her eyes. You smiled.
“Miss Addams, please stop terrorizing the small girls, they know nothing about life,” you spoke once you saw the reddish color in the girls’ cheeks.
“They better learn fast; life is not gentle.” She turned her head to you. “And neither am I.”
“Oh, should I fear for my life?”
You tilted your head, trying to get Wednesday’s attention in order for the girls to go back to the other students of Nevermore. The raven girl redirected her body towards you, taking steps until she was standing in front of the cashier.
“You most definitely should.”
Head motioning for the girls to leave, you placed both of your hands on the icy, black marble that covered the top of the counter.
“If I die, who’s going to make you your favorite cherry muffin?”
“Before I met you, I survived just fine without the sweetness of it in my daily life, I’m positive I can do it again once you’re gone.” She lifted her chin. “Now stop staling and bring me a double espresso, no sugar and a cherry muffin before I start terrorizing you instead.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes as she turned to sit on the costumery table.
Putting the cherry muffin in a plate, you turned to the Italian coffee machine with an empty white mug in hand and freshly brewed coffee in the other.
As the bitter liquid slowly filled the porcelain, flashes of the first time you were face to face with Wednesday took over your memory. She was so small in her black and white Nevermore uniform, looking like an old school cartoon, disappearing behind the other students as she patiently and quietly waited in line to order. She stared at you, taking two steps ahead when the last person in front of her moved away with their order in hands, taking a seat with the others, black eyes that didn’t blink and looked dead, the pale white skin didn’t help either. Not a single mark on it, you noticed, except for the adorable freckles that spread over her small nose bridge and covered the surrounding area of her cheek bones.
She was polite and calm, unlike the others, speaking in a monotone voice that actually surprised you.
Wednesday ordered a small size espresso with no sugar. You offered her a muffin, freshly out of the oven and still warm. She was reluctant in saying ‘yes’ at first, but something in you convinced her.
Once the mug was filled, you placed it side by side with the muffin, smiling and murmuring a small ‘I hope you like it’, to which she replied with: “Thank you,” extending her hands to take the plate and mug of the counter.
She looked at the red-blood muffin before looking at you, giving you a small nod of her head before walking to an empty table.
You watched as she sat herself down and stared at the small cake in front of her, you licked your lips, curious to know if she would like it or not; it was your favorite, after all.
Wednesday tilted her head to the side, analyzing the sweet in front of her, internally admiring the color of it and how the powdered sugar on top of it reminded her of snow covered in blood.
Taking the wrap of it, she hesitantly took a bite of it, slowly chewing it. You bet your lips, anxiously standing behind the counter. She then took another bite, and another one, and another one, rapidly finishing the muffin.
You smiled to yourself, finally changing the focus of your attention.
Now, almost 7 years of the first interaction, you still secretly admired Wednesday as you waited for the coffee to fill the small sized mug. But now was different, she started drinking a double espresso to maintain her brain awake and cherry muffins became a part of her daily life.
But only if it was made by your hands.
Once the porcelain turned bitter black, you left your place from behind the corner and sat them down in front of the goth, taking the empty seat in front of her.
“Thank you,” Wednesday said simple, eyes focused on the yellowish pages that had all her attention.
“A new case?” You asked, curious, taking a look around the nearly empty coffee shop.
“A runner found two dead bodies in the woods on Saturday, the captain assumed I’d be interested and gave me the case this morning.”
You pursed your lips, a tight knot in your stomach as your eyes analyzed the super graphic images that decorated the table. Pushing the images away from your point of view, you wondered how Wednesday could eat the red-blooded muffin while looking at actual blood.
As if she could read your mind, black painted nails reached for the small cake, her eyebrows sewing together once she saw what you did, “Care to explain what this is?”
You pursed your lips, containing a smile. On top of the sweet, a white skeleton’s head was drawn, black, deep-hollowed eyes filled with dark chocolate chips with a sewed-like smile under and dark red blood dripping from its eyes.
“I made it for you, Halloween is near, and I figured you’d like it.”
“I can see that. What I want you to explain is why there’s blood coming from its eyes. Bones can’t bleed, there’s no tissue that can carry blood vessels or veins, it's just bones.”
You rolled your eyes, “It’s a cupcake, Wens. Just eat it.”
“Fine.”
When she took the first bite, dark red filling dripped onto her hands. It was a mix between the sweetness of sugar and the sourness of cherry combined that only you could do it perfectly.
“So… did you like it?”
Wednesday chewed and swallowed everything, licking her lips to capture the remained syrup, missing a small drop on the corner of her mouth. The tip of her fingers covered in the cherry liquid.
