#man people on here are way too nice 💖💖

[thatthirstyweirdo]

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Strange as Fiction 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, delulu behaviour, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your visit to the library results in more than borrowing books.

Characters: Nick Fowler

Note: Deluluverse is ever growing.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Three books. That’s not too much right. You will read them after all but it feels a bit greedy. Well, you wouldn’t consider imagination a vice. 

You browse the spines and nearly hop in your boots. That would be embarrassing. You put a finger up, hovering it in front of the book that caught your eye, the touch it. You ease it from between its neighbours carefully. Like an artifact being uncovered from deep in the earth.     

You read the back. You know this one! It’s back in stock. You’ve been dying to read this. Not many authors write about this particular figure. It’s always Marie Antoinette or Victoria I. They can be fun but the genre quickly grows repetitive with the same cast of characters. 

You add it to the pile. Four. That’s more than enough. It won’t be but you tell yourself that. You accept yourself, your tendency to shut yourself in, to lose yourself in other worlds, other times, but you try to believe you could be more than that. 

You turn and lift your head. You keep from squeaking in surprise, recalling the rules of the library. The man at the end startles you. You blink and wipe the mindless smile from your face. That was for the books, not him. 

You look back to the shelf, weighing your options. You stand there for a moment, pretending to continue your perusal. He doesn’t go. You thought he would. These fictions aren’t necessarily written for his demographic. Well, maybe the ones about Arthur and his knights. 

You could sidle along, excuse yourself, and be on your way. Or you can double back and go down the next aisle. The latter is safest. 

You’re not used to company. Not even at the library. You like it because people keep to themselves. Also, the books. All free as long as you bring them back. 

You shuffle to the end, stopping to read over another summary, before you go to the next row. As you turn down it, the man does the same from the other side. You hesitate but keep going. You can’t go back now. That would be too obvious. 

You get closer and keep to the right side, hoping to pass him without bother. He stretches his arm across the breadth of the aisle and pens you in. You stop and reel back. You look him in the face. 

He’s not unattractive. Blue eyes, square jaw, thick hair. Though the grey patched in his beard suggests he has some years on you. And his suit... he has no tie. The jacket is a grey plaid that’s a bit too loud. The men you see here button up to their chin or wear hoodies with anime characters. 

“Hey, you ever read this author?” He taps a book without looking. You open your eyes wide and follow his finger. His silver watch peeks out from beneath his sleeve. You wonder why a man with such nice jewelry doesn’t just buy his books. 

You nod. Then you turn and lean to see around him, “excuse me.” 

He doesn’t move. “Hey,” he chuckles, “I was hoping for some advice. They any good?” 

You suck in your lip and look down at your armful. You shake your head. “Not my taste.” 

“Ah, well, I’m open to suggestion,” he dips his chin and runs his finger along the top of the book at the front of your stack. “What’s that? Shanawdithit? Never heard of that.” 

You stare at his lapel and take a deep breath. “She was Beothuk.” 

“Ah,” he nods. “Interesting.” 

“Didn’t see any other books about her...” you trail off as you look over your shoulder. “Erm, I gotta go--” 

“You got quite the stockpile. Let me help,” he offers. 

“No, that’s--” 

Too late. His large hands grasp the stack and he takes it from you without a struggle. You stare, slightly shocked at his brazenness. “You headed for the desk?” 

Your eyes flick back and forth. You nod, speechless. 

“Right, well, let’s go.” 

He turns and struts out of the aisle. He pivots and looks back at you. You chew on your cheek. 

“Well,” he prompts. 

You come forward slowly, confused. You stop right beside him. 

“Sir, I—I'll take those--” 

You reach to take them back and he marches ahead of you. You stumble to follow after him. You clear your throat.  

“Um, hello. I can carry them.” 

“What kinda guy would let you do that?” He asks. 

“Well, erm, it’s nice and all but I—I don’t know you.” 

“I’m Nick.” He says, matter-of-fact.  

“Oh... okay. But.” 

“You have a long day at work? Unwinding with some reading?” He asks. 

You don’t understand. He’s acting like he knows you. You open and close your mouth as you search for words. 

“Um, I don’t think I am who you think--” 

“You’re exactly who I think you are,” he stops at the empty desk and puts the books down. He turns and plants his hand on the wood, leaning on one foot as he bends a leg and digs the leather toe of his shoe into the floor. “You’re the prettiest girl in this place.” 

You sway back and forth, twisting to look around. You face him again. He arches a brow coyly. 

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” He asks as he steps closer. 

“You’re... joking.” 

“No.” 

“Who’s...” you peer around him. 

“It’s just me. I got no reason to lie.” He stands straight and taps the books. “Looks, brains, what more could a guy ask for?” 

He cranes to see behind the desk again, “now where the hell is everyone?” 

“It’s self-checkout,” you point at the sign. 

He reads it and snorts, “looks like I need to work on my own reading skills.” He looks at the screen and squints, “you got a card?” 

You slip out your card and scan it quickly. You reach for the first book but he’s faster. He swoops it under the scanner and it beeps. He does the other three and puts them neatly out of your grasp. It’s a very deliberate move. 

“Alright,” he takes the receipt as it prints out and reads it, “three weeks.” 

He tucks it under the cover of the top book and picks them up again. Your heart thumps. What is he doing? Better yet, who is he? 

He says your name and you flinch. You take a step back, “How--” 

“It’s on your card,” he smirks. “So, going home?” 

You frown. You don’t like this. He presumes a lot. You steel yourself and grab the books. He keeps them locked in his grip, your hands tiny next to his. 

“Sir, give me my books.” 

He snickers, “I’m being a nice guy. Let me carry them home for you.” 

“But I don’t want you to,” you say. “I want my books.” 

“Why not?” He asks. 

You huff, “I don’t-- you’re confusing me. I don’t know you.” 

“You haven’t even tried,” he says. 

You let go of the books and throw your hands up. “Fine, I guess. Keep them.” 

You try to step past him but he moves with you. He blocks you as you continue to try to evade him. You stop and stomp your foot in frustration. 

“Why?” You slump in defeat. 

“Aw, sweetheart, please, don’t be upset. I don’t like to see you sad,” he nears and holds out the books. “I’m not trying to ruin your night. I just wanted to introduce myself.” He offers the books and you reach for them warily. As you do, your eyes meet his. You can’t look away. “I’m your future husband.” 

He lets you take the books at last and he backs away, palms out. He slips his hands into his pockets and dips his head. 

“You’ll be seeing me,” he promises and twists on his heel.  

He struts to the doors as you watch, stunned. There’s a bounce in his step as he disappears, as if he might just start whistling. You look down at the books and up again. This is why you prefer fiction. 

📖

The strange encounter follows you home. Not literally. Yet, you can’t help but double check the door and twitch at every random noise through the wall. Apartment living is rarely peaceful. 

You don’t dive into your new haul. You don’t have the focus. Your mind keeps wandering to that man. Surely, he was messing with you. It all sounds like a joke, albeit not a very funny one. 

The next day greets you with a patter against the window pane. You yawn as you dismiss your alarm and ready to face work. Hair, face, clothes. You do enough. You’re not Katie and her perfect swooshy waves or Sara and her sharp sleek bob. You’re just you. 

You tuck on of the borrowed books into your bag and set out. You wait for the train with hands clasped together. You’ve never been fond of the platform. It smells of things you don’t want to think about and the darkness of the tunnel unsettles you. 

You board the train when it comes and find a seat. You take out the book and settle into the prose. The rails thrum beneath you as you hurtle beneath the city. When your stop chimes over the intercom, you get up to wait by the door. 

You flow through with the rush and head for the turnstiles. You’re nearly crushed in the morning stampede. Once you’re above ground, you can breathe again. 

Work is down the next street. You peer up at the large windows, filled with those white corporate blinds, and deflate. Your first day at the publishing house, you were agog. Now, you’re indifferent. 

It’s not that you don’t aspire for more, it’s only that you’re not sure there is more. You’ve been an assistant for three years now. You have a degree in editing and long to move beyond the dull admin. You want to be in one of the big offices. You want to be meeting with authors and reviewing manuscripts. Yet that thought feels as fantastical as all those plots you read. Based on a true story but not quite real. 

You head inside, resigned to another slog through your nine to five. It’s just like it is every day. Starbucks cups, chittering gossip, and clacking keys. You take your place among the zoo of assistants and interns. 

“I’m looking for Drysdale,” a deep voice drifts over and tugs at your brain. It’s familiar. Not someone from around here... 

“Oh, yes, I think he’s expecting you, um....” Felicity, the young intern manning reception, cheeps. “Mr. Fowler?” 

“That’s me.” He intones. 

You turn your chair slightly to see around your monitor. Trina isn’t so subtle as she spins her whole chair to see the man. You recoil and hunch down to hide away from the visitor. 

It’s that man! Nick. The attempted book thief. You can’t believe this. You don’t believe in coincidences, this isn’t a story book. Yet, how could he be here? The odds are against him. 

It takes Felicity three tries to get the right extension. She finally gets the junior editor on the line and her punctuated ‘oh’ assures you that he hung up before she even finished. 

The office door opens and you shy away. Shoot. You forgot how close you are to Mr. Drysdale’s door. How could you? Not with how many times he comes out to flirt with Trina or Lora. 

“Nick,” he greets boisterously as he emerges. “Since when are you a morning person?” 

“Since I got business to do,” the other man crosses the office floor as those seated chitter to each other in curiousity. “Better make it worth my time.” 

“Don’t I always?” Drysdale scoffs. "You know, assholes like you usually wait a month to get in my office." 

Nick hums dully. Drysdale looks around and his eyes fall on you. You quickly look down and pretend to be busy. Too late. 

He traipses over and rests his hand on your monitor. “Hey you, how about you run down and get us some coffee?” He looks back at the other man, “Fowler, what do you take in your coffee? You a latte man?” 

Nick nears and clucks. He smirks as he steps up next to Drysdale. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he purrs. “Ransom, you gotta show a little more respect.” 

Drysdale snorts, “Oh, you’re telling me how to do my job?” 

“No,” Nick says and calmly moves Drysdale’s hand off of your computer. “I’m telling you to treat my future wife with respect.” 

“Huh?” You gurgle as he lets go of the editor. 

“Understood?” Nick postures as he faces Drysdale. 

“Future? Her? The desk jockey?” 

“Didn’t wanna say so, conflict of interest and all,” Nick tuts. “But hey, she’s worth more than a book deal.” He looks over at you and winks, “aren’t ya, honey?” 

[bwabys-scenarios]

helloooo!! I saw ur requests were open and that you were askin for some dungeon meshi x chubby reader....I gotchu covered.

May I please request some Chilchuck(or..Chilchack?? Ive no clue what the spelling is..) x Chubby!Reader and maybe also some Laois x Chubby!Reader? If you dont do multiples then either guy is fine!!

Sfw and nsfw on how they interact and think of your body? Scenarios like you tending to grab Chilchuck away from danger alot so he gets alot of booba action?? Embarrassed flustered old man?? Having to look up at you(if you were to be taller) but all he sees is ur chest?? Him givin Alot of needy attention to them when you do fool around cuz it Has been a big thing on his mind?? Him stiching and adjusting ur undershirt so it actually helps support ur chest a bit better and ur so grateful? Laois having a staring habit when he spaces out...yknow him and his tendencies to be curious(he wanted to Count Izutsumi nipples for gods sake.), he just doesnt know, he doesnt mean for it to be creepy or anything he jus is SO infactuated w ur body its so so so beautiful to him, him getting super happy and starts exploring ur body when consent is given?? Alot of his attention is on ur chest too, weighing it, squeezing. Stuff w warm body heat too, Just all around big loving

Thank you so much if you decide to do this and incredibly sorry if I messed up in my ask in anyway 💖💖💖

Chilchuck x Chubby!Reader SFW/NSFW HCs

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!

a/n: I will do the Laois one in a separate post!! The Chilchuck ideas just… spoke to me!! Also pls send me Dungeon Meshi requests… I’m open to writing for all the adult characters…

warnings: boob sucking, tittyfucking, breeding, cockwarming, thigh fucking, pussy eating

SFW

-you’re probably the only one in the party that he can sleep next to without complaining. you’re soft and warm, and when you ask if you can share his bed with him for the night because it’s cold, he’s… a bit too eager to lift up his blanket for you to join him.

-he complains that you don’t eat enough, and ends up giving you bits of his lunch and dinner. he just think your chubby cheeks are so cute when you’re chewing and likes to watch you eat. he does worry for you though…

-if it’s dark and you’re a bit afraid, he’ll hold your hand. if you ask him why in front of Laois or Marcille he’ll get all flustered and say he didn’t want you to trip him up.

-he only reaches your boobs, which is both a blessing and a curse for him. he can look at your boobs all day with little to no suspicion, but he also gets pulled into your boobs quite often when you hug him or try and save him from an attack. that might sound good to some people, but to him it gets him all flustered and hard embarrassed, then he gets teased by Marcille :(

-oh my gosh snuggles with him are so nice. he’s rather light so once the two of you are close, he’ll lie on top of you and bury his face in your chest or tummy! he’s actually quite the cuddlebug, and will want to snuggle you every single night after the first time.

-your tummy… he loves it so much. Chilchuck is quite the fan of anything soft, so more often than not, when he’s taking a nap he’ll have his head in your lap and face buried in your chubby tummy.

-he’s a bit embarrassed to show you affection in front of the others, so ways he shows he cares are usually subtle unless it’s behind closed doors or away from prying eyes. he peels your apples for you, bandages you up after you get hurt, will tug on your shirt to remind you that he’s here and that he loves you, and give your palm secret kisses when no one’s looking.

-he’s surprisingly possessive? when Laois looks at you, even if he’s just curious and wants to ask you questions, Chilchuck rushes over and finds some excuse to pull you away. he’s the most worried about Laois, but doesn’t like Senshi being all close to you either. he puts up with it more though, but dislikes that Senshi acts like yours and his relationship is like puppy love(Chilchuck is a grown ass man 😭)

-he’s very soft with you, very rarely being sarcastic or short with you specifically. he made you cry once early on in your relationship and it absolutely devastated him, so since then he’s been a lot more careful about what he says

-speaking of crying, he can’t stand your tears, it makes him nervous. if you’re a cry baby be prepared for him to be fretting over you constantly!

-you’re the person everyone in the party wants to snuggle with when it gets cold, so he has to shoo people away, blushing and stuttering about how they’re crowding you. once they’re all pouting and walking away, he huffs and snuggles up to you. you find his jealousy pretty cute, so you lift up your shirt a little so he can duck under it and rest his head on your chubby tummy or breasts.

-your chubby cheeks activate his cuteness aggression. he didn’t even know he liked cute things until he saw your cheeks puffed out and warm after someone made you mad. he nearly stopped breathing, it was the cutest thing he’d ever seen, and he couldn’t help but cup your cheek in his hands. your face heated up even more when he stared up at your with those adoring eyes, gently pinching your cheeks. “soft… so soft and warm…”

-he can be a bit clingy at times, especially when it gets colder out. when you go to sleep, he has to sleep under your shirt, his head on your chest or tummy. you complain about him stretching your your shirts, but he thinks the slightly oversized look is cute on you. honestly, everything is cute on you, because you’re adorable to him.

NSFW

-boobies… he loves your boobs so much. they’re soft and warm, feeling nice and heavy in his hands when he holds them. loves when he gets to bury his face in your bare chest and just snooze… but he also adores getting to play with your nipples, gently nibbling and suckling on the perky buds. he won’t lie, he can get hard just from looking at your clothed chest…

-he is absolutely a service dom that wants to make you feel good, but he can also enjoy being taken care of sometimes!

-enjoys being between your thighs more than he likes to admit. the first time he tasted your pussy was also the first time you ever saw him look so… in love. he gets pussy drunk within minutes, not able to stop sucking on your sensitive clit until you push his head away. he had a wife so he’s definitely experienced with pleasing a woman, so don’t be surprised when he has you cumming on his tongue for an hour or more! <3

-when he’s feeling a bit horny and doesn’t want to bother you at night, he’ll kiss your temple and hold onto your hips as he fucks your thighs, his cock lightly brushing against your pussy. your thighs are fat and soft, and he just loves nestling his cock between them!

-sometimes he’s just tired and wants some snuggles, so he’ll have his cock buried inside of you while you sit on his lap. the first time he asked for this you were terrified you’d crush him because he’s so small and you’re chubby, but he begged for it, something he had never done before. you relented, and as soon as he was buried inside of you, with his head nuzzled against your chest, he looked just too content. “thank you, love… it’s perfect…”

-he’s embarrassed by how good it feels to hear you moan his name, when you say how his cock feels so nice when it hits that certain spot and how you’re gonna cum way quicker than he expected. you being so attracted to him, feeling so much pleasure by him just thrusting into you gets him feeling giddy!

-he most certainly has a bit of a breeding kink… he has 3 daughters already that he loves, but… the urge to claim you and give you a child as well does make his body heat up and his pants grow tight. Chilchuck would like to get you pregnant, but only when it’s safe to do so. he doesn’t pull out though… he just can’t, it’s too tempting and you’re way too warm and cozy… it’s why he loves cockwarming so much!

-circling back to boobs… he’s definitely the type to enjoy a good tittyfuck, but it’ll take him a while to accept this. he’s utterly embarrassed to have his cock anywhere near your face due to being a bit shy, but once he’s nestled between your breasts and your tongue touches the tip of his cock, he groans, nearly cumming right then and there. he’s already a huge fan of your breasts, so feeling them on his cock is otherworldly, and it becomes one of his favorite ways to relieve stress

-he likes to either cum inside of you or on your tummy… he refuses to cum on your face, and will only cum in your mouth if you ask. when he fucks your thighs, he does tend to make a mess all over you and feels awful since it’s not exactly easy to bathe regularly in the dungeon. but you do look awfully cute, messy and sticky with his cum, puffing out your chubby cheek to give him a pout.

[harrywavycurly]

For protective harry in WTF I'd like it to be all of the above. I mean everything that you mentioned. I need to see that man worried sick about his baby momma's well being and I need to see him keeping her glued to his side when they're in crowded public place or something and I also need to see him giving death glares to whoever is trying to get too close to her. Thank you very much.

Hiii lovey!! Okay okayyy I think I kinda hit all of these with this blurb, it’s Harry being protective in ways that fit his personality in the story! So I hope you enjoy and don’t worry I’ll also add some more protective Harry in the next few chapters as well!!💖

You can find all things Worth the Fight: Here✨

CW: None just the usual pregnancy stuff!

A/N: This has a tiny time jump in it so if you’re confused don’t worry in the series you’re not this close to your due date! I just thought this fit the request better!✨

Tag List: @kookjipao @msolbesg @lomlolivia @namoreno @outofthisworl-d @mema10 @watarmelon212 @natykn @sassamanda77 @st-ev-ie @ghayda0 @hannah9921 @indierockgirrl @chaoticthoughts2022 @lizsogolden @gmikaelson @styleswithaseaview @sofaritsalrightt @babegoals @fangirl509east @one-sweet-gubler @stylesftcher @umadirectioner @last-saturday-night @montgomery-929496 @laughterismytherapy @hisparentsgallerryy @jerseygirlinca @behindmygreyeyes @mads3502 @tpwkdpr @unfuckwitablenarry @itscoucouharry @latedirectionerera @ell0ra-br3kk3r @cumuluscranium @donutsandpalmtrees @silastylesswift @prettygurl-2009 @blueleonor @daphnesutton @angeldavis777 @harryssunflower17 @blckburd @tinawritesstuff @inlikea-coolway

Summary: You and Harry enjoy an afternoon stroll✨

It’s a perfect afternoon for a walk, the sidewalk is nice and shady thanks to the trees that line the streets of Harry’s neighborhood blocking the sun but the warmth of if is still present and the slight breeze is making it feel cooler than it actually is. Something Harry knows you’re grateful for because as you near the last few months of your pregnancy your hot flashes have begun to cause you a bit of an issue, but you refuse to let them get in the way of enjoying the beautiful springtime weather, so you just now carry around a small handheld fan in your bag at all times.

Harry fights off a smile as he holds his arm out for you to grab onto while you slowly make your way down his front steps. Your very prominent baby belly has officially gotten to the point where you can no longer see your feet making you rely on Harry to keep you from taking a misstep, something he gets an odd sense of pleasure from, knowing you trust him enough to guide you so you won’t fall. His eyes land on your feet as you take the last step, your grip on his arm tightening as you let out a sigh of relief the moment your feet land on the smooth ground of the driveway making him chuckle.

“Well done love that only took you,” Harry looks over at his wrist that has his watch on it while you give him a glare. “Four minutes and twenty three seconds this time.” Before you can take the hand that’s gripping his forearm and smack him upside the head with it Harry is placing his much larger hand over it and giving it a loving pat. “That’s a new record.”

“I just don’t get why you have so many steps just to get to the front door? You already have a gate to keep people out.” You huff as the two of you make your way down his driveway. “You didn’t need to add those torture devices.” You mumble making Harry just shake his head at your new found hatred for his front steps.

“I’m so sorry that when I built this house I didn’t exactly take into consideration that one day the mother of my children would have to walk up and down the front steps while very pregnant.” He says as he reaches with his hand that was over yours on his arm and opens the side gate that goes right to the sidewalk. “I do hope you can forgive me.” He adds with a smile that has you rolling your eyes as you walk through the gate.

“I’ll think about it.”

“That’s not a no.” He points out as he takes his place on the side of the sidewalk that’s closest to the street, your hand on his arm falling to your side after you bring the pair of sunglasses that were pulled up into your hair back down so they are now covering your eyes as the two of you make your way down his street.

“It’s not exactly a yes either.” You inform him as he places a hand on your lower back giving it a rub, something he’s done anytime the two of you are out of the house recently that helps him feel the tiniest bit more at ease knowing he has a hand on you in some way.

The two of you let a comfortable silence take over as you go further down the street, choosing to enjoy the sounds of birds chirping and every now and then a random dog bark that’s coming from behind someone’s gate. Somewhere during the short amount of time the two of you have been walking Harry’s hand has slid from your lower back over to your waist allowing him to ever so gently pull you closer into his side. He smiles to himself when he turns his head to look over at you, the white sunglasses that you stole from his closet match your white and blue maternity dress that ends right at your knees perfectly and the slight breeze causes the strands of your hair that have fallen out of your messy bun to blow around your face and in this moment Harry swears you look absolutely beautiful, slightly rosy cheeks and all.

“Stop staring at me.” You say shyly as you bring a hand up and adjust your sunglasses in a poor attempt to hide the way your cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink under his adoring gaze.

“But it’s one of my favorite things to do.” He argues with a teasing smile that has the corners of his mouth pulling upwards, making his dimple appear.

When he thinks you’re about to hit him back with some witty remark he notices the subtle change in your step that he would’ve missed if he wasn’t hyper fixated on keeping up with your movements, something that he’s been doing ever since he met you at your first Dr appointment that confirmed you were in fact pregnant. It’s his way of trying to make sure he is prepared for any sudden changes in your demeanor due to something causing you pain or lately any slight missteps you might take because you simply can’t see what’s directly under your feet so he can prevent you from getting hurt in any sort of way. So when you bring your right foot down and let out the faintest of noises as a small jolt goes through your body that he can easily feel since his arm is wrapped around you and his hand is firmly on your waist.

