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chuluoyi · 4 months

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LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

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cauliflowercounty · 1 month

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Knives Dance (Part III)

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

Summary: It was hard to have a prose summary so here are some bullets of what’s happening in part 3

Baron Feyd missing you + heartfelt reunion

Feyd being totally infatuated with you

SCIENCE!!! and POLITICS!!!

Rabban being pitiful

Reader being a badass

Feyd vs Paul on Arrakis (what will happen? You’ll never knowww… [unless you read this chapter **wink, wink, wink**]

Warnings: Violence, blood, death (woohoo)

Word Count: 10.3k (whoops… I went typey-type)

A/N: I wanted to say a sincere thanks to everyone who's read Knives Dance up to this point. This series is some of the most fun I've had writing in a long, long time. Sending lots of love your way :)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Stirring gently in his bed, Feyd recoils slightly as the light from Giedi Prime’s black sun hits his eye line through the wall of windows that separate his bedroom from the private balcony that overlooks the cityscape. He extends his arm to your side of the bed and runs his hand languidly across the surface, feeling the cool, silky sheets under his fingertips. His heart feels heavy in his chest, and he lets out a low growl of frustration into his pillow. It has been a long three weeks without you.

You’ve been off-world on a visit to Youra to see your father and bring back equipment for the laboratory you’re constructing on Giedi Prime. He knows that he doesn’t have to worry about your safety because he insisted on a full Harkonnen security detail accompanying you, which should have put his mind at ease, but he’s laid awake each night since your departure, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of disasters befalling you during your travels. One night it’s asteroids colliding with your ship, tearing gaping holes in the walls, and sucking you into the vacuum of space. Another, it’s an ambush by an undiscovered society, hellbent on killing alien peoples for sport. Perhaps a novel virus wiping out the entire population of Youra and you with it in a matter of days? No farfetched scenarios were off limits when Feyd allowed his mind to wander.

The foreign feeling of loss due to your absence has not only plagued him with anxiety, but allowed Feyd to slip into a state of abject melancholia. None of his old vices have come close to fulfilling him, let alone make him feel much of anything. Watching his servants cower in fear or making foreign ambassadors quake in their seats wasn’t giving him the same gratification as it once had. Even hearing the roar of the crowds in the arena didn't given him any satisfaction. Everything had felt unbearably pedestrian. The only thing that brought a smile to his face was the thought of having the other half of his bed full again and listening to your tranquil voice. With every passing moment, he’s yearned for the life you had built together on Giedi Prime to resume.

Your mornings together were simple and easy. They were a time when he could always experience a drop of serenity within the political quagmire he’d gotten himself into since assuming the title of Baron. He’d wake up with you already in his embrace, your head laid delicately on his chest. He'd listen to your soft breathing and savor the way your limbs would entangle with his. The image of you blinking your eyes open to look at him with the special glimmer of affection reserved just for him never failed to make his heart flutter.

Overtime, Feyd noticed you had been taking very well to Harkonnen dresses, which you now wore more often than not. He had the best seamstresses on Giedi Prime make and tailor custom outfits for you, though he didn’t expect you to always wear them, knowing how important your heritage was for you. Nevertheless, you continued to grab one of the black gowns from your shared closet for your daily tasks and tell him with a smile “I’m Baroness Harkonnen now. Shouldn’t I dress the part?”

Before leaving your quarters each day, Feyd always took the opportunity to take your hand in his and bring you in front of the floor length mirror in your shared closet. With his hands around your waist, he would pepper gentle kisses from your cheeks down your neck, whispering in your ear “you are a vision today, my Baroness.” You'd always smile and blush bashfully in return, returning his kisses in kind. Moments like those when it was just the two of you had become one of his favorite parts of the day.

You made the meetings, filled with diplomats groveling to win his favor, bearable. How he loved to watch you as you sat on the grand Harkonnen throne beside him. You never failed to command the room with your head held high. Power and dignity seemed to drip off of your being and fill every room you entered. You were truly worthy of the title of Baroness, and with every passing day and every interaction, there was more and more for Feyd to admire about you.

In private, you took to training together, where he would bask in your shared might. With every blow he endured from you, all he could think about was that he, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, was the only person alive to witness you so animated with ferocity and passion from battle, as all others who have seen you this way have been slain and buried. Sparring sessions between the two of you almost always ended with you both on the floor, limbs entwined and chests heaving after one of you would get the best of the other and take the opportunity to pin the other to the floor.

At the end of the day, you'd always assume your position on the balcony in a flowy, white nightgown. With a gentle gesture, you’d beckon him to accompany you while you observe your shared domain, watching the shuttles flying through the gaps in the dark architecture and the stark white floodlights passing over the cityscape. He’d hold you close by your waist and whisper sweet nothings into your ear until you start to shiver from the evening chill, at which point he’d tug at your waist to take you back to the bedroom to retire for the night. Every day, Feyd was falling deeper and deeper into you, and he’s loved every moment.

Bringing himself upright, Feyd stretches his arms and stands up, walking over to the closet. Across from his sets of Harkonnen formalwear and battle gear, your gowns are neatly hung. Half of them are the sleek, black Harkonnen designs he had made for you. The other half are gorgeously vibrant Youran gowns. He sighs, imagining sharing one of your moments again in front of the mirror like always, but alas, you are not beside him. Once he’s dressed, he emerges from his quarters and is met with a nameless servant.

“Good morning, Baron,” the servant says, bowing deeply and trying not to give Feyd an excuse to kill him. “I am here to inform you that we have received a signal from the Baroness’s craft. Her arrival is imminent.”

Hearing those words, Feyd turns on his heel toward the landing docks, dismissing the servant who heaves a sigh of relief because his head is thankfully still connected to the rest of his body. As Feyd walks the halls, his pace quickens, feeling the anticipation rise in his chest. People bow and salute him in the hallways, but he doesn’t pay them any attention. He’s too preoccupied with his thoughts of you; he can already smell the aroma of rainforest flowers you carry around with you. The thought that he’s so close to having you near again nearly drives him mad.

When he arrives at the landing docks, the fleet of Harkonnen vessels is already touching down. As he hears the machinery’s loud whirring die, the ramps of all the crafts to meet the floor. Lines of Harkonnen soldiers file out first, each soldier with weapons in arms. The steady pulse of their synchronized footsteps echoes through the space with perfect adherence to Harkonnen military standards is satisfactory for Feyd. The commander in front barks orders, and the guards immediately step into formation, making an aisle that extends between Feyd and the craft closest to him.

He is at a loss for words when he sees you walk down the ramp. You are undeniably gorgeous in Harkonnen clothes, but you look positively ethereal in the Youran gown and golden headdress that adorn your body today. Instead of shrouding yourself in the cloak you’ve worn in the past to hide your weaponry, you’re wearing a traditional dress reserved only for Youra’s utmost nobility. Layers of sheer, olive and cerulean fabric flare behind you to create your dress’s skirt out from under a ribbed bronze and mahogany corset. Seeing how it’s cinched your waist and accented your silhouette, all Feyd wants to do is hold you and drag his fingers up and down the length of your figure.

Through the abundance of delicate golden chains that are symmetrically draped over your exposed shoulders and chest, Feyd can see how the corset and the off the shoulder neckline cradles your breasts in a way that makes him feel lightheaded. The entire skirt of the dress is decorated in dazzling embellishments and the characteristic Youran golden thread that Feyd has come to love on you. The fabric of the train seems to flow like water behind you as you walk.

The high front hemline of the gown that ends at your upper thighs gives Feyd a good look at your legs, the lengths of which are delicately wrapped in the thin, tan ribbons from your sandals. The crosshatched pattern of the ribbons allows him to see just how beautifully your legs are sculpted from years of training and exploration. The sight makes his mouth water. He is truly breathless gazing upon you, his Baroness.

You return his affectionate gaze and call his name excitedly, reaching down and bunching up your skirt in your grasp before breaking into a run between the lines of Harkonnen guards. Your footsteps are the only noise reverberating throughout the area. Before he even realizes it, Feyd’s running for you, too. As you approach each other, he extends his arms out to you, and you leap into them, wrapping your legs around his waist. As he lifts you up into his arms, he spins you both around as you nuzzle yourself deeper into his hold.

Your grips on each other are desperate. Without a moment to waste, he cups your cheek with one hand as the other holds you tightly by the small of your back. A tear threatens to fall from his eyes as he considers saying that he hopes that you’ve missed him, but the look in your eyes already tells him the answer. This is truly happiness like he’s never experienced before. It washes over him when you finally bring your lips to meet his. His breath is warm against yours as he exhales into the kiss in satisfaction. He feels your hands come up to clutch the back of his head to deepen your kiss and growls hungrily, quickly losing himself in your embrace while attempting to resist the urge to devour you on the spot. His brow furrows when you finally break for air.

“Hello, my love,” you whisper softly, pressing your forehead against his, as if what you’re saying is a secret meant for only his ears. He grins at the pet name you’ve picked for him. “How have things been at home?” Your words make Feyd pause. Were you calling Giedi Prime “home?”

“Everything has been adequate,” Feyd says, kissing you again. “But I do prefer it when my Baroness is beside me.”

“I guess you’re in luck then,” you smile at his words. You rest your hands on his chest, feeling his prominent pectoral muscles underneath his shirt which makes him sigh in satisfaction. You swiftly squash the temptation to kiss him again as you meet his gaze because if you do, you’d never want to stop. Feyd sets you down, even though he’d gladly carry you all day wherever you want.

“My father sends his regards. He’s very pleased with House Harkonnen. He also sends his condolences at your uncle’s passing,” you say, which makes Feyd scoff silently to himself. “I’ve also gathered all I need for the laboratory. I hope I didn’t bring too much back with me. I hope it’s not a burden…” you trail off.

“You could never be a burden. We have plenty of servants. They can handle the labor,” Feyd assures as he turns to one of the closest guards. “Start unloading the Baroness’s things. You know where to take them. Don’t you dare damage any of it. There will be repercussions if anything is found broken.”

“Yes, My Lord,” the guard responds before beginning to bark orders to the others. One by one, the guards disappear into the vessel, and emerge moments later, carrying large wooden crates by the bronze colored handles attached to the sides of each. They all file out and disappear into the fortress, headed for your lab.

“So,” Feyd says, turning back to you. “Home is Giedi Prime now? I wouldn’t have expected you to call anywhere but Youra home. It’s not that I’m unsatisfied that you’ve found comfort on Giedi Prime, but I was surprised to hear you say those words.”

You smile and glance down at the ground before looking back to him, responding. “Younger me would have agreed with you. Youra is my first home and will forever be such. However, my feelings have changed. Home is wherever you are,” you explain, intertwining your fingers with his. At your words, Feyd pulls you in again by the waist for another quick kiss, and he wonders what he did to deserve a wife like you as you both turn to follow your belongings.

Weeks ago, you and Feyd had set aside the largest of Baron Vladimir’s personal recreation spaces to be converted to a laboratory for you on Giedi Prime. You both had celebrated the initiation of the transformation by gathering all the Baron’s belongings and smashing them to smithereens, which was quite cathartic for the both of you. In particular, you loved bashing Vladimir’s pipe and ripping his bathtubs apart piece by piece. The day of eradicating every trace of Vladimir, except for his portrait in the hallway, culminated in you both basking in the warmth of a glorious bonfire, fed by what remained of the Baron’s belongings.

You both arrive at your laboratory. The Harkonnen workers have been very efficient installing the necessary infrastructure in the time you have been away. The room that was stripped to the bones the day you left for Youra is now a proper lab, outfitted with fireproof surfaces, chemical hoods, gas lines, and plenty of storage cabinets.

“Wow, Feyd,” you say. “This is amazing. I can’t believe this got done in the time I was gone.”

“Only the best for you, my love,” he replies as more servants arrive, and you begin to instruct them how to unpack your belongings. Feyd stands back on the sidelines and watches you, seeing the sparkle in your eyes now that you’re able to bring part of your life from Youra to Giedi Prime. Many of the instruments and objects he sees being unpacked are unfamiliar to him, but you seem unphased, perhaps even comforted, by the diversity of items. He marvels at your proficiency with handling all of them. With the help of the servants, you quickly have all the crates unloaded and the items put away and organized. You dismiss all the workers promptly, so you and Feyd can be alone. Once the doors are closed, you let out a sigh of relief.

“Is the space to your liking?” Feyd asks, coming to your side and slipping his arm firmly around your waist.

“It’s perfect,” you reply, looking around with elation in your eyes. You reach into a drawer in front of you and take out a jar. Inside, he sees it’s full of the iridescent indigo scales of the fish you had shown him the night you were attacked on Youra. “I wanted to wait until I got back to Giedi Prime to do the extraction on the scales for your batch of the elixir. …Would you like to stay while it happens?”

Feyd nods without hesitation. He knows that watching you work is something only the people closest to you ever get to see. “Of course, my love. It would be my pleasure,” he says. You smile at him, delighted at his interest. You point to a little door in the corner and tell him to wait for you before disappearing into it. A few minutes later, you emerge having shed your gown and jewels for a tan lab coat. When you smooth your hands over the new coat, Feyd thinks to himself how put together you look. You seem even more at ease now that you’ve changed. In your arms, he sees another coat and two pairs of safety glasses.

“To protect your clothes and eyes,” you say, walking over and handing him the other coat and one of the pairs of glasses. Inside the coat, he sees “Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen” delicately stitched in with golden lettering. As he puts it on, he realizes it’s been tailored to his measurements perfectly at your behest. His heart swells once again. Your foresight is obvious to him. Beside him, you take out a mortar and pestle and pour a few of the scales into the mortar. He hears the scales clatter like pebbles against one another as they fall.

Over your shoulder, Feyd can finally get a closer look at the scales from the fish you had shown him. The scales are shaped like rounded trapezoids and glimmer even in the artificial indoor lighting. Through the striking coloration, he can see delicate silver ribs that flare out from the narrower end of the scales, making each scale look like a pocket of moonlight rays shining through an inky night sky. Feyd thinks how it’s truly a wonder how nature produced such a creature that bears such beauty.

You grasp the pestle in your hand and start striking the scales with firm, downward motions. Upon impact, the scales fracture at the ribs. Little by little, the scales become smaller, and you change your technique, beginning to roll the pestle around the bottom and up the sides of the mortar. You reverse the direction of the circle every few times. Because of your expert hand, the scales are soon reduced to a fine powder in the bottom of the mortar. The dust glistens beautifully as you pick up the mortar and tip it around in a rolling motion, observing the results of your grinding.

“It’s time to perform the extraction and then the purification. Hopefully the crystals will be well formed,” you say to him, taking the mortar over to the fume hood behind the two of you and flipping the on switch to the hood. “Have you ever watched any of your scientists work before?”

Feyd shakes his head as he follows you, memories of his childhood passing through his mind. “My uncle always instructed me to remain in the arena and the training grounds growing up. The laboratories on Giedi Prime were never our places to be. Our scientists would always come and report to us rather than us going to them. It has always been that way. Everyone in House Harkonnen works for the Baron. Everything they do is in service to him. It is inappropriate by our standards for him to go to them.”

You nod at his words, reaching for the glass sash that separates you and Feyd from the compartment of the fume hood. “Unsurprisingly, it’s the opposite on Youra,” you say, putting the mortar with the powdered scales inside before lowering the sash again until it’s almost closed, leaving gap a couple inches tall for continued access. “Yes, all workers serve my father and me, but we are all colleagues, in a way. They are the workers and my father is the hub for all of the departments on Youra. Much of my father’s success is tied to them, so he would often visit our workers to acknowledge their efforts and dedication. He always wanted to see their work for himself, too. He’s always been the curious type. My father had me follow him to the laboratories as soon as I was old enough to understand safety protocol. I’m sure if it wasn’t for regulations, he’d have brought me into the labs in a baby sling.”

The image of young you in a laboratory, holding your father’s hand as Youran chemists show you both what they’re working on comes into Feyd’s mind. Even though he didn’t know of you when you were children, he can imagine you then, much shorter with a rounder face but with the same bright eyes brimming with curiosity. The idea makes his heart warm and a smile tugs at his lips.

“I’m sure those laboratory visits were most influential for you,” Feyd says. You nod in return as you put on a pair of gloves and reach under the sash to grab an amber bottle containing a clear liquid from the side of the hood.

“Absolutely,” you reply as you transfer all the powdered scales into a glass Erlenmeyer flask and add enough of the liquid to cover the solids. You move the flask onto a raised plate in the hood and press a few buttons to begin the heating process. “I loved watching them do their work. They knew so much about our world, but were still determined to know more. The way they moved in the lab was like a dance. I desperately wanted to be a part of that, so I began working with them when I was fourteen…”

As Feyd listens to you talk about your past as you work, his admiration of you grows. Your determination and tenacity through failed experiments and stalled projects are astounding to him, and the fact you’ve been able to become a swordswoman on the side this is truly a marvel. Your skill and years of training are evident today, as your body seems to know this process by memory. This in front of him is the product of all those years of effort.

The liquid in the vessel begins to bubble gently. As the moments go by, the liquid takes on the iridescent nature of the scales and becomes a vibrant blue. Removing it from the heat, you strain the liquid through fine mesh into another container, removing all the powdered scales from the mixture. Looking at the collected solids, Feyd can see the scales have lost their original coloration and turned a chalky off-white. You smile to yourself, knowing that the extraction was effective while you prepare a large volume of a different liquid, also clear and colorless, in a large beaker.

“Are you ready for the recrystallization?” you ask him, grabbing a syringe and drawing up some of the extract into the barrel. You return to the beaker of liquid and gently tip it sideways with one hand while pointing the tip of the needle at the side of the beaker. Carefully, you begin to squeeze the syringe and the indigo liquid begins to drip out the needle’s tip and trickle down the side of the beaker. As the extract hits the surface of the clear liquid, deep purple crystals seem to flutter out from the point of impact into the liquid instantaneously. Feyds lips part in amazement, unable to tear his gaze away from the process

“How does it work?” he asks, watching as a batch of thin, needle-like crystals start to gather at the bottom of the beaker while the bulk liquid remains colorless. It’s as if all the color of the extract has been contained within the crystals.