“It’s too sweet, next time don’t add any sugar to it. It’s not healthy. And it’s also too sticky and messy. I need a napkin.”
Reaching out for her hand, you sucked the tip of her fingers, closing your eyes at the sweetness that filled your mouth.
“You don’t need a napkin, you have a girlfriend to clean it for you.”
Wednesday widened her eyes at your action, looking around to make sure nobody saw that. The coffee shop was empty as it was almost noon and everyone was either at work or at school, only the two of you occupying a space inside.
“That was unnecessary.” She said with an affected tone.
“It was very necessary, I needed to see if it was too sweet.” You stood up, taking the empty plate in hands. Before returning to the kitchen, you leaned into her personal space, noses touching and the smell of her perfume filling your senses, that small drop being the only thing you saw in front of you. “You have some here too.”
The moment the tip of your tongue licked the red syrup, so close to her lips, Wednesday grabbed the mug near her hands, squeezing it hard enough to break if it was made of fragile material.
Before standing up properly, you pressed a chaste kiss to her lips, tasting the sourness in it.
“I’ll make sure the next ones aren’t too sweet for you, cara mia.” You winked, rapidly walking back to the counter to start preparing the muffins for the afternoon clients. And for your bitter girlfriend that cursed you under her breath for fogging up her brain with your tongue, taking away all the concentration she needed to solve this murder case. One that would need to wait after she locked the door, turned the open sign to ‘closed’, and dragged you by the hand to the supply closet.
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mariasont · 6 months ago
Note
THE BIMBO RECEPTIONIST WAS SO CUTE
now id like to introduce, goth/metalhead!bimbo!reader x spence ( more of the opposites attract vibe )
super dark clothes and jewelry and looks like elvira a little bit, maybe a few piercings and tattoos for spencer to oogle at
Brooding - S.R
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a/n: EEK i hope u love this as much as i loved writing it :)
bimbo reader has my heart <3
masterlist
‧₊˚ ✩°。⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆。°✩˚₊‧
pairings: spencer reid x goth!bimbo!reader
warnings: mmm none! fluff! just two cuties being cute!
wc: 0.6k
Your pen was a flurry of motion, streaking bold lines upon the sketchpad. Technically, you should be sorting through the endless stack of files, keeping them pristine and accessible for the agents. You were always ahead of your tasks, and this job, while not earth-shattering, mattered to you. But when you had a muse as captivating as yours, it was hard to put the pen down. 
That muse being the man rifling through the files before you, his face a masterpiece of pretty lines and angles, unaware of the intensity of your focus. You contemplated expressing your admiration aloud, but the idea seemed a little too forward. So, you poured that impulse into a portrait, tracing the contours of his handsome face.
But it proved difficult to accomplish with his relentless pacing. Each step he took sparked another round of redos on the pad. Your tongue, tipped with a silver piercing, unconsciously found its way to your lip as you wrestled with the proportions of his nose, erasing furiously to get it just right.
You let out a sigh, louder than intended, and it was enough to pause his steps. "Sir, can you please stand still?"
He looked utterly baffled, lifting his brows toward his hairline. As your eyes met, he pointed to his chest, his question simple and unsure, "Huh? Me?"
A quick nod sent a ribbon of dyed hair fluttering before your eyes as you beamed at him. "Yes, you! Please, if you don't mind," you murmured, your fingers racing over the paper. "I just need, like, one more second."
He stood frozen, brows remaining quizzically raised. Why he complied, he couldn't say, but the sight of you, so engrossed in your art, your necklaces chiming in time with your movements, and how your bold makeup seemed to frame your face perfectly kept him rooted to the spot.
You peered up through your lashes, giving him a sheepish grin, cheeks lightly flushed as you set the pen down.
"All done! You're free to go. Thanks for being so patient," you chirped, gently waving the paper in the air as if to dry the ink faster.
"Can I at least see the result of my patience?" Spencer asked, his approach casual yet expectant. 
You hugged the sketchpad to your chest, a gentle laugh escaping you. "Well, I don't usually just let anyone see my work, especially strangers."
Spencer's smile was tinged with amusement.
"Considering I'm the subject, I think I have some claim to it," he joked. "And by the way, I'm Spencer Reid. There, we're practically acquaintances now."
You couldn't contain the goofy grin that spread across your face, and a giggle bubbled up from your throat.
"Well, since you put it that way, I suppose I can make an exception," you said, drawing out the last word with a wink.
The portrait made Spencer do a double-take--it was him, but as if seen through a gothic, moody lens. His usual composure cracked, and a deep, genuine laugh broke through. 