“You need new hobbies or-”

“What happened?” Harry asks interrupting your playful insult as he stops walking making you do the same, before you can say anything he is moving so he’s standing in front of you with his hands on the tops of your shoulders.

His eyes roam over your face for any obvious signs of discomfort before traveling down to your belly that your hands are resting on top of but when he takes a small step back, his hands sliding down to your wrists so he can look at your feet that’s when he sees the way you’re avoiding putting any weight down on the ball of your right foot. Once he realizes you don’t have any serious injuries he feels his heartbeat begin to go back to normal and his anxiety goes back down to its usual low simmer, because if he’s being honest he’s always a little on edge when out with you because he can’t control what happens nearly as much as he can from the comfort and safety of his house or your apartment.

“I uh think.” Harry ignores the surprised squeak that escapes your lips when he kneels down making you put your hands on the top of his shoulders to help you keep balance as he messes with the strap of your shoe. “There’s something in my shoe.” You mumble as Harry just gently taps your foot silently telling you to lift it so he can slide the shoe off.

“How’d you even manage to get a rock in your shoe? We haven’t even walked by any rocks.” He asks as he hears you let out a huff while he watches a small pebble fall from your shoe when he tips it over.

Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he is extra careful putting your shoe back on. The whole time Harry is messing with getting the pebble out of your shoe he makes sure he is looking around to check the surroundings, wanting to ensure no one is getting too close or that the two of you aren’t in the way of someone riding on their bike or out for a run.

“I don’t know.” You whine making Harry let out a small chuckle as he stands up after checking to make sure you don’t have anything wrong with your left shoe. Before he can stop himself he’s leaning in and placing a kiss to your forehead making him smile when he hears you let out a soft sigh as your hands slide down from his shoulders to his chest.

“Don’t freak out okay?” His voice is hushed as his eyes briefly glance over the top of your head as his hands find their way to yours that are gently resting on his chest. “But there’s a few people behind us.” He explains as he looks down at you and he doesn’t miss the slight downward twitch the corners of your mouth make as his words hit your ears.

“Oh god I look massive from behind please tell me they aren’t-”

“You do not look massive you’re pregnant with twins for crying out loud you look amazing.”

“You’re just saying that so they can’t snap photos of me crying.”

“Love there’s photos of you bawling your eyes out on the street after our first date so I’m not all that worried about you crying in public anymore.”

“Riiiight.” Harry quirks a brow at how sarcastic your voice is as he brings your hands up to his lips so he can place kisses to your knuckles to try to help you calm down a bit since he knows how uneasy you still are when there’s cameras around. “The day you stop worrying about me crying anywhere is the day Ethan tells you he wants to be friends.”

“Wait so you’re saying he doesn’t want to be best mates?” Harry jokes making you laugh as he glances behind you to make sure the small group hasn’t gotten any closer. He smiles down at you as you look up at him as if you already know what he’s about to do as he leans in to place a quick kiss to your lips as his hands give yours a reassuring squeeze.

“Can we go to that frozen yogurt place up the street?” You ask when Harry pulls away giving you a nod while he lets go of one of your hands, keeping a firm grip on the other as he takes his spot back by your side blocking you from the street.

“What flavor are you going to get today?” He asks while turning to look over his shoulder, giving the men with their cameras pointing directly at you a harsh warning glare making both men slowly lower their cameras as they slow their pace so they aren’t too close behind the two of you.

“I have to see what the kids want when we get there but right now they’re telling me chocolate with rainbow sprinkles.” You answer with a smile as Harry puts his attention back on the sidewalk in front of him smiling at how excited you sound at the idea of your sweet treat.

“Rainbow sprinkles? No more chocolate chips and gummy bears?”

“Niall said that’s too much sugar.” You answer with a shrug making Harry let out a scoff as he drops your hand so he can drape his arm over you shoulders, pulling you into his side making you giggle at his obvious reaction to mentioning Niall.

“Since when does Niall care about your sugar intake?”

“Since he thinks you named our son after him.”

“Named our son-oh god.” Harry lets out a sigh as he brings his free hand up and runs it over his face. “James is a very common middle name so he’s lost his bloody mind if he thinks I named our son after him.”

“I’ll be sure to tell him that next time I see him.” Harry rolls his eyes as you slide an arm around his middle, giving you a little squeeze as he does a quick look behind you so he can check that the small group of people with cameras took his warning and stayed a respectable distance away from the two of you.

“Oh I think they changed their mind.” Harry looks over at you as your hand rubs your belly. “Yeah they want chocolate with-gummy bears now.” Harry lets out a laugh as you lick your lips and he can practically see your mouth watering, normally he would make a joke about how you seem the happiest when talking about whatever food it is you’re craving at the moment but right now he can’t be bothered. He is too content with his arm securely wrapped around your shoulders making you snug against his side, the people with cameras a safe distance away and a smile on your face as your hand rests on top of your pregnancy bump. Harry finds himself smiling as the two of you continue down the sidewalk towards the frozen yogurt shop, enjoying the weather and what both of you know is one of your last moments of being able to go out for walks before you eventually get too uncomfortable doing much moving around the closer you get to your due date.

[myownwholewildworld]

acta, non verba - ii. there is no treachery in the art of war

chapter 1 | series masterlist | ao3 | main masterlist | chapter 3 pairing: conqueror!marcus acacius x ofc!reader. summary: you need to start moving the game along, but you cannot be too obvious. or... can you? a/n: hello there! c: here's the second chapter! there is quite a bit of character & world building in this one, as i felt it served the storyline, so i hope you guys like it! i wanted to thank you all for your nice, encouring words on the first chapter, it really motivated me to keep on writing! you guys are amazing 💖 as always, all interactions welcome, i do appreciate you liking, sharing and/or commenting! take care <3 warnings: 18+, mdni. references to marital abuse (physical and sexual) and child marriage (massive age gap, not in a cutesy way), in line with the time this story is set on. mentions of death/murder. mention of infertility. sexual tension galore (👀). a smidge of angst. w/c: ~8.6k. dividers by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end (let me know if you want to be added/removed please!)

“Honestly, I don’t think it’s a good idea, Callie”, Torcall sombrely warned you, his eyes locking on yours over the wooden spoon he tightly gripped close to his mouth.

“And what would you have me do then?”, you sneeringly replied back.

Your brother-in-law had been pestering you the whole morning about what your plan was to win your lands back. You knew the long game was your best bet — you didn’t have the numbers to face Rome on your own. Your athair had tried and failed in his attempt. Another defeat like the one your people suffered in Raedykes would destroy your clan. It would wipe you out off the map — everything your ancestors had worked for, gone under the crushing yoke of the Romans.

“I would not have you whoring yourself out to a fucking Roman, that’s for sure. Your athair would be so disappointed in you.” He snapped back at you, anger flowing in his words.

His reply stung badly, so much you unconsciously crossed your arms at chest level — an unvoluntary gesture to protect yourself from his accusation.

“That’s beyond the point”, you barked, the green of your irises burning like hellish fire. “And my father would be just fine with my decision. Need I remind you who he married me off to?”

Torcall’s knuckles went white as his fingers pressed around the spoon harshly. You cocked a brow, unwavering.

Ten years ago, your athair had reached an agreement with Iain of Am Baile Ùr(Insh), the lord of Badenoch whose state was a few miles south of your birthplace. For as long as Caledonia had formed, there had always been internal disputes about who was the rightful heir to the Overlord title.

The clan who held the stronghold at Inbhir Nis had historically always been considered the legitimate title’s holder. Your family had been the keepers of the land for as long as anyone could remember. But it didn’t stop those who were thirsty for power, so your father had to prove himself over and over again.

After several bloody skirmishes, Murdoch of Inbhir Nis had crowned himself, yet again, lord and master of Caledonia. Iain had been a strong contestant against your father and was only appeased when your athair offered you as a consolation prize to him, as if you were a lamb up for sale at the local market. A cheap one at that.

At the tender age of six and ten, you had been shipped off to an unknown land to be wife to a man you had never seen before. The next ten years of your life would be living hell — what you had to endure, you would not wish it upon your worst enemy.

The memories that would crawl back at night would still wake you up, a cold sweat trickling down your spine every time. Abuse in your arranged marriage was your bread and butter. Every time you returned home under the prying, controlling eyes of Iain or your family came to visit, you would lie to them about the new bruise on your cheek, the limp you had for a couple of weeks or the teeth marks on your neck. Murdoch was the last to realise, unable to come to terms with the destiny he had forced upon you. And by the time he did, there was not much he could do without infuriating Iain, without risking another war.

The peace of the Caledonians outweighed your suffering, after all. You were not worth such a bloodshed.

So you pushed through it all and survived — for family, for clan, for honour. Never resented your father either; he had a duty to protect his tribe, and so did you. For a decade you dragged yourself across ember and ash, until you finally caught a break six months ago.

Iain was found dead in the marital bed, his eyes wide open and his expression struck with horror, as if a wraith had taken his life. At the mature age of six and sixty, you had been his third wife, so when his only son and heir from his first marriage ascended, you were no longer needed. With no family of your own tying you to that ghostly place, you packed your things and swiftly left, the Will' O' the Wisps guiding you home.

“I didn’t mean it that way”, his answer burst out in a pitiful whisper. One of your eyebrows raised even further into your forehead. “I’m sorry.”

You sighed, unfolding your arms and looking at the cold broth in front of you. Grabbing the spoon again, you swirled it in the bowl aimlessly. You didn’t need your most trusted ally questioning your decisions, not when the whole clan depended on your actions. At least he was doing so in the intimacy of a crannog and not in front of your folk.

“I’m just trying my best, Torcall. I know I can win our freedom back, so I need you to have some faith in me. How I get to the endgame is up to me. The means justify the end.” Your words were imbued with unfaltering determination.

“I do trust you, Callie. With my life and the lives of my children”, he mumbled solemnly with a curtsy as his eyes drifted to the other end of the room.

Your niece and nephew, whom you loved dearly, were obliviously playing with some wooden swords their father had handcrafted a while back. They were six years of age, both born during the cold winter months. The twins had filled the blackhole in your heart, one that your marriage had not been able to lade.

“Ah, ye brute!” Your nephew, Daimh, let the sword slip from his fingers to hold his hand close to his chest. “You’ve hurt me, Iona!”

His little feet dabbed towards you, raising his injured hand in the air.

“Auntaidh (auntie), Iona has broken my fingers, look!”, he wept while you cradled his hand.

“Oh, come on here, mo laochain (my little hero). Let me see”, you said while rubbing his hand between yours and kissing it where it hurt.

“What a wimpy!”, Iona complained, running to her father. “I won, daddy!” Her proud, high-pitched voice squealed in excitement, and you couldn’t hide your smile.

“I’m going to tell màthair (mother)!”, Daimh blew raspberries at his sister, and she reciprocated from the other side of the table.

Your heart sunk to your stomach at the mention of Maisie, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Both you and Torcall had explained to them that their mother had been reunited with Dhuosnos, God of the Dead, but they were too little to fully understand what that entailed, what it truly meant.

“When is mama coming back from Tech Duinn (House of Dhuosnos), daddy? I miss her dearly”, Iona’s innocent words ripped at your heart.

Torcall and you exchanged mournful glances.

“Aye, me too”, exclaimed Daimh as he snuggled in your arms.

“So do we, sweet pea, so do we”, you mumbled as you kissed the crown of his blonde head.

Daimh stirred in your arms, his green eyes piercing yours. He looked so much like his mother that it was painful. Maisie and you had the same emerald irises, although she had been blonde. Daimh and Iona were living images of her.

“When can we go home? This place smells funny”, your nephew questioned while he sat on your lap.

You wished you could tell him. Your whole family had been living in the castle that now Marcus Acacius occupied. Torcall and his children could not risk staying there, not when the threat of death was hanging above them. If the Romans knew your sister had offspring, they would hunt them down.

Despite the adversity, you had been lucky in a sense. The highlanders had always been wary of strangers — outsiders brought tragedy with them, in the way of disease or war. The Caledonians had learnt to keep their distance, to be extremely cautious. So, when the General and his army arrived, no one spoke of your family, not even when questioned.

Your people, despite the differences that had them at each other’s throats some years back, were loyal to you. And it was their fealty what enabled your plan, what allowed you to pretend, to just be another servant girl.

So Torcall, his children and you had sought refuge in the skirts of town. Your uncail Aengus’ wife had welcomed you into her home.

The crannog was a circular hut with a straw roof, the walls made of mud, rocks, wood. There was only one big, round room, with an open hearth which kept the inside warm. The open shelving gathered some necessary clutter, but there were many things scattered around the place. There were only three beds lined up against the wall, which meant that you shared a bed with Iona and Torcall with his son. Your cousins had moved out to the small barn just a few feet away to make room for you.

It was cramped and very modest in comparison to the thick walls of your castle, but it was a roof over your heads. You were extremely grateful to her. Your heart still wept at the memory of telling her the demise of her husband.

“Soon we will, but in the meantime, we are keeping Bonnie and her sons company. And this place smells just fine. Are you sure it’s not you, you stinky little deamhan (demon)?”, you jested, pinching his nose and then tickling his ribs.

His laughter was a soothing balm on your aching, longing heart.

“Was everything as expected, Dominus?” His Roman servant asked, his head bowed to him.

Marcus patted the corners of his mouth with the rag on his lap and then nodded to Atticus. The food was somewhat decent, a venison stew with some root vegetables he could not identify. The bread, unsurprisingly, was a bit stale, so he had left it untouched.

The great hall was lugubrious, silence filling up the atmosphere. There were two other maids in the room, cowering in a corner with averted eyes. They only spoke a barbarian language he had no wish to learn. Communication with the natives was extremely difficult, as they seemed to be uneducated.

But there was one lass who knew how to speak Latin — you, Callie.

He wondered where you had gone. Marcus had not seen you since your encounter in his new-found bedchamber. It had been three days since then and with each passing one, he found himself searching the room for you. There was something about you that had reeled him in but was unsure of what it was. Maybe it was the eerie, magical aura that surrounded your fiery hair — or maybe it was the way you carried yourself, the way you had briefly but decisively held his gaze. The way you quickly retreated — unwillingly.

Marcus imperceptibly shook his head and waved his hand at Atticus, motioning for him to pour another cup of the bitter wine.

“Yes”, he simply replied, bringing the wooden chalice to his lips.

Atticus signalled the young women to come forward and they quickly cleared the table of dishes and cutlery. When he was alone with his servant, away from enemies’ ears, he signalled at Atticus, who quickly stepped forward.

“Fetch my commanders and bring them here. There are matters I need to discuss with them”, Marcus demanded of him.

His attendant curtsied and vanished from the great hall, leaving him alone.

Marcus was taking in every detail of the room, of the tapestries and their stories, when a scattering sound distracted him. He thought to hear a commotion, then a blasphemy. Curious, he stood up, stepped off the dais and sauntered towards the double doors. The door was slightly ajar, so he only had to push it for it to swing open.

There was nothing in the corridor except for a distinct scent. Rosemary and thyme with a hint of something unrecognisable, he identified. A smell that had loitered in his bedchamber once you left. Wrinkling his aquiline nose, he caught something in the corner of his eye. He turned to see how a shadow dissipated at the end of the corridor.

Furrowing his brows and in long strides, Marcus covered the distance, tracking the distinct aroma — like a lost man after the beckoning of a nymph, he followed. As he was about to turn the corner, he almost collided with Maximus, Valerius and Cassius.

“My lord,” Cassius was the first to talk, “we were on our way to you. You wished to see us?”

Marcus tried to conceal his confusion at the sight of the three men. With his head slightly tilted, he asked, “Did you encounter anyone on your way to me, Commander?”

Cassius slowly shook his head no, baffled by the question. “No, Dominus, no one. Were you expecting someone else?”

The General hmphed, taciturn. He needed to be cautious — if the tapestries were right, ungodly, mythical creatures lingered between the walls of the castle. Evil ones at that.

“Worry not”, Marcus rapidly dismissed. “Follow me, gentlemen.”

The four men sat at the rectangular table on the dais, Marcus’ fingers drumming on the wood as Maximus flattened a piece of parchment before him.

“These are some names that have been thrown around in the last few days, people who may act on their rebellious comments. Our spies have been trying their best to mix in with the townies, but they are tough nuts to crack. They are wary even of the people who speak their own language”, Maximus’ index finger slid down the list as he talked.

Marcus’ hand darted forward and pinched one corner of the parchment, pulling it towards him. His eyes scanned the unfamiliar names.

The barbarians did not use surnames, which spoke to their lack of sophistication. Instead, they used patronyms and the land where they were born, so the list made it difficult to identify individuals who might belong to the same family. Knowing what families were a menace would be a great advantage, one they did not have.

“There seems to be a recurrent name here”, Marcus paused, his fingertip pointing to the words scribbled in lead ink. “Seumas and Anndra of Dail an Eich (Dalneigh), sons of Aengus. Who is this Aengus?”, he questioned, looking up to the frowning faces.

“We are not sure, Dominus. As I said, the villagers are not talking much”, Cassius replied, his fingers intertwined, resting atop of the wooden table.

“Well, find out then. I don’t care how you get the information. Just get it”, Marcus’ back reclined against the chair he was sat on. He felt like they were wasting his time with trivial details. He needed more than that.

“You didn’t get Murdoch’s wife to talk, even when she was hanged half dead in a cage off the main tower, after being brutally tortured and whatever else you inflicted upon her, and you expect us to get names just like that?”, Valerius’ insolence spoke for him.

Marcus’ eyes lazily locked on his commander’s. He should have his ill-mannered tongue cut out for such disdainful arrogance. Valerius’ Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he forcefully swallowed, his eyes slightly widened, realising his impertinence.

Whispers flew around the town; his name being cursed from mouth to mouth. Marcus was not too worried about whatever rumours they could spread about him. They probably would be true — he was no saint.

But Marcus had not been the one who had ordered such distasteful death upon Mòrag, wife of Murdoch. Agricola did, with no respect for his name when he dropped it mid-sentence. Marcus did not even lay an eye on her, even less a hand.

Let them all think what they might. Marcus was used to being the scapegoat of the governor — when something went wrong, Agricola would blame him. And when something went right, he would just take credit for himself, the evil, power-thirsty rat.

He looked at Valerius dead in his eyes, one cocked brow showing his mild incredulity.

“Do you have something to say, Valerius? I hear a certain condemning tone in your words?”, his voice was flat, devoid of emotion, but the reality was there was a raging fire within him he could not make manifest.

“Absolutely not, my lord”, the man bowed his head to him, his knuckles white.

“Then be gone. All of you. Find those two men or I will have you hanged too.”

The resolution in his tone scared the seasoned warriors, who quickly said their goodbyes and hurriedly left the premises.

Marcus’ elbows sunk in the wooden table, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. He was angry, but amongst all, he was tired — tired of masking, of cleaning up after Agricola’s hideous actions, of power plays, of trickery, betrayal and deception. He was surrounded by it all.

At eight and forty, he was tired of war and conquest. He had seen it all, lived it all. If retirement would be an option, he would gladly take it. But he knew — he would wield a sword till the day he died in a godforsaken battlefield, till Pluto welcomed him with open arms. Rome would not have him any other way.

Marcus Acacius was truly exhausted.

So it was him who had your beautiful màthair tortured and hanged in a cage until she greeted death. Your blood boiled as your breath quickened. The rage flickered inside you like wild flames burning down an entire civilisation.

When the rangers announced your arrival to a few selected loyal men who had stayed behind, they got out at night to cut the ropes holding the cage your mother had been thrown in. They did not want you to see such act of savagery.

Your kinsmen had really tried to conceal how badly damaged your mother’s body was. Despite the heartache, you had been grateful that they had gone to the effort of making her somewhat presentable. But one look at her mangled body had been enough to understand what type of wickedness you were up against.

In the dead of night, you had buried Mòrag, the woman who so selflessly gave you life, in the outskirts of town. Just like her other children and husband, she would not rest under the family’s chambered cairns. Your family had been wiped out of history as if they were mere droplets in a vast ocean of human tragedy.

With one ear flat against the wooden door to the great hall, you unknowingly squinted your eyes, trying to listen to the rest of the conversation. If someone caught you eavesdropping, you would have a lot of explaining to do. But so far your spying was being productive — you would need to warn your cousins when you got home that night.

The faint sound of approaching footsteps made your heart jolt in your chest.

“Cac (shite)!”, you swore, frantically looking for a place to stow yourself away.

Picking up your skirt so you would not trip, you hid in a nearby garderobe. The cupboard smelt sweet and musty — barrels of wine decorated the whole height of the stone walls. The scent was so intense, you felt it soaking through your skin, appeasing the craze that had a tight grip on your mind. The darkness that surrounded you only accentuated your sense of smell. Could you get inebriated just with the sugary aroma of grape juice?

When the booted treads slowly faded away, you quietly pushed the door open, emerging back into the cold corridor — the contrasting temperature between the garderobe and the hallway gave you goosebumps. Palm flat against the wood and the other hand tightly gripping the iron pull handle, you gently shoved the door back into its frame, hoping to make no noise.

“What are you doing?”, a deep, masculine voice startled you, making you jump on the spot.

A set of warm, firm arms wrapped around you as you stumbled with your feet. They enveloped you so steadfastly, your body involuntarily relaxed against the person behind you. Leaning back, your back met the cold touch of metal.

Swallowing a profanity that would bring a repenting clergyman down to his knees, you turned around, in the arms that held you tight, to face the embodiment of hate. Your hate.

Marcus Acacius was standing, all righteous and proud, intimately close to you. He was wearing an impeccable white armour with golden details. Two flaxen griffins adorned the center of the plackart, their claws wrapping around a floral design. Linen straps, snug around his hips, fell from his waist, covering the fauld and the tasset underneath.

Marcus’ body was a fountain of warmth, even with all the layers enfolding his frame. His arms, although tense around you, did not feel suffocating — in fact, they were almost coddling you into a state of ataraxia as your brain quietened. His hug exuded a sense of security you had not felt in years — as if nothing nor no one could ever harm you as long as you stayed in Marcus’ embrace.

You traced the topography of his plackart with your fingers, your palms resting against the alloy, as your eyes peeked up —he was considerably taller than you— and were met with the fervour of two brown irises. Their gravity pulled you in for an eternal second. With your face near his, you picked up on the tired bearing on his face, the wrinkles around his eyes, the hard press of his lips. A kempt but patchy beard coated his jawline, and salt and peppered hair curled at the nape of his thick, muscular neck — a stray silver lock caressing his forehead, asking to be tucked away.

Your fingertips suddenly itched with longing, your eyes slightly widened, and your mouth partially parted. And then you came back to reality with the full force of your conscience yapping at you. What the hell? You had to control the contortion of your face so your disappointment would not be evident. It’s because I want to slap him so bad, was your afterthought.

Something changed in his expression — Marcus suddenly let you go, leaving you cold again. As if it was a rehearsed move, you both took a step back, breaking the electric contact that snapped between your bodies.