“I use the first liquid to remove the compound from the scales and make a concentrated extract. I then add the extract to a bulk solvent which our compound of interest is insoluble in. The compound forms crystals when the liquids meet because the second liquid is in great excess compared to the first,” you explain, drawing up more extract and adding it to the beaker in the same way. Once you’re out of extract, you squat down to bring your eye level to that of the beaker. “It’s perfect. I don’t think the crystallization has ever gone that well.”

You’re absolutely beaming as you swirl the crystals suspended in the liquid, admiring how they twinkle in the light. He can’t deny that your excitement is contagious. You collect the crystals by filtering the mix through another filter and spread out the crystals on a metal sheet to allow them to dry before removing your safety glasses, and Feyd follows suit.

“This is the compound I was referring to that night at the Pools of Ashora,” you say to Feyd. “If we dissolve the crystals in water and drink it, it allows people to retain their body’s water content and reduced the frequency at which people needed to drink water.”

“Fascinating…,” Feyd trails off, staring at the delicate crystals scattered across the surface inside the fume hood.

“When I was on Youra, I tested the elixir myself,” you say. Hearing you say that you’ve done that, a bolt of fear goes to his heart at the thought of you just drinking a novel chemical. Feyd’s eyes quickly lock onto you, and his neck stiffens. His mind swirls with distress at the possibility of you getting hurt. You may look okay now, but was the elixir difficult for you to stomach? Did it hurt you in the moment?

Looking at him, you’re immediately in tune with his reaction, and you lift your hand up to rest on his arm to calm his nerves. At your touch, he immediately relaxes. “Don’t worry, Feyd. I am alright. There’s nothing to be worried about. We’ve done plenty of trials since I first introduced this fish to you. I assure you it’s safe. I’ve had all of my best scientists on this project, and I had the best doctors in Youra monitor my vitals for two days after the fact.” Feyd nods, knowing if anyone is competent enough to keep you safe, it's yourself and the Youran doctors and researchers. “We still don’t know the exact mechanism of the compound in the body, but we do know there aren’t significant negative side effects on people. Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Feyd replies, taking the opportunity to bring his hand to your waist and pull you close enough that your lips are almost touching and you’re both staring into each other’s eyes. “I will always put my faith in you and your work.”

“I’m glad to hear,” you reply, your breath fanning out across his face, which sends shivers down his spine. “That means a lot, Feyd, we’ve been working hard the last few weeks for this.” Grinning at you, he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tips your head up toward his, catching your lips in his. You quickly take off your gloves and hold his cheeks in your palms, savoring the intimate moment.

A knock at the door sounds through the room. Feyd grumbles in annoyance as the tension between you releases. You and Feyd look at each other before ending your embrace. You call out “Enter!” in the direction of the doors. A military advisor enters the lab in full uniform with his head low. He immediately drops to his knees in front of both of you to show his respect.

“Baron, Baroness,” he says. “I am deeply sorry for interrupting you both, but I bring critical news from Arrakis.”

“Very well,” Feyd says, straightening up and peering down at the man kneeling before him. “Out with it.”

“There has been an attack by the Fremen. They destroyed eighty percent of the most recent spice crop.” You can tell by the way the man shivers that he is afraid. Nobody ever wanted to be the one to break bad news to Feyd-Rautha. “Count Rabban attempted a counterattack.”

“‘Attempted?’ What happened?” Feyd growls, his eyes flashing in dissatisfaction. You catch Feyd’s hand in your palm as it flies in the direction of the knife he keeps on his person. You shake your head. You tell him there is no use in killing this man because it would be a waste with just a look.

“Y-Yes, my Lord,” the man says, a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. You can hear him beginning to hyperventilate despite his best attempts to steady his breath. “Rabban went after the Fremen, but the dust and debris from Rabban’s initial artillery attack made the visibility so poor on the battlefield that only Count Rabban and a few others survived. They were ambushed in the haze; it was a massacre with a casualty rate of seventy two percent and climbing.”

“Over half?!” you gasp, your own fists beginning to clench at Rabban’s blunder.

“Rabban says he saw the Fremen prophet, Muad'dib, on the battlefield before he fled. The Fremen… they are dedicated to him. They kill for him, Baron. Our spice operation is in jeopardy. We await your command.”

Feyd stiffens, a vein threatening to pop on his temple. He sucks in air through his teeth, infuriated at Rabban’s continued incompetency. The advisor recoils at the noise, shuffling backward toward the door.

“You are dismissed,” you call to him with a huff. A wave of relief washes over the man as he bows and thanks you before slipping out the door.

“Rabban is a damned fool!” Feyd shouts once you’re alone. “He has had every chance to rectify his mistakes on Arrakis, but he seems to leave his brain behind when he makes decisions and lets this Muad'dib win every time! And now I hear news of abandoning the battlefield at the sight of this prophet? He is a coward! An absolute imbecile! If something doesn’t change soon, the Emperor will take Arrakis from us!”

You reach your arm out and rest it on his shoulder. In moments, you’ve quelled Feyd’s initial outburst until he’s only seething with fury instead of being on the verge of trashing the entire lab. “I think it’s time to relieve my brother of his duties,” Feyd says after he takes a deep breath. “We shall go to Arrakis to do it. I want to see the look on his face and the hope drain from his eyes when he knows he’s failed. I will take over the operation on Arrakis. We will do what my brother was incapable of.”

“In that case…,” you say, preparing two glasses of water, adding a pinch of the crystals to each. The water immediately turns a luminous indigo, and you hand Feyd one of the glasses, which he gladly takes. You raise your glass in the air. “To victory and to House Harkonnen.”

“To victory and House Harkonnen,” he replies, connecting the rims of your glasses and drinking the entire glass in one go. The elixir is salty and rich on his tongue as if he’s drinking the essence of the tropical ocean. As the elixir flows into him, he feels a warmth pulsate throughout his body. He isn’t sure if this is truly the effects of the elixir or just a placebo, but Feyd feels powerful, like he could slaughter a thousand men and still have a hunger for more. As he meets your gaze, you give him a knowing look. You feel the energy, too. You both shed your laboratory coats and leave the room to prepare for your journey to Arrakis.

The preparations before and journey to Arrakis went without a hitch. You had opted to choose Harkonnen battle gear over your own, but you and Feyd still agreed on concealing your knives under a black Harkonnen dress cloak, still not eager to let anyone know of your true nature. Arriving in Arrakeen, you notice the striking architecture, made up of geometric slabs of tan stone layered to create a fortress to protect its inhabitants. This time on Arrakis, Feyd doesn’t feel the heat like he used to. It’s as if his body is fighting back against the harsh environment on the desert planet. You feel it, too. You were initially concerned because you had only tested the elixir during the dry months on Youra, which paled in hostility in comparison to Arrakis, but seems the elixir’s protection is more than sufficient.

You and Feyd walk the halls of the fortress side by side, heading to the room where all of the Harkonnen strategists and military officials are. You see them gathered around a digital map projected by a computer in the middle of the room, which shows the locations of all the Harkonnen forces in the north of Arrakis. Upon seeing their Baron and Baroness side by side, they all freeze and bow.

“Welcome to Arrakis, Baron, Baroness” one of them says. He opens his mouth to continue but Fed cuts him off.

“Enough,” Feyd hisses at him. “I have orders for you. You are no longer to follow the word of Count Rabban. As of today, he is relieved of his duty as Planetary Governor of Arrakis. You will report directly to and receive orders only from me and your Baroness.”

The room of men immediately shout “Yes, My Lord!” in response. A smirk forms on Feyd's lips at their responsiveness, and he instructs them to hit the Fremen with old-fashioned artillery. As the orders are executed by the Harkonnen military, you watch the map intently as the targets on the map turn green, indicating the Fremen bases are hit successfully. All of the military advisors’ eyes widen in surprise at the genius of Feyd’s strategy as the reports of complete annihilation from the ground forces roll in.

They all begin to applaud Feyd and as their chants fill the room, your heart fills with pride. Feyd has finally proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was always meant to be the leader of House Harkonnen. As the applause continues, you see Rabban appear in the doorway, a look of surprise disgust on his face. You notice he’s still wearing his nightclothes, and your eyes flash between him and Feyd as Rabban approaches Feyd, Rabban’s legs still stiff from sleep.

“Leave us,” Feyd instructs the others in the room, who promptly file out. They keep their eyes on the floor, not daring to look at Rabban. They know people who end up alone in a room with Feyd after repeated blunders usually don’t exit the room outside of a body bag.

“What are you doing here?” Rabban growls at Feyd.

“It’s early morning. What are you doing here?” Feyd quips back. Rabban lets out a frustrated huff.

“You can’t just waltz in here,” Rabban says through gritted teeth. “And how can you bring that woman into the inner sanctum?”

“How dare you refer to your Baroness like that!” Feyd roars, grabbing Rabban by his collar. “If you have forgotten, dear Brother, I am Baron now. I will do as I please and take my wife wherever I wish!”

Feyd throws Rabban back and he falls on his back hard. In desperation, Rabban tries to scramble to his feet again, but as soon as he’s almost upright, he feels his knees buckle from under him as you kick the backside of his knees in. Rabban’s forehead collides with the stone floor with a visceral crack, and he feels his arm caught in your grip behind him. He groans as you push his arm to the verge of overextension. On his neck, Rabban feels the cool tip of a blade threatening to pierce his skin, which sends a chill down his spine, his head still spinning from impact.

“You should learn to respect your superiors,” you whisper to him as Feyd’s gaze is fixated on you. The picture before him has a fire rising within him. His breath turns thick and heavy, seeing you over Rabban, your blade on his neck and your foot on his back with a fiendish smile on your lips. “I would have expected more from my brother-in-law… You are a disgrace to House Harkonen,” you drawl, pressing your dagger’s tip into Rabban’s neck enough to draw blood. Dark crimson blood trickles down Rabban’s neck and he squirms. You remove your foot from his back and step forward to place your shoe by his face. You take the opportunity to kick his cheek in a little with the toe of your shoe before the heel of your combat boot hits the floor by Rabban’s face with a firm thunk. “Kiss my feet, and I may spare your life.”

Rabban quivers under your hold, his palms spread over the stone floor. He considers trying to escape. He could try to press his body up and avoid the blade on his neck and try to sweep your legs out from under you, but he quickly realizes that you are in control. Any movement like that would end with your knife in his chest, back, or neck. Despite his position being compromised, he hesitates to kiss your foot How could he, Glossu Rabban, kiss a woman’s shoe in submission?

“You heard her, Brother,” Feyd hisses, stepping toward you both as he basks in his brother’s terror. Feyd stops in front of his brother and squats down to look at him. “Kiss her feet. Now.”

After a moment, Rabban quivers and presses his lips against the leather of your shoes. As he does, you see how miserable and pathetic this man below you is. It's truly a shock that this oaf is the brother of your Feyd, who is confident, domineering, and skillful in every way.

“You made a good decision obeying, Rabban,” you say, releasing the blade on his neck. “I would have wasted a perfectly sharpened knife slitting your throat if you hadn’t cooperated.” You step back from him as he clambers into an upright position. His hand flies to his neck, feeling the blood trickle down his neck and seep into his nightshirt.

“You are hereby relieved of your duties as Planetary Governor of Arrakis,” Feyd grins at the pitiful sight before him. “You will return to your quarters in the meantime and wait for future instruction.”

Rabban leaves in defeat. Once the doors shut behind him, you and Feyd smirk at each other, and Feyd rushes to you giving you a tender kiss. “I love you, Baroness,” he murmurs, completely infatuated with you.

A few days later, you stare up into the atmosphere of Arrakis. The Emperor’s craft has just entered the atmosphere. You and Feyd share incredulous looks and you immediately make your way to where the emperor will be docking.

“What could the emperor want?” you ask Feyd as you walk.. “We restored spice production. It’s never been more efficient.”

Feyd shakes his head, deep in thought. “I do not know, my love.”

“I don’t like this, Feyd.” you whisper to him, trying not to let anyone else hear and Feyd nods in return. “What could have summoned the emperor to Arrakis?”

“We shall see,” he replies. Rabban arrives and bows to you both, which makes you frown. Rabban hasn’t been involved in House Harkonnen’s operations since he was removed. Nevertheless, he still proceeds into the throne room before Feyd or you can dismiss him.

Inside the throne room, the emperor is perched on a large throne up a large flight of stairs with his daughter and a Bene Gesserit standing by him. Your eyes narrow seeing the witch’s presence, knowing they have tricks they are not afraid of using to manipulate the great houses. You, Feyd, and Rabban kneel in front of them, bowing your heads. Before any of you speak, the emperor’s voice rings out.

“I am sure you are curious as to why I have come to Arrakis,” he begins. “What do you know of the prophet Muad'dib?” Rabban speaks up first, saying that Muad'dib is a madman.

“Mad?!” the emperor says.

“All Fremen are mad!” Rabban counters, and the Emperor’s fist clenches around the arm of his throne. You and Feyd shoot daggers at Rabban, and he closes his mouth immediately, putting his head down again which casts his face in shadow.

“We apologize for my brother speaking out of turn,” Feyd says to the Emperor. “Rabban has had no part in the latest work of House Harkonnen. He is not a reliable source of information. We know Muad'dib is a figure of the Fremen, and they follow his command.”

“Yes,” you say. “He organizes their forces, and they have been effective in battle against many of our forces by hiding in the sands and staging ambushes. They’ve been effective at destroying our spice harvesters in the past, but we’ve been able to successfully retaliate.” The Bene Gesserit flashes some hand signs at the emperor. She must be able to tell if people are lying or not.

“What of the prophet’s whereabouts?” the Emperor asks, his voice darkening with frustration at your lack of knowledge. The emperor’s suggested scorn directed at House Harkonnen is sour on your tongue, and you grit your teeth.

“We control the north of Arrakis and spice production, Emperor,” you reply, keeping yourself collected. “We believe Muad'dib has fled to the south to hide in the storms after my husband’s last military tactic was successful in neutralizing their northern bases.”

As you utter those words, you feel a tremendous boom propagate through the air, causing the building to shudder. Everyone in the room looks up. Some of the diplomats that have accompanied the emperor swallow thickly. You and Feyd exchange knowing glances. Something isn’t right. The Sardaukar forces, who have come to protect the emperor, raise their weapons and get into formation with one line in front of the emperor, who has abandoned the throne in favor of shelter.

The other line of Sardaukar forms a line opposite the entrance way, as more explosions can be heard beyond the walls. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rabban slip away, ever the coward. You feel Feyd’s touch on your arm as he beckons you to position yourself behind the defenses with the other diplomats. From your shared position, you both wait and listen intently. The others in the room are paralyzed in a cold sweat, but you and Feyd are silently watching, waiting, and listening, already gathering information on the situation to calculate your next move.

Dust fills the room as another bang resonates throughout the room and the barrier breaks down. The frontline of the Sardaukar advance, weapons at the ready. As they disappear into the dust, you know they aren’t coming back. The room is almost entirely quiet, but through the haze you hear the barely audible but familiar sound of daggers piercing armor, slitting throats, and tearing flesh. The remaining Sardaukar dig their heels in as a figure emerges through the orange debris, wrapped in tan fabrics caked in others’ blood. His face is concealed by a scarf, and the only flesh of his you see are his eyes, blue from spice. He is accompanied by an army. Judging by the amount of noise they made on their arrival, you and Feyd know there are probably hundreds of them. Fighting your way out is not an option. This must be the prophet Muad'dib.

Muad'dib looks around with his blade drawn, seemingly searching for someone as he enters the room. You see him and Feyd make eye contact. Feyd’s eyes narrow at him in curiosity. When Muad'dib does not find who he is looking for, he turns the crowd of people behind the Sardaukar guards. Most of the diplomats instinctively take a step back. He makes eye contact with the emperor before turning to his own forces and hissing something in a foreign tongue which you presume to be Chakobsa, Fremen language. He exits the room back into the crowd of Fremen who chant for him, waving their war banners. You see they bear the hawk insignias of House Atreides. The son of Duke Leto Atreides is alive.

The Fremen advance, easily slaying the last remaining Sardaukar. Many of the diplomats shudder and jump in surprise as the Fremen plunge their daggers into the Sardaukar warriors, who are powerless to stop them. Once they are all dead and their blood is spread across the floor in crimson red pools, the Fremen start grabbing the rest of you by your arms, and you are all dragged away one by one. You are being taken prisoner. You look to Feyd, who gives you a subtle nod as if to say “go along with it,” and you do.

You’ve laid low all in the confinement the Fremen have kept you in all night, not eager to give any of them a reason to kill you. Silently, you’ve been analyzing your situation, trying to figure out a way to achieve an optimal outcome, which you feel is slipping through your fingers. Since you have been taken prisoner, you can only presume that the rest of the Sardaukar and the Harkonnen army have been slaughtered and their bodies burned before daybreak. You and Feyd are likely the last living Harkonnens on Arrakis.

After sunrise, you are called upon by a faceless Fremen, who orders all of the prisoners to follow. You are reunited with Feyd, who takes your hand, careful not to let the Fremen see this gesture of affection as to not allow them any leverage. His touch automatically makes you as at ease you can be, given that you are both captives without allies.

Arriving in a room with the other prisoners, you see the surviving Fremen mingling and congratulating one another. The man from before stands in the clearing of the room without his face covering, his black wavy hair framing his face. Feyd turns to you and mouths “Atreides.” You nod in understanding, and watch as Paul Atreides addresses the Emperor, challenging him for the throne. Looking out the window, you see warships in the distant sky. The other great houses have arrived and Paul Atreides threatens to destroy all the spice fields if the houses intervene.

“Stand yourself or choose your champion,” he orders the Emperor, who turns to Feyd.

“I select Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” the emperor declares. “Get him a blade.” You inhale sharply, knowing this means Feyd must fight to the death against a man who has already slain many in battle and emerged victorious from the bloodbath of the previous night. You trust Feyd’s skill, but you know not to underestimate Paul Atreides. Feyd’s eyes flicker toward you. He knows what you’re thinking and gives you a slight nod as if to promise he will fight his hardest, not for the emperor, but for you. He is presented with a blade by one of the members of the emperor’s council. To your surprise, Feyd pushes it away and turns to you. Coming to stand in front of you, he gestures downward toward your legs, where your daggers are still strapped to your thighs out of sight.

“Feyd, are you sure?” you say to him, your voice small.