"I never knew I had such a brooding side," he commented with a smile. "I look like I stepped out of a Brontë novel. Perhaps Heathcliff on one of his better days?"
Your head cocked to the side, hair cascading over one shoulder, looking at him through lashes heavy with mascara as you shrugged.
"Heathcliff, huh? I'll take your word for it, but I get the brooding part," you said, with a bubbly laugh. "Come on, it's so you."
Spencer fiddled with his tie, raising a brow.
"I'm not sure if I should be flattered or concerned," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he felt a pleasant heat rise to his cheeks.
You squinted sightly, pretending to mull it over.
"Flattered, for sure," you said. "Broody types are just secretly plotting world domination, right?"
He grinned. "Well, maybe not world domination, but certainly plotting something."
Your voice was light, but your question was pointed. "So, what are you plotting, Spencer? Should I be worried?"
He tried to remember what Morgan had taught him.
"Absolutely. But some things are worth the wait--patience, you'll see, can be quite rewarding."
And with a promise like that, you found yourself more than willing to wait. 
taglist: @hotchhner @khxna
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majorbuckegan · 7 months ago
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prettier than a peach (john "bucky" egan x reader)
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In which you're his favorite nurse, and John Egan tries his hardest to win your heart.
Words: 1.8K
Warnings: Bucky Egan is a warning all on his own. Fluffy, fluffy fluff.
Disclosure: Please do not copy my work on any other sites. I will be posting this here & on ao3 shortly. This fic is based on the characters brought to life in the Apple TV series Masters of the Air, not the real people the characters were based on.
Note: Peach!Reader is going to make many appearances, I'm going to make this a series. Without further adieu, enjoy.
It all started on a Saturday morning. It was early—really early. You hadn't really expected to have anyone walking around near the infirmary, but at half past 0300, you heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, with slurred speech and another low voice arguing.
 You get up to look out the window, and not a second goes by before the door swings open. You recognize the two men instantly: Major Gale "Buck" Cleven is half dragging Major John "Bucky" Egan into the infirmary. 
"Morning, ma'am." Major Cleven's blue eyes zero in on you immediately, and he offers you a kind (and apologetic) smile. "My buddy here had a bit too much to drink and got himself into a scuffle with some guys at the bar." 
Your gaze flickers to Major Egan, studying him with a calculating gaze. He's going to have a black eye, you notice, and he's holding onto the left side of his ribs. It's not the first time you've heard of the Major getting into a fight, but it's the first time it's happened on your shift. 
"Alright, Major." You're addressing Egan now, coming to his side to support his left side. "Let's get you settled in bed so I can take a look at those ribs." 
You are wholly unprepared for the absolute human hurricane that is Major John Egan.
"Tryin' to get me in bed already, doll?" His words are slurred from too much alcohol, but his voice is deep and husky, and you hate the way it makes you shiver. "I don't even know your name."
Major Cleven sucks in a breath and rolls his eyes. "John Clarence Egan." That accent drawls his friend's name, and his tone is very much annoyed. "You're in the presence of a lady—a nurse—for crying out loud. Behave."
"Oh, c'mon, she walked right into that one." He insists, "She thought it was funny. You thought it was funny, right, doll?"
Stormy blue eyes are suddenly fixed on your face. It's almost like time stops for you; of course you've seen him around before, but the moment you really look into his eyes, it's like you can see your whole life ahead of you. He's quiet now, just watching you, and he finds himself absolutely anamored with the delicate blush working its way onto your face.
"It was a little funny." You admit it, but you don't meet his eyes again. You're too afraid of what you'll see on his face, because while you're falling hard and fast at first sight, he's only flirting with a woman. That's all it is to him, you're sure of it.
His chest is warm when you open his jacket and roll up his shirt. You have to ignore how beautifully masculine he is on order to focus on your job. Your eyes flicker to his abdomen, and sure enough, there are wicked bruises starting to show on the skin that covers his ribs. You're pretty sure they're not broken, but you have to be sure.
"This may hurt." You warn him, your fingers prodding gently at his side, and he hisses quietly under his breath. You don't feel anything out of place, but he'll definitely need a few hours of rest and something to ease the pain.
"Your hands are freezing." He grumbles, and before you can say anything, he's got both of them in his much bigger, warmer hands. "There, that's better."
"You're unbelievable, John Egan." Major Cleven speaks up from behind you, his tone more exasperated than anything else.
You carefully extract your hands from Major Egan's, and you try to ignore the way he pouts when you're no longer touching him. "I'll keep him overnight for observation, Major Cleven. Make sure he rests and heals up a bit."