You now realised his clean image was a shocking contrast to how you first met him. Covered in mud, blood and sweat, his untamed expression as he dispatched your father still haunted you at night. And that was how you had to remember him. Sinking his gladius in your father’s belly. And nothing else.

“Well?”, the General insisted after clearing his throat, his eyebrows knitting together as he folded his arms.

You rapidly lowered your gaze when you realised you had been looking at him too intently, too directly. A maid would have fainted at the audacity you had just shown him. But you were no maid — albeit he was not privy of such detail for obvious reasons.

You hoped he didn’t notice, although you could feel his eyes studying you eagerly.

“I— I was looking for wine, Dominus.” You faked the stammering in an attempt to convey innocence. “Cormag, the cook, wants a very specific wine to accompany your supper, Dux Meus (My General/Leader). I was making sure we had it.”

“And what wine is that, if I dare ask?”, he pressed with a steely voice.

Thalla gu taigh na galla (go to hell), you thought, browsing your brain for a quick reply.

“It’s a fine wine imported from Carmo, my lord.” Your father had been a wine enthusiast, so you knew some places he had his wine shipped from. Not that it really meant anything to you, anyway.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw his arms falling to his sides, his threatening posture softening.

“Carmo? In the Baetic region of Hispania?”, Marcus’ incredulous voice made you glance up at him through your long eyelashes.

You nodded, your fingers laced at your front as you bowed your head again, showing a deference you didn’t really feel towards him. And you prayed there was at least a few drops left of said wine in one of the barrels, or you would be in trouble come dinner.

“That’s one of my favourites”, he let slip and you instantly knew he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

Feigning bravery, you fanned your eyelashes back at him, a half-smile softening your lips. The General almost looked mortified at the fact of letting a stranger know about his likes. You could see it in his eyes — the brief moment of asking himself, “What have I just said?” Although he seemed all stoic and unattainable, he was just a man. Just like any other.

“Is that so?” You did not wait for a reply you knew would never come. “I’ll try and remember that, Dominus, to make sure we never run out.”

He was a hard man to read, you would give him that. His expression didn’t flinch, as if your words had gone over his head. The only sign he had actually listened was a subtle tic on his jaw.

You just needed to drop some hints here and there, let him brew. If you were too obvious with your intentions, Marcus would become suspicious. You knew nothing about the man except he was a cold-blooded murderer, but perceived he was observant. Probably too observant.

“If you’ll excuse me, my lord, I wish to retire now so I can attend to my tasks.” Asking for permission was not something that came naturally to you, but it was a trained response you had learnt from your late husband.

“Take your leave then”, he granted, his hands hiding on his back.

You curtsied. “Thank you, Dux Meus.”

Marcus turned on his heels in a swift whoosh, the sword swaying in front of him, his fingers gripping the handle tight. He intuited his opponent’s next move before it happened, so he bent his knees and ducked his head right under the swing of Maximus’ gladius. With a wild, toothy smile, Marcus pulled back, weighing the blade on his left hand.

“So predictable”, he teased the commander, who was an old friend of his.

If one could have friends in the midst of war, that was. Their friendship easily transformed depending on the circumstances — in war matters, Maximus knew to respect Marcus above everything else. Outside of that, they just were two friends with a long history behind them.

“I’m being gentle, lord General. We have spectators, I don’t want to embarrass you. I know your ego is as fragile as a rose’s petal”, Maximus chaffed, a grin taking over his mouth as they circled each other like two lions on the gladiator’s pit.

Marcus’ tunnel vision had him so tuned in on his friend’s advances, he had not realised that a small group of people had gathered around the makeshift arena. Feeling a sudden heaviness weighing him down, Marcus combed the gathered faces in one sweep.

Until his eyes locked in on yours. He saw a glimpse of wonder metamorphosing into surprise in your emerald greens — then you quickly withdrew your eyes from his at the realisation of getting caught staring.

There was something about you that drew him in — something mysterious, uncanny, but also strangely enticing. Exciting. Your eyes spoke of mischief, of adventure, of the unknown. Of something eerie, almost witchy. The flickering, iridescent fire within them had him under a spell for a brief moment.

Marcus vividly remembered holding you against his chest, your soft curves perfectly moulding to his hard edges. Even through the armour, he had felt the heat your body irradiated, the way it seeped through to envelop him, soothe him. For a moment, having you between his arms felt just right. And that thought had unsettled him gravely, letting go of you as such wild, unnerving concept sank in — his mind point-blank rejecting the notion.

Despite his inner refusal, how you looked back at him would plague him. For days and nights on end.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marcus watched as Maximus inched forward, the sword aiming at his open flank. Just in the nick of time, the General’s steel deflected the attack.

“Getting distracted? That’s unusual of you, Marcus”, the commander jeered at him, closing in.

Marcus scoffed at his words, bluffing. But the reality was that Maximus had hit the nail in the head. Not that he was going to acknowledge it in public anyway. If he was to successfully bring Maximus down, he needed to focus on the task at hand and not think about a green-eyed nymph.

Studying his adversary’s body language, his feet dragged on the sand. Maximus was on edge, tense, too focused on his sword, so Marcus wagered a distraction would tip the scales in his favour. Maintaining eye contact, he slowly knelt, the fingers of his non-occupied right hand extended, palm down. Maximus’ brows wrinkled when he saw Marcus getting a fistful of sand and the General knew he had the diversion he was looking for.

With Maximus focused on his right hand, too worried with a cloud of sand that would get in his eyes, Marcus took the chance, quickly stood up and swung his heavy sword against his rival’s left loin. Maximus did not have time to prepare for the impact and so dropped to the ground.

Marcus smiled with sufficiency, straightening out his aching back, and offered a hand to his old friend.

With a grunt, Maximus accepted his gesture and got up, palming Marcus’ back soundly.

“You treacherous man, making me believe you were going to blind me”, he quipped as they both started to walk out of the circle people had formed around them.

“There is no treachery in the art of war”, Marcus replied, patting his friend’s back in playful jest.

A loud snort made Marcus look around him. He had no time to fully study your face, but he could swear you had made that disapproving noise before turning on your heels and trotting off.

Confusion and a smidge of curiosity settled in him — what had he done to gain your dissent when a minute ago awe darkened your eyes? The sudden change in your attitude left a lingering question in the back of his head as he and Maximus ushered towards the barracks in the northwest corner of the bailey.

“But you shouldn’t be serving, mo bhean-uasal (my lady)”, whispered the young lass, her hands twisting in her lap with nervousness.

“Shush, Brighid, lower your tone.” Anxiously you checked out your surroundings, ensuring you were alone. You were relieved to know you were. “You cannae refer to me like that. I’m just Callie now, remember?”

Upon your arrival to Inbhir Nis, Torcall and your father’s retinue —now yours, you guessed— had made everyone aware that the Romans thought you dead and hence, concealing your identity was of utmost importance. A slip of a tongue and you would be hanging in a cage too. Every passing day you feared someone might forget and show you deference publicly — but you had to trust that no one would run off at the mouth and rat you out.

“Duilich (sorry), mo bh— Callie. I—I promise I didn’t mean to”, she profusely apologised, her big wide eyes begging for your pardon. The wee lass could not stop fidgeting.

“I know, I know”, you tried to calm her down, placing your hand on her forearm. “But please, I need to take your place tonight.”

“Cormag will fire me for not turning up. I cannae afford that, my family depends on me.” Her pleading plucked some fast beats out of your heart.

“Don’t fret about it, lass. I’ll speak to that old crank of a man, he owes me. You’ll get paid, awright? He’ll be fine with it, I promise.” You gently squeezed her forearm, so your words would sink in.

Her eyes broadened in understanding. Before the girl could think about her actions, she jolted forward, her arms wrapping around your shoulders. You could only smile at her relief and let out a soft cackle when Brighid lumbered back, mortified.

“I’m so sorry, do Ghras (Your Grace).” Her excitement was so palpable the poor girl didn’t notice the second blunder.

“BRIGHID!”, a raspy threat left your tongue as you jerked her closer to you by the elbow. “For the love of Morrìgan, do watch your mouth!”

The young servant covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes speaking of self-reproach as it dawned on her. “I’ll have it sewn”, she muttered with great remorse.

The guilt splayed across her heart-shaped face brought a smirk to your lips. “Off you go now, before your runny tongue gets me into trouble.”

Brighid scurried away towards the barbican, and you hurried along to the kitchens. You followed the tangled web of corridors and passages thoughtlessly — you had played hide and seek countless times with your siblings between the stone walls, there was no nook nor cranny you were not familiar with.

The air got denser as you approached, the thick smoke of the open hearth filling your lungs. Repressing a cough, you entered the galley as good ol’ Cormag was shouting orders at the helping lads. The head cook had an aging face, creases around his grey eyes and bulbous nose, and a thick bush of white hair — hair strands shooting in every direction, almost comically. He was short and round around the belly, living proof of his good, delicious cooking.

“Keep fanning the fire, ye lazy ass! Don’t you see it’s going to die out? Faster, stronger! Aren’t you supposed to be young and full of life?!”, Cormag had wrapped his thick fingers around the brittle wrists of the lad, forcing his feeble arms up and down, fingers tight around a thin plank of wood. “Tiugainn (come on), with more enthusiasm, ye numpty!”

“Do you really think that’s how you motivate the young lads to do a good job, Cormag?” You questioned his teaching approach, with folded arms and a cocked brow.

An oath escaped his mouth as the cook turned around, his face downcast at your reprimand. “Callie!”

Thank the gods someone remembered how to approach you now. It came easier to Cormag though, considering that he was almost like family to you. The old man had seen you grow, having served your father since before you were even born. He was there, on the background, to wave you goodbye every time you had to return to Am Baile Ùr. And each time you came back, he had a full plate of haggis with a side of neeps and tatties waiting for you.

“No wonder your apprentices quit so fast if you treat them like that, Cormag. Have you no manners?” You kidded — the man had the filthiest mouth of the shire.

“I was raised by an ogre, young lady, of course I don’t”, he jokingly replied, cleaning his dirty hands on the apron tied around his round belly.

“Aye, and Nessie was your pet. I’ve heard that story before awright. I am still to see proof of such claims though.” Unfolding your arms you approached him, immediately going in for a bear hug.

Cormag palmed your back enthusiastically and you circled his stout frame, sinking in the comfort of his presence. In the blink of an eye, you were a five-year-old crybaby being consoled by a younger Cormag because there were no more mutton pies left that you could shove down your tiny mouth.

“I heard you were back, fear beag (little one). Wondered when you’d come visit this old git.” With a last squeeze, he took a step back, his hands placed on your shoulders. “Know you’ve probably heard this a thousand times now, but I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

His whisper was loaded with a heavy affection that shot your heart down to your stomach. Pressing your lips to stop your face from contorting at the memory of being alone in this world, you nodded, almost frantically, and sniffed. His eyes were a reflection of yours — the friendship between your athair and Cormag had been a staple in your life for as long as you could remember.

“But let’s not get all teary now!”, his demeanour changed as he rubbed your shoulders before taking a step back. “Got something for you.”

He turned around to rummage through a rattan basket on one of the counters. Cormag exclaimed an enthusiastic “Ha!” when he got his hands on what he was looking for. Then he presented his discovery to you with a flourish that made you crow.

When you saw the peachy plum on the palm of his hand, you almost squealed. “Plums!” You quickly snatched it, afraid he would take it away.

“I arranged for these to be brought from Fachabair (Fochabers). The cook who serves the clan chief there is an old friend of mine.”

“But Cormag, plums are not in season yet!” You marvelled at the sight, munching on the delicious fruit eagerly. Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head.

“I know.” He winked at you mysteriously, but you didn’t press the matter if it meant you could get your hands on some more plums.

“I did come to you with a favour to ask”, you batted your eyelashes at him, anticipating his disapproval.

He looked at you, inquisitorial — it was his turn to fold arms at the chest. Cormag snapped his tongue as if to say, “do go on”.

“I already convinced Brighid so you cannae be mad at her. In fact, I promised her you wouldn’t.” You grinned at him, his face already puckering with exasperation. “I’m taking her place tonight as a serving maid.”

“Have you lost your damn mind, lass? Nay, I’m not having it”, he quickly dismissed you, grunting.

“I’m not asking for permission. I need to be there, I—” Just in time, you remembered that the two lads were still running around the fireplace, trying to keep the flames alive. “I’ll fill you in later, but I have to be there, there’s no discussion about it.”

“What? Serving that Roman scoundrel? There’s more royal blood in you than there is in him.” He was more offended than you were.

You laughed, patting his forearm. The old man already hated the Romans more than you did, and that was difficult to accomplish.

“Aye, and that’s not the worst bit, Cormag”, you teased him, because you knew he would lose his mind with rage.

“Enlighten me”, he said between gritted teeth.

“We are serving the Corma wine tonight with supper”, you pursed your lips, watching his reaction.

His round face turned all shades of red, and his nostrils flared. If it was physically possible, his ears would be steaming too, like a ceramic pot with boiling water over the open fire.

“NAY, OVER MY DEAD FUCKING BODY!”, he exploded, shaking his arms over his head in disbelief, and you burst into laughter. Cormag was too expressive. “Ah, no, NO. We are not wasting such finery on that murderous cunt!”

You blinked rapidly at him to appease his fury, but his rage just gleamed brighter.

“Well… I kinda told him we would. You winnae make me look like a liar, right, Cormag?”, you muttered, as if you were a child who had committed the grave felony of stealing a sweet off the counter.

“You did WHAT?!”, he snorted angrily.

“Tìoraidh (bye)!”, you effusively waved him goodbye as you bit into the plum, sprinting off and ducking when you heard the wooden spoon flying by your ear.

“Trobhad (come here)!”, but you had already turned the corner into the hallway.

Why he was so taut, he did not fully understand. Marcus’ body was in high alert, and he had his suspicions about the cause.

You were just a woman like any other. Sure, your green eyes flickered like hellfire, your red hair was so bright it looked like you were up in flames, your upturned nose covered in freckles twitched adorably, and the skin on your hands was unusually soft — but that was it, really.

So you were nothing out of the ordinary, he kept telling himself. But it was hard to keep to that line of thought when your breast would brush against his shoulder every time you approached to clear the table from empty plates, when your velvety fingers would briefly caress the back of his hand while reaching for his cutlery, or when you would talk too close to his ear, a tingling sensation on the back of his neck almost making him shiver uncomfortably.

Marcus did not know if you were doing it on purpose or not — your face had an innocent look to it that was hard to read for him. The most prudent thing would be to ignore it all — ignore you. Surely you were only being suggestive in his imagination. And he still had the feeling something had upset you that afternoon when you stormed off after his training session.

“How’s the wine, Dux Meus?”, your sweet voice trickled from your plush lips like honey.

The way you kept referring to him as Dux Meus unsettled him. The first time you had said it during your encounter in the corridor, it caused certain havoc in his mind — and body.

Although it was appropriate for his title, no one really referred to him like that. My leader, my general, my god. It was the last connotation what made him feel… uneasy, for lack of a better word. It just sounded too intimate, the way it would pour from your oval-shaped mouth.

Marcus blamed it on Latin not being your first language. If you knew how seductively it rolled from your lips, he was sure you would stop addressing him like that straight away. Which meant he should correct you, tell you to just stick to Dominus.

But for whatever inexplicable reason, he did not.

“It’s as tasty and earthy as I remember it.” He replied, his fingers wrapping around the chalice with more strength than what was necessary.

You smiled at him, one of your hands gently placed on his right shoulder giving him a subtle squeeze.

“I’m glad to hear it, my lord”, you mumbled, Marcus’ eyes following the movement of your hand when you broke contact.

You inched forward over his shoulder to grab the glass jug and refill his cup, gifting him with the sight of your generous cleavage — your breasts almost spilling over the neckline of the dark blue, linen dress that so tightly wrapped around your hourglass figure.

Marcus had to swallow hard, tension suddenly building up on his groin. Was he getting hard just by the mere touch of a woman? He sucked in his breath while forcing himself to look forward, not down.

He just nodded in reply, unable to find his voice. If he had talked, he would have just groaned in frustration. Marcus had to readjust his posture as he saw you walking away, your waist evocatively swaying sideways with every step you took.

“I’m sure the wine is not the only tasty thing around here.”

Maximus’ whispered jest forced Marcus to look in his direction, turning to his left. They, along with the other commanders and a few other people of importance, were sat on the table on the dais, facing the crowd. Other tables were scattered around the great hall, where some legionnaires were enjoying a meal and a drink, sharing a joke and bursting in laughter.

“I don’t follow”, he grunted, feigning ignorance, before taking a sip.

“Oh, you do follow. At least your eyes do.” Maximus mocked him while Marcus just sneered at him, eyes squinting. “No one would blame you though. We are far away in an unknown land, and we all have needs to satisfy. I myself am considering getting laid tonight.”

 “I did not doubt you would.” Men like Maximus had no consideration for their wives.

Neither does Livia, the intrusive thought wiggled its way through his mind. Despite the lack of passion in bed with his spouse, Marcus had been a faithful husband. While others looked for warmth in the folds of a pleasure woman after a battle, the General would tend to his wounds and rest, focusing on what next skirmish lied ahead.

And while he had been loyal although there was never love between them, Livia had been fucking the “love of her life”, as she had referred to the man stuffing her cunt full during his long absences. Marcus was yet to know his name. What he would do with that information, he did not know.

Thinking of his perfidious wife had an extinguishing effect on him. The strain against his subligaculum (underwear) had softened.

“You’re too tense, Marcus. You need to relax, have some fun. I bet you two denarii that she will fuck the stress out of you expertly, I can tell.” Maximus pressed maliciously, conscious of how uncomfortable the conversation would make Marcus feel.

“Just shut up, will you?”, Marcus snapped back, tired of his friend’s quips, and downing the drink in his cup.

Maximus laughed it off and turned to talk to Cassius when you sauntered towards the table again, stopping right behind him.

“More wine, Dux Meus?”, you asked, infusing your honeyed voice with a sweet touch of flirtation.

You bent over his shoulder again, hand lazily looking for the wine jug in front of him. His hazel eyes fell on your bosom again and your nipples involuntarily hardened at the desire you saw in him — you were sure he noticed them peeking through the thin fabric.

In your attempts to arouse him, your body was betraying you, getting warm in all the wrong places. As much as you wanted to be immune to your own provocative games, you were not. But it wasn’t him who made you wet with lust, you told yourself. It was your own actions, nothing else. The long game.

But Marcus quickly tamed his expression, grinding his jaw and looking away.

“No, I’m okay”, he rejected your offer, hovering his hand over the chalice so you would not pour more.

You forced your lips into a flat line. You needed the man to let go of his defences. Having him drunk would help with that. But not tonight, apparently.

You nodded.

“Of course, Dominus.” You placed the jug back down on the table, your left breast brushing his right shoulder again.

You bit down your bottom lip, your free fingers curling on the back of his chair. It’s just the game, you thought to yourself again, your core slick and hot.

Slowly you retreated to the kitchens, fully aware of Marcus’ eyes feasting on your body. You smiled to yourself — he might be a taut General, but he was just a man.

A deceitful man at that, who thought there was no treachery in the art of war. Was that how he defeated your father? With deception? You had been too far to see and hear how the fight between your father and Marcus had unfolded, but having been witness to how the General distracted his opponent that afternoon, you wondered if he had followed similar tactics with Murdoch. If your father’s demise was just a byproduct of Marcus’ boldness.

The memory of Marcus being your father’s executioner put out the liquid fire in your crotch. And rightly so.

It wasn’t long before the Romans started to vanish from the great hall, retreating to the barracks or to town, maybe looking for the comfort only a woman could offer.

When you walked back out to clear the last plates, you saw the General leaving the room. Alone. Where he intended to go you did not know, but you had to make sure he was not considering joining the men in town — if he was to choose a woman to enliven his bed, he should pick you.

“Isla, I’ll be back in a minute.” The lass gave you a puzzled look as the bits you had gathered previously clattered against the wooden table when you let go of them.

You hurried forward to meet him as he swung the double doors open, the cold breeze of the corridor filtering into the great hall.

“Dux Meus, wait please”, you interjected in the hopes he would stop walking.

Indeed, he did. His whole body stiffened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. You were not sure what to make of that reaction — exasperation or frustration. You hoped for the second, especially the good kind of frustration.

As soon as you reached him, you placed a daring hand on his forearm — an unusual surge of energy sparked at the contact between your skins, giving you goosebumps. You quickly retrieved your hand with certain surprise, the tingling sensation evaporating right after.

“I trust everything was good?”, you queried, tilting your head to one side.

“Yes. Now I’ll retire to my bedchambers. Bonum noctis (good night)”, his words dragged for a second, “Callie.”

There it was again, your name falling from his lips as if it belonged to him. It angered and pleased you equally. If he pronounced it like that on purpose you did not know, but it surely felt like it.

Before you could come up with an answer, he trudged to his right and you took a step forward.

“That is not the way to the main bedchamber, my lord. You should follow this other corridor instead”, you pointed to the left.

He paused and turned around to face you. A lingering question danced in his pupils, but whatever it was, he did not say out loud. Instead, he nodded.

“I am aware. However, I have taken a different bedroom.” He did not give you an explanation, but you could have a good guess. Your father always complained his bed was like a blanket of spikey rocks. “I am now lodged in the second tower, the room in the top floor.”

You tamed your face into nothingness, but internally you flinched at his reply. He was sleeping in your room, in your bed. The thought of him naked with your bedlinen draped around his waist and thick legs made you gush. Fuck.

This was unknown territory to you — although you had been married for ten years, you had not known pleasure in the bedchamber. Iain just chased his own release, using you in disgusting ways, proving you that you were the problem, not him — that your womb was barren. You had been told by your friends that fucking was enjoyable for both parties, but you were yet to discover that. Maybe the dampness your legs harboured was a start?

“I see”, you curtsied, fingers laced on your back, looking up at him through your long eyelashes.

“How come you speak Latin?” His question blurted out, catching you completely off guard.

Marcus had a nick for inconvenience, forcing you to come up with lies on the spot. Luckily you were astute and creative.

“My late father was a scrivener to Murdoch. He taught me how to speak Latin, as it was his favourite language.”

“He passed?” You simply nodded. “I trust you still have family around though?”

You shook your head no. You killed them all, ye cunt. But you could not express your hatred out loud. Although when the time came, you would. Aye, you definitely would.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” For a second you believed him, his tone almost sorrowful.

“It was a long time ago.” You lied through your teeth, shrugging. “I’ll leave you to your rest now. Oidhche mhath (good night), Marcus.”

You heard a loud sigh being drawn into his lungs, possibly because of your cheekiness — calling him by his first name was a very bold move on your part. Maybe too bold.

Before he could reprimand you for your audacity, you scuttled back into the great hall, a sufficient grin tugging at your lips.

@orcasoul @immyowndefender @sjc7542 @fairiebabey

@thepalaceofmelanie @harriedandharassed @whoaitspascal87

@verybigvag @jessthebaker @ivoryandflame @missadangel @pepperstories

[yawnderu]

My life is falling apart - could you write how Ghost might save reader from her emotionally abusive and toxic husband? I thank you, maybe one day I'll have someone like Simon.