“I want to use your blade. Please let me fight for you,” Feyd whispers. You nod and reach down to fulfill his request, drawing one of your Youran weapons from your garters. When you hand it to him, Feyd feels the familiar heft of your dagger in his hand, which makes him grin. Just as he remembers, it’s expertly balanced and perfectly crafted, its pointed tip shining in the low orange light of the room. He smiles, recalling the night you handed him the same blade, the first time he saw your true nature. He twirls the knife in his grip with a flourish of his wrist as he stands opposite Paul Atreides.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, cousin,” Paul says.

“Cousin…” Feyd says, continuing to evaluate Paul for his weaknesses. “You wouldn’t be the first family member I’ve killed.”

His words don’t phase you. You’re well aware of Feyd’s family history. You clasp your hands in each other in front of your chest, willing Feyd to be the victor. Paul Atreides straightens himself and salutes Feyd. “May thy knife chip and shatter,” Paul says with a gruff tone, lowering himself into a battle stance and pointing his knife at Feyd. Feyd smirks, raising your weapon. The sight of it in his hand is gratifying for Feyd. Despite standing alone against Paul, it’s as if you are both in this fight together with him wielding your weapon.

“May thy knife chip and shatter,” Feyd returns and within moments, they're after each other, having an all out brawl in the middle of the room. They each swipe at each other with reaction times like lightning. The sounds of blades crashing against one another, the low smacks of their bodies colliding, and their grunts of exertion fill the room. You have to admit, Paul Atreides is an impressive fighter. He’s quick on his feet and swiftly dodges and counters many of Feyd’s attacks, but it is obvious that Feyd is the one with strength on his side. The only way for Atreides to win is if he is able to find a way to use that strength against Feyd.

You’re barely breathing at this point. Your facade of stoicism threatens to crumble when you see Paul Atreides’ forehead connect firmly with your husband’s nose. To your surprise, you don’t see any blood on Feyd’s face. Paul Atreides’ head is thrown back after almost bouncing off of Feyd’s nose. Paul’s head seems to be spinning as he stumbles backward on uneven footing. Feyd recognizes Paul’s debilitated state is fleeting, and takes advantage of the moment, striking Paul again. The tangle of limbs is intense, but in the blink of an eye, you see Feyd disarm Paul, taking Paul’s knife for his own.

As they break away from one another, Paul Atreides is heaving, struggling to breathe as the leather bound hilt of your dagger protrudes from his abdomen. He’s wheezing as his own blood seeps into his battle gear. His allies gaze upon the sight in shock, some wincing in second-hand pain.

Feyd approaches him promptly, and grabs Paul by the scruff of his neck, raising Paul’s own knife at him. Paul Atreides uses his own gloved hand to grab the blade, trying to push it away, but Feyd leans in, forcing the blade to slip further into Paul’s grip, cutting the flesh of Paul’s hand open with a sickening noise, the tip of the knife getting closer to piercing Paul’s neck.

The next moment, you feel like screaming. The dagger, once poised to slice open Paul Atreides’ neck, is no longer in the air visible to you. Paul Atreides has used his grip on Feyd’s blade to redirect the tip toward the stomach of your husband. Your hands fly to your mouth, tears threatening to spill. The force Feyd puts behind his blade at that proximity is fatal.

The memories of meeting Feyd on Youra, fighting by his side against Ozran, plotting into the early hours to kill his despicable uncle, your wedding ceremony in front of House Harkonnen, and the moments of tenderness and affection he’s given you in private flash through your mind. Your stomach writhes, and your heart shrivels into itself, and your mind begins to confront the idea that you now must mourn the life you and Feyd had assembled. Another thought flashes through your mind. You’ll likely be killed after this with the rest of the prisoners in this room, and die alone without your husband, lightyears away from your people on Youra and Giedi Prime. You’ve failed.

Through your tears, you stare at the scene as the air and the people surrounding you are completely still. However, something gives you pause. You hear something hit the floor look down to the area under Feyd and Paul’s feet. You spy fragments of metal, broken into uneven shards, scattered across the floor. However, there is no blood to be seen. Your eyes shoot to Feyd, who is also looking down to where they both hold the hilt of the broken knife.

Without a second to spare, Feyd’s hand flies to your knife in Paul’s side, ripping it out of him. Paul cries out in agony, the removal of the knife causing a blood curdling squelch of skin and muscle ripping. The next moment, Feyd slits Paul Atreides’ throat with a grand swing of his arm, sending blood splatter fanning across the floor. The pregnant woman seated in the wooden throne bearing the Atreides crest lets out a high pitched shriek, and she begins to wail, seeing the light from her son’s eyes fade as his body crumples to the floor. A Fremen woman across from you lets out a shaky breath, her lip quivering and tears pool near her bright blue eyes as Paul Atreides’ fresh blood collects in a puddle on the stone floor under the gaping hole in his neck.

Feyd turns back to you, bloody blade in hand and lets out a deep exhale, allowing the tension in his own chest to dissipate. He had thought he was dead, too, but no. He is alive. He is victorious, and he gets to look into your eyes again, knowing that he has done his job for you.

Kneeling, Feyd presents the emperor with the soiled blade. The emperor smiles and pronounces Paul Atreides, the prophet Muad'dib, to be dead and Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen as the victor. In defeat, the ally of Paul, identified as Gurney Halleck, relays a message to the great houses of the outcome of the fight. The emperor’s reign shall continue, and your husband is alive. You push your way past the others in the crowd and throw yourself at Feyd, who cradles you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair, whispering to you “Please don’t shed any more tears, my love. I am still here… I wouldn’t leave you that easily.”

“I thought I lost you,” you choke out and Feyd shakes his head, using his thumb to wipe away the tear stains on your cheeks.

“You haven’t and you won’t,” he replies, his hands holding your body steady. “Let’s go home.”

—

Holding your knees to your chest, you sit in a private chamber on the Emperor’s vessel as it leaves the atmosphere of Arrakis to take you and Feyd back to Giedi Prime, which was the least the emperor could do given that Feyd nearly died for him. One of Feyd’s hands rests on your waist, holding you firmly in his grip while the other rubs gentle circles on your shoulder with his thumb. Feyd watches as your eyes dart side to side, which happens when you’re deep in though.

“What is on your mind, my love?” he asks, his voice barely a whisper.

“I’m thinking about your battle with Paul Atreides,” you reply. “The knife broke when he tried to turn the tables on you, didn’t it?” Feyd nods, bringing his hand down to the spot on his abdomen where the knife was. “May I see where it was?” you ask and Feyd obliges, creating a small bit of distance between the two of you so that you can get a good look at his torso.

You bring your hand to where Feyd’s armor has been sliced open by the blade. Bringing the other hand to his body, you gently spread the layers of fabric and leather apart to look through the hole. Underneath, you see Feyd’s familiar pale skin and his chiseled abdominal muscles that you’ve always loved to drag your fingers across. His skin appears to be absolutely pristine without a single nick or bruise in sight. You bring your head closer to get a better look before saying, “There isn’t evidence of any damage to your skin, Feyd. Your body is like the battle never happened. There isn’t a trace of impact.” As soon as you utter the last word in the sentence, you freeze and your lips part ever so lightly as your mind races to connect the dots. He knows that look on you, and he sees the gears turning in your mind.

“Impact…,” you mumble to yourself. Your eyes shoot up to Feyd’s “During the battle there was a moment when Paul Atreides’ head collided with your nose.” Your hand flies to his cheek to steady his head. You examine his nose, using your hand to tilt his head side to side. Everything about his face is unchanged, which shouldn’t be the case, especially after a fight like that and the headbutt he endured from Paul. You tip his head back. Again, there is no blood or breakage.

Your mind begins to race as you return your hands to your husband’s torso. Your hands fumble as you attempt to remove the layers of armor in between you and Feyd’s skin. Feyd realizes what you’re doing and soon enough he’s shirtless in front of you. You extend your hand out and drag your hand over his stomach. You press your fingers firmly down onto his abdominal region and upper body repeatedly, changing the area you’re putting pressure on each time. He feels solid under your touch and not in the way you’re used to. Feyd has always been bulky and muscular, hardened from years of training, but something about this is different. It’s like his body has the durability of an alloy the researchers on Youra could only dream of engineering, but he’s still flesh and blood. Bring your fingers to your own stomach, pressing your fingers against your own front, and you gasp. “That’s it!” you exclaim.

“What is it?” he asks, knowing you are on the edge of an epiphany.

“It’s the elixir!” you gasp, standing up and holding your head in disbelief “It saved your life!”

“I thought it was only to help the body retain water,” Feyd says as you get up and begin circling the room.

“Don’t you remember? That’s the end result of the elixir, but we were still unsure of the mechanism by which that happens!” you exclaim. “Remember the night I showed you the fish? I said that the fish sheds its scales at the beginning of the wet season. What I didn’t tell you is that the wet season is the only time of year we can get the scales off the fish because they fall off naturally. Our scientists have tried to get the scales before the transition of the seasons, but they've always been unable to pry the scales off or kill them because it was impossible to slice open the fish. No matter how much we sharpened the knives, we couldn’t cut them open!”

“That’s how the fish retain water in the dry season. The fish develop these scales with this compound that transforms their own bodies into a shield from the elements, so that water can’t escape. I’ve always wondered how a fish would be able to survive the whole dry season on a dried up lake bed. This compound is why the fish species hasn’t gone extinct! When they’re sitting in their dried up ponds, no predators can eat them because their bodies are too tough to pierce,” you surmise, delight filling your complexion. “By drinking that compound, the same thing has happened to our bodies! You were able to survive the battle because your skin became this impenetrable barrier that lets you keep your water that just so happens to be impervious to outside attacks as well! That’s also why your nose didn’t break and why Paul Atreides was so disoriented after he struck you with his head. It was as if he rammed his head into a steel wall. Researchers on Youra didn't catch this effect in the clinical trials because we don’t just go stabbing all of our test subjects with knives or subjecting them to blunt force trauma, especially not for a study about water retention!”

Feyd hardly believes what he’s hearing, but he knows it's true. Everything you’re saying makes perfect sense. Memories from the battle flash in his mind. He remembers his arm is suddenly bending toward himself, feeling the rough surface of the broken blade scrape against his abdomen, but the pain he had been trained to resist since childhood never hitting his senses. He brings himself to his feet and pulls you into his arms, squeezing you as tight as he can muster. “You are phenomenal, my dear, I can’t believe you figured that out,” he murmurs to you. “Thank you. I owe you my life.”

He lowers his lips to yours, kissing you like he’s never done before. You both cling to one another, relieved you are both alive and safe. Feyd holds the back of your head and runs his fingers through your locks tenderly, thinking about how far you both have come in this short amount of time. Mere months ago, you were a stranger he had the obligation to meet and marry. He knew he would have to enter a loveless relationship with you in the name of alliances. He tried to convince himself you were a woman he wanted to make a plaything out of. Before, he was intent on manipulating, breaking, and exploiting you for his own amusement. Those ideas feel so foreign to Feyd now as he revels in your affections and caresses your cheek.

Looking down at you, he sees you for what you are. You are the most beautiful being to ever exist. Nothing past or present will ever compare to you, and it brings tears to his eyes, knowing you are his wife and he is your husband. You are the culmination of all House Ronen and House Harkonnen have worked for, a true representation of the union of your two houses, and the pinnacle of all Feyd has come to hold dear. You are where brain meets brawn, where tradition meets modernity, and the pride and joy of Feyd’s life. You are simply everything.

Thanks for reading! I can’t believe the series is over (but I'm also considering writing an epilogue, but I have some requests coming down the pipeline, so we'll see about that. lmk if that's something you might be interested in...). Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed Knives Dance! :)

Also is it obvious I study chemistry yet?

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penny00dreadful · 2 months

Text

And They Were Roommates! - Part 3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 AO3

When Steve arrived back home that evening, he was a little surprised to find it mostly empty. There was no sign of Chrissy or Eddie’s Corroded Coffin boys apart from the empty containers of ice-cream and candy, along with an empty bottle and a half of wine.

Eddie himself was sitting curled up on the couch watching the TV with wide unseeing eyes, chewing through his fingers.

His gaze snapped over to the door but as soon as he caught sight of Steve, his shoulders loosened and his thumb was released from his teeth.

He looked relieved and Steve could not fathom what could possibly have Eddie feeling relieved to see him.

Eddie seemed to think the same thing because the next second the scowl was back on his face.

“Where is everyone?” He asked, stepping forward and starting to pick up the stray wrappers and empty containers while Eddie watched him like a hawk, his shoulders tense again, frowning.

“Told them to go. Said I was fine here by myself.” He mumbled.

Steve dropped the trash in the bin and turned to him, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you?”

Eddie bristled, puffing himself out, gearing up for a fight while Steve stared him down. But then he watched in real time as Eddie was only able to hold it for a few seconds before deflating, slumping back down into the cushions.

“I’m fine.”

Steve pursed his lips.

After talking with Robin, he had to admit to himself that maybe he did want to look out for Eddie, a little. Because Eddie was scared. He was nervous and jumpy and clearly did not like being home alone.

“Are you worried he’s gonna come back?”

If Rick did come back, he didn’t think Eddie would allow himself to be pushed around but it would fuck him up mentally even more than he already was.

And Steve couldn’t have that.

Eddie stood, brushing crumbs from the front of his shirt and glaring in Steve’s direction without meeting his eyes.

“I’m fine.” He insisted, turning on his heel and storming back into his room.

Steve sighed to himself after the door was slammed closed.

Well that went great.

“Shit.”

Steve wasn’t sure whether it was better to keep dancing around Eddie, being as gentle with him as he could stomach without making it obvious, or if he should go back to the way they used to be. Because if he knew anything about Eddie, it was that he couldn’t stand the idea of being handled like he was delicate even though he was clearly affected by what had happened to him.

Eventually he settled on a mix of the two.

But still, Steve was struggling to find a balance between sniping and bitching at each other regardless of what kind of wounds might be there and trying to not pour salt all over it.

He and Eddie still snapped at each other but Steve kept any arguments on his side away from anything Rick or Rick adjacent, and as the weeks went on he took note of what would have Eddie flinching or recoiling.

He erased those triggers from his snappy comebacks.

One of the things that was completely off limits was anything to do with sex.

After that first night when Eddie came home bloody and bruised because his ex fucking attacked him, Steve had to remind himself, they traded barbs about topping and bottoming and power dynamics in the bedroom all the time before, but now?

Eddie really, really didn’t like those things being thrown around.

He never said so much to Steve outright, almost like he expected Steve to pounce on it, which made a new flame of anger burn up in his stomach thinking about why Eddie would think he’d even do that, because it had to come from somewhere, right? Eddie had to have been treated like that in the past to make him think that Steve would do the same.

But he didn’t, he wouldn’t. He’d never.

And as time passed he got the impression that Eddie was starting to see that.

He just hoped he could make it obvious that he just wanted… what did he want?

He wanted what was best for Eddie, but why did he fucking care?

He didn’t care, that was the thing.

He didn’t fucking care.

He kept telling himself that.

He was just being a decent human.

He didn’t care, he just wasn’t trying to kick a guy while he was down.

It had been a couple of months since the whole Rick thing had happened and Eddie had stayed at home for most of it, only leaving to go to work or to pick up groceries.

He didn’t go out anymore.

He didn’t hang out in bars or clubs or enter gigs with his band.

Chrissy called over often and the Corroded Coffin boys even more so.

But it was after one visit from Chrissy that things seemed to have changed.

Steve had heard them talking. She was trying to encourage him. He wanted to go back out, it seemed. He missed it. But he was nervous. And she wanted to help him.

He heard his own name being mentioned once or twice but aside from that he couldn’t make much of it out.

Not that he cared to. It was none of his business and he wasn’t going to stick his nose in where it didn’t belong.

No matter how much he wanted to.

But apparently it was going to be done anyway, because one evening, as Steve sat over a bowl of soup, he became aware of Eddie hovering behind him.

He didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t even look up from the TV where he was eating on the sofa, always enjoying the feeling of rebellion in the small act.

His mother would have had a fit if she’d seen him but she wasn’t going to see him. Was never going to see him again after the things she’d said, and good riddance to her.

So Eddie hovered and Steve ignored.

Until,

“You're a reformed slut, right?”

Steve stopped his spoon half way to his mouth, just sitting there frozen for a moment before he slowly put the spoon back into the bowl.

With a glance up he could see that Eddie was red faced, twisting his rings around his fingers and looking up to the ceiling like the mysterious brown stain was suddenly very interesting.

Steve took a deep, soothing breath in.

“Calling me ‘reformed’ makes me sound like it's something I should be ashamed of. Like it was wrong.”

Eddie finally brought his eyes down to him with a raised eyebrow. “Where's the fun if it's not a little wrong?”

“Whatever.” He replied with an eye roll. “Yes, I'm a reformed slut. What's your question?”

“How…” Eddie crossed his arms and turned to the side, looking away from him again, as if it would make this conversation go easier. “How do I… do… that?”

Steve blinked at him. “Be a slut?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, you go out there and be a slut.” He shrugged. “It's not that hard.”

Eddie scoffed then muttered, “For you, maybe.”

Steve sighed, putting his bowl down on the coffee table. “Well, what are you looking to get out of it? Orgasms?”

Eddie wouldn’t have any trouble picking up people, never has had any trouble picking up people in the past, even when he clearly wasn’t single, people still wanted to try their luck. Steve had seen it with his own eyes and he couldn’t blame them.

Eddie was gorgeous, all dark hair, dark eyes, dark tattoos and pale skin, lanky limbs and wiry muscles. And he used to be all confidence and devil may care attitude that drew people in.

Though that seemed to have fled him after Rick.

But casual sex with strangers had never really been something Eddie seemed interested in so Steve was a little confused about the line of questioning.

Eddie always seemed like a ‘connection’ type of guy.

Eddie's ears went pink. “No. I can do that on my own, thanks.”

“Yeah, I thought so. So what are you looking to get out of it?”

He shrugged. “I dunno… like… I haven't- not since Rick. And I want to feel…” He shrugged again, turning in an aimless circle. “I dunno.”

“You wanna feel… desirable?” Steve hedged.

“I guess.”

“And you don't wanna get orgasms out of that?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“Is that allowed?” Eddie snapped.

“Of course it's allowed, Mary. Don't go out there and start having sex if you don't want to be having sex.”

“I won't. I wouldn't. I'm not… I don't think I'm ready.”

“Okay, that's okay. And it’s okay if you never are. You don’t have to be going out and having casual sex at all.”