Major Cleven looks strangely relieved, but still, he frowns. "Are you sure? I can handle Bucky; I don't want him causing you any trouble."
His gentle demeanor makes you smile. "I appreciate that, Major, but I've dealt with far rowdier men than Major Egan here. You go on and get some rest; I'll handle this."
Major Egan looks irritated that you and his best friend were talking about him like he wasn't even there. "Just call me Bucky. Or I'll take John." He tells you, his tone demanding, his lips pulled into yet another pout.
"You behave yourself." Major Cleven points a finger at him, his face stern. When he turns back to you, he offers another warm smile. "You might as well call me Buck, too, since you're saving me from trying to sleep in the same room as that one while he's drunk."
You offer your name in return, and you offer a comforting smile as you shoo Buck off to bed.
It's quiet for a moment after the other Major takes his leave. You wonder if the alcohol has made Major Egan fall asleep. You're surprised to see his eyes open and staring directly at you when you turn around.
"Can't remember if I've ever seen you around before." He says, his words still slightly slurred as he speaks. You can't recall ever having heard a voice like his before. Gravely, warm and steady, even with alcohol in his system. "I'd remember that face; you're so pretty."
"And you're drunk." You answer, turning away before he can notice that you're blushing. You've dealt with flirty airmen before, but this is the first time it's really gotten to you. "Get some rest, Major."
He's quiet for a moment, and you're grateful for a reprieve from the flirting as you mark the log book with a pencil. The only noise for a few moments is the lead scratching against the paper as you write.
"I'm gonna call you Peach."
When you turn back, his lips tug into the most heart-stopping smirk you've ever seen. "You could just call me Nurse." You point out, and for some reason, that only seems to egg him on.
"Well, I like Peach. You're prettier than a peach. Sweet as one too; look at that blush." You're sure you've forgotten how to breathe.
"You're a menace." You answer after you've finally gotten a hold of your emotions. "And it's early; you need rest. Sleep."
"How about a goodnight kiss first?" You almost toss the log book at him. Almost. "Just one on the forehead, and then I'll sleep. Scout's honor, Peach."
You sigh, your eyes darting over his face for a moment. Sure, he's a flirt, but you've never heard of him ever harming a woman. So you walk over to his bedside and lean down.
His forehead is warm, an errant curl tickling your cheek as your lips press against his skin. You feel him shudder under the touch of your lips against him, but then his breathing evens back out as you lean away.
"Alright, Major, you got your kiss. Now sleep." He doesn't miss the way your eyes flicker to his lips and away again, but he does as he's told and rolls over onto his side.
After he falls asleep, the morning is quiet. Your shift at the infirmary ends at 0600 and the nurse who comes to relieve you doesn't seem surprised to see Bucky there. She rolls her eyes and huffs a laugh as you explain how he came to be in a bed in the infirmary.
He's shifting awake as you're leaving, and his blue eyes have just enough time to focus on your retreating form before you're gone. He was a little saddened; he'd been hoping for one more kiss.
Outside, the air is still cool, and the sun is just beginning to peek beyond the horizon. The inky blackness of the sky is lightening to a shade of blue that looks like Major Egan's eyes, and God, you have to stop thinking about him. You really didn't need to get attached.
You pass Buck on the way back to your quarters, and he waves at you with one of his dazzling smiles as he passes. He's wearing his uniform, and you know that means he'll be out in the sky soon enough. You return his smile and wave happily.
Exhaustion sweeps through you as you enter your quarters, and you make quick work of taking your hair pins out and wiping your makeup off. By the time your head hits the pillow, sleep pulls you under. The only things on your mind as you fall asleep are dark curls and blue eyes.
***
Hours later, you blink awake. There's still sunlight flittering in through the curtains over your window, and you sit up to stretch your arms and shoulders. It had to be close to dinnertime, and your stomach rumbles as you slip out of bed and dress in your uniform. Sometimes you missed your dresses back home, but you always felt a sense of pride in your olive drab skirt and jacket. You make sure to swipe on your Victory Red lipstick before you leave.
Placing your cover under your arm, you slip out of your barracks just to come face-to-face with a man. Not just any man, either.
"Peach!" He's still loud, his face wide and warm and friendly. His breath smells like the peppermint gum he's chewing, and his eyes are clear. "Don't think I didn't see you slip out of the room before I could ask for my morning kiss."
He's smiling so brightly that it's like looking at the sun. He's all white teeth and dark curls and blue eyes, his cover tucked under his arm. He's got a single flower in his free hand. You've never seen someone look so devastatingly beautiful.