Whoever you are, I'm here for you if you need to talk. Stay strong sweetheart, this too shall pass. 💖

CW: Emotional abuse, toxic relationships, hurt/comfort, protective Simon Riley.

Simon had sneaked his way into your life with the same stealth he uses on missions— a man who barely spent any time at his apartment and was always away for what he said was just ''work''. The same man who after a few conversations, started bringing you small gifts from his missions, always something different that he thought you'd like.

Simon isn't dumb— far from it, he's always aware of his surroundings and throughout the years, he knows how to read people well. That's why it breaks him to see the way your smiles now came accompanied with a nervous look in your eyes whenever your husband was home, despite you and Simon simply being friendly towards one another.

Whenever he was back at his apartment, he started listening more and more. Paying even more attention to you, ear pressed against the wall while he listened to your husband berate you for a plethora of reasons, all of them more absurd than the other, the truth heavy on his shoulders, weighting him down like Atlas holding the sky.

Oh, how he wanted nothing more than to go inside your house and ravage your husband the same way he does so casually in the battlefield— but he can't. Simon Riley is not Ghost. Simon has to lay low, to ensure both his safety and yours, so he starts planning. Planning how to approach the issue, how to get you out of the situation and understand you better. He'd never admit it, but he spent the entire night reading the experiences of other married women when it comes to abusive marriages, restless dreams full of ideas on how in the bloody hell he'll get you out of this.

He waits until the next day once your husband leaves for work, waiting out five minutes that feel eternal just to make sure he doesn't come back. Unmasked and with very faint stains of eye black that he never seems to be able to fully remove, he knocks on your door. You answer with teary eyes, sniffling softly as you try your best to give him a small smile, yet he can see the pain. The same pain he saw in his mother's eyes his entire life.

''Simon!'' You greet, moving aside so he can enter your house, closing the door behind you as you both go to the living room.

''Would you like a cuppa?'' You offer and it takes him a few seconds to decide, ultimately nodding his head. Maybe this will be easier if you're both having a nice, warm drink. You come back minutes later with a tray and some crumpets, something you started buying when he casually mentioned liking them.

''Thank you.'' He takes a sip of the perfectly made chamomile tea, done the way he loves it— with two teaspoons of honey and hot. You give him a happier smile, the warmth of his presence wrapping around you like a secure blanket, a far cry from your marriage.

''Love...'' He begins and your full attention goes to him, noticing his serious tone and pensive expression.

''There's no easy way to say this, but with this place having thin walls, I sometimes hear things I shouldn't.'' You immediately know what he's talking about, but before you can apologize on behalf of your husband, he keeps speaking.

''You deserve so much better.'' He puts his cup down, eyes looking down to his hands— the hands he keeps ungloved just for you, the hands that are protected by his skull gloves whenever he's out in missions, so he can come back to you free of sin. He sits down next to you, one of his arms wrapping around your back reassuringly.

''Why are you still with him?'' There's a hint of desperation in his tone, thin eyebrows furrowed as he looks at you. You want to look away, but his brown eyes are almost hypnotic. So expressive, so telling whenever words aren't enough.

''I... I don't know.'' You reply with honesty, tone strained as you hold back tears and try to dig into your brain for any reasons you're with the man, yet nothing comes up. ''I don't have anywhere else to go to.''

Your words hurt him as much as they hurt you, looking at the potential you have that is being wasted on some ungrateful wanker who berates you for the smallest things.

''Run away with me.'' He suggests in a spur of the moment and before he can even process his own words, a small giggle escapes your lips. He raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, curious as to what's so funny. Your giggling stops when you notice the expression on his face.

''You're serious?'' You ask carefully, not wanting to make a fool of yourself despite knowing he'd never joke about something like that.

''I'm serious, love. We could go somewhere far away from here, safe. You can leave all of this behind, just say the word.''

''I...'' He can see your hesitancy, his warm hand rubbing circles on your back while the other one holds your hand, thumb rubbing the back of your hand reassuringly.

''What if he finds me?'' It's the first question that comes to mind, not wanting to deal with more of his abuse if you ever manage to get away.

''He won't, doll. I can promise you that. I'll get some of my mates to watch out for you when I'm busy at work, if it helps you.'' He knows it will, and he already has highly trusted friends from the 141 in mind to watch out for you whenever he goes on solo missions.

It took almost two hours of convincing before you agreed, and that's where you are now. He's helping you inform the police about your situation and why you're going away, just in case your husband tries to report you missing.

Most of your belongings were left at the house, but... it surprisingly doesn't bother you. It'll be a new beginning, the same furniture that has witnessed years of abuse is now left behind, only a few clothes inside his car while you both leave the police station. You take a deep breath, the warmth of the sun washing over your skin as you close your eyes, a sincere smile on your face for the first time in years.

''Thank you, Simon.'' My angel, my savior.

[starhvney]

Heyyy I just found your account and I adore it!!! If requests are still open could I request a Travis x reader where they just moved to the street and travis has been trying to woo them (and its highkey working). And one night theres this huge storm and the lower goes out while theyre at travis and dantes and Travis claims they need to “cuddle for warmth” (Dantes off somewhere idk) and its just really cute and he confesses his feelings and is a huge dork? Sorry if thats too specific, thank you so much and I hope your day has been lovely 💖

𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mys travis x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: a power outage at a very inconveniencing time happens to be just the push you need to 

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, sharing a bed, travis being a dork, he wants to be suave so bad, like no sweetie you’re just cute, anyways yeah, you both smooch at the end hehehe he likes youuuu

𝐂𝐖: none? a small innuendo i suppose

𝐀/𝐍: i love travis my cutie schnookims! anyways i slightly changed the plot but it’s basically the same? i hope you like it regardless! Have a good day :)

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

it was time for one of aphmau’s annual parties, and the girl had enthusiastically made a point to include you with her friend group to join in on their celebration. from the way she described it, it sounded like it would be a fun time, and as the new girl in the neighborhood, you definitely couldn’t reject the generous notion. 

especially when you found out that most of your neighbors had already been friends with each other since high school. it was really intimidating, to be thrown in a place where everyone around you already had a bond. how did they all even manage to find these nice houses next to each other?

you were grateful that they all were really friendly and seemed really open to letting in new people into the group. one had been especially friendly—a certain man with white hair and charmingly bright green eyes. you couldn’t lie he was attractive, and honestly one of the funniest ones in the group, but with his overly confident “womanizer” attitude you couldn’t help but obliviously ignore his advances on you.

it wasn’t that you weren’t interested. but you wouldn’t be easy against his rather brazen pickup lines and… dorky charm. he’d have to work for it. besides, it was kind of fun to watch him chase after you like a lost puppy.

that’s what brings you here, in your kitchen, the night before the party with travis himself. after all, you hadn’t accepted his flirtatious moves, but you most definitely hadn’t rejected them, either. everyone volunteered to cook a dish for the party in the group chat, and conveniently he happened to once again be loitering in your house—a habit he had started after you made it known he was welcome—as everyone discussed what they’d bring. he’d suggested for you both to hang out and cook your dishes together, and you couldn’t let down that hopeful glint in the man’s eyes.

“travis, now why in the world would you think mustard is scary. you have got to be messing with me right now.” you scoff, leaning back on your counter.

“i’m not!” he defends with his hands up, snickering at the unimpressed face you shoot him. “a lot of people get unnerved by random things for no reason! like mushrooms, and lots of holes, and even just a drop of blood!”

he points up as the window flashes with light, a loud thunder strike from the storm raging on outside cracking right after. “and thunderstorms!”

“okay, drama queen. i’d say being scared of thunderstorms and blood is a lot more justifiable than a condiment.” you scoff, before frowning as the wind howls and aggressively throws thick pellets of rain into your windows. “speaking of which, i’m not scared of storms but i don’t know if walking or even driving back down the street to your house would be safe 

travis’s eyebrows raise, pretty dark eyelashes brushing along his cheekbones as he blinks at you in surprise. a second later he’s leaning onto the counter with a goofy-looking smirk on his face.

“so, you want me to stay?—”

crack!

“oh!” you startle, not missing how travis also jumped in place too. “i’m surprised the power hasn’t gone out yet…”

“don’t—” travis starts only to be interrupted by another loud crash of thunder from the sky, the both of you getting sent into complete darkness. “…jinx it.”

for a moment the both of you stand in your kitchen in silence, listening as the heater powers down along with the gentle whir of your household appliances. if you could see each other in this moment you imagine you’d both be awkwardly standing with your arms by your sides. another flash of lightning briefly lights up the room to show your assumption was correct, and you burst into giggles after seeing travis’s pressed lips and wide eyes.

“huh? why are you laughing?” travis asks, though the amused warble in his voice gives himself away before he starts laughing with you.

it wasn’t freezing cold outside, but it most definitely wasn’t warm enough to get away with not having the heater on in your house. the immediate lack of hot air rushing through the vents sent a small chill against your skin, even through your warm pajamas.

your laughter stops as realization of your situation seeps in with the cold. not only was your heater off, but so was your fridge and your…

“oh my god our food is ruined.”

there’s a dreadful pause for silence—and now that your eyes are adjusting to the dark—you see travis whip his head to look down at the oven, where your dishes were only halfway cooked inside.

“…damn.”

“that's all you have to say, travis?” you chide.

“what? i mean, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?”

a disappointed sigh leaves your lips before you reach over to your phone, the screen lighting up to show the late hour it already was. there’s no telling how long the power would be out, and this was enough for the wind to blow out of your sails. you can’t be bothered to try and figure out a way to fix this.

a full-body shiver wracks your body as you stare blankly at your screen.

“hey, i can help you remake everything tomorrow morning if it’s ruined by then.” travis suddenly says. 

his voice is a bit closer, and you realize he’s moved right in front of you, part of his face now also glowing in your phone’s dim light. the look on his face is genuine and he seems almost worried, his own lips mimicking your own downturned expression. it makes you sigh, dropping your tense shoulders as another rumble of thunder vibrates through your house.

travis gently sets his hand over yours and your phone. “why don’t you sleep and i can come back in the morning?”

“come back?” you repeat. “no way you’re going back in this weather, that’s so dangerous! plus you’ll get sick.”

travis stares down at both of your slippered feet, then over to the kitchen windows, then back to you. “okay, i’ll stay if you want me to.”

you shiver again as you nod, crossing your arms to conserve the heat from escaping your body. you’re surprised at how calm and passive he was being. it’s not like he was always overbearing with his flirting and jokes, but it seemed to always be a part of his personality—not whatever this… soft, quiet version of him was.

“cold already?” he asks, rocking on his feet himself as he clenches and unclenches his hands.

“yeah… i didn’t know i needed the heater running that much, but i guess the storm made it even colder…” you mutter.

you catch his smirk through the dark. “well i know one way we can warm each other up—”

ah, there he is.

you’re about to swing a slap wherever it would land in the dark, though you stop when the suggestion clicks in your brain as an opportunity to give in to his advances—but with a perfect excuse.

“oh yeah! we can do that!”

travis’s eyes blow wide open as he takes a step back, a few startled coughs leaving his lips from inhaling too suddenly.

“wait, what?!”

“we can cuddle.”  you simply return. “since there’s no heater!”

he deflates his tense shoulders, nervous laughs leaving his lips. “oh, yeah! right, yeah. cool cool cool. that’s what i meant.”

turning on your phone flashlight you grab his hand, guiding him through your house while trying to hold back the urge to laugh at his flustered state. you wish the lights were on only so you could see whether he was blushing or not.

your bedroom was already a bit chilly compared to the kitchen, since it was at the far end of the house away from the main flow of your ac system. it makes you pull travis closer as you speed up your steps to your bed, finally letting go of him to rip open the comforter and dive into the sheets.

shimmying over to make room for him, you wave him to you through the dark to get in himself. you watch him rock back and forth on his feet before leaning over, crawling in right next to you and keeping just an inch of distance between the two of you.

“you sure you’re okay with this?” he whispers to you.

“yeah, of course i am.”

this seems to set off a green light for him, his arms circling around your waist and pulling you practically on top of him. you feel his feet kick next to yours, squeaking out a tiny “yay!” in celebration. the act was insanely adorable for the grown age he was at.

you can only quietly giggle at his antics, unable to nonchalantly play it off as usual. you hug him back, tucking yourself under his chin, and you feel his chest swell in a happy inhale. 

“i love you.” he sighs, a dopey smile evident in his tone. 

it makes your heart stutter in your chest, eyes wide open as they stare at his chest in the dark. 

“…what?”

his arms tense around you, breath hitching like he just realized what he said and beginning to stutter out an excuse. “um… i mean… not like…! oh my—i’m so sorry—”

“you really like me?” you ask, pulling back enough to make out his face in the dark. his eyes are wide and round, face in shock and embarrassment as if he had just slipped and fell in front of a whole crowd.

“i… i mean… isn’t it obvious?” he whispers sheepishly.

“well, you flirt with a lot of people. i didn’t know if you meant it with me or not.”

“no, not anymore!” he lurches himself closer to you. “didn’t you notice i only do that with you now?”

you blink as you try to recall a recent time you’ve seen or heard travis trying to use a pick up line or even staring at another one of the girls, and you honestly can’t recall it.

“…i guess so.” you mutter, and he squeezes you to him.

“so i do mean it with you! i know i can be really stupid and a little annoying, but—”

“you’re not annoying, travis. the things you do are a little stupid sometimes—”

“hey!”

“—but i think it’s cute.”

his jaw drops and mouth opens in shock. “you…you do? wait, do you…?”

you nod. “i like you.”

there’s a beat of silence, before he pulls you tight against him. a second later he rolls you around with him very similarly to how a crocodile rolls their prey, though the taller and heavier man thankfully keeps his weight from completely crushing you.

“travis!” you laugh, groaning at the sudden movement as you’re captured and thrown around like a rag doll. “how do you have this energy right now?”

“really?” he squeals, giggling like a schoolgirl. “you like me?”

“yes! now release me! please!” you breathlessly laugh.

he at least stops the rolling at your pleading, though he keeps you in his bear hug as he holds you on top of him.

“so, does this mean you want to date me?” he eagerly asks, still breathing heavily from the death roll he just made you endure.

you rest your forehead on his chest, quietly laughing to yourself in a bit of shock of what you just admitted. how did you give in so easily? you were hoping to drag this out for at least another month!

“it’s so late. why don’t we talk about this in the morning?”

he deflates and audibly pouts with a dejected sigh, and despite his dramatics clearly being played up you can’t help but still feel a bit guilty. rising up to your elbows you lean over him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and another on his lips.

"you dork." you chide under your breath.

his eyes are so wide you can see the whites all around the dark green of his irises. suddenly his hands are cupping your cheeks, and he’s bringing you down for a longer kiss. he pulls away a few moments later, seeming much more satisfied than he was a few moments ago.

“okay… we can talk in the morning.” he agrees breathlessly, staring up at you like he’d been locked away in a cave all his life and you were his first glance at the stars in the sky.

it makes the smile on your face impossible to fight, and you don’t think you care to anymore.

“good night, travis.”

“good night, hon.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet

[dragonsoulage]

Giving back the bird's wings...

feat. Levi Ackerman

After some observing Levi confrontes you about your relationship with your boyfriend. He can't longer look and ignore the feeling that tugged at his heartstrangs. You deserve so much better...

In this story you are working for the survey corps as maid in the headquarters. And you have a really toxic relationship with your boyfriend. Idk why but writing for Levi always makes me want to write something angsty. So here we are ☠️✨ please be aware that some things can trigger. So take a look at the warnings.💖 Oh and I suck in proof reading ☠️

Wordcount:4k

Warnings: Angst, ab*sive relationship, tox*c relationship, mentions of domest*c v*olence, sad, but fluff especially in the end. Levi is really tender with you 💖

You sat there in his office, tears streaking your beautiful face. It hurt him, more than it hurt you.

He found out what happened, not that it was that hard at all, people just needed to take a closer look, a more concerned look behind that happy exterior you always put on.

It was convincing, nearly so convincing that Levi himself might not notice, not right away.

But he cursed himself for not seeing it sooner.

You were a sweet girl, you have always been. So giving and selfless. You weren't in the corps, no. But you worked for them as a maid.

You cleaned and made the beds for the scouts. You cooked and served, and of course always had an ear for everyone who needed it. Not only that, but you were part of the group who made the scout feel like family. Especially the trainees, the new ones.

Levi was always gruff, pretending he would find you annoying.

Although it was indeed the opposite. He knew you was a person that probably would give someone else your last money because they needed it more than you. Too good for this cruel world, too good for him.

Not that he ever had a chance, he always thought to himself. You were taken, not a single lady. Your boyfriend was part of the military policy. A tall guy, strong and really an eye-catcher. But well even when he always seemed so concerned for you, or so nice. He wasn't.

Levis steel blue eyes looked at you, how you hid your face behind your hair. That pain on your face, it tugged in his heart strings.

Why you were sitting here?

Well, after Levi slowly found out what kind of man your boyfriend was, he simply observed you. Some signs were clear, he wasn't dumb. He saw how you hid your bruises, how you cried alone, ate alone. Always trying to avoid when someone asked you...really asked you how you have been.   

But tonight he had enough of observing and lurking around you. He was sure, your tears you shed give it all away.

A barrier that broke after he pointed it out.

"It's not like you think, he can be gentle, I swear. Sometimes he just doesn't know how he should control his strength." your voice was thin, even now you was defending this piece of shit? This man, who claimed to love you? And yet hurt you so much.

"Stop defending him. He hurts you, you don't hurt people that way when you love them." his voice was cold, he was angry. Not at you, of course not. His hand went through his raven strands. "You are too good for him, you give him everything and he did what? Throwing it away? And you still think it's your fault?" There was a chuckle that ran down your spine, he was not amused far from it.

"Some people need-" you wanted to start why you saw something good, you always saw something good, even in the captain himself.

"It still makes my blood run cold, to remember what he did before. You never told me anything at all, or anyone. I don't watch, (Y/N)." he stated firm, and he was really concerned, for you. Too soft, to get hurt by someone like this, a bird in a cage which wings were cut off.

He stood up from his seat makes his way around the desk before he stopped in front of you. Your head hanging low.   

"It's not like I would be oblivious, i-I know what he does." You meant, your voice trembling. When you were small you always wanted a man like you had now, big and strong, popular among the ranks, a smile that makes your heart warm, until you discovered his smile, your boyfriend heart was not real. His smile never reached his eyes. It made you believe that simply you was too different for this world. You were the problem, in being too sensitive, too emotional. Caring too much for everything. You were a smart girl, but you lost your own worth for yourself.

Thinking it was all you ever could get.

"When you know, why then you are still there?" he asked in a deep voice, still standing in front of you, looking down at you. He wanted to get a reaction from you, wanted you to see how damn wrong this was.

"Where else should I go? What do you want me to say?" you asked him, your voice filled with sorrow and yet with anxiety.

"I want you to speak it out." Levi meant, and in his head he was killing this man about the 100th time.

"Speak out what? That hitting your girlfriend is wrong? That insulting her is wrong? Making her do things, she never wanted but never had a choice? This is the world we were born in, everyone has problems. Mine is not different. It is what it is, not that I deserve anything at all when I am taking everything too my heart, I try... I fucking try. And it is me who-" you said, and your voice went a little louder in the end, you wanted to lash out not knowing why, tears started to run down your cheeks again. He stopped you, grabbing your chin and lifted it so you were forced to look at him.   

"You are not aware how this makes my blood thin, to remember what you are to him." Levi himself talking a little louder because of the intensity of this situation. He would never allow anyone to touch you like that again. He would rather die than have the hands of this filthy man on you.

Alone the thought how much you suffered at these hands, not just physical.

But the Captain was right, what were you to your boyfriend? A question you asked yourself a lot, wanted to be better, wanted to improve, although you were already perfect in other eyes...in Levis eyes.

"What am I?" you asked, and you looked so vurnable to him, he wanted to shield you from anything cruel this world offered you.

"You are...precious." these words simply came out of his mouth before he could stop them. Not that they were not true, but maybe because they were too true, to himself.

"(Y/N) you are lovely, probably one of the most...purest people I know. You take care of everyone and everything around you, simply because this is the being you are. You make a place feel like home, because you are home." his voice lower this time laced with raw honesty, not that he sounded pretty about that, it was everything he usually would never say out loud. He then went to one of his knees and hold your hand. Your teary eyes widen, no one ever said anything like that to you. No one appreciated your personality like this.

"At least to me..." he than added thin. You took a shaky breath, tried to wipe your tears away. But his hand already was on your cheeks, his thumb collecting the salty fluid.

"Why are you saying this?" you asked him, it was irony still asking questions if this was true, how bad this man had damaged you?

"Because otherwise you wouldn't see it, not that you would see this now, he damaged you, broke your wings." Levi stated and there was this glint in his eye, a silent promise to himself.   

"He broke more than that, he never had a nice word what he really meant." you spoke and at least you now was lured out of your shell, telling him what you really felt. Levi meant every word he said to you. And he was not known to say things like that. You were that sweet expectation, he needed to let you know what you were to him...you were home.

"Levi..." your thin voice spoke his name with such a need, because you felt so lost.

"I give them back to you, I promise." he said it just made you cry more. You felt like you wanted to crawl inside you, away from this situation. Levi would give you back your wings, that were cut of so rudely.

"Shhh." he soothed you then before you was pulled into a warm hug. You were sobbing, like crying out every bit of pain your boyfriend gave you.  

After that conversation, Levi would never allow you to go back to that bastard, not with the knowledge he had.

You stayed in the headquarters. Levi stayed the whole time by your side, until you fell asleep, you were just so exhausted from all the crying and the distress. After he was sure you slept safe and sound he made his way out.

"Where you're going to this time?" a known voice was heard behind him, Levi turned around it was the Commander Erwin.

"Taking care of things." he replied, and it was with a cold tone, hard like steel. Erwin for sure wasn't clearly in the picture what had happened, but he knew Levi wouldn't react like this when it wouldn't be necessary.

"What things?" Erwin asked sternly.

"Removing some trash around here." Levi answered, not giving away at all what his dark plans were.

"Whatever you need to do, make sure it disappears thoroughly." the Commander said before he let Levi go his way. He knew he was going to kill someone, and that someone would be your heartless boyfriend....

Levi knew you would cry, he knew you would break. But you were broken long ago from a person who never even deserved all the love you could give.

His stepped were determined, with that one purpose. Someone who was just so fragile as you and yet so strong trying to hold your head above water, it hurt him.

You were drowning all by yourself, and this bastard of a man pushed your head underwater, filling your lungs so you couldn't scream.

It was unfair to him, like so many things. So many things weren't right, but this, this was not just something. You were good, lovely even, and Levi knew when it was time to let things rest, but this? How should he rest when he knows the bitter truth that someone was making your life harder. Making your life...not worthy.

When Levi reached his place he wanted to be he took a deep breath before he knocked on that door.

Someone opened it, indeed your boyfriend with that bright smile, that smile that teared you apart.   

"The Captain of the Survey Corps, how can I help?" he asked him not aware how the next hour would go for him. Besides the fact that he didn't even ask for you. Your work was done about 3 hours ago, and you didn't come home. Levi knew that because he was the one who stopped you from going home.