Eddie hummed then kicked the base of the sofa, frustrated, hands stuffed in his pockets. “But how do I go and slut it up if I'm not having sex?”

“You don't have to have sex to be a slut.” Steve spread his hands out. “It's a vibe.”

“A vibe.” Eddie mocked.

“Yeah, honey. A vibe. You can go out and just get kisses if that's all you want.”

Eddie actually fell silent at that, thinking.

“Just kisses?”

“Yeah. Just kisses. With tongue, without tongue, with hands, without hands. Y’know, whatever.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. Okay. I can do just kisses. Okay.”

He paused, like he was going to actually thank Steve which would be fucking wild but the second Eddie turned to look at him, it was like he'd just remembered who he was talking to and his entire face flamed before he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

Steve just rolled his eyes, returning to his soup.

Despite that little conversation, Eddie didn’t go out for another two weeks.

Or at least Steve didn’t see him go out.

Not that he was watching.

It was like Eddie was trying to build himself up to it and more than once Steve had wanted to remind him that he really didn’t have to do it if he didn’t want to.

But it seemed Eddie was determined to get back on the horse.

It was one Friday evening when Eddie came out of his room and hovered again, just standing in the apartment, putting himself within Steve’s line of vision.

“Can I help you?” Steve asked, not bothering to look up from his newspaper, slowly lifting it a little higher to cover his eyeline as he sat on the couch.

Eddie didn’t answer and didn’t move until with a roll of his eyes, Steve tipped down a corner of the paper.

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him, though he seemed reluctant to do it, almost as if saying ‘Well? How do I look?’

Steve pushed his glasses further up his nose, scraping his eyes up and down Eddie’s body.

He looked good.

Really good.

His long legs were wrapped up in a pair of tight ripped jeans, he had his usual chains at his hips, perfect for pulling. There was a large belt buckle settled across his hips, drawing the eye down to the hem of his black crop top, a dark trail of hair just visible underneath along with the lithe muscles of his stomach, and sides. The ripped out sleeves of the top left an excessive amount of skin and tattoos on display and his face was slowly getting redder and redder the longer Steve looked.

He looked fucking delicious.

Except for-

“Fix your hair and you’re good.”

Steve flipped his newspaper back up and decided he wasn’t going to think about it anymore.

Nope, no way.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” Eddie asked. “Chrissy said it looks good up.”

Which wasn’t a lie. Eddie did look unfairly good with his hair up, but not like that.

Scraped back to within an inch of its life, practically pulling his skin taut and leaving his bangs looking especially thin.

It wasn’t a cute look.

“It does.” Steve said, letting it slip out without his permission. He barreled forward, trying not to draw attention to it. “But not like that. That’s not what she meant.”

“Well, what the hell did she mean then?”

Steve flipped his newspaper down again. Eddie was glaring at him with his hands on his hips, like this was all Steve’s fault.

“She meant when it’s, like, messy. Looser.”

Eddie just looked at him bewildered as Steve huffed and closed his newspaper, folding it haphazardly and throwing it down onto the couch next to him before standing and grabbing him by the wrist.

“Come on. I’m not letting you leave the house with hair like that.” He said, dragging him into their shared bathroom. “If it gets linked back to me my reputation would be ruined.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a stereotype.”

Steve shoved him further into the room with a scowl. “A stereotype who’s about to help you get some kisses, so shut up and say thank you.”

Eddie snorted. “Keep dreaming, sweetheart.”

Steve was maybe a little less gentle than he should have been, standing behind him, taking Eddie’s hair out of the ponytail he had it in, tugging on the strands and leaving Eddie grimacing with a scowl on his face as he glared at Steve through the mirror.

Once he had it all untangled, Steve ran his hands through, close to the scalp, trying to get the strands to relax a little more from where they’d been tied up so tight and Eddie’s eyes fluttered closed.

Right. He should probably be a little gentler but he was surprised to find that Eddie’s hair was actually quite soft and the curls wanted to clump together in the way that curls did.

So he was forced to come to the conclusion that Eddie had just been dragging a brush through his perfectly healthy hair and fucking up his curls at every opportunity and Steve had to stop himself from sitting Eddie down right at that moment and giving him a lecture on proper curl maintenance.

Except no, because that wasn’t what he was doing right now, he was trying to keep his good hair reputation intact for tonight.

That was all.

With gentle fingers he coaxed Eddie’s hair back up onto his head, trying it off with the same hairband and lightly tugging to give it a bit more volume.

He was in the zone now, the hair zone.

He turned Eddie to face him with a hand at his shoulder.

He was a little surprised at how easily Eddie went and it was only when he was hovering so close to his face, hands in his hair, tugging a few whips free and tucking a few more behind his ear, he noticed how quiet Eddie was.

Moving his gaze down from Eddie’s hairline, he felt like he’d had the air punched from his lungs as he met Eddie’s eyes.

How had he never noticed them before?

Deep and brown, almost black from a distance but with different shades up close, copper and caramel and chocolate and something deeper, almost like burnt wood, staring at him with such intensity he could feel it all the way in the back of his brain.

Steve took a step back.

This was not happening.

Eddie tracked every one of his micro movements with those eyes, watching him closely like he was a squirming insect.

It made his skin itch.

“It’ll do.” Steve said into the thick silence around them, distracting himself by reaching into his cupboard for the hairspray.

“Hold your breath.”

He barely gave Eddie a moment to respond, his mouth hanging open in a question and his eyes a little wider than they had been before he sprayed, coating Eddie’s hair with a light spritz while Eddie scrunched his eyes and mouth closed, devolving into coughs once Steve had stopped assaulting him.

“Jesus.” He hacked out, a hand to his chest and a glare sent in Steve’s direction. “Are you ever not a bitch?”

Steve just gave him a peppy grin. “No.”

Then, against his better judgement, he opened his mouth again.

“You look gorgeous, darling.” He said, managing to put a slightly condescending tone into it because that was not the kind of fucking game he was playing here. He was not… feeling things about his dickhead roommate.

He barely caught Eddie’s eye roll before he turned on his heel and booked it out of their tiny shared bathroom, not wanting to be trapped in there with him any longer.

Eddie cursed after him as he left and Steve was content to hide away beneath his newspaper again, keeping it firmly in front of his face as Eddie finished up whatever primping he was doing in the bathroom and left the apartment without another word shared between them.

He wasn’t awake when Eddie stumbled in home that night, or the weekend after that, though he was quietly delighted to see that Eddie had taken his advice to heart and followed the steps to keeping his hair looking good when he had it up, though he didn’t wear it up all the time.

Steve was also left very confused for a while after Eddie left to go out on the third weekend when he walked into their bathroom and was met with the smell of his own cologne still lingering in the air.

It took a few minutes of him scouring his own memories, trying to think if he had sprayed it and not remembered, before he realised Eddie had probably stolen some, sprinkling it over his skin before he went out.

The thought made some deep desire lick through his veins. Eddie would be out kissing strangers, maybe more if he was feeling up to it, but he’d be out there with Steve’s smell on him.

Like a claim of ownership.

He wasn’t sure he liked that it made him feel that way.

Eddie didn’t know it made him feel that way.

But why had he done it? He had his own smell that he wore all the time, why switch it up now?

It confused the shit out of him. It made no sense.

Adding onto the smell of hairspray that was also still lingering in the bathroom along with it, he’d smell exactly like Steve.

While out there, kissing strangers.

Steve would be on him like a brand.

He needed a cold shower.

This time around, Steve was still awake when Eddie stumbled in through the door, his gangly limbs seemingly unable to keep him moving in a straight line as he hung off the wall to swing around into the kitchen, nearly sending himself flying into the kitchen counter.

His face broke out into a wide smile when he caught sight of Steve, his eyelids heavy with that drunken relaxation and his movements clumsy but cute.

“Stevie.” Eddie was leaning most of his weight up against the counter next to him.

Steve just raised his eyebrows at him, continuing to stir his tea, swamped in his throw. Eddie never usually called him that unless he was teasing.

But there was no teasing in his tone now, just… affection?

Weird.

Eddie looked like he had had a good night. He had smudged red lipstick across the corner of his mouth and down his neck, and what looked like black glittery lipstick around his collar. That was gonna be hell to get out of his white Metallica tour shirt.

“Good night?”

“Mmm.” Eddie hummed, still smiling up at him from his slumped position.

Steve flicked his eyes over Eddie’s face again, feeling something inexplicably warm settle over him at the sight of his easy happiness.

Rick was slowly fading further and further into the past, and thank god for that.

“Want me to make you your tea?”

Eddie sighed, heavy and dreamy, like Steve had just offered him the world. “Oh my god, that would be amazing.”

Steve couldn’t help but grin, pulling down Eddie’s favourite Garfield mug.

“Good night?”

Eddie nodded. “I kissed eight people.”

“Eight? Impressive number.”

“Yeah.” Eddie’s smile was blinding. “Three boys, a girl, two drag queens and two others who… I think they were enbies but I didn’t really stop to ask. They were good kissers anyway.”

Steve couldn’t stop smiling back at him.

“I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

“I’m having the best time, sweetheart. It feels so good to be out on the town again. No longer sitting home and thinking of-” Eddie cut himself off with a slightly choked noise, snapping his eyes away from Steve. “-things.”

“Things?” Steve hedged, not wanting to bring back up anything bad. Especially not while Eddie was so vulnerable. He wanted to keep him happy.

Eddie just shrugged.

“Haven’t felt so good about myself in a while. Rick was such an ass face.”

Steve nodded, stirring Eddie’s tea up. “He was. He was an assface.” He slid it across the counter, meeting Eddie’s eyes. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Eddie hummed to himself again, looking down at his tea, his hands curled around the hot mug, a blush painted over his cheeks.

He bit down hard on his bottom lip, like he was physically trying to keep the words in, but it was futile because a second later he opened them to ask, “How come you stopped being a slut?”

Eddie’s face lit up red as soon as he said it and Steve was…

Steve actually felt a little delighted at the sight of it. Eddie was usually pretty good about keeping any embarrassment he felt firmly locked away whenever he was around Steve and he was borderline giddy to see Eddie so open with him, even if it was only because it was fuelled by alcohol.

Steve decided to take pity on him, pulling his own mug up to his chest, cradling it in his hands and creating a barrier in between the two, giving Eddie a moment to breathe.

“It wasn’t what I wanted anymore. Yeah, it can feel really good to go out and get some action without really trying but after years and years of doing just that…” He shrugged. “I dunno, it kinda just wore me down. I wanted more than that. I want a connection, I guess. I didn’t want meaningless sex anymore. I want a relationship.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “So why haven’t you started looking for one?”

Steve frowned. “I have. No one has really been right yet, you know?”

“Why not?”

Steve glanced over at him.

Eddie still looked so confused.

He shrugged, a little bewildered. “I dunno? They just didn’t fit. They would be suspicious of my relationship with Robin, or-”

“Robin, the flaming lesbian?”

“Yeah, but apparently boys and girls just can’t be friends without something going on.” Steve rolled his eyes. “If they didn’t think Robin was only a pretend lesbian, then they’d think I was secretly in love with her.”

“I mean, you are in love with her, but like, platonically.”

“Yeah, but people don’t want to hear that, apparently.”

“Maybe you should stop dating the straights.”

“I haven’t just been dating the straights, honey.” Steve said with a little curl of his lip. “But if it’s not Robin, it’s something else. But it’s fine. It’s okay. I’m okay being single for a while. It’s helped me get to know myself.”

“But you would be open to a relationship if one came along?”

Steve glanced up at him again but Eddie wasn't looking at him. He was just staring into his tea like it was the most fascinating potion.

“Yeah. I would be.” Steve tilted his head, trying to figure out where this line of questioning was coming from.

Eddie finally glanced back up, nodding.

“I think I would be too. But for now, kissing is good.”

Steve smiled. “Kissing is very good. I like kissing.”

“Me too.” Eddie grinned back at him and for a moment the two of them just stood there, smiling at one another through the steam of their tea, somehow, inexplicably closer than they had been.

All at once, Steve realised who he was drifting towards. Eddie seemed to catch on at the same moment, and the two of them abruptly stepped back.

“I’m going to bed.” Eddie squeaked, turning on his heel and almost running back to his room.

Steve hid away in his own room only a second later.

Robin just groaned to herself, pressing her fingers into her eyes.

“If I told you a girl was acting like that with me, asking me all those questions, what would you tell me?”

“That she liked you.”

Robin looked up, her eyes weary from where she’d been pressing into them from frustration, staring at him hard.

It clicked.

“Oh.”

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 AO3

@augustjustice @geekymagicalpotato @wormdebut @eddielives1986 @releasethexbarakat @a-little-unsteddie @steddietogo @steddiehyperfixation @raisedbylibrarians @silver-snaffles @estrellami-1 @bookbinderbitch @goodolefashionedloverboi @marklee-blackmore

If I missed anyone for tagging please let me know! 🖤

Big thanks as always to @hbyrde36 for her magnificent beta work and to the @strangerthingswritersguild for their motivation.

Divider by firefly-graphics

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #penny00dreadful #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #fanfic #pennys anniversary event #robin buckley #enemies to lovers #roommates au #roommates

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the-modern-typewriter · 1 year

Note

If you're looking for any prompts; hero/villain where the hero needs to get out of the villains grasp but can't and as a last ditch effort kisses the villain in a panic, hoping it'll startle them enough to let them go. Surprisingly it works. mlm if you're feeling up for it! (I ADORE you're hero/villain stuff and you're writing is a huge inspiration!!)

He kissed the villain.

It was a clumsy kiss, a mashing of lips, a bumping of noses and then -

The villain recoiled just as something sparked between them, so hard that he hit the opposite wall with a thud. He clamped a hand over his mouth.

The hero panted for breath. He should have taken the opportunity to run - that was why he'd kissed the villain in the first place - but something about the villain's expression froze him in place.

If the villain had looked disgusted, he might have laughed it off. If he'd looked dazed or distracted, the hero would already have gone. But he looked...

"Are you okay?" the hero asked.

The villain was shaking.

"Come on, I'm not that bad a kisser," the hero said. Maybe it was a trap. A con. He definitely should have already ran but...

"I'm sorry," the hero said.

"Why would you do that?"

"I - I just wanted to distract you. I panicked."

"You panicked?"

That was probably really offensive.

"Your panic reaction," the villain pressed, "is a kiss? Or, what, you just want to kiss me that bad that it was at the forefront of your mind?"

The hero swallowed. They floundered. "I'm sorry if I - are you okay?"

"It's rude to kiss people without consent," the villain said, a little closer to their normal tone. "You know that, yes?"

"It felt kinder than, I don't know, non-consensually kicking you in the balls."

The villain snorted.

The hero edged a step back, but, like a fool, still didn't run. The villain had let go of him, though. Running was a possibility without those steely, impossibly strong arms holding him in place.

Lord, why wasn't he running?

The villain's gaze roamed over his face, lingering on his lips.

"So I assume you're, like, seeing someone," the hero said, taking another step back. He ignored the weird feeling in his gut.

"No."

"You don't like kissing?"

"I don't owe you an explanation," the villain snapped. "You're not supposed to kiss me."

"You seemed like you were definitely enjoying it for a second there. Also, you're staring at my mouth, mate."

The villain's gaze shot away. His shoulders squared, jaw clenching.

"Just want to know that you're okay and that I haven't triggered a trauma or anything," the hero said. "I wasn't thinking. I - I really am sorry."

"This is the most I've ever heard you apologise."

The villain didn't normally look like that. He was still pressed against the wall, rather than lunging, even with the obvious conversation about distractions. His hand was still shaking slightly.

The villain stuffed his hand behind his back when he caught the hero watching.

Maybe the villain was stalling for time, and back up.

The hero didn't think he was stalling.

"I kill anyone I kiss," the villain said, after a moment. "Properly kiss. It takes a moment for the curse to take affect."

"...are you serious right now?"

The villain gave him a withering look.

"That's very scary and all," the hero said, "but it doesn't answer my question."

"Yes, I'm serious! Want me to kiss you so you can find out?"

The hero's brow furrowed. If that was true, then the villain's reaction, his shaking hands..."Oh my god you were worried about me. You're protecting me."

"If I wanted to kill you-" The villain began, testily.

"No, no, you don't need to get defensive. I know you're not - like - secretly a marshmallow."

They both eyed each other for a moment. The villain's gaze had paused on the hero's lips again, filled with enough longing that it made the hero's chest cleave and his mouth go dry.

"Is it just your mouth?" the hero asked.

"What?"

"The killer kissing thing. Just your mouth? Or, like, if anyone kisses you anywhere."

"Just my mouth. Not that it's any of your-"

The hero stepped close, and pressed a kiss to the villain's cheek.

The villain's breath hitched. He looked dazed. Distracted.

"Shame," the hero murmured, and brushed a thumb over the villain's lower lip, watching their eyes go doe-wide and wanting. "Because kissing you actually was on the forefront of my mind."

"O-oh."

He pressed another kiss to the villain's neck, feeling his pulse race, feeling his head tip back against the wall in offering.

"Thanks for not killing me," the hero said, against his ear. "Let's pick this up another time, yeah?"

Then, he ran.

He heard the villain curse and take chase.

But it felt better than before.

#hero x villain #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #writing #story #kissing #fantasy #fic #ficlet #writing snippet #story snippet #enemies to lovers

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fallow-hollow · 7 days

Text

five stages of grief

…ft! kabru x gn! oblivious! reader

…tags! pining, confession, kabru is a bit of a freak about this, oblivious reader, reader is an adventurer

…word count! 2671

…notes! spreading my kabruganda to the masses!!! kabru is my me so I very much enjoy writing him

denial

At first, Kabru was so convinced that there was something behind your happy-go-lucky exterior.

You were so skilled in the dungeon, able to make it down to floors that even he hadn’t traversed yet. So you must have a good grasp on tactics, not only in battle, but also when socializing! Yes, maybe you read people expertly when they’d respond in kind to your friendly behavior…..

During the stage where you’re acquainted but don’t know much about each other personally, he spends so long crafting theories about what’s going on inside your head.

His party members get sick of hearing about it halfway through the second week.

Once you meet again in person, he’s ecstatic to have an opportunity to take a closer look at your inner workings. His words and mannerisms are calm and purposeful, but there is a certain spark in his eyes, almost trying to illuminate your thoughts and feelings with its shine.