"Major." You greet him, and it's a good thing you didn't put on blush when refreshing your makeup because your face is hot now. Just from looking at him. "What brings you to the women's barracks?"
"I told you, Peach. Call me Bucky. Or John." His grin never falters. You want to kiss the corner of his mouth, nip at the jawline. He's got so much energy and vitality, and your heart beats so loudly that it's a wonder he can't hear. "Well, I came to offer you this gorgeous flower I found on my way over here and ask if you'd like to dance with me tonight."
You'd forgotten all about the party tonight. A crew completing their 25th mission—you hadn't really planned on attending, but you find yourself very tempted to go. "I'm not really the party type." You admit that, and that dims the light in his eyes a little. You regret the words immediately.
"Just one dance." He steps in closer, taking up more space. He's so tall and broad-shouldered; the man takes up so much room that it makes you feel small in the best way. "For your favorite patient? After all, you did give me a good-night kiss. That's gotta count for something."
Your mind rewinds to that moment, when he was fever-warm and shivering under your lips, when you'd wanted so badly to let him kiss you all over. If you weren't blushing before, you sure are now. "Alright, Bucky," You have to ignore the way he lights up when you use his nickname. "One dance."
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calicoups · 11 months ago
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౨ৎ sheet masks & kisses — csc
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synopsis you couldn’t let those sheet masks you ordered go to waste, could you? pairing seungcheol x fem reader genre fluff. word count 1.3k hani’s note just terms of endearment for reader (doll, sweetheart) and use of scissors (for its intended use, of course). literally thought of this as i was doing my skincare before bed. and also i miss my cutie cherry bunny guy :((
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seungcheol’s shoulders shake with laughter at a video of a cat falling on his phone. it’s actually amusing seeing the things seungcheol finds funny. you swear his laugh could heal someone.
at this moment, you’re laying comfortably on seungcheol’s chest who is splayed out on the couch. you’re not doing anything in particular, just admiring seungcheol. you play with his brown locks, the silver chain around his thick neck and you poke his cheeks, pink lips and his dimples whenever they pop out as he smiles.
you swear a family of eight could live in his dimples.
there’s this glow on his skin, it makes you jealous how beautiful he is and so effortlessly at that. your finger travels upwards from his jaw on the left side of his face to his forehead then back down on the right side of his face, finger landing in the dip above his collarbones. the indent above his clavicles are deep due to the way he’s laying on the couch.
“cherry?”
a ��hm’ sound echoes in the room, his chest vibrates. seungcheol pauses the video and looks at you, giving you his undivided attention.
“do you wanna do sheet masks with me?”
“sheet masks?” he cocks his head to the side slightly.
“yeah, i ordered a bunch two weeks ago and they came a few days ago but i didn’t have anyone to try them with,” you pause, “wanna be my testing buddy?”
“testing buddy, huh?” he muses, “let’s do it!”
without saying another word, you scramble off of seungcheol and disappear to grab a few sheet masks. when you return, you notice that seungcheol has gone back to watching those cat videos while he was waiting for you to get back. you tap his knee and hold out the different sheet masks, fanning them out like a deck of cards.
“take your pick: lotus, shea butter, green tea or mung bean?”
“hm,” seungcheol puts a finger on his chin to exaggerate his thinking then puts that finger on a packet, “i wanna try lotus root.”
“green tea for me then!” you put the rest on the coffee table, “do you want me to do yours first or mine?”
“can i do yours first, please?”
you think you might die there and then. cause of death: seungcheol saying please.
when you agree to his request, he lets out a quiet yet excited ‘okay’ and plants his knees either side of your body. using his hands, he pushes back your hair, “don’t wanna get it trapped under the mask.”
then, he grabs the green tea extract mask you picked and very, very carefully rips it open, slipping out the wet sheet. and all you can do in this moment is simply stare at seungcheol. he’s doing this with almost trembling hands, wanting to be so careful with the mask, not wanting to tear it as he unfolds it and not wanting to startle you as he places it on your face.
the mask is definitely bigger than your face, it bunches up at the ends and becomes annoying for seungcheol as he tries to smooth it down. remembering a video he saw, he wipes his hands on a tissue from the coffee table and gets up from his spot.
“wait here, i’ll be back in a second,” he ruffles your hair and walks away to grab a pair of small silver scissors.
“are you going to do what i think you’re going to do?” you watch as he straddles you again, scissors in hand. you admit that he looks a little crazy right now, kneeling above you with the scissors in his large hands.
“depends on what you’re thinking,” he tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, “i saw this trick somewhere to make your mask fit better because your face is so tiny.”