"Hm, just checking up on things. Your girlfriend works for us, just doing some check-ups." Levi said gruffly in a low voice, his eyes looked hard, although they always did. He was short yes but not less an authority, he stepped into your home, the home you shared with this man.

"Oh yeah of course, we do these check-ups too, in our ranks." your boyfriend replied with curt smile letting Levi in.

"Where is she?" the Captain asked quiet stern, as he walked through the living room his hand resting on the sofa you probably used to sit.

"(Y/N)? Running some errands by now, she is always up on her legs. Like the good maid she is." he chuckled and well indeed he had this charm, seeming so nice and polite. All an act just to make people think he would be worth something. The short man sighted running a hand through his hair before his steps stopped. Turning around to the man.

"Errands? To this time? Isn't it a little late for that?" he cocked his head to the side, like if he was testing him. Your boyfriend was lying into his face, like he lied to everyone. It made Levis heart heavy to know that you belonged to this piece of shit. Someone who not even cherished you, who wouldn't give anything to you. Not more than a hit to you, not more than just empty words.

How often had you cried, because of him? How often your pretty eyes turned red? How often did you hid in your bedroom, hoping the next fight would be over. It was nearly like Levi could see all those things happen when he was inside this place.

"Well, yes it is late. But you know her, right? She wants to get things done." the other man meant not giving away anything. Levi groaned before the door was closed from the outside.

"Yeah she wants that, she always does a good job." Levi meant and walked closer to the tall guy who claimed to love you.

"It's not safe at all for a woman like her to wander around alone to this time, don't you think?" his voice cold, not a hint of warmth. God Levi would give everything, everything to protect you. Slowly your boyfriend turned irritated by these questions, the behavior. He furrowed his eyebrows tried to wave this off.   

"Women like her?" he asked Levi with a certain edge in his voice.

"Women like her....soft, and good, make you warm around your heart with a single smile. Make your day better by walking by. The way she pours in tea...with such a determination to make someone happy nearly can be annoying when it wouldn't be so beautiful." Levi mumbled more to himself, when he realized how much you meant to him. How much you affected him.

"You don't deserve her, and you know it don't you?" Levi asked him the direct looking nearly menacing in his face.

"What you are talking about? Sure you are still doing check-ups?" your boyfriend asks and slowly there was this other side getting out, his face turning stern and angry.

"Yeah, check-ups on you. You really thought you hid it well enough?" Levi started and well Levi was shorter yes, but this guy wouldn't stand a chance against him.

"It is not of your concern what is between me and my damn girlfriend." he stated with a low and dangerous voice, all that bubbly and happy side he appeared vanished in this second, it was clear it was never real.

"She is my concern, she was when she started working by us. She hides her bruises well enough, you don't hit her face, I give you that." Levis words meant to provoke, to justify his actions he would take. And Indeed your boyfriend never hit your face, it was always so pretty, and he didn't want to ruin it, but he didn't want anyone to notice what was happening behind closed curtains.

"And? What now? Reporting me to the higher ups? Congratulations Captain, no one cares about a fucking maid." your boyfriend claimed with a cruel chuckle, cracking his knuckles.

"It's already too late for that, when you really think this here has a happy ending for you, than you have not paid enough attention boy." Levi grumbled and then it started...   

That "fight" was short, indeed short, your boyfriend was so fast on the ground with Levis form hanging over him, bashed against the wall. Not more than a howling hound now.

"Please, I never do it again!" that tall guy cried, after he got hit many times in the face. His wrists already broken because of Levi.

"I swear! Stop, please." he begged, begged for his life, never did he thought something like that would happen. That someone would come and actually give him a lesson, but more than that to actually punish him for what he did.

"You didn't stop, when she asked you to." Levi spit out into his face, maybe it was wrong, maybe this was the wrong approach to do it. But man like him would never change, they would find the next victim. You already suffered enough... maybe it would hurt, but this pain, Levi knew he would be able to heal it for you. At least this is what he wanted to try.

With some more action of Levis fists your boyfriend slumped to the ground, alive but barely breathing. He asked himself why someone like Levi came to do justice for you.

"You want her to yourself." he stated with a weak and raspy voice.

"It's not about what I want, but what needs to be done. She suffered in your hands, and this what I gave you was not even the half of everything she went through. How could you hurt her?" Levi asked him grabbing his throat looking him dead in the eyes.

"Because she let me... because she is that pretty bird I wanted to keep in that cage." he answered and maybe your boyfriend was now honest for the first time in his life.

"She is good and you knew that. A shame that a man like you had her, had the chance to love a precious being like her and yet ended up locking her up, cutting off her wings, for what use? Because you felt strong? What a pity you need to be, when you need to hurt others to feel strong? Piece of shit." Levis voice was dangerous sharp like a dagger he meant every word, he was so angry at this guy.

"And now do me a favor and fucking die." was the last Levi said to him before he snapped his neck.... it was done now, he removed the trash.   

Weeks went on after this incident, your boyfriend...he was being missed, his body not found, simply no one expected him to be dead, but he vanished.

You were aware what had happened, even when Levi never told you exactly that he committed murder. It was not like that tit was selfish, but he couldn't watch, couldn't watch how you would always be haunted by the actions of this man. And well...you truly let your happy guard down, behind that a sad girl, a broken one. So much weight on your delicate shoulders, a weight he wanted to lift. Levi would carry every burden, even when you never wanted him to.

He gave you time, not even expecting you to love him, to show him a sign of something, a small glimpse. Everything he wanted was that you felt safe, felt cherished.

Levi was in his office again but when he looked outside the window for just a fleeting moment, his eyes caught your sight.

You stood there in your maid dress you always wore, you finished working. Standing outside and handing out some pastries you bake. Of course Sasha was literally eating out your hand before Connie and Jean could get some. You weren't healed, but you seemed lighter, there was something about you now...something that made him want to believe it was justified what he did. He would give everything to a new sight to drink you in. The woman that was so gentle, yet always ready to give everything she could, just for a smile from another. The Captain found solace in watching you, your features highlighted by the sun. These lips that curled into a warm chuckle. These eyes that always gave away how you felt. At least to those who took a look, a real look.

He would give everything to borrow your indifference to see the world through your eyes.

You two had something together, the world had been unfair to both of you and yet you were able to be like this. Able to give that what Levi couldn't show. Not that these feelings weren't there, he cared a lot, more than he would admit, but you were the part that showed it.

You would complete him.

After you gave the three scouts the pastries you then went inside again, not many moments went over and he heard a knock. "Come on in." he replied with a curt voice. And there you was, none of you talked about the fact he made your boyfriend disappear.

You opened the door, with a tray in your hands, a warm cup of tea, Earl Grey, no sugar with a shot milk. And one of the pastries you bake, glazed with honey and walnuts.

"Before my shift is over I don't wanted you to pass out the chance to get one of those, before Sasha and Connie will kill all the pastries." you spoke with a sweet voice. You still seemed to carry a burden, yet you seemed lighter. You placed the tray on his desk, stood there next to him for a moment. Furthermore, you were thinking. There was this tension, the question if you should ask or not since weeks. The tension wasn't bad at all, but it was palpable. So much Levi felt it too.

"Your shift is already over, I know when it ends, and you worked longer than you have should." Levi pointed out with a short nod to the clock.   

Indeed, your shift would have ended about 45 minutes ago. You wiped your hands on your apron before your face turned to him.

"Yeah maybe it was, but I enjoy being here. It's home now, remember?" you answered and was referring to the fact that he told you, you were home. And it struck his heart for a moment when you said that. You weren't shocked about what he had done? You were sweet and gentle yes, but not oblivious. Likewise, you knew your situation had been bad, probably when Levi wouldn't have noticed, when he wouldn't care you would still be locked away like the bird without wings you were.

Yearning for freedom. You were still learning, learning to fly, learning to take your freedom Levi gave you. You were living in the headquarters now, not that old home that hold so many gruesome memories to you.

He gave back your wings, the feathers slowly grow back, with each passing day.

"(Y/N)... I-" for once Levi wanted to start, wanted to explain why he did it. But you shut him up, with a simple gesture. Shoving the tray closer to him.

"You gave me back, what I wasn't able to get myself. Maybe it was not the perfect way. But...what is even perfect?" you asked instead you looked him deep in the eyes.

A silent understanding. It was a moment that not seemed to went over.

"You are." Levi replied, when he said that your eyes went so soft. It has always been like this, he never expected anything in return for what he did. He yearned for you, for so long, for that understanding and lovely woman you were. The way you made him warm around his heart.

Always feeling so unlucky when you had been taken, by a man who never truly wanted to see you. Because Levi saw everything about you. Every aspect that made you...you.

He lived like he got missing limbs, for you. So often he felt a piece missing. A missing heart next to his.

"Don't say that, Captain." you meant to him before you bend down a little because he was sitting, and you had been standing next to him.

"You said I am home... I want you to say that I feel like you are home too." you spoke before you took a deep breath, leaning in and giving him a sweet kiss on his cheek.

The usual stoic Captain, so composed. He felt vurnable for a short moment. Someone who saw behind his exterior, even with the things he has done, and would do again.

"Thank you, Levi. For everything." you whispered wanted to turn awa

[drvscarlett]

DOWN BAD

Charles Leclerc x Kpop idol!reader

Summary: When kpop meets formula 1 and its a relationship PR stunt. What happens then?

The Tortured Drivers' Department series

A/N: after a long long long while, we are so back! Congrats for charles winning his home race. Let me know what you think or if you wanna be added to the taglist.

Taglist. @tea-bobba @boiohboii @c-losur3 @haikyuen @stelena-klayley @stinkyjax @0710khj @jinimon-tr

Cause what if I was in love What if I can't have us.

Liked by Charles_Leclerc, todayis_wendy, and 790,456 others

xoxo_y/n 💍💖

user8 MOTHERRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!

user4 she remembered her account again!!!

user10 can we get a smile miss maam???

user11 she is ice princess for a reason duhh user10 it wouldn't hurt for her to smile sometimes

user55 someone tell me why charles is in the likes??

user7 charles??? like king charles?? user67 dumb dumb, its charles leclerc

user90 another day, another slay from Y/N

Y/N have never been a fan of fake dating.

However, it was not an uncommon practice in the industry. If someone wants to hide their relationship, create a fake relationship to throw off the media. If someone wants to boost their popularity, fake a relationship and get the attention.

It amazes her how good people play that part of being in love when they are really not. The thought of it also disgust her because she can't even control her emotions to the people she doesn't like let alone pretend to love someone.

So this entire meeting seems ridiculous.

"Isn't there any other way to solve this situation by not doing this?"Y/N asked.

"The company doesn't want to give you a comeback until your popularity rises and this fake relationship will guarantee a boost" the manager convinces "You are the only girl in your group that has not been involved in any dating scandals"

"Isn't that supposed to be a good thing I'm not into scandals"Y/N rebutted

"Normally it is but your image is not doing well because everyone thinks you are too cold and unreachable"

Y/N slumps back at her chair, there is really no way out of this.

"C'mon Y/N, do it for the team please"the manager begged "Think about Wendy, Joy, Seulgi, and Yeri. This whole thing will do them good"

As the leader of the group, this was her main weakness. She will do anything for the betterment of the group. Its what a good leader does.

"Just make him someone nice" Y/N surrenders.

The immediate change in expression almost made Y/N retract everything she said. This was happening whether she likes it or not for there was already a plan in mind. With her verbal agreement, its set to motion.

"Don't worry, he is a very nice guy" the manager assures "It's that f1 driver, Charles Leclerc"

Y/NFansite Y/N was just spotted boarding a flight to Japan.

user4 what is she doing in japan??

user2 what is she doing alone in japan? user3 japan huhhhh

user7 safe flight y/n

user8 it might seem crazy what im about to sayyyyyy

user9 i love love her airport fashion so chic and comfy

She knew that she should have listened to the members advice to look up her "boyfriend" but of course Y/N was too stubborn. Now, she is here sticking like a sore thumb and looking like a headless chicken in the Ferrari garage.

This was the week that they are supposed to be soft-launching their relationship. She haven't even meet the guy yet, she resist the urge of rolling her eyes as cameras might be lurking.

"Love the color of your nails" the voice comes from behind.

Y/N snaps her head giving her famous resting face as she meets the grinning Charles Leclerc.

"Ferrari Red or Red Velvet?" Charles wondered.

"It can be either"she shrugs.

He sits next to her. He was a little bit taller than her even when they are sitting down. She noticed the friendship bracelets that that he wears on his wrist with red and yellow as its dominant colors.

It was the first time that she has been able to take a long look at the man, she has seen posters of him at the train station. She will admit that she kind of sees why the girls were shrieking when they looked up the photo of Charles. He certainly looks good and she bets he knows it too with that charming smile plastered on his face.

"My name is Charles, sorry that it took me so long to meet you"Charles held out his hand

"Y/N, nice to meet you"

She didn't reach out to touch his hands in return, she just wants enough distance as much as she could. After all this whole thing is just a pretend thing.

Charles didn't seem to be dismayed by the action and he smoothly covers it up by running his open hand to his hair. He continues to smile at her brightly.

"Ice princess right?"he mentions the nickname.

"How do you know that?"Y/N asked

"I googled you last night" Charles replied "Of course I have to know something about my new girlfriend."

Y/N felt her cheeks burn at the way he spoke girlfriend. It was uttered in such a teasing manner that she is beginning to understand how some people are good at making fake dating situation work.

"I didn't look you up"Y/N admits.

She was expecting to see a falter or a tinge of disappointment but the smile on Charles face only went wider. It's as if he was a kid given a his wish on Christmas day.

"Well then that's perfect" Charles clapped his hands "We have some time before free practice, I could show you around and I could talk to you about Formula 1"

Charles_LeclercUpdate Charles is spotted walking with kpop leader Y/N before FP1. They were also spotted hanging out after free practice.

User4 what????

User7 BIG DAY FOR THE KPOP X F1 GIRLIES (its me)

User8 so that's why she went to japan!!!

User9 omgggg they will be a power couple

User14 y/n pick anyone, pick anyoneeeeeeeeeeeeeee. leave my husband alone

"Sooooooo when are we meeting our new brother-in-law?"Wendy asked.

The minute that Y/N steps back to Korea, she was immediately bombarded by her members regarding her Japan trip. They were all over their groupchat and they kept sending the photos that were tweeted by fans during the weekend.

"I think he will be busy a lot"Y/N answered "You might not meet him any time soon"

The Japanese GP was quite disappointing for Charles with him landing on a P4 and missing out on a podium. Although if Y/N could argue, she overheard people talking about how Charles did extremely well especially with the one-stop strategy. Y/N mentioned it in their conversations but Charles still insist that he has to do better so he will be training a lot.

"Tell me you took pictures"Joy asked

Y/N nodded her head as she opened up her phone. Her gallery was filled with a lot of pictures during the weekend. There were also some fans of Charles that she took photos with.

They stumble upon a selfie by Charles and Y/N, they could not stop giggling.

"Unnie, you two looks so good"Yeri, the youngest cheers "Everyone keep saying how you two are the original visual"

"What if this can be your first real relationship" Seulgi encourages.

"This is just work Seulgi"Y/N reiterated "We'll fake date for a year and a half then its done"

Before the members could voice out their protest, the door rings.

"Did you guys order food or something?"Y/N asked.

The four other members shook their head communicating that there is a stranger outside the door. Y/N cautiously opens the door because she didn't want her private apartment leaked to fans.

Y/N felt a sigh of relief upon seeing the lady at the frontdesk of her building. What was highly unusual was the bouquet of red flowers of various shades and sizes that she was holding.

"Y/N, I wanted to give this to you because I think your boyfriend forgot your room number"she greeted.

Stunned silence, she wasn't aware that there was something to do for today. She normally doesn't gush but receiving flowers is something really nice. Y/N mutters a small thanks before getting the flower and getting inside.

"Ohmygod, that must be from Charles"Yeri was jumping up and down "Isn't he romantic?"

"What did he sent it for?"Joy quizzes.

Y/N picked up the card and saw a scrawl signed by Charles' name.

"I never got to thank you for being with me during the weekend. Thank you for being a wonderful addition to the garage. Its nice to see you. I'm hoping to see you maybe in Shanghai?"Y/N reads.

"You have to go!!!"Wendy pushed.

"Unnie c'mon bring us with you"

"Let me see the letter"

While the girls were busy talking, Y/N took the opportunity that they were occupied to quiz the man who sent the flowers.

Y/N: Why did you send the flowers? Charles: You don't like it :<< Y/N: Well, I love it and I appreciate that. Y/N: Should I post this on social media or something to tag you? Charles: I just want you to enjoy the flowers. I really appreciate meeting you. Charles: Have a great day cheri Y/N: Thanks Charles, you too!

Charles_Leclerc what a weekend, shanghai you have been great.

User4 what a weekend for feudrari

User5 Charles you look so good!!!!!

User10 a smiling Y/N???? WHAT IS HAPPENING

User45 am i the only one thinking how random this whole relationship is?

User7 i know like who introduced them??? User8 ngl i dont give a crap, i just think they are perfect with each other

She was easily getting a hang of this new life. She feels like as an idol, she was well-prepared with the flashing cameras and the people bombarding her wherever she goes. It was no big deal for her to stop by and meet people since everyone seems to want a picture or a sign of Charles.

"Y/N can you give this to Charles?"

"This bracelet is for you and Charles"

"Would you sign this?"

"Y/N I hope you can have a comeback soon!"

There were so many voices and people. She kept a smile on her face as she tries to navigate her way out of the crowd. There is probably an increase in the amount of people crowding her since she is now known as Charles' girlfriend besides being an idol singer.

The crowd was moving in a snail pace and she politely thanked people giving her gifts for her or even the ones that are supposed to be for Charles. She was so preoccupied that Y/N didn't notice that Charles was worriedly squeezing his way to the crowd to retrieve her.

"Excuse me, can you give her some space please"Charles tried to get a hold of her.

"I'm okay"she squeaked.

Still, Charles waded through the crowd and once within reach he interlocked his hands with her. Y/N also noticed how his other hand has been gently placed at her back in a protective manner as if he is guiding her.

There were cameras flashing and Y/N felt a cap being placed on her head. She can see the number 16 etched on the flap of the cap and Charles suddenly missing his iconic hat.

"Please don't crowd my girlfriend please" Charles begged the crowd "I don't want her harmed or you guys to be harmed so lets just calm down"

It felt like Charles has a certain pied-piper charm to his voice because people listened. The two of them made their way to the garage and Y/N didn't miss how he still kept the protective arm gesture.

"You should have used the more private gate, next time I'll teach you that so you won't be bomarded by people" Charles explained "You could have been lost in the crowd if Fred didn't tell me"

The worried look on Charles face was evident. He was looking at her if she had any bruises or scratches, he knows that there was a tendency for avid fans to accidentally leave some scratches.

"Charles, I'm okay" Y/N rested a hand on his shoulders to soothe him "This is not my first time to deal with crowds"

"I know but I don't want to create a bad experience for your grand prix, you might not want to go next time"Charles pouts.

"I can assure you that it will take more than a crowd to scare me into not going to Grand Prixs"

Y/N's remark seems to place a smile on Charles' face and she couldn't help but to smile as well. It was simply infectious for Charles to do that.

"Good because I want to keep inviting you to more Grand Prix"Charles stated.

xoxo_Y/N 🎹🎵 #solo

User1 were finally getting an Y/N solo ???? FINALLY

User2 Y/N SOLO???

User3 I spy with my little eye, thats charles!!!!

User16 CHARLES WILL BE PLAYING FOR YOUR SOLO??? User24 no wayyy!!!!

User15 were going to be blessed!!!

Todayis_wendy why are we not informed???

xoxo_Y/N he is only here for a couple of days Charles_Leclerc I promise, I'll hang out next time! Todayis_wendy get me some gp tickets in canada and were good! Charles_Leclerc that can be arranged user55 wendy here is getting the bag LOL

After a couple of grand prix, it was now time for Charles to enter her world.

Its the summer break, they made use of the time by bringing Charles to Korea. Y/N had a lot of things planned because she wanted to treat Charles with the whole korean experience but her company had other plans.

"I'm really sorry, this will be just a quick thing" Y/N apologized as they walked the halls of the recording studio.

"No worries, I don't have anything planned" Charles smiled.

"This will be just 30 minutes or so then we can go exploring again" Y/N explained.

"Hey, its okay. "Charles assures "This is your world and you know I'm really happy to see you do your thing"

Y/N felt something weird again with how Charles placed his hands on top of hers. It wasn't her nerves because she recorded multiple times so this is something else. In the back of her mind, she knows what exactly this is but she wants to deny it for a little bit longer.

"There you are Y/N, I'm sorry but your recording last week glitched" The producer noticed she wasn't alone "We might rerecord"

"Can we do a quick run?" Y/N pouted.

"It might take some time"

She helplessly looked at Charles expecting him to be disappointed. Charles has a big supportive smile on his face as if reassuring her that she could take all the time she needs.

"I'm alright being here, your studio is awesome" Charles piped in

He was immediately making his way to the piano and looking over to the other equipment in the studio. Y/N noticed that Charles has a certain crinkle in his eyes when he is in awe with things, she used to see it with the cars.

"You wanna play?" Y/N asked

Charles looked at her as if she was kidding. He looked to the producer, seeking confirmation, and the producer just gives a go signal.

"I mean, maybe I can contribute to your recording"Charles suggested.

"Gee, are you coming after my job?"Y/N joked

"Maybe I'm just trying to do this so we can spend more time together" Charles winks.

And so the re-recording started. Charles was busy playing and making suggestions, which the producer takes into account. He even made a rough draft of a new song that Y/N noticed when he stepped out to take a call.

"Your boyfriend has an ear for music"The producer admits.

"It seems so"

Y/N glanced at the musical notes and lyrics that he has written. It was something that she might have to discuss with Charles soon because these have big potential to be a part of an album.

"You two are a match-made in heaven"

The comment caught her off-guard. It was her internal crisis that she was getting used being with Charles and it reached to the point that they are still acting like they are together even without cameras on them.

Is everything still pretend?

Charles_Leclerc Red Velvet should be played at the garage tbh

Arthur_Leclerc a blast to see her perform!!!

xoxo_y/n thanks arthur! Arthur_Leclerc my bias is Yeri btw! any chance you can get me one of those yeri card? xoxo_y/n talk to her yerimiese yerimiese hi???

xoxo_y/n consider me surprised, thanks for seeing us perform

Charles_Leclerc wouldn't miss it for the world mon chou! user81 the nickname is mon chou???? user50 i want what they have

user9 the fact that charles literally took the time to surprise his gf by staying lowkey and buying tickets like a fan would, Y/N wins the jackpot!!!!

User4 what a supportive boyfriend, i wish my boyfriend is like this

User7 why is that every time Y/N smiles, charles is always there at the receiving end??

User8 i wanna go to a red velvet concert too!!!

Charles knew that this was beyond the contract but he was pretty curious after knowing that this was Red Velvet's first european tour. Y/N was always doing her best to be present in GPs and he wanted to return the favor. He had a bit of free time and he did a little snooping.