Over the course of the conversation, Kabru starts getting a bit confused at his lack of new findings about you. It takes you saying something particularly damning for him to finally reach the dreaded conclusion.

“I don’t usually run into you in places like this.”

Kabru had encountered you one evening after exiting his room and seeing you and a few party members at the bar. It was nothing short of a strike of luck, and most certainly not him deliberately staying home that evening because he’d overheard your plans to go out.

“Hm?” You perked up, looking at him with a blank expression that was quickly replaced with a kind smile. Even trying to look closely, he couldn’t find anything present in your face except for a simple joy.

He would approach you with long strides, placing one hand on the back of your chair as to be friendly and intimate, but not so intimate as to make you recoil from a touch. The wink he gave you was with the eye facing away from the others on the opposite side of the table, ensuring most of them wouldn’t notice his flirtatious gesture.

“Want me to buy you a drink?”

Immediately, you raised one hand in polite refusal, your smile turning into more of a sheepish one. “Oh, I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back. I wasn’t going to splurge much tonight anyway….”

As you talked, Kabru pulled up a free chair and sat down, a gesture that cemented himself in the conversation and setting. He noticed when he sat down in the middle of conversation, it made people less likely to turn him away than if he were still standing.

“No, no.” when he shook his head, his dark curls did a swishing movement. Once he looked back at you, he gave a half-lidded smile, only a tinge sultry in hopes you’d pick up his hints. “Your company is more than enough payment for me.”

Your party could only stare on with absolute pity as you waved your previously raised hand dismissively, giving what Kabru could only assume was a reassuring nod. Why did you think he needed reassured….? What did you think he meant?

“It’s completely fine, no need to be polite! We’re beyond such niceties at this point, I’d say. After all, I consider us to be at least a little bit friends, right? You don’t need to buy me a drink just to hang out!”

For a brief period, Kabru felt as if his whole world was spinning around him, before then shattering at the unknowing sledgehammer of your words. These statements and mannerisms suggested something far more than just a passive rejection…… no, it was something much darker.

You truly were as dense as a brick wall.

anger

Kabru doesn’t always react….. too calmly when people defy his expectations.

He’s able to keep a smile on his face just fine, but on the inside he’s screaming.

What do you mean there isn’t more? Where’s the scheme? The ulterior motive? The familiar secrets he can unravel and use to his advantage? Is it so bad that he wants there to be more?????

I’ll be honest, the man experiences his fair number of homicidal thoughts about you. In a strangely romantic way!

You’ll be chatting away with him, each remark and flirtation absolutely flying over your head, and inside his mind he’s just going I should gut them right here and sort their bones and vitals by size if they won’t let me dissect them the mental way.

And then seconds later he’ll go haha what was that! Anyway yes tell me more about the cute bird you saw last week.

I think Kabru does a lot of journaling, so he has a fair number of notes about you. Sometimes they’re drawings of you with notes about your appearance and physical mannerisms, other times he writes more free form about his thoughts regarding you. When he gets particularly frustrated, the writing can became scratchy or heavy handed to the point that it’s unreadable or nearly tears the paper.

The silence and solitude of the night was briefly interrupted by Rin rolling over in her sleeping bag. She was just beyond the range of the firelight where Kabru was still writing, and he could only barely see the way she squinted at him through her own tiredness.

“What are you scribbling about so late at night?” The mage would try to start another sentence, but be cut off by a yawn. If she was trying to be intimidating, it certainly wasn’t working. “Go to bed, Kabru, or else you’ll wake up to being sprayed by an undine if I have anything to say about it.”

That was a rather unpleasant thought….. even if the threat wasn’t legitimate, Kabru recognized that he’d probably spent far more time writing than intended. It was embarrassingly easy to get distracted when it came to you….just another thing that irked him about you. Yes…..’irked’. That’s most certainly the word.

“I’ll wrap it up soon, sorry to disturb your sleep, Rin.” With a grumble, the girl rolled back over, leaving Kabru to glance at his notebook for just a brief moment more before closing it. The writing was near illegible, but he still knew the words by heart:

‘I wouldn’t mind if they were scared of me. Maybe, if they sat on the other end of my sword, trembling and wide-eyed like human prey, I’d get to see a truly untouched side of them.’

bargaining

After the shock and rage subsides, Kabru tries to make you realize his feelings through pretty much every method imaginable except for confessing.

It feels like the man always appears at your side, always claiming he ‘happened to be in the area’ or something similar. And you never even question it, infuriatingly for him.

Your party members often tell you that something is up with the guy, that he’s hanging around you a suspicious amount but never being fully transparent, but you’d feel so bad about being suspicious of him when he’s done nothing but inquire about you and even offer gifts on rare occasions!

Kabru isn’t exactly the richest of adventurers, so gifts or treating you isn’t a regular occasion, but it’s certainly something he resorts to as a last ditch effort to try and get you to realize that he’s interested in you romantically.

Once he even tried to offer you a flower, but you still didn’t take the hint.

When you saw the flower in Kabru’s hand that day, your first thought was being so flattered that he remembered your conversation about which ones you both liked.

“Oh, Kabru!” You exclaimed with pure joy, causing the man to become embarrassingly excited that perhaps you had finally noticed the meaning behind all his gestures. Were you finally moved and wowed by his considerate, perfectly planned gift.

Clapping your hands together, you would beam and say, “You liked my favorite flower so much that you wanted to get one for yourself?”

A fly could’ve soared down Kabru’s throat in the time of that pause, but you paid it no mind, instead eagerly awaiting his reply.

The look on Kabru’s face was a completely blank smile, his bright blue eyes seeming to have almost burned out like a pair of oil lamps. Then, as he regained his composure, those lights flickered back on again, albeit wavering slightly.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take it yourself? If you like it so much, I’d be happy to let you take it home.” Poor Kabru, he should have learned by now that hints have no effect against the impenetrable fortress that is your cluelessness.

Your grin was the nail in the coffin, letting him know you had something in your head that was absolutely not anything he could anticipate from anyone else. “But why not use it as some decoration? Your party members always talk about how sparse your room is, and it could even remind you of me when I’m away! Here—“

You ushered him closer, a hand now on the small of his back giving him sparks that teetered between pleasurable and painful. The free hand gestured to the plant he held so delicately, pointing out different features like the petals, stem, and so on. “I can even tell you some facts about it; that’ll help you enjoy it that much more deeply whenever you see it! And you’ll remember our conversation!”

The way you could be so resistant to his advances yet so sweet to him could be nothing short of torturous sometimes.

depression

For a while, something fairly rare happens to Kabru: he falls into a slump.

He spends a long time in the dungeon, slashing away at monsters as if it might help him clear his head. His teammates notice that he can get more aggressive in combat than usual, but never really ask him about it.

He also becomes more spacey during mealtimes, and while some peaceful silence is nice, having Kabru of all people be so uncharacteristically quiet for so long.

It comes to the point that something similar to an intervention happens one day after dinner.

“What’s up with you, Kabru?” Mickbell wasn’t one to beat around the bush, immediately starting his line of questioning while looking at his teammate, void of mischief or amusement. “You’ve been all broody and silent all week. Can’t just expect us to not ask about it.”

“What Mickbell said,” Kuro concurred almost immediately after.

The tallman did his best to blink away his tiredness and offer a more confident look that he usually used when trying to rally his team under an idea or calm them down. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry that much about me. It’s just something I’ve been personally interested in, so it’s not something you guys need to worry about.”

“A personal problem?” Rin cocked a brow. “If I know anything about what interests you, it’s probably a person.”

“Haha, caught me red-handed like always.” He raised his hands in faux surrender, though Rin didn’t seem to be put at ease by the gesture, so he tacked on another statement. “I was surprisingly stumped on what tactics to use when talking to a certain person, it’s really got me thinking.” Averting his gaze to the side, he could almost conjure an image of your grinning face in the corner of his vision. “It’s pretty exciting, though, so I don’t mind.”

“Ugh, I knew it!” The half foot threw his head back in exasperation, causing Kuro to extend one arm behind him in case he fell. “It’s that brick-headed adventurer you’re getting all cozy with, isn’t it?! What, you thinking of starting a new party?”

While Mickbell was busy stomping his foot to punctuate his accusation, Holm merely hummed. The gnome usually stayed pretty impartial to matters like this, but that didn’t mean he could always resist throwing in a comment or two.

“I’d be stumped too if I thought about human interaction like a battlefield.” His tone of voice remained soft, but his words were still quite pointed. “You really have to be upfront about your feelings sometimes, you know that? At least, if Mick’s description can actually be trusted.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?!”

After those two broke down into petty squabbling, Kabru could merely try his best to mask his realization behind a tight-mouthed grin.

Holm was right, and he hated it more than anything.

acceptance

Okay, this is the part where Kabru actually bites the bullet and talks about his feelings. Truly a miracle of life.

Kabru can have a lot of trouble being fully vulnerable due to feeling like he’s losing control, so he does his best to maintain control over the rest of the outing. He arranges the time, location, even makes sure to get there first. It’s the most he can do to not feel completely helpless at the whims of his own fickle heart.

When you arrive, a new wave of nervousness hits him that’s almost like nothing before. Kabru has slain men without a second thought, and here he is resisting the urge to tremble because he has to tell his crush he likes them.

He starts off with small talk, sort of building up to his confession while also beating around the bush just a little. Asking you how you’ve been, if you’ve done anything noteworthy, if you’ve meet any new people…..

Eventually, Kabru decides that if he waits any longer, he may instinctually try to hide his intentions in the long strings of small talk he’s making, so he finally takes that leap.

He said your name, and your eyes flickered up to his face. Even if you were spacey at times, you never stared past him or through him whenever he was addressing you. It made him feel….strange. It was odd to feel truly perceived at times.

“Can I be….. terribly honest with you?” He cards his fingers through his curls and closes his eyes, and you couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful he looked.

“Of course,” you responded without thinking. Not like you ever needed to think twice about your appreciation for the man. More than that, really.

There was stillness, and all you could hear was Kabru’s deep inhale through his nose. He intended to phrase it more eloquently, he really did, but when he opened his eyes again and saw you waiting on his words with baited breath, there was this instinctive fear that maybe this would be his only chance. That you would walk away or disappear, leaving him with only the memory.

He didn’t want just a memory.

“I want you to know that I love you above all else.”

Your mouth hung agape like his had many times in response to your own remarks. Were it not for how shocked he was at his own words, he would have chuckled at how cute you look.

Before he could even scramble to elaborate on his uncharacteristically blunt comment, you blurted out in a similar fashion, voice slightly raised and head perked up,

“You really feel that way?!”

Faced with your blushing face, Kabru could only affirm the feelings that you promoted from somewhere deep within him. “Yes, I’d been trying to win you over for a long time, really.”

If you were flushed before, then now you were nothing short of flooded with embarrassment from ear to ear. Despite this, you were smiling, wobbly and sheepish. “I mean, it’s not like I’m shocked in a bad way or anything — I always thought you were really wonderful, too wonderful for me anyway. I really never thought you were pursuing me of all people!”

For the longest time, your denseness had given Kabru untold grief. Upon seeing you state it so plainly, however, he just couldn’t find it in his heart to be upset. Not when it was one of the things that made you so fascinating.

“I’d sort of figured as such, yeah.”

#ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ fallow’s works!#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon imagines #delicious in dungeon x reader #kabru of utaya #kabru dungeon meshi #kabru x reader #kabru of utaya x reader

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websterss · 5 days

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐓 𝟏/? — 𝐀𝐙𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: Even the healthiest flowers wilt one day. It’s nature's way of teaching us that nothing lasts forever. Azriel learns that the hard way.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): some fluff, no angst yet

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 6,107

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Azriel x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I use any excuse to use flowers in fics lol. I hope you enjoy it!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

Azriel wasn’t sure what the Mother was trying to tell him this year round. It was confusing. One minute he’d think he was feeling the bond snap in place, then the next, he was left watching his family display their love for each other in front of him. He had half the mind this year to even consider the possibility of meeting his mate, but he was still so sure that it was Elain till the end. Guided blindly by the three brothers', and three sisters' fate. It's too coincidental to not be true. It was his very own motivation to keep going on with his life. Though it wasn’t his sole purpose in life, his reason to breathe. He was more enraptured by the idea of wanting love in his life than actually trying to see love wasn’t something to be defined, it was something not to take lightly, nor for granted. He wanted it though, so why wouldn’t the Mother grant him his heart's sole wish?

He could have enjoyed spending the day in the markets, he never denied a stroll through the city, but the day appeared to be one that wasn’t going to be a happy occurrence. The one thing he refused to be for Elain’s birthday was angry and annoyed, but Rhysand had other plans for him, and it seemed his shadows were out of his control today. Zipping past shoppers and merchants. He’s had to pull them back five times now after they knocked a sack of fruit from a woman’s hands, almost ruining a stand, and dropped a child's ice cream.

“You know…It wouldn’t kill you to smile now and then. Just a slight upward curl to the corners of your mouth and you’ll be set.” Azriel snaps out of his troubled thoughts. A moment's worth of a distraction was enough for his walls to stay down long enough for Rhysand to sympathize with the Shadowsinger and his thoughts.

Azriel didn’t look at Rhysand as he replied with little care. “I have no reason to.” Azriel did smile, when wanted to of course, when his family butted heads, when they made a joke he found amusing. When a pretty female would glance his way. It was rarely suited to see one on his face in public but it wasn’t uncommon. You just had to simply be close to him and let him get comfortable around you. But today, he couldn’t keep his eye from twitching every few seconds. It was frustrating and he didn’t understand what was wrong with him. With his shadows. Azriel grits his teeth attempting to recall his shadows once more. “I have no reason to today, Rhysand.” He huffs as his shadows recoil back into him.

The peculiar entities seemed to grow in their frequency, moving around people more erratically than before. He just makes out a few words from their whispers in his ear too. Something about she's coming, she's here. Was that a warning or just part of his imagination? With the shadows distracting him more than usual, he almost didn’t hear Rhysand.

"Rhysand, ouch!" He chuckled, placing a hand over his heart in feigned hurt. “Smile.” Azriel turned to him realizing he was starting to lose it for real this time.

“What on earth for?” He furrowed his brows at him.

“You're scaring my inhabitants." He gestures to the child who is still clinging to his mother. The adolescent sparing glances at him. A few passersby walk past the High Lord and Spymaster with haste. A few of the elderly stare with caution. "You okay there Az, your walls have been a little unguarded today. I haven’t had to use that amount of effort to try to get inside that head of yours.” Rhysand's boisterous laughter fills his ears. Azriel slaps away his hand that palms his scalp, messing up his hair. He staggers to the far side of the cobblestone streets as he pushes himself away. Rhysand only continued to laugh as Azriel threw him a glare and straightened himself out. The streets of Velaris were busy and crowded this afternoon much to his joy. His shadows didn’t find it bothersome as they continued to torment the people of Velaris.

Azriel cursed under his breath as he noticed his shadows continuing to go astray. This had been unusual behavior for them and he still couldn’t figure out the reason for the sudden change. He pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and scoped the busy market. Why? Why can’t I just relax for a minute on my day off? Why can’t these shadows just relax? What am I missing?

“Yeah, whatever…stay out of my head.” He grumbles as he lets his eyes wander around the market stands and shops. He was about to give Rhysand his full attention when he double takes. He straightens up when he narrows in on the littlest of his shadows dashing around a corner in a hurry. He tried pulling it back but it ignored his recall. The little whisp liked to ignore him any chance it was free.

Go get him. He thought to them. Watching as two bigger forms zoomed forward, carefully dodging and weaving through various bodies with ease and practiced skill after the small whisp of black. Once they catch up to it they’ll be able to merge him into them and bring him back, but no matter how much Azriel tries to keep the whisp at bay, he always gets out from the depths of his bigger shadows. He didn't miss the surprised yelps and curses of the citizens as the small whisp wreaked more havoc.

“Yeah, whatever.” Rhysand mocks him. “Quit sulking about your lonesome life and help me pick out a gift for Elain.” Rhysand stops at one stand and picks up a necklace, a flower pendant shining gold-like in the sunlight. A soft green tint was barely there but noticeable. He inspects it closer and then turns his attention to the grumpy bat, who is doing just about everything but providing his assistance to the High Lord. “You’re not even listening you useless male…Just this please.” He sighs and gives the merchant a few coins for the fee. The lady takes the piece of jewelry off his hands and wraps it into a pretty red velvet pouch. He bids her goodbye with a smile and walks back over to berate the male watching his six, surveilling the market as if danger lurks and waits in the shadows.

As High Lord, Rhysand was quite the male to keep a calm composure in public, but today wasn’t that day, so he didn’t care if the smack he landed on Azriel’s headside looked ridiculous to others.

“What the hell Rhys?” Azriel gapes at him as if he’d grown two heads. He groans as he grips at his ear. “I would never have agreed to join you had I known this is what would await me!”

“I’d say sorry but I wouldn’t mean it. Bought your gift. You’re welcome.” Rhys shoved the velvet pouch into his chest. Azriel barely caught it in time in question. Brows pinched together.

“My gift? But I already bought Elain a gift…What would I need another for? You said we were coming here to buy your gift for her.”

“About that…” Rhysand hissed.

“Rhys…” Azriel’s eyes darkened.

“I took your gift.” Azriel was met with a shit-eating grin.

“No, you didn’t…” His voice lowered.

“I did. Nice job on the custom rose pendant, quite the sentimental touch with the soft brush of pink on the E. She’ll love it.”

“You didn't...Give it back.” He growled.

“No.” Rhysand started walking away down the streets. More shops caught his eye.

“Rhys I’m serious!” Azriel walked after him, his hand reaching out and clutching his brother's shoulder. His grip tightened. Rhysand raised a brow eye at the hand creasing his jacket. Azriel huffed and let go. “Why the hell would you take it? I bought it for her.”

“And I’ll pay you back the fee.”

“No, I don’t want you to pay me back. I want you to give it back. Now!”

“You don’t like the necklace then? Fine, we can find something else if you’re not satisfied with it. Perhaps a new scent, or arrangement. How about a vase?”