“oh yeah, i’ve seen that! go ahead, just don’t poke me.”
“i would never, doll.”
seungcheol uses his thumb and forefinger to lift the mask so that the scissors don’t touch your skin, snipping at three spots: the nose bridge, upper lip and chin. he uses his fingers to connect the cut pieces together then leans back to look at his work.
at some point, he had grabbed a mirror on the way back from retrieving the scissors and he hands the mirror to you which you use to inspect for what feels like a while because how is he so good at this?
“i’m just too good, aren’t i?” seungcheol puffs out his chest in pride and you gawk at him then back at yourself in the mirror.
“yeah,” you mumble, “a little too good…‘cus who else have you done this on, huh?”
“excuse me?” seungcheol dramatically places a hand on his chest, “only you, sweetheart, you know that!”
you laugh at his exaggeration, “just teasing you, cherry.”
seungcheol folds his arms over his chest and pouts before mimicking your pose on the couch next to you, “whatever, it’s my turn so get over here.”
since seungcheol’s legs are stretched out, you take this opportunity to sit on his thighs instead of kneeling like he did. you kiss his pouty lips, “such a cutie guy.”
“here,” he hands you the packet of the sheet mask and you take it to tear it open.
the sheet is cold at your fingertips and the liquid coats them. seungcheol holds his hair back for you to lay the mask on his face. to no surprise, the mask fits perfectly on his face and doesn’t even need sizing it down like yours did.
seungcheol stares at you, his brown eyes following yours. you know what he’s doing. he’s making sure that you know you have all of his attention, that he’ll do anything you ask, may that be big or small, silly or not.
you copied what seungcheol had done to your mask and flatten his, getting rid of bumps and making sure it stuck to his handsome face properly. you were almost done but seungcheol being seungcheol, he can never be serious. he captures you with his arms and pulls you close to his chest, squeezing his arms around your body.
“this is payback for the same thing you did to me last time, doll.”
you can barely get your words out with the strength he’s using, “what did…i do last…time?”
“you did this too! said you were loving me or something?”
you never forgot, you just wanted to taunt him because you love when he's on the receiving end of your teasing comments.
“let go! i can’t breathe!” you wiggle in his tight hold and he finally spares you. you put on an act of trying to catch your breath, seungcheol scoffs playfully, “i didn’t even squeeze you as hard as you squeezed me, doll.”
“yeah, you got me there. but you weren’t affected by my strength, anyways,” you point out, “you’re way stronger than me.”
“maybe you should come to the gym with me next time.”
“yeah, yeah,” you pat your face to check the mask, “hey, i think we should remove the masks now.”
you both take the mask off and stuff each one back in its packet.
“okay, now pat the extract in!” you instruct and gently pat at your skin. seungcheol just watches.
“why aren't you patting it in?” at this, seungcheol doesn’t say anything but tilts his head up to gesture at you to do it for him. so, you use your hands to do seungcheol’s job, palms curving at his cheeks as they tap repeatedly. you get more aggressive with each tap and seungcheol’s eyes close shut at each contact of your hand with his cheeks.
“okay, now you’re just borderline slapping me.”
you squish his cheeks together and kiss his lips, “sorry, need your skin to absorb it quick.”
“i need to be compensated, doll.”
“compensation? for what?”
“for all the slapping!”
“i wasn’t slapping but fine, i’ll compensate.” you huff, “what must i do?”
seungcheol puffs out a cheek and taps it, you press a kiss to it. then, he turns his head and puff out the other cheek, you kiss it. he does it again and you can’t help but giggle at his antics yet you follow without protest.
“how many more kisses do you want?” you punctuate each word with a kiss to his cheeks.
“hm…one more?”
you sigh loudly because seungcheol points to his lips this time. say less, you would gladly kiss his lips anytime.
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kelin-is-writing · 5 months ago
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Some of you… Guys… who lack empathy and overall emotional intelligence, kinda love to run your mouth waaaaaay too much and end up saying things that make 0 sense. This fandom is also waaaaay too comfortable with victim blaming Rei and Touya for everything that has happened to the Todorokis while Endeavor gets away with it, for no reason at all at that.
“OhHh BuT hE fElLs SoRrY fOr EvErYtHiNg He DiD”
I’m going to be completely honest with you all: I don’t give a flying fuck that he’s now swimming in his sorrows. He better be drowning in them actually. Because there’s a consequence to everything we do. ALWAYS. Besides, if he was going to feel ohh so sorry about what he did to his family, then he simply shouldn’t have done none of it to begin with.
He can’t go on fill his child like a balloon the way he did and then expect said balloon to not explode after he had blew way too much air into it. That’s egotistical.