"Let me ask you why did you call me here again?"Arthur asked.

"I need you to go on your laptop and get tickets"Charles repeated.

"Tickets for what?"

"Red Velvet tour in Paris"Joris answered.

He really brought the whole battalion to secure the concert tickets. From what he researched, it was quite chaotic once the ticket starts so he enlisted everyone within the vicinity. This is why Joris and Arthur are camped in his living room with their laptops on.

"You know I honestly think we shouldn't go with this big of a trouble when we can just call her and ask for tickets"Joris added

"But she will be surprised and this is too sweet of a gesture" Arthur cooed "I'm definitely down to do this"

"We have to focus on getting the tickets"Charles reminded.

They watched as the clock ticked closer to the selling time and then it was quite chaotic at the household. Charles would like to think that his fast reflexes would be a great advantage to this but it was all futile.

"What do you mean that were in line?"

"My site just crashed"

"This button is not working, what is this wifi?"

"WHY IS THIS SO STRESSFUL?"

Charles_Leclerc recharging the batteries with her.

xoxo_y/n i dont wanna leave monaco

Charles_Leclerc stay with me even longerrrrr hi_sseulgi stop stealing her!!! Charles_Leclerc sorry lolz user9 lolz, charles ur so unserious

user4 posting two photos of Y/N and one of him, he is head over heels

user7 i mean if Y/N is my girlfriend then i will do the same!

user16 i just wanna take a long walk and lie down the highway

xoxo_y/n always so proud of you Charlie!

Charles_Leclerc thank you! i couldn't ask for anyone better to support me

xoxo_y/n saranghaeeeee Charles_Leclerc love you more mon chou

user12 im not a huge fan of Y/N but she is always there to support Charles therefore i like her a lot

User5 why are they so wholesome???

User6 i just saw them walking to the paddock and how Y/N looked so proud of Charles is everything

Charles finds that Abu Dhabi is that one track he hates every season.

It serves as a bitter reminder that another season is ending and he doesn't have a championship in his belt. It was a heavy burden on his shoulder especially when everyone has dubbed him as someone who will bring back the glory days of Ferrari.

"You look exhausted"Y/N pointed out.

He was so into his thoughts that he didn't notice her arrival.

"When did you get here? I'm sorry if I wasn't able to pick you up at the front"Charles apologized.

"It's okay Charles"Y/N assured "But are you okay?You seem a bit out of it"

"Just a lot of things"Charles sighed.

Charles fiddles with his ring, a habit that Y/N observed that Charles do when he is stressed. After being together for nearly 10 months, even if its fake, Y/N was observant to pick up these characteristics.

"You could tell me anything"

Something that Charles learned that despite the whole cold atmosphere and aura Y/N has, she was a very good listener and comforting shoulder to cry on.

"It's just the championship, I wish I could have a better car and a better chance to win this thing"Charles admitted.

"You always have next year" she suggested

"Maybe but everyone is getting restless"Charles' voice felt like cracking "Next year, its a new team mate and a new car and new struggles"

"Well no one said that the road to championship would be easy"Y/N said "Things are never easy but that's what makes victory so sweet"

Y/N's hand reached to touch Charles to stop him from fidgeting his ring. There was that feeling of warmness again but this has been occurring for so long that this was not a foreign feeling anymore.

"You'll get it next year Charles"

"Thanks for believing in me Y/N"

Charles_Leclerc love spending time with you as always!

user8 the rings??? dont tell me you two are engaged???

user76 im so happy to see them be like this huhuhu

user2 i love it how open Y/N and Charles is about their relationship

user6 why is she in monaco again? doesn't she have a job or sumthing?

user7 jealous much?? user8 why does she need to work when charles can provide

It was so easy to do the whole relationship with Charles that they haven't noticed that a good year and a half has been done. Y/N knew that sooner or later the phone call will inform her that its time to call it off but she would like to pretend that its never happening.

"Charlie!"she greeted as soon as she enters the apartment "I remember we were running low on fruits so I bought some apples and oranges while I was going home"

Y/N frowns because usually Charles would come running already to ask what did she get but today there was a certain stillness. She immediately went to Charles' office and she spotted him in front of his laptop.

In her heart, she knows what's happening judging the grim look on his face.

"We need to talk" Charles broke the ice "I just got the email"

Y/N understood english but why are the words like floating in the air and not making any sense to her. She felt like she could just vomit at the moment with the amount of stress.

Everything was coming to an end.

"Hey, hey look at me Y/N" Charles held her hand "This whole thing may be over and we just need to give it a few months but we are still friends"

Friends? That was even more painful than ever. How can Y/N go from acting all domestic and being a couple to simply being reduced to a friendship. She clutches the necklace hanging around her neck as if it was the thing suffocating her.

"Do you need water?" Charles asked

"I need to go"

"Go? Where are you going?" Charles was confused.

But Y/N was already picking up her bag and things. She felt so claustrophobic being in Charles' place and having so many thoughts running in her mind. She just wants to get away.

"I just need to go for now Charles"Y/N repeated.

"Mon chou, you don't seem like in a good state to drive by yourself, let me drive you mon chou-"

"Don't call me that"Y/N snapped.

There were so many emotions in Y/N's eyes. It was filled with regrets, begging, and most of all pain. It was swimming with emotions that he was lost at what to do.

"This whole thing is about to be over so I think its best to start dropping nicknames so its easier for us to part"Y/N's response was on autopilot and Charles could only nod in agreement.

soompi Red Velvet leader Y/N and Scuderia Ferrari driver Charles Leclerc confirms break up.

user4 what???did i miss something???

user88 you have got to be kidding me!!

user7 i knew it, they were bound to end.

user9 good news, my wife is freee!!!!!

User8 we are checking, we are checking

"Charles?" Y/N's voice felt like fresh air for Charles.

He can't see her but he can feel how there was so much that has changed about her. There was this certain tone and intonation that he remembers whenever she speaks to him. Now, its just empty and void of emotions.

Its been 2 weeks since they received the termination email and they haven't been together in the same place ever since. Frankly, Charles misses her.

"Charles, are you there?"Y/N asked "I'm gonna hang up this phone if you're not going to speak because I have some stuffs to do so-"

"Don't hang up.. please"Charles interrupted "I just didn't know what to say to you"

There was a silence on both ends of the phone call but their heavy sighs acknowledges that they are still both on the line. They are both waiting for each other to say something.

"You know its snowing today" Charles started.

"The first snow?"

"Yeah and I remember that you told me that in Korea that whole tradition about when the first snow falls then you have to call someone really special"Charles remembered.

"Charles don't do this"she begs.

"Don't do what?"

"This, whatever this is. It has to stop because were about to announce to the world that were breaking up and we have to adjust back to what we used to be"Y/N said.

She was begging Charles to give her some time and space. It was for her own good because she knows that she was already in too deep with this whole fake relationship and its going to break her the minute that this whole thing finally ends.

"I like you Y/N" Charles was first to cave in "I have been thinking about this for months that I really like spending time with you and I really like you way beyond than this whole fake dating thing"

There was desperation in Charles' voice and it was not comforting for Y/N to hear it. She often hears that love is not supposed to be something that scares you, it should be your peace or tranquility.

"This is all wrong, you're only saying that because we spend too much time together"Y/N denies.

"Then we can start this again. Properly and real this time around" Charles insisted "We can hide away this relationship from the media, we can do secret studio session, we can just have private vacations here in Monaco"

Everything was too good for Y/N to be real. She was scared that she might wake up and this is all a dream for her.

"I like you Charles but I think I needed time to process this whole thing"Y/N answered "We have to think this through because I think were transitioning from everything way too fast. We're acting and now we're turning this to something real."

And there was silence, she knows that she messed up by being too open and too direct about what she's feeling.

"You're scared?" Charles asked

"Yeah"

"Okay then I'll wait for you until you're no longer scared"

Y/N felt like she could cry with how Charles replies. It was somehow very comforting to hear that he wouldn't run away and that he would be here.

"And when you feel like you are no longer scared and afraid then I'll be here" Charles assures.

CharlesY/NUpdates is Y/N and Charles back together?? We spotted a new girl in his vlogs and it looks like Y/N. The photo from the left is a screenshot from Charles' new vlog while the one on the right is a photo of Y/N in her IG a few weeks ago.

User4 ohmygod!!! I KNEW IT!!!

User7 anyone thinks that the timeline isn't adding up because Y/N hasn't left korea

User8 we don't know if she's been riding private jet planes

User91 no, that's not Y/N. Look at her nose

User20 and the skintone User4 but they look eerily similar

Its been 8 months since they "broke up" and true to their words they haven't been contacting each other. They really took the words taking time to navigate what they are feeling so that they can work things out properly this time.

Y/N is currently doing some songwriting when the members barged in her room. They were giggling and excited that it made Y/N confused if she missed any new memes.

"Okay what is going on"Y/N asked, putting down her pen.

"Oh c'mon unnie, why are you still hiding from us?"Yeri giggled

"Yeah, did we really have to know things from the internet" Wendy agreed.

This only confuses her even more and the members seem to realize that Y/N truly didn't know anything.

"Unnie be real with us? Is this you" Joy asked.

Scrolling past the different set of photo of Charles and mystery girl, Y/N felt her heart drop.

"I haven't talked to Charles ever since.."Y/N admitted.

There were so many questions in her head if this is one of those fake ones or is this a true relationship. Truthfully, she didn't want to know the answer because it will only pain her more.

"What are you going to do about this Y/N? I thought you two are working things out to be real"

"I don't know.."

There was something broken about Y/N that she can't feel anything.

WagF1 look at the new gf of Charles Leclerc and his past gf, does charles get deja vu?

user6 charles i cannot defend you with this

User7 its called, he has a type!!!

User88 i miss Y/N and charles

User9 can you all get over the old ones, they have new lives already

CharlesY/NUpdates Charles and Y/N at the same event tonight! After a year of their break up!

User6 anyone wanna bet with me that there will be chaos

User8 nah Alex and Y/N are too sweet to be involved in a fight User10 oh to be a fly in that room

User1 did they know about this or are they as surprised as each other?

User2 i mean if my ex shows up looking like that, i would have started packing my bags

User3 but alex is also too beautiful!!! User72 alex looks like Y/N

User84 i just miss Y/N at the paddock :((

If Y/N has been informed that Charles would be in attendance then she would have called in sick or skipped her flight. It was a punch in the gut to see him but she felt like someone twisted the knife when she saw the company he was with.

Alex, a beautiful name for a beautiful girl.

They were a few tables away from Y/N's table but to her luck she has the perfect view of the couple. She have to thank the years of media training that she underwent during her debut days that prevents her from showing any emotions she is feeling at the moment.

"Y/N do you want to switch seats?" Seulgi asked

"I'm okay, I don't wanna make anymore trouble"

She watches how Alex whispers to Charles and how he nods in attentiveness. It was the same way that Charles used to talk to Y/N when she was fake dating him.

How is this not confusing for Charles? This was the question that bothers Y/N.

"I need to go and powder my nose a quick second" Y/N bids the table.

The members look at their leader with a worried expression but they let her off. Y/N went outside of the hall and out of the view of the cameras. She was suffocating in that room.

The door creaks open again and she fears that oh so familiar footsteps.

"YN"

"Charles"she greeted without stopping with her stride.

"I need a second with you"Charles was catching up.

"I don't have a second for you"

"C'mon Y/N hear me ou-"

Charles grabbed Y/N's wrist and she made a mistake of facing him. Everything just comes flooding in her memory and she hates herself so much that none of these feelings have any semblance of hatred towards the man.

"Give me a chance to explain myself. I know this is all so confusing for you and I know that I hurt you but I didn't mean to do that to you"Charles explained.

Another mistake that Y/N did was she looked him straight to the eye. It was a recipe for disaster as months of trying to heal suddenly went down the drain.

"I love you. I really do. And I waited for you and then Alex entered and then I liked her a lot and I know this is not an explanation that you need but you deserve to hear this and-"

The whole thing was passing on deaf ears because Y/N already confirmed what she was feeling ever since the first sentence. She was ready to settle this out even if it hurts her.

"Loved Charles. You loved me"Y/N points out "Past tense"

"What? What do you mean?"

"You love Alex now right so you only loved me" Y/N restates.

Charles was at a lost for words.

"You shouldn't feel guilty, I can see it in your eyes that you truly love Alex." Y/N explains "I'm happy that its something real and sure"

Real and sure, its something that she cannot give but she is happy someone else can give that to Charles.

"But what about you?"Charles asked

"My feelings, I'll get over it."Y/N knows that she has to.

They stand there with a more comfortable silence.

"Does that mean were okay? No more hard feelings?"Charles wondered

"of course charlie"she musters a smile.

"Great" Charles awkwardly runs a hand down his hair

"You should get back to the hall, I'm sure Alex would be wondering where you went"Y/N suggested.

"What about you?"

"I'll follow soon, I just need to go to the bathroom"

"Okay Y/N, I'll see you inside later" Charles replied.

The fading footsteps of Charles allowed Y/N to let out a heavy sigh. She briskly walked to the bathroom and in the far end of the stall, she locks herself. It was the only moment that she allowed herself to be true to whatever it is she feeling.

She did everything good but why does she feel like crying now.

[highonmarvel]

Helloooo! Can i please request an au where the reader has had a few toxic relationships and she’s trying to distract herself by those by starting her own business, turns out bucky or steve are an interested investor but they never really wanted her business and just her and somehow trap her into an arrangement…Sorry if it’s too specific! 💖💕💞💗⭐️

oh, this is such a good idea, i hope i did it justice!

HR

Bucky Barnes: Your ex has made sure you’ll never get a job in NYC again, but you’re determined to keep your head above water. Just as things are getting too bleak to bare, you meet James Barnes. 18+!

Dub/Non Con Warning!

additional content warnings here!

You yawn as you close your laptop, finally done with payroll for a small nursery school a few neighbourhoods over. Who knew Grade R teachers could have such horrible internal affairs?

You heart skips a beat as the lights flicker momentarily, and you worry your electricity will be cut off, but they stabilise, and you sigh in a relief, hand over your heart.

When you left Tony, he made sure you lost your friends, and your job, and your income has been less than minimum wage, you’re barely even scrapping by. You had been through this before, boyfriends trying to ruin your life—Thor, most notably—but you had to give Tony credit for really crippling you this time.

You weren’t able to get any office jobs again, having to settle on working for a sweet old woman in a small flower shop, which was kind, but it didn’t come close to paying your bills. Still, you refused to let Tony win; you had good qualifications; you had a bachelor in HR and nearly a decade of experience, and that no one would hire you didn’t stop you.

You started your own HR consultancy, an idea you to had spoken about to a friend a few times, but you were sure Tony had took care she never even looked at you again, so you did it alone, which would be way too much for a single person, except business was slow; but, make no mistake, you worked your ass off.

The nice thing about the flower shop is the sweet old lady allows you to hand out your business card to the few customers that come in. Only four or five people had actually taken it in the time you’d been working there, and reluctantly, at that.

You drag yourself to bed and crash pretty much immediately.

As usual, the morning is pretty much empty—one woman comes in but buys nothing and another stares through the window for 10 minutes—until around midday, when the air shifts.

The bell at the top of the door pulling your attention from your daydream and to a familiar-looking, tall, broad-shouldered man wearing a nice suit, which he adjusts the cuff of as he scans the room. His eyes meet yours and he smiles. You return the smile with a, “Welcome to Miss Roe’s Flower Shop. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Though his mouth doesn’t twist, his eyes glint with something odd, making his initially warm smile seem more sinister.

“Anything I can help you find in the store?” you feel the need to clarify.

He only asks you for the red roses, which you point to and he returns to the counter with a bunch.

“Romantic,” you mutter as you ring him up, and he chuckles, softly and, seemingly, sweetly.

You hand the bouquet back to him, and he plucks a rose from it and hands it to you, “A beautiful lady like yourself deserves one,” he winks, and you blush, stuttering out a thanks as you take it.

Just as he takes a step back, you yell out, “Wait!” louder than you intended, and slightly startling him, “Sorry,” you apologise, as you slide one of your business cards off the top of the stack and hand it to him, slightly nervous for some reason. He takes it curiously and scans over it.

“HR?” he asks, “Wouldn’t have thought it.”

You don’t really have to time to process that comment, let alone come up with a response before he continues, “Perfect timing, actually, I’ve been needing help in that area. I’ll give you a call, he smiles as he pockets the card, “Oh, and,” he reaches out a hand, “I’m James Barnes.”

That’s where you know him from! Barnes Industries, one of the most advanced tech companies in North America, and the CEO is interested in having you on his team.

You give him your name as you shake his hand.

“It was nice meeting you,” he says with a determined smile before slipping out the door.

Back home, in the kitchen, you’re not sure if he’s actually is going to call, especially when it’s approaching 19h00, maybe he was just being nice. He did seem a bit flirty… but maybe you imagined it, why would he want anything to do with you? And if he were being flirty, he surely wouldn’t then hire you.

You jump as your phone rings, nearly spilling boiling water all over yourself. You set down the pot and rush to the living room where your phone is singing and vibrating on the couch.

“Hello?” you answer, slightly breathless as you rest the device on your ear.

A female voice asks if this is the number for your HR Consultancy, to which you affirm.

“Please hold.”

You press your phone against you harder, heart beating a little faster as you bounce on your toes, waiting on hold with some generic elevator music doing nothing to soothe your nerves. After nearly five minutes, you’re ready to hang up when a voice answers.

“Good evening, I’m sorry for the late hour.”

“Mr Barnes!” you exclaim, before clearing your throat and sitting down, speaking in a lower, more professional voice, “It’s no issue at all, sir. Can I help you?”

“Would you mind coming in for a meeting? 8AM sharp tomorrow. I understand if you’re working—”

“I’ll be there,” you reply a little too enthusiastically, walking over to your desk to pick up a pen and pull out your notepad, “8AM, I’m assuming at Barnes Industries?” You take down the address he gives you even though the huge, skyscraper-tall building with a giant B and a rocket logo is pretty hard to miss.

When you hang up, you can’t help but jump up and down excitedly like a schoolgirl. Finally, your luck is turning around.

You straighten your skirt as you step into the building, grateful the sweet old lady had not only given you the day off, but been super supportive, convincing you would you get the job, and that settled your nerves slightly. Only slightly, though, as you walk up to the desk where a red-haired woman sits, looking alert, but a little bored.

“How may I help you?” she asks.

“Good morning, I’m here to see Mr Barnes,” you say, and then give her your name.

At the mention of your name, her eyes widen and she quickly stands, “Of course!” she says, “Right this way.”

Her heels click on the pristine white floors as she leads you to a fancy elevator and presses the button for the top floor.

“Should I be nervous?” you ask, trying to make conversation as each floor ticks by too slowly for your liking to get to the 60th.

She laughs politely and shakes her head, leaning in and speaking lower (despite only the two of you being in an-already small space), “For anyone else, I’d say yes, but Mr Barnes has been looking forward to your meeting; I think you’ve got a real shot. In fact, I think he’d pay anything you ask.”

She pulls away and raises her eyebrows at you.

Your mouth falls slightly open but you quickly close it and gulp lightly, tearing your gaze away from her to focus on a spot on the floor just in front of the doors. You don’t know if she’s exaggerating, you assume she has to be, because how could Mr Barnes even know if you were good at your job? For all he knows, you work in a flower shop and hand out cards for subpar services. Somehow, her words make you more anxious than they are comforting.

The doors finally open and she points you to the room at the end with big double doors.

“Good luck!” she smiles, and you watch the doors shut, the numbers go down for a few floors, and you’re left on your own.

You take a deep breath and turn back to face the apparently never-ending passage. You walk down the corridor in timed rhythm, counting 1-2-3-4, 1-2-3-4 until you reach the end on a 2. You knock on the door and are met with a “Come in,” from a masculine voice.

You slowly open the door, resisting the urge to peek your head in first like a child.

“Good morning, Mr Barnes,” you smile, speaking cheerily but still professionally.

“Ah, there she is!” he says as he stands from his desk and walks towards you, and for some reason now you really take note of the height-difference.

He gently grips your shoulders and kisses you on the cheek, to which you stiffen slightly, but try to cover up before he notices. His hands move to your waist and he leans in; you almost sidestep him thinking he’s trying to do… something else, but he only locks the door behind you, and you can’t tell if that’s better or worse than what you were expecting.

Your nerves flare up again, but in a different sense than if you were just going in for a job interview, adrenaline starting to prepare like you’re in danger. But you’re not… right? You’ve had dozens of interviews. You assume this time it’s just more scary because it’s with James Barnes himself.

“Nervous?” he asks as he steps back and gestures to a comfortable-looking leather armchair on the other side of his desk.

“A little,” you admit with an anxious and breathless laugh. He gives you a reassuring smile as he turns to a shelf behind him.

“Don’t be,” he says as he fixes himself a drink, “Whiskey?” he offers, “5PM somewhere and all that.”

You politely decline, and he settles into his seat across from you with his drink in hand. He takes a sip and sets the glass down to set his gaze on you, and you resist the urge to shift uncomfortably under his stare… it almost seems like he’s preventing himself from sizing you up.

“Why did you start your business?” he asks, “Honestly.”

“Well, I’ve been in HR for a while now, always had a passion for it, but I wanted to be more independent, and a little more flexible.”

He raises an eyebrow, “Honestly.”

“And I…” you don’t know why you say it, but you do, “I’ve had bad experiences with boyfriends in the past—and, please let me know if I’m being too unprofessional here, sir—”

“Bucky.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Bucky.”

“All right… Bucky,” you smile, “I’ve had my most recent ex boyfriend try to ruin me; he got me fired, and no serious white collar will hire me, but I’m good at what I do, and I refuse to let him stop me from using my knowledge and expertise.”

“Tony Stark, is your ex, I take it?”

Your blood runs cold, and you deflate slightly, “Yes,” you sigh, “He is, and… and he treated me horribly, I couldn’t take it anymore, and even when I’m not with him, he still finds away to make my life hell.”

“I don’t trust that sleaze. In fact, anything he says, I do the opposite. I know you’re good at what you do, I can see your passion…”

You smile, relieved he believes you.

“… and I have a passion for you.”

You freeze, so your smile is still intact, “I’m sorry?” you ask, tilting your head slightly, sure you misheard him, but how could you have?

“You’re a smart girl, you know what I’ve been feeling, and you’re smart enough to know you’ve been suppressing your mutual attraction, but maybe too naïve to understand intentions.”

“Mr Barnes—”

“Bucky,” he corrects.

“Bucky, I—”

“I’ll pay whatever you want.”

You nearly snap at him, want to tell him you’re not for sale, but you stop yourself. You really, really need this job, you can’t afford to live another month.

“I know you need this job,” he says, as if he read your mind, pulling out a contract from his desk drawer, “And imagine if both Tony Stark and James Barnes said you were awful? You’ll never work in this city again.”

A tear rolls down your cheek as you take in the weight of his words, and you clutch your bag tighter in your lap.

“You’ll never work in this country again, you’ll be ruined, you’ll have nothing.”

You choke on a sob and cover your mouth with your hand as you shut your eyes.