“Rhysand—“

“Oh, why you little—look what you’ve done!” Rhys and Azriel stop and look at one another then hurry off toward the sound of the woman in distraught. When they rounded the corner they were met with flower pots scattered amongst the cobblestones. The dirt and flowers itself spread out and ruined. The pots were in pieces. When they approached, Azriel’s little whisp was floating in the air, above the mess. His eyes widened. Of the two shadows he sent after it, one was holding a broom trying to salvage the dirt and clean the mess up and the other was trying to absorb the little blob like a parent pulling and trying to scold its child. It wasn’t like anything Azriel had ever seen in all his years of life. He remained still not knowing what to do as he and Rhys balked at the scenery before them.

“Those flowers were the last of its bunch, I’ll have to wait until next year for them to bloom in season!” She sighed, disheartened at the thought of the flowers being flattened and their petals falling off. She bent down to retrieve a piece of the broken pot. Collecting the ceramics one by one.

Azriel wasn’t sure how to react. He was baffled by the wisp’s sudden behavior. This was never something his shadows did. He couldn’t make sense of it. Why are they misbehaving? Why can't they listen? Why was it till now they began to take on their own decisions, out of nowhere? He was confused by the whole scene that presented itself and he was even more shocked that he just stood there. No wonder the woman had lost her cool about it. It was just one disaster after another.

His shadows never behaved like this. He had no idea what to do with them. They were always calm and collected. But today they had been all over the shops, the tiny terror most of all. He watched his wisp floating above the mess trying to make itself appear smaller than it already was as the others attempted to fix the mess. He turned when Rhysand spoke to him.

“They're not listening to you…” Azriel was speechless and looked to his brother, who seemed equally perplexed by the situation as him.

“Madame I am sorry for the mess let me repay for the damages—“ Rhysand and Azriel then stepped forward. Azriel approached the steps into the shop and bent down to help clean as well. His scarred hands barely brushed against a piece of green ceramic before the other shadows that remained put, alerted him of someone's approach.

“Poppy?” Azriel’s head perked up at the sound of another voice speaking over Rhysands. “I heard something break. Are you okay? Better not be Sailors boy again. I warned that kid if he ever got his hands on another pot–" The voice was soft and airy, low but not deep, new and unfamiliar. He stiffened when two pairs of feet dawning red flats came into his vision.

Before his head snapped upwards, his shadows reacted faster. Rushing forward, they all wrapped the new voice up like a blanket, a harsh gust of wind broke out as they spun a whirlpool around the poor female. Poppy, Rhysand, and Azriel covered their faces, squinting at the shadows that began growing like a storm.

"Azriel what are you doing?" Rhysand backed up.

"This isn't me!" He pleaded.

"Oh my dear Y/n, help her!" Poppy exclaimed with fear.

"Enough!" Azriel's voice echoed out low and firm. The shadows halted their movement, growing eerily still as they dispersed from the female. Your frame came into their sights first, then your face, your arms were put out in front of you, shielding your face from the sudden wind that wrapped around you. "That's enough!" He repeated, recalling them back, you watched with curious eyes as they all flooded back to his side, dispersing into thin air. Azriel's shoulders relaxed, releasing the tension they were in. A few seconds passed before his eyes slowly trailed up your form, catching your softened eyes staring at him already. You were a wonder. "A-Are you alright?"

"Yes thank you…" You stood still as he spoke and watched as his shadows expanded out from him again. As if your presence somehow made them behave, they calmed, but still wanted a peek at you. You smile faintly at the Spymaster. "I'm just fine, promise. But I will admit they caught me off guard there for a second…" You breathe out, feeling the effects of what you just underwent. You opted to leave out the part where they exclaimed and expelled their excitement at you. It's you, you're here. It's you, we brought him to you. Your safe. Was it him they were referring to?

"They're never actually like this, my shadows..." He explained, rubbing his temple. His eyes never left your face, a small smile was daring to form on his lips, which he quickly hid. "They never misbehave. I can't explain what made them act in such a way toward you. I apologize." His brows pinch together. He brought his hand up to lay over his chest in sorrowed guilt. You had only come out to check on your friend, only to be put into a risk situation. He'd never let them hurt anybody innocent though.

"Do I unsettle them?" Your eyes shifted down to where they swiveled and smoothly circled and curled around their master's body. As if noticing and sensing your inner turmoil, they stopped their snake-like slithers. The little wisp zoomed forward, leaving the two bigger ones to continue with the cleaning and sweeping. Azriel flinched and reached a hand out as though that would stop its approach to you. Your eyes fell into a squint as the littlest one swiveled and swept in and out of your hair. Azriel thought to recall it back but stopped when your lips spilled bubbles of laughter. The sound was symphonic and melodious, he wanted nothing more than to entrap the sound into a music box. Your eyes crinkled with delight as the little wisp curled all over you in what Azriel assumed was a playful manner.

"Don't see that happen often." Rhysand chuckled lightly.

You laughed at the sight of the little wisp picking up the strings of your dress where they tied in the front. You wondered if Rhysand was right, maybe he doesn’t see this often or maybe he sees it all the time. You noticed when you looked at Azriel that he was already watching your interactions with the wisp. The edge of his lips curved ever so slightly upwards. You couldn’t help the soft smile your own lifted into when he directed a gentle look at you. “Unsettle isn't the term I'd use for what I'm witnessing right now." He dipped his chin. Letting out a breath.

You bubbled out a laugh once more before you shooed the poor thing back to its master. "Go on then. He's called you back, it'd do you good to listen to him..." You gently blew on the black air and watched as it reluctantly floated back to Azriel. He watched flabbergasted at its obedience to you. You laughed alongside him as he scoffed in disbelief, watching the little wisp do as it was told. Azriel looked more and more perplexed as the little shadow disappeared back into the bigger shadows.

To break and expel the shock, the two big shadows that cleaned up floated over. Extending the broom out to Poppy gently as if to say here we're done. Poppy bowed to them and took it gratefully. You couldn’t help the small grin that crept up to your lips as his shadows wrapped around her in their farewell, being polite. The shadows were behaving so oddly and it was intriguing. They got off her then coiled back against his body.

The shadows then disappeared, vanishing into thin air. Azriel sighed in relief as they did. He rubbed his temple and closed his eyes for a moment. And when he reopened them, your smile caught his attention and it was hard to pull his eyes away. You were breathtakingly sweet, good, pure, like the flowers that now lay scattered and crushed. “I don't know what just happened, the day has been rather strange...” He muttered softly, but it was loud enough for you to catch it all.

"If it's of any reassurance to you, I won't resort to a complaint towards the High Lord about this occurrence." You jokingly gesture to Rhysand. Who fights the urge to bite back a smirk? He was rather amused by this odd encounter. Amused by the way he noticed Azriel tuck his hands slowly behind his leather-worn pants. Just like he did as a youngling when he arrived in Windhaven all those years ago. He mirrored his younger self’s image. Timid under playful smirks, and beautiful females. But even Azriel knew how to play the game you took the lead in.

He rolled his eyes. “You could if you wanted to. No one would hold it against you.” The soft tone of his voice indicated he wasn’t angry. No snark, no annoyance dripping past his lips, just pure lightness. Azriel wasn't one to hide behind his words and it was rare for him to watch what he was saying. “But I know you wouldn’t file a complaint.”

“You seem so confident. How so?” You dared him, crossing your arms over your chest. You didn’t miss the not-so-subtle rake of his eyes over where your ties held your dress together, his eyes practically devouring you quietly. Your confidence faltered, your shoulders falling for a second before you cooled down your beating heart.

“Cause Rhysand here, our High Lord, is going to generously buy you out.”

“What?” You uncrossed your arms in surprise.

“I am?” Rhysand scoffed, though his eyes showed his amusement. His jaw slackened, as he pocketed his hands into his dress pants. He was going to kill the son of a bitch. He supposed this was Azriel’s payback for the stolen pendant. “Yes, I am.” He pitched in, stepping forward the shop's entrance where you remained.

“My mate's sister’s birthday is tonight and we are in dire need of flowers. She has quite the admiration for them you see, even gardens her own at home. It would mean the utmost world to us if we could make it special for her big night tonight.” His emphasis wasn’t lost on you or Poppy. You met each other’s gaze in amusement.

“We can most certainly assist you my Lord, but I’m afraid buying us out is not possible. We have many other orders we need to make sure are seen to. Perhaps we could accommodate your wishes and make a special arrangement for her in place instead? Does she favor a specific flower? Perhaps a certain color she gravitates towards often? Oh, is she familiar with flower symbolism, it’s quite an extraordinary part of flowers. See flowers hold certain meanings, for instance–“

“Roses.” Azriel’s voice cut off your excited rambling. “She favors roses….and she likes the color pink.” Your heart skipped. You’d have assumed such a male to be eligible but at last, your little crush was crumbled in an instant. A male as devoted to knowing a female's favorite color as well as her favored flower, was surely spoken for right? Mated and to have his boundaries respected, though the sudden hope for a chance with a gorgeous male was always one that was watered down. Many that came through the shop were taken and happily mated, in complications with a female, or simply attracted to the same fae. Your favorite by far had been a male buying two completely different sets of bouquets, the flowers in contrast to one another, two different favored interests, you and Poppy tethered the line of their being two different females in the man’s life. Or perhaps he had a mother, daughter, or mate, and he was trying to make them feel special. You hadn’t known, and you wouldn’t know.

Poppy liked to remind you it was never your job to settle in between the lives of those who walked through the door. Your only main concern was creating and giving. And you did, you loved working at Poppy’s shop. You loved seeing the way someone came in for an arrangement made for a loved one or someone special. It made your heart swell with the overwhelming feeling you received from a customer's smile. You loved the idea of someone showcasing their feelings, and their love through that of flowers. The only real part that connected you to your customers, the only real getting involved you did, was knowing what each flower meant and what they could be for. Yet on rare occasions, the customers would let you in on their orders. In who they were for. Just like Rhysand had now. A birthday party for the High Lady’s sister. You did your best to contain your excitement. Knowing the extra care and love you’d put into the arrangement.

"Roses...love." You smiled through a breath, lost and enamored in the idea of having someone who'd love you as much as Azriel did Elain. You weren't a stranger to Rhysands mate and her sisters. The infamous cauldron made High Fae's. Word spread fast around Velaris. Their existence was not lost on you. "Or perhaps..." You paused, really taking your time to observe Azriel. "A sense of courage? Feelings waiting to be unleashed..." You muttered softly. The shift in the atmosphere changing. Azriel tensed feeling exposed and naked under your keen attentiveness and your ability to read someone like a book.

“No. Just a friend.” He shook his head. He was still aware of your eyes upon him. Everything about him tightened to deny you the chance to read him like an open book. You were so good at that something he would come to know about you. He felt as if his whole life was laid in front of you, waiting for your eyes to catch every little secret that his shadows usually hid and protected.

"How about we get to choosing those flowers, Miss Y/n?" Rhysand clasped his hands together for enthusiasm. The hot tension between two strangers was unbecoming and he needed to move things along. He had promised Feyre to gather and bring something beautiful. She hadn't quite specified what that entailed as a present for her sister, but surely flowers could fall into that category, right?

You had put an end to your and Azriel's intense staring. You inhaled quietly as though at a loss for air. Then snapped out of it. You double-take towards your High Lord and nodded hastily remembering what the real purpose of their arrival had led to. He wanted an arrangement for his sister-in-law.

"Oh. Of course. Right this way!" You nodded, your cheeks burning slightly from the exchange with Azriel. You wanted to ask if he was taken, but you already knew the answer; of course he was. Surely he was? His eyes, the way he spoke, his devotion to knowing the things no typical male would care to remember. You'd be hard-pressed to find a male as kind as him with such a gift, with such attentiveness.

Your eyes shifted off of him one last time then you headed towards the door back into the shop. “I can't say I recall any roses in pink left in stock, but I can double-check to make sure,” You smiled timidly, as you ushered them to follow. Poppy was the last one in the shop. "Poppy can show you our book to help you decide on what you would like to add to the arrangement. I'll be just a moment." Rhysand dips his chin as you turn and walk past the opened peach curtains.

Rhysand steps up to the counter and gestures for Poppy to go ahead. "Shall we?" He smiles graciously.

Poppy nods and opens the book, laying it in front of Rhysand. "The flowers are organized by type and color alphabetically and the information about a flower's symbolism and message are listed just below each one. Feel free to ask me any questions you may have as you look through it. Or if you already have a few in mind I can direct you to their pages."

"What kind of flower would send the message of merely showing my brotherly love?"

"That would be our gypsophilia, my Lord. In simpler terms a baby's breath. A delicate white flower. It would be perfect as a filler in the arrangement."

"Yes, I've heard of them. My darling Feyre has spoken of them once with Elain. I can quite put my finger on its symbolism but I believe they'll be a wonderful addition." He agreed.

"Everlasting Love..." Poppy and Rhysand turned to catch Azriel peering down into an oddly shaped plant with spikes. He had reached his hand forward to touch it when you came out from the back again. He immediately let his guard down.

"Brushing up on your Floriography I see, brother." Rhysand gave him his best shit-eating grin ever possible. "Those lessons with Elain have paid off."

"Shut up..." He grumbled.

"So I did manage to find the pink roses. Though I wasn't quite sure whether you wanted more or less, so I decided towards a middle ground of 3 dozen. I hope that's alright." You hailed in a green bucket filled with three dozen pink roses. You cut their stems in the back room to make it easier for you and Poppy to assemble the arrangement. You huffed quietly as you set it down and stood straight to look at Rhysand. "If you want to add more just let me know!" Your smile was more gentle this time. Rhyand bit back his amusement as you turned to glance at his brother again, then double-take. A frown now adorning your face.

"Oh! I wouldn't touch her she bites— Your hand!" You warned hastily with worry over your features. You flinched.

"What?—Shit!" Azriel groaned as he peered down at the plant who had a grip on his forefinger. Shocked that this thing had life to it, he didn't register your hurried footsteps.

"Goddammit, Petunia!" You cursed as you tried to pry open her mouth.

"It's named?" He scoffed though you registered the laugh in his tone. He was flabbergasted by this whole situation.

"I almost— Got it!" You huffed as her mouth widened. Azriel retracted his hand and held it close to his chest. He watched as you took a vile from the apron with pockets around your waist and dropped a fly onto the flat surface of her mouth. You stumbled backwards falling into Azriels chest as her mouth shut with a loud snap.

"Don't see that every day." Azriel raised a brow of interest at the plant.

"Afraid not. For me, daily." You turned to look up at his hand. You pulled it down for closer inspection. You sighed in disappointment. Hoping she wouldn't have caused harm to the members of Rhysands court. But at last, she had. "I'm sorry. I should have made sure you were aware of her. Though in all honestly I try to forget her existence..." Azriel watches as you spin the apron to reach the back pockets. You dig into the one on your right side and pull out a bandaid. His heart warmed at the gesture, at the thoughtfulness. "May I?" You glance up at him timidly, perhaps embarrassed. How could he tell you no? He gave you the okay to continue and it was only then that he took notice of all the different-sized bandages that covered different parts of your skin on your hands.

He understood it now. Your want to forget her. She was a vicious creature who you were afraid to go near. He hadn't meant to reach forward, hadn't meant for his thumb to caress over the bandages. Some were newly placed, and some needed to be replaced.

"Finn our delivery youngling gets too scared to go near it, and Poppy won't even attempt to feed her. She pretends to have lost her hearing when I ask her to." You make a face at her.

"I do no such thing!" You roll your eyes at her.

"Anyway, no one wants to tend to her, so I take on the injuries." You laugh at how ridiculous your hands look. "She's got her moments though like keeping the pest away."

"Male or insect wise?" Azriel mused.

"Oh, both!" You smirk. Your eyes crinkled at his joke.

"So you're the only one crazy enough to take care of her huh?" He hummed in agreement. You looked like a mess. An adorable mess of bandages, but a mess all the same. He couldn't help the urge to reach out to you again but he kept his hands to his sides.

He smiled softly at you. This must have been a difficult task for the two of you. Dealing with this pet. If you could call the plant such a thing?

Your hands caught his curiosity. He hadn't noticed the wounds on your hands, nor had you said anything about his known. He would have to ask you about it sometime. As if aware of his attention, you pulled away and he let you. His eyes watched as you applied the bandage over his forefinger. "Who knew a precious thing could be so vicious?" He said calmly with his arms crossed over his chest as his eyes fixed on you.

"You don't know the half of it, Shadowsinger." You giggled softly. The sound had caused a stirring in his chest. A feeling so foreign he wasn't sure what it was. The way your voice was suddenly muffled and distant. He felt a panic settle within him as you gave him one more smile and turned back around to begin the arrangement.

"I thank you Y/n, I couldn't be without my ten-fingered Shadowsinger. Unfortunately, he needs them all."

"I wouldn't know what'd I do without any of mine, and there have been close calls, my Lord." You raised your battered and cut-up hands.

"I bet." His hearty laugh reached your ears.

It wasn't just your voice alone that felt muffled, that felt far. Azriel turned as he attempted to catch his breath. It felt like he was drowning.

What was this?

He watched as his shadows danced and bounced around him, almost cheerful and celebratory-like. His shadows were practically jumping for joy. As if they were thrilled with what was going to happen between you and him. He gasped as he heard your voice settle into its right tone and pitch again in his ears.

"Oh hello again?" Your giggles had him staggering backward when he turned his whole body to face you. "I hope you'll listen to your master this time. You just about gave him gray hairs a few moments ago and I personally like him as a dark brunette. Gray doesn't quite suit him." You turned your attention to him. Your smile widened from the corners as he caught your eye.

"You..." A calmness slowly overcame him, where confusion overtook you. A gentleness and a sense of peace. The shadows' jumping grew softer and softer until it became a gentle flutter. Something had changed. Whatever had been bothering and unsettling him, had now disappeared and had been replaced with a new feeling. A feeling he never experienced before.

The snap of the bond.

The bond that tethered him to you. His mate. The gasp he released unsettled the other three in the room, he felt your worry grow as he clutched at his chest, and stumbled backward.

"Azriel, what's wrong?" Rhysand straightened up, trying to reach for him. He hadn't made the connection of why flower pots were ending up shattered onto the floor until he looked back at his wings extended. He couldn't keep them tucked in any longer.

"Oh my goodness!" You reached out for him as he fell. His wings knocked down anything and everything in their vicinity. "Azriel!" Your concern had only made him more embarrassed. He had to get out of here.

"Azriel!" Rhysand called out to him, but his thoughts had given him away.

It's her. It's her. It's her. My mate. I need to leave.