You also can’t buy your wife (who was still a minor at the time), have her pop out kids like she’s some kind of kids machine for your greedy needs and even force two of them on her before you go ahead and start physically and mentally abusing her, then expect for there to not be any repercussions on your family’s relationships.
Blaming a kid who got his whole life and being manipulated and then gaslighted by his own father, who remembered he indeed had an eldest son only when it was too late, and a woman who was sold to a greedy, egotistical, egocentric, narcissistic and selfish man when she was a kid who had one option worse than the other (We all know that the Himuras ain’t any more sane than Endeavor) is so weird guys, please.
Touya was treated like a human weapon by his own father, who as soon as he saw no more use in him and his quirk just casted the kid aside (which was before Natsuo was even conceived btw). So where’s the favoritism in this? Where? Because I can’t see it anywhere, no matter how hard I look for it. And why is that? Because there’s none. So you lot can stop being delusional about this topic, ‘cause it doesn’t stand up not even if you force it. You can’t erase the manipulation (into making him think he could become the #1 Hero, surpass All Might for his father and be the strongest) and then the gaslighting (telling him he can’t do any of that anymore since his quirk won’t permit it, telling Touya he should give up on his dream because it will never happen after Endeavor ingrained all that into his mind) just like that, then call all of this favoritism. Do you all even know what favoritism is? Or you just find out words on the Internet, ignore completely their meaning, and run with them blindly? Because I am bewildered by how some of you guys be coming on here to just say anything… Touya got failed by his parents and his siblings, because he was ignored and neglected by his siblings as much as he was by his parents (Shoto excluded because Endeavor was busy grooming him this time around) but none of you guys even call them out on Touya going through all of that alone, for some reason, while being okay with what Natsuo and Fuyumi told him as soon as they got into the battlefield. Like they ain’t bad siblings too and Endeavor wasn’t the reason they all lost each others as a family, literally do not piss me off I beg. I’m firmly convinced some of you guys pick and choose who you defend in the Todofam, but like… Everything you guys say makes no sense? It just shows me that some of you lack, as I said at the very beginning of the post, empathy and emotional intelligence. Which is sad.
You all can say “We’ve all gone through hard times alone” as much as you want, but that is not normal at all, towards any time of relationship but especially towards family. It’s not healthy and it can hurt a person a lot, making them close in themselves and when it starts to hurt from the inside the moment you stop getting all of the pent up stress inside it’s no good at all. And for the record, Touya (or just anyone) venting or opening himself to Natsuo about what he’s going through it’s not trauma dumping. It’s never trauma dumping if you genuinely care for someone (clarifying this before any of you emotional ignorant peoples come at me about this 🫠). So Natsuo and Fuyumi being in all of this too shouldn’t be used as an excuse for pushing their brother’s concerns and feelings under the rug, families are supposed to go through these type of situations as a family if they want to keep living happily as such, but they remembered this after one of them died and their youngest sibling was being still raised as a fighting machine by their abusive father. So, mind you, but they all (except Shoto) owe Touya some big ass apologies written down on a letter with tears if I gotta be honest.
As for Rei; she became a mother young, went through a lot all alone because mind you Mr. Husband was waaaaay too busy trying to groom their son into a Hero machine that could beat someone he is incapable of beating (Because a nullity will always be a nullity after all, even when becoming a #1 after the former #1 retirement, if they insist on projecting ofc) to help and guide his young and inexperienced wife through a wedding like theirs. How was she supposed to not lose her mind after being sold, neglected, beaten up, verbally abused, forced to pop out kids like a gachapon, seeing her fourteen years old son lose himself into the void because of his father and then he dies too, without never getting love nor affection from his father (the one he looked up to) the way a kid wants, needs and is supposed to get which is something I’m 100% sure led her to depression. You all diminish too much the grief a mother feels when she loses her kids. There’s much a mother, a human, can handle; and for Rei it got to a point where every trace of Endeavor disgusted her so much her whole body rejected his entire existence leading her to a mental breakdown. One that was due to come earlier if we think about it, but she was strong enough for her remaining kids until she couldn’t do it anymore. What she did to Shoto is wrong, I know and I acknowledge, but she’s a traumatized person who sees her abuser everywhere she goes because, unfortunately, it’s the person she was forced to marry. She apologized to Shoto right away, because she was still mature and sane enough to recognize her mistake right when it happened.
But Endeavor’s ego is so big that it took him his eldest son nearly blowing everyone up and becoming a walking torch before he finally apologized to the whole family for his wrong doings of 10 years prior. Which is crazy to me.