“Why’re you crying? Honey, I’m offering you everything.”

“Thank you for… the opportunity,” you manage to get out between a deep breath as you shakily stand, and he stands with you.

You dart for the exit, but he grips your shoulders and turns you around, pushing you against door, your lower back painfully hitting the handle.

Soft blue eyes meet yours, so gentle and empathetic and caring you nearly forget the position you’re in, “I’m trying to help you,” he says, wiping away one of your stray tears, “If you walk out that door it’s over for you, you know that.”

Tears are falling more freely now and you fumble behind your back for the door handle, but the tall wood separating you from freedom doesn’t budge.

He wipes another tear with his thumb and pops it into his mouth before pulling it out adding his middle and index finger, never breaking eye contact with you, face stoic as your chest rises and falls rapidly.

You can do nothing but stare up at him helplessly as he hikes up your skirt and pushes two fingers inside you. You grip his shoulders with a gasp and he smiles as he slowly drags in and out of you.

“Didn’t even need to do that, you’re all ready.”

You turn your head to side and look away from him, shutting your eyes as you squeeze around him. He’s right, you were already wet, but your feeling of disgust is overpowered by the sensation of him pumping in and out of your more quickly, curling his fingers and hitting your sweet spot, over and over until you can hardly take it.

“B- Bucky, stop—” you try to get out, but you convulse, your stomach tensing as you cry out and arch your back, head thrown back before falling onto his shoulder, still crying softly. He removes his fingers and strokes your hair with his clean hand.

“Did so well for me, you see,” his voice is dark in your ear despite his praise, “You’re good at your job.”

✪

[taglist; @cjand10]

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 17

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You fidget again, fingers clamped around the short hem of the dress. It's nice. Pink roses on cream, a sheer layer over a thicker base; Loose long sleeves to balance out the lack of length. It both feels like too much and not enough.

"You look good. I said so. Whatcha squirming for?" Bucky reaches over to touch your hand. You let go of the skirt.

"I'm okay. Anxious. Meeting new people."

"It's just Ma." He pets your knuckles then reluctantly puts his hand back on the steering wheel. "She's excited to meet you."

"She is?"

"Oh yeah. I told her all about you. I'm kind of a dope like that," he chuckles.

You nod and look at him. He's opted for lighter colours. A muted shade of green and a white shirt patterned with leaves. Very summery.

"Then I just... don't want to let her down," you say.

"I know, baby. No way you can. I chose you," he growls. "You know that. All the girls in the world but you're the one I need."

You're breathless. Anyone would want those words said to them. They're both enlivening and defeating. You want to live up to all his expectations but the weight of them is overbearing.

"I know. I... I'm trying."

"Don't even gotta try, doll." He hums and his tongue pokes out. His cheeks dimple and his lips curl. "Like this morning. You just... you're everything."

Your cheeks tinge and you touch the side of your neck. You wince. It's tender there. You think it might bruise. Right where his thumb poked into you. As nice as everything else was, the memory of his hand on your neck has you uneasy.

"Here we are," he slows along the suburban avenue. "Ma keeps a nice house. Everything's got its place. Even me."

"Yeah? Okay," you murmur.

"And you now. I'm sure she's got everything set. Table, an extra seat." He scoffs and shakes his head. "Steve's a nice guy but he's not really brought home and girls. She'll adore you."

"He is nice," you agree, thinking of the skinny man from the day before.

"Always has my back so I got his," he kills the engine. "All you gotta do is smile and be you. It's what got me, doll." He unbuckles his seat belt and pauses, He taps the steering wheel with his index and sucks his teeth. "Better be careful with that."

"Careful?"

"I don't mind fighting off a few suitors, mind you. But you gotta realise what you do to a guy." He reaches over and rubs your shoulder. You watch him sheepishly as he leans in. You meet his lips with yours. His kiss is nice, soft but firm, and yet he squeezes so hard you twitch. "All mine."

He pulls back and opens his door. He gets out as you untangle yourself from your own seat belt. He's at your door before you can open it yourself. He offers his hand and helps you out.

The cream heels are nice but a touch high for you. They give you a few inches but not close to enough to match him. He lifts your hand high and hums.

"Doll, you look good. Tasty." He winks and licks his lip. "I gotta remember to behave. Ma isn't one for it."

He keeps a hold of your hand and leads you away from the car. He shuts the door and guides you along the front walkway. Pebbles are placed deliberately in a spiraling pattern to form a path between tall crocuses and tulips.

You get to the steps but your toe hits the first. You stumble and clutch Bucky tighter as he steadies you. You giggle, embarrassed, and keep going.

"Buck," the voice startles you. It's only then you see Steve sitting on the bench near the bay window. His hair is parted and combed neatly. He wears a plain white shirt and khakis.

"Hey, pal," Bucky says. Good to see you.

"Yeah, you too," he stands and dawdles across the porch. "Hi," he looks at you. "Glad you could make it. Sorry I couldn't find a friend for ya."

"Ah, too bad, buddy," Bucky reaches over and musses his hair. Steve grimaces and recoils, tidying his hair with his skinny fingers. "We'll find you someone. Any girl would be lucky. And I know luck."

"Ha, yeah," Steve smooths his blonde strands. "Ma's waiting. She didn't know if she needed to worry about too much meat so... she made lots of veggies."

"Always so thoughtful," Bucky preens.

He lets go of you and goes to the front door. He opens it and beckons you both inside. Steve gestures you politely ahead of him.

You enter meekly and look around. The front mat is decorated in flowers. You slip out of your shoes and put them with the rest, shuffling out of the way of the men. You look at the pictures on the wall. A cross stitch of a garden, then a collage of photos; Bucky and Steve, from boys, to teens, to fresh out of college. Steve doesn't look much different but Bucky definitely filled out.

"Aw, she's here!" She voice startles you. You jump and look around. You expect a large woman given the buoyancy of the tone but instead, you find yourself accosted by a spindly woman with greying blonde hair.She grabs your arms and kisses both your cheeks. "And she's gorgeous. Ooh!" She drags her hands down your sleeves. "This is beautiful. Stunning, like you."

"Oh, hello, uh, thanks," you flutter your lashes.

"Oh my, forgive me. I do get--" she stops and takes a step back. She puts her hand on her chest then balls it and covers her mouth. She rattles as she coughs.

Steve sidles past you, "ma." He takes a canister out of his pocket and shakes it. He puts the inhaler to her mouth as she drops her hand.

She inhales deeply several times as he rubs her back. Her cheeks are flush as she smiles at you. "Forgive me. Promise, I'm not contagious."

"They know, ma," Steve puts the cap back on the inhaler.

"It's alright. Are you?" You ask.

She tilts her head, "of course I am. You're so sweet. Come here."

You cautiously move forward, resisting the urge to look back. She takes your hand gently and pulls you with her. Her hand is frail in hers.

"You better be careful with Bucky," she tuts. "He's a rebel, that one."

"Sarah," he calls after her.

"This is a lady's chat, sir," she juts her finger into the air. "Now, he's a whole lotta bluster, let me tell you. So you're going to need to give him a firm swat now and again."

You hear a sigh and a snort. You can guess who issued which noise. Mrs. Rogers takes you down the hall and through the kitchen.

"Such a lovely day, I set us up outside. Oh, you should sit in the shade, dear. Wouldn't want you to burn." She hooks your arm through hers then opens the door, angling you through with her. "You're too pretty for him. Don't let him forget it."

"Oh, thanks, Mrs--"

"Missus? I'm Sarah, dear." She rebukes. "Tell me all about you."

She brings you to a cushioned wicker sofa and sits with you. You can hear the men come through the door as you blink against the bright sunlight. You nervously smile.

"Me?"

"Sure, dear. You know, I see Bucky on the television. He's got those pretty women hanging off of him but he never brings them home. Never. But you, I heard all about you. From him, and I know better than to believe everything he says."

Bucky sits in one of the wicker chairs on the other side of the table. You glance over. There are platters of fruits and veggies and artisinal crackers and cheese. The rest is hidden under lids.

"I... I like to read. He got me some books. I like the older stories. Um. Jane Eyre?" You explain.

"Smart, oh yes, he needs a smart one." She praises.

"Well, not... really. I didn't... Didn't get to go to school."

"What's school?" She cooes. "You don't need all that." She pats your hand gently. "Family?"

"My mom and sister," you answer as you twiddle your fingers on the bench.

"Oh, how lovely. You'll have to bring them next time."

"Good idea," Bucky intones.

She hisses and snaps her hand like a crocodile mouth in his direction. His brows arch. "I've seen the others. I'm certain they are all lovely but it's all too showy. You have to temper him."

You nod, sweltering in self-awareness and the gaze of the man she speaks of.

"You can. I see it." She cups your cheek. "You have a witch's eyes."

You tweak your head. You've never been told that before. She cackles.

"I know it because you bewitched him!" She lets you go and guffaws as she claps. "And he's the biggest ox I've ever known."

"Ma," Bucky crosses his arms.

She laughs and rocks until she is one more out of breath. Steve offers the inhaler and she takes it. Sucking on it as she keeps a grin fixed on her lips.

"Well, I went to all this trouble," she waves her hands to the table, "don't you go wasting it."

🃏

The smell of pollen pervades as Sarah touches your ear. You look at her in surprise as she puts a flower behind your ear. The pink petals are a blur in your peripheral.

"Oh, thanks," you fold your hands.

"It suits you," she smiles. "Now, Bucky," she curls her finger at him. "Come."

He gets up obediently. He approaches and she reaches for his hand. It's giant compared to hers. She takes yours too.

"You take her away before I try to keep her," she says as she puts your hand in his. "I've got lots of cleaning up to do."

"Let us help," Bucky insists.

"No, no. I will not have it. You came and brightened my morning." She squeezes his hand around yours. "Now go. Stevie will help clean up."

Plates clink and you look over. Her son is already stacking up the porcelain. He shows his teeth.

"Oh, well, it was nice to meet you, Sarah." You stand. "Thank you for having me."

"Thank you for coming. I know old women aren't great company."

"I had a good time," you assure her.

"I'd say you're too nice but I can tell you're honest." She turns her sights on Bucky. "Don't mess it up."

"Yes, ma," he bands and kisses her cheek.

He stands and gently tugs you up. She rubs her cheek as she makes a face.

"And get rid of that beard. It's scratchy." She reprimands.

He laughs. You dip your chin down. "Thanks again. Uh, bye then."

"You'll be back," she winks.

Bucky draws you away to the back door. You go inside and down the hall. You stop to step into your shoes. His hand rests on your lower back to steady you.

"She's right. Flower's pretty on you," he swirls his fingertips against your dress.

"Thanks," you look at him.

"And what do you think?" He flicks a long strand of his hair behind his ear then brushes his fingers over his beard. "You want me to get rid of it?"

"Hm?" You turn to him fully and his hand drags to your hip.

"The beard? You like it?"

"I... I don't mind it. It's nice," you shrug.

"Oh, it looks nice but..." he leans down. "Does it feel nice?"

You squeak as your eyes round. "Bucky."

"Those noises you were making, I think so." He purrs.

"Please, I..." you try to see past him.

"Mm, what do you wanna do now? More fun? Can I get on my knees again?"

You put your hand on his arm. "Bucky," your face washes with heat. "I... I have to go see my mom. She'll be worried."

"Mmmm," he hums. "I know, doll, but I need you."

His pelvis twitches and you chew your lip. He watches your mouth and you dig your toe into the floor.

"Let me go home and I'll come back tonight."

"Tonight?" He asks.

"Yes. But I do need to see her."

"Alright," he relents. "But what about tonight? What are we going to do?"

You look side to side, "whatever you want."

He snickers, "don't say that... I said I'd be patient."

You nod and smile nervously.

"How about we go gambling?" He suggests. "We'll sit at a few tables, have some drinks, and then... we can cuddle again."

You rub your neck, once more touching the bruise he left. "Okay, yeah. Um. That's cool."

"Sounds like a plan," he frames your face and leans in. "I'll try to keep my clothes on."

[dark-l-angel]

if you want requests, I am so delulu, I'm stuck in my own world 24/7 and my brain refuses to stop.....

Jason, who growing up had a crush on reader, but being the clueless person we are we have no clue (I swear it's a curse, I genuinely don't know that someone is into me until they say it. No flirting computes with me) but then the whole- ya know, not living thing happens.... The thing that leads up to Red Hood (I refuse to say it) and reader is later confronted by either Dick or Alfred at the funeral and they're like

“You know he like you, right?” and readers response is

“Not as much as I loved him”

which I guess causes a whole sad thing that I can't cope with, so you decide what happens from there, but basically the ending is when Jason is not the scary evil Red Hood anymore but more the Jason people fantasize about, he tells reader how he feels and IDK man something cute and fluffy, my brain is just sad all the time so all I have is the sad stuff.

Anyways, this is a lot longer than I thought it would be, but here it is, please ignore it if it's weird or too much 😅

have a nice day, peace out ✌️

Princess, believe it or not i had hundreds of scenarios to this situation at fucking 5 a.m when i was ab to pass my bachelor exam *I'm talking math day 💀

And having your own world is nice actually.. ❤ at least you have an escape place from painful reality and ur comfort character is hugging you in your rough times. Hope happiness strikes you like jason's beauty did to me 😃💝 love u deeply 💖

Reunion

Jason todd x fem!reader

"You know that he liked you.. right?" Dick's voice ringed in your ear.. even after all this time.. it's like it happened yesterday..

Thinking while staring at a book jason used to read when you both were younger.. before.. that incident..

You put the book away and picked another, you shared the same love of books with jason, that explains why you become a loyal customer to libraries and coffee shops.

It was always a sad thing to go to libraries, yet it felt like happiness to you.. finally some freedom from this cruel world. You don't have to suffer through reading some simple lines with deep meanings.. in fact, it changed you 360 degrees, your vision to the world has changed since ever jason introduced you to the books.

You were walking around the library while hugging different books, looking carefully through the shelves of another chosen one, Losing all connections with your world, not feeling a specific guy staring at you in admiration.

Your eye fallen on an interesting novel, but it was on the top shelf. You tried to reach it but failed, and you got that idea of reaching it through another book was by your hand. You did, the novel is coming out, but still not enough, you had to put extra efforts by standing on the top of your toes.

"Too bad short angel can't reach her little novel" a tall handsome man was towering you from behind, you looked up and his eyes fell into yours, green emerald eyes inspecting your angelic features in admiration carefully *while you took your time to enjoy his mesmerizing gorgeous beauty like the little whore you and i will do*.

He smirked before looking back to the novel and pulling it out for you, gosh he was handsome, but.. you could swear you know him from somewhere.

He reads the title loud before saying "damn baby girl you've got some pretty good taste out there.. i like it" he smirked "oh thanks, I've always liked that type of stuff especially when *author name* added his pov of the topic.." he laughed.

As you both sat at a coffee shop and continued babbling ab different books to different subjects.. almost everything.. as if you actually know this person years ago, the problem was that you weren't the type to get comfy to people easily.. so what's the matter with this guy?.

Probably his smile that cached your mind? or his emerald eyes and their beauty? his funny jocks? Or it's your shared likings? Or the fact that he was the only person to be able to crack his way through your dead heart and plant a rose of adoration that was meant only for him? The only person to have the ability to warm your heart after all these years? Or him being the reason of your tears of laughter?... sooo much questions going through your head.

You finally managed to ask him.. " i feel like i know you from years, never had fun like this since then.. do i know you by any chance?" You said while wiping away the tears of laughing on his stories.

"You didn't recognize me y/n?" You didn't tell him your name yet.. how would he- "i missed you so much actually... i have been thinking about you in everything i was doing back then, dick might probably told you about it, yet i still do think about you all the time..." you watch the man goes on.. but dick? He spoke about jason only.. and jason is.. gone.. "you forget me y/n?" That can be..

He smiled staring at you in pure love and admiration and adoration.. "It's jason.. the dumb boy who fell dumber in love with you, angel ♡".

Hope you like it ❤ baby gurl was here 😘

[harrywavycurly]

I liked the new killer!H update! I love how protective he is but we clearly don’t like him threatening people so I’m wondering if we’ve ever seen him actually get into a fight before? 😅

Hiii babes!! So I just went ahead and wrote something for this because yes, you’ve for sure seen him fight before(if you can even call this a fight lol) I hope you enjoy!!💖

-find all things Killer!Harry here✨

CW: Minor violence (broken wrist and black eye), threats of violence, language and mentions of drinking/being drunk, a quick reminder Harry is a killer in this series but it’s not mentioned at all in this!

A/N: Enjoy this little blurb that shows you and Harry out at a bar back when you are just dating and you see how far Harry is ready to go to keep you safe, this gets very dramatic very quickly but also has fluff and also no I do not condone violence, keep your hands and feet to yourself! ✨

“Baby.” Harry gives your hip a little squeeze as he leans down so his lips are next to your ear, you just let out a hum as you bring your drink up to your lips to take a sip. “M’gonna go get another drink I’ll be right back.” He smiles when you lean back into him, the two of you tucked in the corner of the local bar near the pool tables. He has his back resting against the wall with one hand on your hip while his other arm is resting on top of a high top table with a now empty glass in his hand, you stand in front of him using both hands to hold your glass as you watch Mitch play some random man in a game of pool.

“M’kay” You half mumble with a smile on your face as you feel his hand on your hip slide down to your lower back and gently push you to take a few steps forward allowing him to move from behind you.

“Don’t wonder off please.” He gives you a look that if you weren’t a few drinks in would’ve made you weak in the knees because it’s a mixture of seriousness but also a hint of something else that you can’t really put your finger on but you know you like it.

“Won’t move d’nt worry.” You reassure him but he just shakes his head and lets out a chuckle at how your words come out a little jumbled. You watch as he reaches over and pushes some of your hair back behind your ear before he leans in and places a kiss to your cheek.

“Oh I always worry about you love.” He casually admits making your cheeks get warm, still not used to the way Harry has no issue with telling you things like that at any moment even in the middle of a semi crowded bar on a Saturday night. “I’ll be right back.” He gives you a smile before he grabs his empty glass off the table and turns to head towards the bar.

You have a smile on your face as you watch him walk away and you can’t help but giggle when he looks at you over his shoulder and shoots you a playful wink when he catches you already staring at him. You find it hard to believe that the tall British tattooed man that currently is leaning his forearms on the bar as he talks to the bartender who happens to be his friend Jeff, is your boyfriend and has held that title for almost eight months. He’s different from anyone you’ve dated from the way he dresses in mostly black but every now and again he will venture out and wear a funky patterned shirt with his nicely tailored trousers, to the way he carries himself with such confidence that he sometimes can come off a bit intimidating, but the big thing that sets him apart from just about anyone else is how he always just seems to know what you need without you having to ask and when you casually brought it up to him he just shrugged it off and said something like “I just pay attention love, that’s all” and you nearly cried.

“Hey there.” You jump as a deep voice brings you out of your thoughts about your dream boat of a boyfriend, and you feel yourself tense up when you turn and see a man standing a little too close. “I’m Jake.” You just nod and give him a tight lipped smile as you try to look around him for Mitch who would be the closest person that would be able to help get you out of the current situation, but Jake takes a step closer and rests his hand on the table next to where you’re standing so he can lean in and whisper in your ear. “You look too pretty to be here all alone.”

“Uhm th-thank you but m’not alone.” You inform him making him raise an eyebrow as he looks around before looking back at you with a smirk.

“Sure looks like it to me.” You feel your eyes go wide as you watch Jake’s hand that’s not resting on the table reach for your cheek as if he was going to brush some hair out of your face but before he can you see a very familiar ring clad hand grab his wrist.

“What the fu-” Before what feels like you can even blink you hear a harsh snap followed by a loud squeal and then Jake is on his knees trying to get his wrist free from Harry’s grasp.

“Did my girlfriend tell you she wanted your grubby hand on her?” Harry asks with a cold and hard tone, all Jake can do is shake his head but that isn’t good enough for Harry so he bends his hand back so the top of Jake’s hand is being pushed towards his forearm. “Sorry I can’t hear you mate what was that?” He asks over the whine like sound that slips out of Jake’s mouth due to the pain he’s currently in.

“N-no no! No she didn’t!” Jake shouts making Harry just make a disapproving tisking noise as he shakes his head.

“Figured as much.” With that you hear Jake let out a sigh of relief as Harry lets go of his wrist but only so he can use that hand to deliver a solid punch to the side of his face making Jake fall onto his back. “If I see you anywhere near my girl again a broken wrist and a black eye will be the least of your worries.” He threatens as he watches Jake roll over onto his stomach with a groan.

You don’t know how long the whole ordeal took but it felt like only a few seconds before you have a hand on your forearm leading you away from the man still trying to recover from the damage done to his wrist and the punch to his face. Harry is quick to take your drink out of your hands and place it on a table near the back of the bar next to a bottle of water you didn’t even notice was in his other hand the whole time he was dealing with Jake. You don’t know why but that makes your bottom lip start to tremble and your eyes to get watery. Harry immediately sees your face and assumes your emotions are due to the shock of just seeing something violent happen right in front of you.

“Oh sweetheart I’m sorry.” Harry gently cups your face in his hands as he rests his forehead against yours and lets out a deep sigh. “I’m so sorry baby please don’t be upset.” His voice is soft as he pulls away so he can place a kiss to your forehead.

“You got-” you motion towards the table with your glass and the water bottle on it making Harry raise an eyebrow as he looks from the water bottle and back to you. “me a water.” You mumble with a sniffle as you feel a few tears slips past your waterline, Harry just gives you a warm smile as his thumbs swipe away the tears as they slide down your cheeks.

“I knew you’d need one.” He explains while leaning down to place kisses to your cheeks, of course he knew you’d need one because he always knows what you need. You reach out and place your hands on his chest feeling the softness of his t shirt on your palms. “Are you upset with me?” You know you should at least be a little upset at how he acted, but for some reason all you can think about is the way it made you feel seeing how he didn’t even hesitate to stop Jake from putting his hands on you and how angry it made him to see him even try. You realize as you stand there with his hands on your face that Harry always makes you feel safe, like when he’s around nothing bad can happen.

“You broke his wrist?” You catch a slight smirk appear on his face but only for a moment before he rubs his lips together as his hands slide down from the sides of your face to your neck and then to your shoulders.

“I did.” He confirms making you just nod as you reach a hand up and brush some of his out of his face. “And I also probably gave him a busted eyebrow to go with his black eye.” He adds with no hint of remorse or regret in his voice.

“Because he tried to touch me?” You feel Harry’s hands begin to gently rub the tops of your shoulders making your muscles begin to relax under his soothing touches.

“I don’t like it when creeps get too close to you.” He begins to explain as he pulls you a little closer to him. “I’m always going to protect you from assholes like that but I am sorry you had to see that. I shouldn’t have acted like that in front of you.” He looks into your eyes and you just give him a small smile as you grip his shirt to pull him towards you for a quick kiss.

“I like that you want to protect me.” Harry smiles at your words as he rests his forehead against yours. “But no more fighting okay?” You ask as you pull away from him so you can give him the sternest look you can muster in your half drunken state.