"I need to leave!"

Rhysand's eyes widened as he stared at his brother in utter disbelief. In awe. He never imagined that his mateless brother would finally find his mate, but he'd be there every step of the way. "Az…" He stepped towards him tentatively. "Azriel, it's okay!" Rhysand had merely touched his shoulder before his brother was warped by his shadows and was gone.

You gaped at the mess and his sudden hurry to leave. You slowly took your eyes off the broken ceramic pots and over to Rhysand. "Is— He alright?" A small frown rested on your features. He couldn't have just left for no reason.

You watched as Rhysand stared over to where Azriel had stood. His concern was etched on his features. He hummed and sighed heavily. "He will be..." He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He inspected the mess and turned to you and Poppy. "I'll pay for this. All of it." He reassured. He directed it towards Poppy more who was looking at Azriel’s empty spot with wonder. "Pink roses will do just nicely along with the baby breaths. I give you free rein to add to the arrangement as you wish. I wish I could stay longer but I must head home to help with the celebration. I'll see to it you have a ride to the house of wind. I bid you ladies a good day." Rhysand dipped his head, then snapped his fingers as he winnowed away. The mess was cleared and fixed seconds later. You were left standing flabbergasted and shocked. Things had been going so well. You hoped it wasn't your doing to cause him such a reaction.

"Well, that's not something you see often..." Poppy voiced her thoughts at the whole mess that unfolded before you both.

"Afraid not. Perhaps he felt an emergency with his mate. I've heard that the bond is strong in such ways that allows you to feel what your other half does. So perhaps he felt her get hurt and rushed off. I mean did you see the panic in his eyes, the fear? I couldn't imagine feeling such a thing. I hope she's alright..." You sighed heavily as you began picking up the roses from the bucket.

"Who?" Poppy gave you an incredulous look.

"Why the High Lady's sister that is. Elain. His mate!" Your eyes widen to emphasize the obviousness of the situation.

"The Shadowsingers mate?" She asked for clarification, hoping that she was hearing you correctly.

"Yes, Poppy!"

"Oh, you poor child!" Poppy looked up at your confused expression.

"What? What did I do?"

"At least you received your mother's beauty." She reached forward and patted your cheek.

"Her beauty? What does that have anything to do—"

"Now, now. Back to work, go and get me my good scissors and purple ribbon. Oh, we'll need some begonias, and irises too!"

"Anything else?"

"A new brain for that head of yours..." She tapped against your temple with her knuckles, ushering you away. "Go away, I can't look at you!" Once you were in the backroom, she began muttering to herself. "Back then the females weren't so incognizant. They knew right away who it was. I mean did she not see him practically fall before her? Even Petunia saw it. Right, my sweet!" She called out to the plant. Petunia turned her head and opened and closed her mouth. "Even the plant noticed it. I know I swore to you my dear Daisy that I'd look after each strand of hair on her head, but I am this close to pulling each one off if she doesn't come to her senses soon." Poppy pointed to the ceiling in false threat, but a mere reminder she would if you didn't realize how oblivious you were to your situation.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagines #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x you #azriel angst #azriel series #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel #acotar azriel x reader #my edit #writings by juls

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starburts-addict · 4 months

Text

Two of a Kind (part 2)

Note: It's been a while, I finished this about a week ago, but didn't have the time to post it. So here it is! The long-awaited part two! CW: @melon14 @alwayszealousdetective @naomikazumi

You contemplated what you should do. Why are they fixated on you staying with them, or to put it better, why are they fixated on you? You haven't done anything special to catch their attention. While the 7 argue, Grim pulls on your clothes and whispers loudly. "Let's go." You looked at Grim and nodded along. As the argument continued you and Grim made haste to leave, but before you could take another step forward, Lilia spoke to you, ignoring Grim. "Where do you think you're going?" Lilia asked with curiosity, lacing his voice. You turned back around with an awkward smile as the arguing ceased and all eyes were on you. You didn't want to get involved, so you did the first thing that came into mind. You grabbed your cleaning supplies and threw them at the vice dorm leaders plus Ruggie and Ortho all while apologizing. You quickly picked up Grim and began to run.

You needed to get to a populated area, you could lose them there, or perhaps they would immediately lose interest the second you reacted badly. The latter became wishful thinking as you hear footsteps catching up to you quickly. This made absolutely no sense, what was with the attention you were receiving? Luckily the footsteps slowed down as they seemed to be fighting. You quickly picked up the pace as you had Grim in your arms. Grim looked over your shoulder to make sure you weren't being followed or having someone getting closer. You still were, but they weren't within arms distance. You only focused on getting away. You don't want to get involved with anyone in the main cast aside from Grim, but apparently they have different plans.

You ran into the cafeteria seeing that it would be the most crowded area in the morning. Putting Grim down you started to try to regulate your breath. You ran a lot and you managed to get to your destination without issue. That was until Grim pointed to the entrance. They followed you here, but they didn't know of your exact location. You mentally cursed at all the dorm leaders for bringing this chase upon you as you crawled under a table. The students at the table were going to say something before you hushed them. "When I get paid I'll give you my share of my pay if I successfully don't get found." You said. That immediately shut them up. Grim and you stayed silent, but much to your effort, Trey and Lilia approached the table.

The students tried to tell them you weren't here, but Trey looked under the table causing you and Grim to scream. Which made the entire cafeteria silent and attracted the attention of the others looking for you. "Oya~ Oya~ It seems that our angel fish is trying to avoid all of us.~" Jade spoke up. Angelfish? Isn't that the nickname people have used in romantic fanfictions? There is no way they have been called that. "My name is [Name] you don't have to use nicknames… '' You said. They all looked at you from your position and you just recoiled further back. They looked at each other then back at you. They laughed. "Sure sure rose bud." Trey said with a chuckle. You didn't want to hear this! You regret staying here! Grim looked at you confused yet a little disturbed. These are guys he knew and he knows they have never called you any sort of pet name.

The headmaster walked in the cafeteria. "What is going on?! I have been told that my employee has been chased and there was screaming in the cafeteria!" You never knew that hearing his voice would be such a relief! You and Grim leaped out from underneath the table and ran behind the Headmaster. Crowley stared at the Vice Dorm Leaders. "What is the meaning of this?!" Lilia stepped up. "We simply wanted to invite them to our dorms for dinner, it seems we have overwhelmed them…" He said, sighing and putting his hands on his waist. "If that's the case I can make this announcement then. With the many requests, [Name] is now a-" Before he could finish you yelled out something. "I quit this job!" Everyone looked at you. You knew where he was going with that announcement. Crowley looked at you. "Well dear, you can't quit anymore! You're a student now!" "I'm dropping out then." You said with a straight face.

Everyone seemed surprised at this. "Shehehe You don't have anywhere to go silly!" Ruggie said. "I'll find somewhere else. I don't want to be a student. I don't want to be near this school if I'm going to be chased after being overwhelmed. "I already signed your papers though." Crowley said disappointed. "I don't care! I'm looking for somewhere else to help me!" As you walked out you managed to bump into someone else who held you in the position. You looked up to find you bumped into Malleus yet again. "S-sorry for bumping into you again! Could you please let me go?" You asked.

Malleus looked at the space that seemed to have a crowd around it. "What's going on here?" You heard someone else ask. You looked around and saw that all the dorm leaders were here. Except Idia who seemed to be using the tablet. "Ah! They wanted to drop out after your generous recommendation." You turned to glare at Crowley before Malleus grabbed your chin and stared at you with disappointment. "Is this true child of man?" You mentally cursed yourself for being caught in this situation. "…Yes…" Before anyone else could say something, Grim stood up for you. "If they don't wanna stay they don't hafta!" Malleus' head snapped to Grim with anger.

Grim wanted to take back what he said from the looks of it, but didn't. "Obviously this school is already stressing them out and they weren't here for even a day." You wanted to thank Grim. But the headmaster spoke again sadly. "How about this? They become a student, but they will not be going to any active dorms." Anger erupted from the main cast as they started to try to convince Crowley otherwise. This… This never happened before. This isn't part of the story… Why are they so obsessed with the idea of you staying at one of their dorms? You quickly pushed yourself away from Malleus and grabbed Grim as you headed towards the Headmaster. The sky became covered in dark clouds.

This wasn't good. You needed to think of a way to get everyone to leave you alone. "HEY!" You yelled, causing everyone to stop arguing. "I'll give you all one month. One. To try to convince me to stay at your respective dorm. If none of you succeed you all leave me alone." The Dorm and Vice Dorm leaders looked at you and most of them looked smug. “That won't be a hard feat. Heartslabyul is clearly the best.” Riddle said with the smirk you had originally seen in the game previous to being stuck in this loop. Once again the people who you'd originally seen as just characters take stabs at each other. You and Grim simply left. It was just the morning and the second day and the story had already drastically changed.

After leaving the Cafeteria the headmaster approached you. “I had almost forgotten. Here is the schedule you both share. Don't be late to classes. I will also hand you an allowance at the end of the day. For I am so gracious! Do not worry, I'll make sure you get home soon.” He patted you on the back and Grim on his head and walked away. Frankly you only expected things to become worse by the passing hour. “We just have to avoid them all, Grim.” You sighed before walking to class with Grim, who was upset. What you failed to see was two pairs of eyes following you.

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missuga · 1 year

Text

1:05 a.m. — Bakugo Katsuki

+ established relationship, living together

“Are you serious?” You huffed under your breath, rolling over slightly to look at your boyfriend who was currently using every blanket on the bed. Before both of you fell asleep, each blanket was perfectly draped the two of you, but now just the bottom half of your legs were covered.

You tried your best to pull some of the blankets away from Bakugo without having to sit up but for no reason he had an iron grip on them.

“You’re kidding me.” Groaning you pushed off the bed to sit up, pulling the blankets with both of your hands now hoping they’d give some at least. “Katsuki, stop hogging the blankets.”

“Go back to sleep.” His voice was low and you barely caught what he said.

“I would love to but I can’t.” You pulled on the blankets once more but it didn’t work. “C’mon, I’m freezing and you’re the one who said using all these blankets was a dumb idea.”

All he gave in response was a mumbled bunch of words that you couldn’t understand at all. You were getting tired of fighting for even a bit more of a blanket really quickly and even though you didn’t have to work in the morning you had wanted to get a good night's rest.

“Oh my god whatever, keep the stupid blankets.” You sighed and let go of them, pushing yourself to sit on the edge of the bed. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

You didn’t get the chance to even stand from the bed before he reached out and grabbed your arm.

“No you’re staying here.” Bakugo was turned towards you now, one arm stretched across your side of the bed to stop you from leaving, and the other reaching to fix the blankets.

“Oh, you’re going to be nice now?” You stared at him for a moment before he pulled you back into your bed fully.

“I’m always nice.” He sounded so sleepy that even if you had wanted to argue with what he said, you couldn’t find the words to. “If you hadn’t kept the room so damn cold, you wouldn’t need all of these.”

“That’s the best way to sleep in the winter.” You countered, remembering how he had said he’d be too warm with the amount of blankets and that he wouldn’t be using them. “Though, I thought you said you didn’t need them. Change your mind?”

“Nope, I’m still sweating buckets.”

You just managed to see him roll his eyes from the small bit of light drifting in through your windows, the smile pricking up the corner of his lips gave away his lie.

“Mhm, right.” Settling back under the blankets you felt relieved that you weren’t going to have to sleep on the hard couch. “If you steal the blankets again you’re making breakfast in the morning.”

“I was already planning to make breakfast.” He responded and you could hear the slight twinge of amusement in his voice.

“I can’t stand you.”

“Good.” He moved closer to you once you were fully settled, draping an arm across your waist and laying a good bit of his body on top of yours. “Oh my god, do not touch me with your cold ass feet.”

You couldn't stop the laugh bubbling from your chest at his recoil when he felt your feet against his legs.

“You laid on me!” You protested, still laughing at his reaction. “They’re only this cold because you left me to freeze with no covers.”

“I thought we decided we were over that.”

“We didn’t decide anything!” You rolled your eyes at how ridiculous he sounded. “Go to sleep, you’re becoming delirious.”

“Only because you woke me up.” Bakugo mumbled, his warm breath against your neck sent small shivers down your back.

“That’s because you woke me up.” You sighed softly, bringing a hand up to run through his hair almost as a reflex, enjoying how he snuggled against you even more at the feeling.

“Hmm, I don’t recall that.” His voice was so soft now and you knew he was just almost asleep again.

“Night, Katsuki.” You said even quieter than him, knowing you weren’t too far behind now that you were a lot warmer than before. Tomorrow night you’d have to make sure you had a spare blanket just for yourself if he decided he needed all of them on the bed again.

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dtrghost · 10 months

Note

okay so, i’m BACK and i love everything on your page (and may have tried to read everything i could 😭) i don’t wanna overwork you so you can write this whenever you want 🩷

i was just thinking about TF141 + könig, alejandro, rudy, and valeria having a beach day 🏄‍♀️🏄‍♀️ where the reader and valeria are having the time of their lives and dancing to the most suggestive music (i’m thinking anaconda by nicki minaj) while the boys are staring at them like 😨)

anyways, have a good day/night !!

Thank you for your patience!! I try and take breaks between each work just so I can have to right mindset to write!

Also for all of my hispanic/latinx readers, my inner latina came out during this one (DOMINICANAAAAAA) and I simply had to indulge in the hispanic characters. I recommend listening to Bachata or some sort of spanish music to get the vibe for this.

TF141+ König, Alejandro, and Rudy: Suggestively dancing with Valeria during a beach day

Warnings: Suggestive content, 18+, some fluff ig?? fem!reader

Alejandro:

The man is hispanic/latino, he knows a thing or two about dancing. He's a gentleman, and he loves seeing his girl having fun in the sand with a good friend. He especially loved seeing you so carefree, the recoil as your ass bounced, almost like the ocean's ripples. But when he started noticing the looks you got as your hips swayed to the beat in your little bikini and wild, wet hair, he got protective very fast.

"Looks like everyone loves your girlfriend hombre." Rudy teased quietly, nudging his shoulder teasingly. He knew how to get on his nerves, to push him closer to the edge.

With a grumble about the bastards watching he'd actually join you, shirt off, doing a few pushups to flex the muscles and changing the music to some Bachata with a slow beat. His hands would grip your waist and he'd ensure that everyone who dared to ogle you before now knew that you were his.

"Tus caderas son un pecado mi amor." He groaned in your ear, feeling you grind further into his growing erection. You just chuckled, pressing a kiss on his lips.

"All yours honey." He hummed in delight, feeling himself twitch in his swim shorts until Valeria interrupted you two.

"Alright pájaros del amor. Give Y/N back."

(Tus caderas son un pecado mi amor: your hips are a sin my love)

(pájaros del amor: love birds)

Rudy Parra:

Rudy's more quiet. He lets you have your fun, he trusts you and knows you're just having a fun time with a close friend, but those looks. The hungry stares of the other men at the twirls and movements of your body were enough for him to step in and mark what's his. He wouldn't be dramatic about it, he wouldn't growl or initiate interaction with them, most of the time he didn't spare them a glance.

It wasn't til Alejandro started making sly comments about other men coming to take you from him that he'd intervene. He'd simply walk up to you, and the look on his face told you everything you needed to know as your body fit into the grooves of his as you both danced together, staring at each other as if they were the only two people in the world.

"Eres mia, mi amor." He murmured in your ear, dragging his tongue underneath your ear and relishing the shivers of your body in his arms. After Valer9a snagged you back with an eye roll at your lover's possessiveness he'd be sure to send a small smirk at the grumbling men that watched it all, proud that everyone knew, but even prouder that you were his, and he was yours.

Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Simon had all the trust in the world for you. While it may have taken a while, once it was established in the both of you, it was unbreakable. But you knew better than anyone else how possessive he could get, how the sight of another man staring at you as lustfully as they had been would awaken something in him. Something feral, animalistic.

"Casper's got an eye for you." Valeria teased, both of you dancing hand in hand to the song's rhythmic guitar. Simon would've been entranced by your movements, but the amount of eyes on you two pissed him off. You glanced over your shoulder, smirking back at the anger burning his eyes before you accentuated your movements, swaying your hips more and running your hands down your body.

"Aye, looks like that guy's gonna have a go at 'er mate." Soap teased. That sent him over the edge. He stalked over to you, and you giggled at the look on his face as he held your hands out to him.

"It's okay Si, you can dance with me. Show em who's boss." You teased, watching him roll his eyes but oblige nonetheless. You'd taught him how to dance with you during the many times that he caught you on your own in the kitchen, making food and moving to your own beat. It took him a while, he wasn't as experienced as the Los Vaqueros or the El Sin Nombre you'd previously been dancing with, but once he got the hang of it he was a natural.

"Don't like people lookin' at what's mine love." He murmured in your ear, listening to you giggle with a small smile.

"It got you to dance with me so I can't complain much." Your hips grazed back on his a bit harder, listening to him growl in your ear.

"You little minx."

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish:

Valeria had to threaten Johnny to buzz off so she could spend some time with you without him interrupting. There weren't many women around in her profession, so when she discovered your existence and connection with TF141, you two got close pretty fast. Johnny let you have your fun, until their captain nudged his shoulder.

"Didn't know you could handle all that sergeant." He joked. Normally he'd laugh it off, but when he saw the way you moved, the water glistening on your skin with your hands on your body, he first felt a tightness in his pants, and then anger at the eyes also watching you. He didn't care about Valeria's wants in the moment, jogging over to you as you ogled the way his pecs bounced.

"Don't mind if I join ya now right lass?" You could hear the stiffness in his voice, nodding slowly as he grabbed your hand, kissing the back of it before pulling you to him.

"You okay Johnny?" You asked, eyebrows furrowing as he began dancing with you, Valeria grumbling in irritation at his presence.

"All good love, gonnae give yer boyfriend a winch?" You blinked at him, noticing his accent got thicker and not understanding what he said. He just rolled his eyes and grabbed your face, pressing a loving kiss on your lips. He normally wasn't this assertive, and you wondered what had pissed him off. When he pulled away he glanced behind him at the men who begrudgingly looked the other way, smirking to himself as you playfully rolled your eyes.

"Just lettin' em know bonnie." He crooned, thumbs grazing over your cheeks.