So I’m gonna need you all to stop erase Endeavor’s wrongdoings and try to gaslight the whole fandom into blaming Rei and Touya for the mistakes of someone else, because they’re the biggest victims in all of this shit.
That being said, hope y’all get well soon 🫶🏻💜
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cosmerelists · 4 months ago
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If Other Stormlight Characters Served as the King's Wit
As requested by anon. :)
"The King's Wit" is there to insult people in the king's stead. In this role, Hoid basically gets to stand at the entrance to feasts and make fun of people. It's a good gig for him. But what if other characters had this job?
1. The Stormfather
Stormfather (rumbling with displeasure): You have broken an oath today. Stormfather: You promised your son that you would play "Shattered Plains" with him this afternoon, but you did not. Stormfather: Though you feast for today, my storm winds shall one day scatter your dishonored bones. Elhokar (visibly sweating): Ha ha my new Wit sure is, ah, intense!
2. Kaladin
Kaladin: Ew. Another Lighteyes... Kaladin: Sniff, sniff! Smells like the exploitation of the powerless in here! Kaladin: I can name a dozen men better than you and guess what--they're ALL darkeyed. Kaladin: Nice outfit--did it come free with your ancestral privilege?  Elhokar (muttering to himself): I will not put him in jail again, I will not put him in jail again, I will not...
3. Shallan
Shallan: [sketching] Hapless Lighteyed guest: Is that...me? Shallan: It is! [shows Ideal Self portrait--it's the same person, only their sadness and distrust is gone and they shine with an earnest and honest light, looking out toward their future] Hapless Lighteyed Guest (visibly tearing up): I...It's beautiful. Shallan: Please, go ahead & take it! Elhokar: Shallan-Wit, why is everyone at my feast introspective and crying? Shallan: I'm really good at art.
4. Adolin
Adolin: Wow! You are so brave to put those colors together, and in a style from two years ago ago! Adolin: You are almost pulling it off. 
5. Dalinar
Dalinar: Hello. I could not help but overhear your heated argument, my friends. Dalinar: It reminds me of a tale from the Way of Kings, which I will now quote from memory... Dalinar: ... Dalinar: Aaaaand, they fled. Dalinar: That's the third time that's happened this evening.
6. Ialai
Ialai: [hands hapless lighteyed guest a folded-up sheet of paper] Hapless Lighteyed Guest: W-Where did you get this information about me? And my husband? And my...former boyfriend's sister's cousin? Ialai: [merely smiles] Hapless Lighteyed Guest: W-What do you want? Please! I'll do anything! Ialai: Why...nothing at all. Yet. Please enjoy the feast.
7. Lift
Lift: Mmmm....4. Lift: A solid 6! Lift: Perhaps a 5, but ONLY because of those pants. Lift: Wow! An 8! Wyndle: P-Please mistress, I don't think the job of the King's Wit is to rank the butts of all attendees! Lift: They need to know.
8. Jasnah
Hapless Lighteyed Guest: Ugh, I don't think it's right for the king to employ a heretic as his Wit! Jasnah: It's strange--one might think that your faith in the Almighty would inspire you to strive to be a good man, yet in reality your mother weeps each and every night to have produced a son who loves drinking and gambling more than he loves his children, his wife, or indeed the Almighty. Jasnah: Should you wish to inspire faith in others, perhaps you should try to demonstrate even the smallest reason why yours has produced an iota of good for anyone in this world aside from yourself. Elhokar (across the room, watching): I...am afraid.
9. Lopen
Lopen: Hey, I know you! I got a cousin in your army! Lopen: He always laughs 'bout how weird it is that your officers make the men pay for their own boots 'n' stuff 'cause it's an army not a charity, right? But then your officer son gets an allowance which is funny 'cause that kinda seems like the 'charity' thing that an army isn't! Lopen: We Herdazians tend to use a word to mean a thing, yeah? But you Alethi sure like to make a word mean whatever it is you want!
10. Szeth & Nightblood
Nightblood: Evil. Evil. Evil. Definitely evil. Big evil! Little evil, but still evil. Szeth: You've identified every guest so far as evil, sword-nimi. Nightbood: Yeah, I'm so good at detecting evil! So when does the slaying start? Szeth: I told you. I don't murder entire parties anymore. That is my past, but it does not have to be my future. Nightblood: But you're the King's Wit! You got wit-tle down the evil, right? Szeth: That is not what that means, sword-nimi. Nightblood: ... Szeth: ... Nightblood: People sure do speed up when they have to walk past us, huh? Szeth: I am pretty sure that means we're doing a good job.
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