“Okay baby. No more fighting.” He answers before he leans in and places his lips on yours for a kiss that has you forgetting all about the incident that took place a few minutes ago as Harry moves a hand from your shoulder and places it on the back of your neck so he can slide it up into your hair and pull you closer to him. When he finally pulls away you feel light headed with kiss swollen lips as you rest your head on his chest making him chuckle as he gently runs his hand up and down your arm. “I love you sweetheart.”

“I love you too Harry.”

[flicklikesstuff]

How about rambling about your top favorite Epithet characters?

Uh oh, I’m afraid you’ve unleashed a great beast my poor, poor Anon….. But if you insist :)

Introducing My Top 5 Favs:

AND full doodle page ;)

(⚠️HUGE EE Spoilers below⚠️)

1. Rick Shades

UGHHHHHHHHH. LOVE this man 💖💖 A pathetic and pitiful wizard dude with one of the coolest epithets! My favourite bit of him is that he’s introduced as some creepy weirdo who sounds like he’d backstab you BUT turns out to be a really fcked up guy with no social skills and genuinely really does want friends. I LOVE it when stories twist expectations for a character and Epithet Erased just keeps doing it a lot.

While Rick is mostly silly and used as comedy relief through POP really, his tragic backstory adds in so much depth and the narration treats the horrors he went through with respect. Chapter 8 has repeatedly dug my grave each time I listen to it. I’m going insane with any Rick/Toidei thoughts. There’s so much I could say about how his traumatic childhood affected him so much and how it shows through his mannerisms and behaviour that we’d be here all day. (Oh wait- I’ve already indulged into his character in like 4 posts.)

Anyways, in general, I would offer my soul to the scary magic man and treat him to a nice day at the beach.

2. Dr. Sylvester Ashling

Sylvie was the reason I got into Epithet Erased in the first place 😂. My favourite thing about him is his DESIGN and POWERS. The swirls and cloud/sheep motif looks sick and his epithet showcase in the museum arc is beyond awesome. Like omfg, it’s just so genuinely amazing to look at.

He seems fun to bully, especially with that pretentious grown-up attitude he puts up. But underneath that, Sylvie’s character is just depressing to the point where it’s intriguing for me. The choice they made to quickly grow up and skip childhood? I wonder what made them decide to do that. Despite what he says, Sylvie really just wants someone to talk to and he really does care for people. He’s just scared to loosen up and become vulnerable in front of anyone.

Sylvie wanting friends but having trust issues and not knowing how to make some? Honestly, what a mood-

I got too insanely happy hearing his short little cameo in POP, even though they weren’t around for too long. He was in there waiting and looking for his only friend awwwwww.

3. Molly Blyndeff

Molly my CHILD 🥺🥺!! Her bear motif is adorable and her character arc within the museum is so wholesome and satisfying to watch. Reading POP just cemented her as my top 3rd fav because her inner dialogue and way of thinking hit way too close to home for me. I was so close to tears many times throughout and I just LOVE her.

Molly just overall learning to stand up for herself and making it very clear she’s no longer taking any sh*t? She’s the character I wished my younger self got to know earlier because it’s what she would’ve needed at the time.

4. Giovanni Potage

Is it much of a surprise he’s in my top 5? Why wouldn’t I like this total sweetheart who would lift the earth for his minions? I adore how he has like one of the lamest-sounding epithets but his insane level of creativity makes up for it completely. I also really found his unique view on bad guys really interesting. The stark contrast between being evil but also absolutely wholesome makes for a great character I love seeing interact with everyone!

Hoping he gets some sort of character arc though. So far, he’s still the same Gio we know from the beginning and it would be very interesting to see him go through a struggle or make tough decisions.

5. Ramsey Murdoch

Haha funny ratman. As I’ve mentioned before, my expectations for him were twisted and I LOVED it. My fav character in the Redwood Run Arc because poor dude isn’t allowed to catch a break. Even outside the show within the streams, he gets absolutely bullied by the plot. This is entirely what he gets for being 1 of 2 people (the other is Molly) that have the braincell to question the bizarreness of….well, everything.

Ramsey is an impressively intelligent character who just has the hilarious misfortune of having things almost never go his way. He’s entirely the reason he and Percy manage to survive Zora and he STILL gets screwed over by getting arrested. Anyways, yes. I love his dynamic with Percy being a subversion of the typical buddy cop trope. Looking forward to having more of him in the next book: Sweet Escape :33

…………..

If you haven’t noticed already, this ask led me to go through multiple trials of tests to see which brushes and colouring process I prefer digitally.

Rick’s was my first attempt and it’s just… terribly basic really. I wasn’t used to Procreate at that point 😅.

Sylvie’s was next and after watching basic tutorial videos, I turn to really like the colouring style I did for them. Wasn’t fond of the rough outline though.

Gio’s was the exact opposite of what I’ve done with Sylvie. While I liked how it popped out in a comic-style kind of way, I wasn’t a fan of the solid shading.

For Ramsey’s, I was a lot closer to finding out my preferences. I pretty much just combined what I liked from Sylvie and Gio’s drawings. Softer shading and a smoother, thicker outline.

Molly’s was my last attempt and one I’m heavily satisfied with! :D It’s the same as Ramsey’s, but I added a lot more detail to the eyes, coloured in some outlines and even added an overlay!

The whole trial and error process was so much fun and very much worth it too! X3 💖💖

[taiey]

hi guys i watched Pangi's vod An honest talk with Flamefrags and came out of it A Flame Fan 💖 i shall now attempt to spread this affliction 😌

Like I do appreciate just the bare fact that he did log in to chat with Pangi, because he asked. And then went and... built a house with him? Just because. Like they spent an hour this, he's not actually kidding when he says that he does show up for other people's bits.

Anyway. Here are some things Flame says, when they got onto building:

I don't like building: everything I build gets destroyed

I won't build at spawn, I'm scared I'll get arrow cannon'd

I don't like getting attached to places, someone'll trap it

"putting the entrance *here* would make sense but if it's *here* I can see more people if they come to attack me"

Having pets also gets him killed, "I had to drop that a while back."

"How can you dedicate this much time to something, just to know it could be gone instantly?"

(me like a month ago: huh Flame keeps going through the wall instead of the door of his base, that's potentially interesting.) (me now: oh NO) this is what being immortal means, apparently: being constantly aware of all the ways you could die.

so. in. addition to your "man who had to burn off him caring about anything other than fighting because it will get him killed". thing. 🥺

There's the whole audience angle that I find tasty to chew on. Like he opens by saying, he dies once on Lifesteal and everyone's mocking him and he wanted to prove himself. And then the "I have four thousand people watching me and now I let them all down and they start slandering me in the chat"—calling it clickbait, I hear. And it's like—

Did you know one time Flame was a streaming grinding villagers in his volcano-adjacent base and someone paid him money to tell him they would pay him more money if he killed Zam? (the answer, at the time, was—I'm not killing Zam, I'm allied with him, Zam built this base.) Did you know one time he killed Jepexx, metaphorically turns to the camera to say "chat, you be begging me to kill people. Then look, I just killed him in three hits. Are you happy? That's why I want to fight actual good people, like... Is this what you guys wanted? An easy kill?" and then two minutes later he died to Leowook's void trap? Like the emergent symbolism, guys. Did you hear that he died to a wither he had already killed because he was responding to chat?

"I have to blow up spawn tonight or I'm lying, again"

i want to Chew

And then there's a reflection of the stream audience in the audience of, like Wemmbu, and Manepear, which we get in inside flamefrags mind, like... can you back down when other people are looking at you expecting it, encouraging it, going through with it with or without you? You can't understand the - character of Flamefrags without putting that pressure somewhere. (i do like fics where these characters are streaming their own lives)

They blow up his house; Mane says it was just Wemmbu and that Wemmbu didn't know it was Flame's but we don't know. He was very suspicious and withheld for a long time but by the end of it he was joking with Pangi and putting real effort into making the fireplace look nice with the bricks and the grate. Like, like, like—You take - one step down a path you've been avoiding for so long because every time you've tried it leads to ruin. And then your friends burn it down. Don't go that way, even a little. Just blow stuff up, that's what's fun, that's what we do for fun. Not that.

. . . probably reading too much into it.

Also he said he expected that if he'd fought the six people everyone would've just run away as soon as he started winning/killed one person, and told Pangi his plans for later were getting enchanted apples, and just generally gave the impression that he could plausibly win a 6v1 by straightforwrdly having 20 hearts and notch apples and being Flamefrags. :) i am not immune to being an audience that thinks it's neat when he's super good at fighting. :) also also it's not just the four Declared Pacifists he's complaining about, they made a list of thirteen people on lifesteal who in general wouldn't fight (4c, zam, ecorridor, midmystixc, mrcube, pangi, squiddo, jaron, kaboodle, poafa, terrain, spepticle, woogie) and you could add or subtract a couple (pangi argued him out of bacon; uh, i do dispute,) but gosh that actully is a lot.

In conclusion Pangi's going to make a Flame Lore video and I hope it is Good and I can just point people at that when it's out 🙏

[wannabewriterrr]

by the photocopier

photocopying lab activity packets is banal and boring but hendery is there to keep you company

tags: fluff, hendery×fem!reader, outgoing!hendery×reserved!reader, friends to lovers, slow burn except we've skipped to the last chapter in the tome, uni life warnings: slight angst; teeny, tiny, blink-and-you'll-miss-it mention of politics and alpha male behavior; brief mentions of the dreaded assigned seating; a smidge of Princess Bride; a tad too esoteric discussion about pens; mentions of some wayv members; poor Hendery is pining and reader doesn't want to be obtuse but doesn't want to make assumptions either playlist: 💖 word count: 3,048

"Stop that!" you hiss, slapping Hendery’s hand away from the radio dial he’d been fiddling with.

Hendery jerks back at once, his elbow almost sending a plastic jar of candies to the ground. You catch it in time and he laughs at the look on your face.

"Your fault." he snorts.

You raise an eyebrow. "My fault? You don’t touch other people’s radios without their permission, Hendery.” you say lightly.

He shrugs, still unabashedly grinning. "Come on, Y/n. It’s not like anyone would willingly listen to this crap."

The kindly old uncle manning the Xerox machine had gone to grab another ream of copier paper from storage and had left you and your best friend standing at the counter. It was your turn to make photocopies of tonight's assigned packet for an entire laboratory class of 25 students and your best friend had insisted on coming with you. You’d reassured him that you knew your way to the one machine in uni and could manage 25 sets of lab worksheets on your own. He came anyway, prattling on about last night's gaming session with the boys and practically skipping next to you.

People often wondered why someone as outgoing and chatty as him hung out with a stick in the mud like you. You wondered about that too, but you always answered their question with your own working hypothesis: “First year, Gen Ed. Prof had a seatplan.”

Those damned assigned seating charts could create lasting friendships or enduring enmity; everybody knew that. It made no difference to you though, as you were too shy to make friends and people thought you were too aloof to approach. It wasn't something you were seeking to remedy either- you had always kept to yourself, keeping a very small circle of friends since middle school that you still kept in contact with despite all of you going off to different universities. Oh, you could be perfectly friendly and conversational with your classmates, but that was more of an adaptation a student had to learn to survive in academia. You were reclusive enough that once the group project was over, you wouldn't be invited to hang out anymore. You should probably make more of an effort, but you were too set in your own ways. There was no reason for this class to be any different.

Except when you plopped your bag down onto your assigned seat, amid groans and complaints from some 40 freshmen at being separated from their friends, Hendery had greeted you with a bright grin and a cheery, “Hiya seatmate! Gonna be a great year, huh?”

You were so gobsmacked by such energy before 8 am that you spoke one sentence more than you usually would. "Uh, hi. Sure, that would be nice, would make the school year fly by."

"Here, this is yours, right?" He handed you your prized Pilot Gtec Pen.

You liked sitting in the front, close to the doors for a quick getaway. And when the professor had handed you the attendance sheet for day one of the semester, you'd carelessly passed your pen along with the clipboard. Once the sheet had made its way back to the prof but the pen was not back with you, you knew it was gone. Those things had a way of disappearing into another dimension if you didn't grip them tightly enough.

But here it was. "Wow, thanks. How'd you know it was mine?" You take it gratefully.

He shrugged. "The attendance sheet started with you. My Kun-ge is doing his Masters here and he only uses this brand of pens. Wouldn't bat an eyelash if you used his shampoo but would get pissy if you borrowed his pens."

"Perfectly reasonable. Tell him I recommend the Zebra Sarasa too."

"Great, thanks. I lost two of his pens last week," he grinned sheepishly. "I need to give him a peace offering."

You laughed at that.

You, making conversation with a stranger and actually having fun. The earth’s poles might as well have shifted, as history was made.

So there you both were three years later, at the Xerox counter at dusk, listening in mild horror as the seemingly harmless folk, rock, and country radio station stopped playing the nice oldies and moved on to the day’s next program: an ultra-conservative pundit doing a hate-filled monologue. You'd turned away from the little transistor radio in reflexive disgust, which is why you had completely missed Hendery leaning half his body over the counter to change radio stations. You were now half-heartedly arguing in whispers and hisses, lest the old man hear you, while your best friend was reaching for the dial again and you were telling him to mind the jar of candies his elbows were about to waste.

He won in the end. Or rather, you let Hendery win because the bellicose dude on the radio was now waxing poetic about alpha-ness and you were about to die from cringe. Your best friend whoops in triumph as the station jumps to static, then disco, then static, then stocks forecast, then static again. You concede defeat gracefully, leaning back against the far wall and watching him with a soft smile. Over the four years that you'd known him, Hendery had equal parts changed and stayed the same- his smile, his hair color, his determination to enjoy life, his pretty face. But there was something in his eyes that wasn’t there when you first met him. People changed, you knew that, but… well. Freshman year, Hendery would yell in greeting, fist bump you, then call you bro, and now he was… different. He seemed… calmer? A better listener…? More thoughtful? You couldn't quite put your finger on it and it equal parts intrigued and unnerved you that your best friend was changing right under your nose. He stopped dragging his boisterous and funny friends to your hangouts (unless prompted by you because they were your friends now too), stopped jokingly setting you up with the no-i-swear-he's-pretty-cool guys he met at the student union, he no longer waved his Tinder matches in your face, and stared at you when you spoke to him not with a goofy grin ready to make you laugh but an attentiveness and care that told you as you wish. Yes, you really didn't know what this was. And yet, not once did he make you uncomfortable; never, once he’d sworn his number one priority was your ease and comfort, but not even before he made that promise.

He walks over to you to join you against the wall, finally satisfied with whatever the radio was playing. You match each other's posture perfectly: back flat against the wall, hands clasped behind you, one foot crossed over the other at the ankle. You both crane your necks to watch the evening sky. Dusk had just settled, the sky a beautiful but melancholy watercolor of bruise-like blues and purples, interrupted here and there by the twinkle of some lone star. The rain had long cleared, clouds gently pushed away by an evening breeze. Hendery looked impossibly soft in this light, familiar and comforting as long as he didn't look into your eyes. You tugged at your cardigan, feeling both warm and cold at the same time.

“He’s taking a long time.” you say quietly.

Hendery only nods, already knowing you were actually unconcerned. You had time.

You feel rather than hear Hendery’s fingers tap out the melody of the song, and you close your eyes to avoid the temptation of staring at him while he was this close-

“What does that mean?”

You frown and straighten, thoughts interrupted. The song playing now was in your native language, which you spoke so often around Hendery that he could recognize it. Though, you were yet to teach him anything besides profanities.

“Huh, who knew this station played… anyway, um…” you paused, listening to the next few lines. “It’s a love song. The guy is confessing his feelings to the girl he loves, he tells her she’s the only one who makes him feel this way." you translated for him. "She’d wanted to wait but now, he says, something has changed… and if she does feel the same, if she’s ready, he’d like her to dance with him in the rain.”

Hendery says nothing. The long silence makes your cheeks heat up. “I know it's cheesy. And it’s cliche, this thing about slow dancing in the rain… but the way it’s sung… the lyrics… it’s tender and sweet. Sorry, I’m rambling.”

"No, it's a good song." he says. “I get it.”

“Makes one of us.” you say wryly.

Another lull in the conversation. It wasn't awkward but the air was somehow hung with things you should probably tell each other.

"You have something on your mind." you both said at the same time. You laugh.

"You first." he nodded at you.

You sigh, scuffing your shoe against the floor. Hendery patiently waits for you to gather your thoughts.

"Is it wrong to be wary of change? Like, you just feel and know that there's this something that's never going to be the same..." you say haltingly.

His gaze grows piercing for a few seconds, as if suspicious that you were on to something. Then, the expression is gone as quickly as it crossed his face. "Change always happens you know, whether we anticipate it or not."

"I know, it's just..." that brief moment just now, where Hendery looked like he was waiting for you to call him out, was best left for him to discuss. You at least respected him that much. "I always thought of college as a layover. This was always gonna be a brief stop on this journey that I'm plodding on. I know it sounds awful but that was kinda why I had no plans to make deep, meaningful connections. I was naïve enough to think that this was going to be a grab-your-degree-and-go operation. Is that rude?"

He shakes his head no. Encouraged, you go on.

"But now that I have, with our mutual friends, with student orgs I recently had the confidence to apply for, with you..."

He frowns, leaning in. "Y/n, it's one thing to be wary of change, which is perfectly natural by the way. It's another thing to be scared of losing us."

Your eyes search his face. "I'm being silly, of course. It's normal for friendships to fade and settle into just... resigned fondness after college. Right?" you say unsurely.

He crosses his arms. "I mean, people grow and change all the time. A good friend in college can become a total stranger by the time you reconnect for the 20-year reunion. But sometimes, with friendships, it's all in how you cultivate it. Some people would find the idea of talking to the same people after leaving uni loyal and sentimental, others would think it sad and pathetic. It's up to them to work that out."

You nod, surprised and not at the quiet, practical wisdom that Hendery could sometimes spring up on people. "What, them as in you and me?" you say teasingly.

"Oh no, that was a hypothetical. You're kinda stuck with me now, we're nonnegotiable," he jokes.

"Oh yes, please. I want you to stay in my life, in any capacity that works." you laugh, only to stop short as you realize exactly what you had said. You blink rapidly, cheeks pink, and throat swallowing nervously. You rack your brain frantically for something to say, grasping at straws until you finally choke out: "Your turn."

He stares at you for a long time without saying anything, gaze more intense than any other time he's looked at you. "Turn to what?"

"To tell me what's on your mind." you say as evenly as you could manage.

"Alright," his tone was too neutral. "What did you mean Y/n, when you said you didn't get that song?"

You blink, surprised at the direction this conversation was taking. "What song?"

"The last one, the one about slow dancing in the rain."

"Oh. Well, I just meant that I don't know how that feels. Someone confessing to you by asking you to dance, I mean. Or even just slow dancing in general."

He raises an eyebrow inquiringly, pulling away from the wall. “Never done it.” you explained.

He stares at you. “You’ve been to weddings. And you went to prom, I saw the pictures.”

It was such a simple and harmless assumption that you had to laugh. You make a small ta-da gesture at how you’re leaned against the wall. “Wallflower. When you blend in so well, nobody notices you to want to dance with you.”

Another pregnant pause between you two. He shoves his hands into his pockets, watching you thoughtfully as the next song plays. You tactfully avoid his gaze, focusing on the song instead.

The drums come in, the vocals double up, and Hendery walks closer to you, his frame blocking your view of the sky. You can’t read his face as his hand slowly reaches around you to gently tug one of your hands out from behind your back. The gentle motion forces you to straighten up.

"What are you doing?" you say warily.

He smiles a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. “I have noticed you, Y/n. I do see you.”

He keeps your hand in his warm grasp, walks you both closer to the radio, lets you go for a moment so he can turn up the volume, then returns to face you square on. Mind struggling to keep up with what’s happening, you let his fingers drift from your wrist to properly clasp your hand. He gently guides your other hand and places it on his shoulder and, very slowly and watching your face for any signs of discomfort, he pulls you closer.

Oh.

"Oh no, we don't have to, Hendery. I wasn't baiting you into it." you laugh lamely.

"I know, but I want to."

"Anyway, I never learned how to." you fret with a rueful smile, trying to pull away.

But he's persistent. "That's it? Is that your only objection?" Though, he keeps his grip light and loose, so you can pull away whenever you want.

Was it? Your best friend was standing closer than he'd physically ever been; two more steps and you could count his eyelashes. He had an arm around you and you were holding his hand, things good friends were bound to do, but the way it felt tonight was making you breathe shallowly. And with the way you two have been slipping up tonight and saying things left unspoken over the past four years, things could change irreversibly. You nod. Yes, that was your only objection.

“It’s all in the leading. You can trust me, Y/n.” He smiles easily.

“Of course I can.” You were as certain of that fact as you were sure of your own name. He nods.

It does feel a little silly, dancing with your best friend in a Xerox shop to the song on a scratchy, old radio. Your self-consciousness and stiffness makes the first few steps little more than an awkward shuffle… until it wasn’t anymore. Somewhere between verses, your muscles relax and obey the gentle press of his hand on the small of your back. Pulled in, you bravely close the shy distance you'd put between you two. Somewhere between choruses, your gaze is finally drawn away from your surroundings to look up into his eyes, where the stars that should've been visible in the sky tonight seemed to have migrated to. You connect the stars, and see that constellation you've been trying to figure out all this time but was a smidge too unobservant to read correctly was unmistakable in it's brightness tonight. The realization hits you as one’s head might hit the pillow after a difficult week: your best friend was in love with you.

"Hendery." you whisper.

Pressed close to each other's bodies, you feel rather than hear the inquiring hum he makes. You shake your head mentally to rid yourself of the goosebumps.

“It isn’t raining”, you comment, unable to help yourself. “He asks her to dance with him in the rain if she feels the same.”

“You’re dancing with me anyway.” he murmurs.

You nod, knowing he understands the answer written on your face. He gazes at you, taking his time reading the words you were going to tell him after class. Somewhere during the next song, you feel yourself finally letting out such an exhale that you let your guard down. You lean in to rest your head on his chest, closing your eyes and, for the first time in a while, quieten down the loud and ever-present thoughts in your head. What could there be to worry about? You were slow-dancing with Hendery.

Hendery subtly presses his lips against your hair and thanks… God? Venus? Or was it Aphrodite? The paper cranes he folded that one time the power went out? That shooting star he saw when Yangyang and Xiaojun locked him out on the fire escape? He didn’t know how this happened, who/what made this happen but he’s here- finally here. This was an accident, for sure. No one could’ve guessed you’d be seated next to each other that one day in first year, or that you were more fun than you’d let on, or that he'd like spending time with you this much, or that his friends would like you too and drag you into the group, or that it would lead to you being a presence in all the important moments of his life (basketball games, birthdays, Christmas parties, grocery runs, landlord disputes, finals week breakdowns), or that his little crush would get so alarmingly serious that instead of just being present, he'd want you to be a permanent fixture in his life, or that you’d make him (him, of all people) grow from childish and immature to caring and loyal. No, this was no accident; this was a miracle, the kind that creeps up on you.

He makes a mental note to make an anonymous call to that radio station and compliment them on their good taste. Then maybe ask them for their playlist.

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