Captain John Price:

Price isn't as much of a show off. Yes he's insanely possessive and hates the idea of men ogling at your body, but he's also proud. You're his. He knows that and so do you, plus, the way your body moved was too good to interrupt. You knew he was getting wound up, from the way his hands gripped your waist when you stood with him, the dark lust evident in his eyes. He wasn't mad, he liked the thrill of your teasing, of the brushes of your ass against his hard on prominent under his shorts.

But don't fret, he'll be sure to give you a nice reminder of who you belong to, who owns you.

"Just~ like that darling. Just like you were at the beach. Fuck I'll have to thank Valeria for dragging us out there. Daddy's pretty girl." He croons to you as you swirling and lift your hips on and off his raging erection, watching as he head falls back, moaning at the feeling your tight cunt around him.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

He's too cute. You'd notice the red glow of his cheeks, flush skinned, and lustful gaze. To tease him you'd sway your hips just that much more, grind against Valeria harder with her hands on your waist. When you two had your fill you'd walk over to him, smirking to yourself at his tight grip around you and the furious passion beneath his kisses.

When you got home he'd spend his time fucking the jealousy out of him, his thrusts hard and quick, chanting mine with each one in your ear as you cried on his cock. But after, the guilt would sink in, and he'd worship you, like he always did. He'd show you how beautiful you are.

"My goddess."

"You're so beautiful like this. Use my face gorgeous. I'll make you feel good."

König:

This man has a power dynamic kink. He's a colonel, he's tall and strong, he knows that he's better than any other man staring at you at the beach. But it doesn't stop the anger growing in him as you swayed your hips with Valeria in the water. The simmering in his chest and the hot fire spreading through his veins, boiling his blood.

He hated it. But he was a gentleman at the end of the day. He'd never stoop so low as to stop you from having your fun or covering up for his sake, so he let you dance. But oh boy.

The night comes and the whole floor of your hotel nearby could hear his German curses, the pounding you took as his cock slipped in and out of you with torturous speed and need. You loved it. You loved how rough he was, how he marked you in any place he could to remind those assholes at the beach that you belong to him.

"Awww you want more meine liebe? Beg. Beg like the good slut you are."

I know I know this is so late but here it is!! I apologize if it's bad it was a bit rushed since I was moving in and getting ready for college. Requests will be slow and I will be writing what I feel like writing in between them so just a heads up on that.

Thank you so much for reading and for your amazing support! Have an amazing day/night and I'll see you next time!

@islanderr

#cod x reader #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #fanfic #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #könig x you #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #price x reader #gaz x reader #alejandro x reader #rudy x reader #cod mwii

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cherubkeery · 1 year

Text

Here with you

Steddie x reader

The boys knew something was going on between you, Eddie and Steve. They could see it from a mile away. Lucas was the first out of the bunch to bring it up to the older boys. Maybe they’ll be honest.

“So, you guys and y/n?” He asked, he knew it wasn’t a three way kind of thing. Only that the two boys had a thing for you. But he wanted to milk out as much as he could. Both boys looked at each other then at the younger boys in front of them.

“What about her?” Eddie asked, almost defensively. Oops, wrong way to approach this situation.

“Uh- just we noticed you guys have a-.”

“Jesus Christ, we know you both have a thing for her.” Dustin said bluntly. Mike hit Dustin on the shoulder and Dustin just shrugged. He wasn’t one to hold back and he wasn’t going to do that in this situation either.

“Uh-.” Steve said.

“You don’t have to tell us.” Will said, he didn’t like this. He felt like it was heading in unwanted territory. Eddie had been quiet before this now he felt the need to speak up.

“No no, what are you guys trying to ask? If we’re in a relationship together because we’re not. We just- we don’t know who she would pick if she had to.” Eddie said, he sounded anxious. Eddie Munson wasn’t the anxious type. Maybe in high stake situations but this wasn’t that.

“What do you mean pick?” Nancy and Robin had entered the room and looked between all the boys. Jonathan and Argyle close behind, Steve closed his eyes and put his hand on his temple.

“Pick what? Who’s picking?” Robin asked after Nancy. Eddie put his face in his hands. The younger boys recoiled at the way the older kids reacted. This wasn’t how they wanted to get information on the situation.

Before they knew it, Max and Eleven walked into the room. They were laughing at something they said to each other. Then they saw how everyone in the room looked.

“You guys okay?” Max asked.

“We’re trying to find out who’s picking whatever it is they’re picking.” Robin replied, Nancy nodded staring at both boys then at the younger ones.

“They both like y/n.” Dustin said.

“Dustin!” Steve and Eddie said in unison. Dustin rolled his eyes. “What! You morons wouldn’t say it.” Steve threw a paper at Dustin’s head, Dustin pull out his middle finger.

“What about her?” Jonathan asked, sitting on the couch. Arygle had gotten preoccupied in the kitchen to care about their conversation.

“We don’t know who she would choose if she had to between us.” Eddie said, he was looking down at the table. Nancy sat down next to Jonathan.

“Why not put it to a vote? We put down who we think she’ll choose.” Lucas said, he felt bad about the whole thing already. Maybe this would help things?

Oh how wrong he was, when everyone had written on their little papers and Lucas had collected them. Steve had won overall vote. He looked over at Eddie, it seemed like he knew what the paper said before Lucas said it out loud. Steve didn’t even look over at Eddie, he knew.

“Steve won overall vote.” The look of hurt was written on Eddie’s face. Eddie didn’t speak, he didn’t say anything. Almost like if he knew what the verdict was going to be before he said it. Lucas winced, he didn’t realize this idea made things even worse.

“Uh-.” Robin said. “Who wants to watch back to the future? Yeah, let’s watch back to the future.”

Everyone sat down and didn’t say anything to each other. Eddie had left early that day and everyone in their own way felt guilty.

●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘●∘◦❀◦∘

When you found out about the voting, you were pissed off. You hated when people tried to speak on your behalf. Or tried to interject themselves into your decisions. You stared at the party with anger. Steve stood next to you, the only person you weren’t mad at.

“It was my dumb idea, I’ll take credit for that.” Lucas said, a guilty expression on his face. You looked over at him.

“Look, whoever I decide to “pick” is my business. And my business alone. I don’t need anyone making it for me. And who said I was going to choose anyone.” You said, you felt Steve’s eyes on you as you spoke. You looked up at him, his eyes told you a story about heartbreak. One you’ve known because he told you and one you had to figure out by the way his eyes dimmed as he said it.

“I have to go talk to Eddie. Come on Steve.”

Steve drove you to Eddie’s trailer, silence between the two of you was louder than it usually was. Usually though, it was a comfortable silence. This one was too tensed.

“Uh y/n?” He said, his eyes still on the road.

“Yeah?”

“Not saying you have to choose, but uh I just need to know. Do you- do you like me?” He asked, you felt his eyes on you for a brief time.

“Of course I do Steve. But I also like Eddie. So you can see how that complicates things.”

Eddies trailer was in sight and Steve glanced over at you. He smiled a small smile at you.

“Choose wisely.”

Eddie was busy trying to tune his guitar to have heard you guys come in. Once he saw you guys at the door. He knew.

“You didn’t have to come all the way here ya know. I can take care of myself. Just fine.” Eddie said, placing his precious guitar back on the wall. You sighed and sat on his bed.

“Stop the shit, Munson. I know when you’re hurting. Right now is not the time for that.” You said, your arms were crossed. Both boys stared at each other before sitting on opposites sides of you.

“Look, I know you and Harrington knew each other longer. I get it. I’m the stranger who barge into your love story.”

You put your hands on your head. Shaking your head slowly.

“Never said I was going to choose. Never asked for people to speak for me, Eddie.” You stared him down until he looked away. You sighed, you turned to look over at Steve. There was a hurt expression on his face.

“I want the both of you. But I don’t know if either of you would compromise.” You went on. Eddies face turned into a mixture of confusion and suspension.

“What are you trying to say? You want us to be a threesome?”

“Polyamory is a thing, you know. And I know you never cared for what other people thought.” You turned to Steve. “You on the other-.”

“I’ll do anything, anything to be with you.” Steve said, his hand now on your back. Eddie looked at him and a smile began to form.

“Sounding a little desperate, aren’t we Harrington?”

Steve glared at him before looking back at you. “So that’s a yes?” You asked.

Both boys couldn’t make it to you fast enough. Both of them ready to devour you whole. They could try and see where it went. That was what they could do. Eddie had you by your back as Steve kissed you.

“You sure about this?”

“No shit.”

#steddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader

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footballffbarbiex · 7 months

Text

Worth The Wait

driver: charles leclerc words: 1226 request: charles leclerc | 500 + | You / your | Like that first kiss that’s a little rushed and short because you’re so shy and giggly and then just full on make out. I feel like they are on a date in a park you know on a blanket in the sun reading books, eating fruit and then they finallyyyyy kiss after something cute/romantic happens (maybe they joke around with each other idk) and then they start making out. Like they’ve been on dates before and they really like each other but something just kept getting in the way of them kissing and they both really want to but are also really shy. So they finally kiss and it’s really cute but then they get serious

Charles is laid out on the blanket relaxing in a way that you hadn’t noticed before. Though it was still early in your relationship, maybe even far too early to be calling it a relationship, you were slowly picking up on his body language and the things that seemed to make him blossom before you as he spoke.

There’s a soft smile on his face from under the cap that covers most of it, his head rests upon his arms and because of it, his shirt has lifted and reveals a little patch of hair that disappears into his jeans. It’s not the first time you’ve spotted it but it always seems to have the same impression on you when you see it and rather than react how you want to, you reach forward and pluck another piece of fruit from the container and pop it into your mouth.

Before you on the blanket was an array of the perfect foods, with Charles making sure that a little bit of everything had been brought. Fruit, cheeses, small pots of desserts, a bottle of wine just in case which came in its own cooler with a bit of ice in the bottom to guarantee it’s chill on a day like today. Water bottles are in the same cooler for the very same reason, along with spreads and a few of your own favourite choices to nibble on.

“You seem relaxed,” you point out, hoping that it won’t make him recoil and go back in on himself.

Instead, he opens up his large hand and splays it over the cap to pull it from his body. When he looks at you, it’s through one open eye which captures the sun perfectly, sending his eye colour into a burst of shades which you don’t usually see. “Do I?”

“Yeah, it’s nice to see.” your dates have been here, there and everywhere in between with race weekends and him either out on a practice track or in the gym but he’d always try and make time for a facetime call and keep in touch with you throughout the day when he was away. He always makes time for you which was a pleasant surprise considering how busy he was.

“I don’t need to think when I’m here.” He says after a few minutes. You’d zoned out, focused on an area not far from here and so when Charles starts speaking again, you find your face turning towards him and your eyes following moments after as you slowly come out of it.

“Hmmm?” You ‘ask’. “Sorry, you lost me there for a moment.” The confession sounds as you try not to get embarrassed when you realise he’s staring at you and you have no idea for how long.

“Look how adorable you are when you’re flustered.” he adjusts himself, shifting his body so that he can reach out and stroke your knee. “I said I don’t need to think when I’m around you.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing.”

“Good. Very good.” he confirms with a little nod. His fingers continue to stroke over your knee. “It’s the one time that I can really switch off. I don’t need to be thinking of what I’ve got coming up, training, interviews. I don’t need to be thinking of anything. I just…”

“Get to be you.” You finish for him and he nods eagerly.

“Exactly!”

“I like that though. I make it so there’s not a thought in your head.” there’s a small sense of satisfaction as you consider this. He’s always been switched on - or at least he’s always appeared to be so. Charles would always bring something to the conversations, often starting a new one himself. There wasn’t a topic he’d shy away from and would always find something to ask you about or simply send as a text so that you knew you were on his mind. To hear that he was able to just switch off around you, to make it so that there’s you and only you? It was more than a compliment.

“I could kiss you right now, do you know that?”

“And you’re spending it talking instead.” You can’t help but tease him with this, even though his expression says that he’s serious. When you don’t look away, he keeps his eyes fixated on your face and slowly, you realise the two of you are closing the gap between one another.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach. There’s no small fluttering, it’s an explosion of them all flapping against one another and whatever part of you they’re able to “touch”. He hesitates when his lips are a breath away from yours, his eyes flickering between your eyes and as much of your mouth as he can see and finally, finally, his lips are on yours.

You can feel Charles’ smile against you, making it so that it paints one upon your own lips as you kiss him again. He moves slowly, the two of you placing small light kisses until he slows down the pull away pace and you find yourself beginning to slowly make out. He doesn’t break the rhythm as he shuffles forward, his hand remains on your knee while the other strokes over the back of your neck.

Your own hands find his waist, one holding onto the slender side while the other fists the fabric of his shirt. Tentatively, you poke your tongue between your lips and ever so briefly meet his as he cautiously does the same. You feel his grin once more, making it harder to kiss until he manages to relax and this time, his tongue meets yours with each open mouth kiss.

For the first time since the two of you arrived, you’re not bothered about who might be watching the two of you as you sit on the blanket, completely engrossed in one another. When he turns this way, you turn that, your noses briefly overlapping and when this happens, Charles gives your nose the lightest rub with his own before giving you another kiss. You feel the vibrations of it before you hear the smallest of hums from him and it’s the single most beautiful sound you’ve heard.

It’s not until he begins to slow the kisses back to soft, barely open mouth kisses that come to a stop and his forehead rests against your own that you realise it’s got to him slightly. His breathing seems normal, there’s no sharp intake of breath or pink tinted cheeks but his expression has changed and there’s a change in his eyes that wasn’t there before you’d initially kissed.

“Well that was unexpected.” He says, his tone of voice betraying him as he pulls back to look at you properly. His voice shows that the kiss has affected him more than he’s tried to let on.

“You took your time,” you quip and he laughs, a shyness creeping back in from before. “It was worth the wait though,” you admit, smiling to yourself as you look down and focus on the way his fingers absentmindedly stroke over your leg again.

“Yeah. Yeah it was.”

“I won’t let you wait as long for the next one.” He promises, giving you a small smile before leaning forward and giving you the lightest of pecks on your lips.

#charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc fanfic

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cherienymphe · 1 year

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The Less I Know The Better XVIII (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, attempted murder, violence, jealousy, underage drinking, drug use, unhealthy relationship, one sided kiara x jj, non canon ages, pogue!reader

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies | divider by @firefly-graphics

➥ series masterlist

summary: When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.

“What the hell happened to your face?”

JJ paused, reaching up and touching his face, wincing at the sting. He’d almost forgotten about the feel of you digging your nails into him, fighting him off and desperate to get away. So desperate to get away from, and so desperate to run back to Rafe. The thought made him frown, and he roughly exhaled, recalling that John B had asked him a question upon meeting him downstairs.

“Ran into some Kooks with a grudge,” he lied.

Pope frowned at that, reaching out to touch JJ’s face when JJ slapped his hand away.

“…and they decided to scratch you up like a girl? Where are they?”

“They left already,” JJ waved them off, pushing past them. “Let’s just go.”

“We’ve only been here for like an hour,” Pope argued, but following, nonetheless. “You’re the one who wanted to come so bad, anyway.”

JJ clenched his jaw at that, struggling to swallow.

Today hadn’t gone like he’d thought it would, at all. He had just wanted to talk, that was all he’d wanted, and even when it seemed clear you wanted nothing to do with him, right now, he’d been prepared to accept that. Prepared to bide his time, but just as John B. had noted, JJ didn’t think straight when it came to you. He had given you his phone to use, not even giving it a second thought, and everything had come crashing down.

He'd done a shitty thing, an unforgivable thing, and he’d accepted that. He’d made his peace with what he’d done to you, but staring you in the face and watching your expression crumble had affected him more than he’d thought it would. It was like watching a nervous breakdown, and all he’d wanted to do was hold you, but it was his fault. How could he make you feel better when it was his fault?

He couldn’t lie, and he’d been forced to admit his moment of weakness, unable to resist you throwing yourself at him after months of just wanting to be with you so badly. JJ had deserved every slap and every punch, but he’d been shocked at how…angry he’d gotten. Every time you hit him and screamed at him, he’d gotten angrier, and he’d hurdled over the edge when you locked yourself in the bathroom.

Were you so disgusted with the idea of being with him? Sure, you had every right to be mad, but you’d acted like sleeping with him was the worst thing in the world. You were always so quick, so eager to throw yourself at Rafe like some Figure 8 slut, but you recoiled from JJ like he was covered in boils or something. You’d known each other your entire lives, had grown up together and seen parts of each other that no one else had.

Now, it was like none of that counted for anything.

He looked out of the window, sitting with Pope and John B. in Heyward’s truck, a slight frown on his face.

He hadn’t planned to…hurt you again. That wasn’t the plan, and his jaw ticked at how things had gone so far south. He’d just wanted to talk to you, but then you got angry and he got angry, and once he got his hands on you, it was like he was moving on autopilot. Deep down, you had to have known it was him. You’d been so eager so good for him, and he’d only wanted to show you how good it could be with him too…not just Rafe.

You’d accepted it at first, lying there and staring past him with your fingers digging into his skin. You were so tight, practically choking him, and JJ shuddered at the memory of you squeezing his cock. But then it was like a flip switched, and you were crying and pushing against him and trying to get away. He hadn’t expected you to fight back so much, and he resisted the urge to shift in his seat, swearing he could still feel the pain of your knee driving up between his legs.

He'd tried to run after you, but it had been too much.

…and now JJ had a problem on his hands.

There was no doubt you’d be running straight to Rafe. JJ didn’t doubt that for a second, and he didn’t want to think about what Rafe would do. While JJ knew that he deserved whatever he had coming to him, he also wouldn’t accept those consequences being dished out by Rafe of all people. What high horse did Rafe have to stand on? The other blond just looked like he passed Roofie around like candy.

He knew it was only a matter of time, but when days went by with no sign of Rafe, JJ’s suspicions grew. Was it possible that Rafe was just biding his time, waiting for the right moment? It seemed likely, but then weeks had gone by before he knew it, and JJ started to wonder to himself if you’d told him, at all. Was it possible that you hadn’t? And if so…

Why not?

JJ didn’t want to read into that too deeply, but maybe there was some part of you that still cared about JJ. He wondered if there was something in you that still cherish your friendship, and because of that, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell Rafe? That thought warmed JJ’s chest, but he also entertained the possibility that Rafe was just biding his time.

“Still nothing?”

Kie’s voice brought JJ out of his thoughts, and he looked up to see Sarah shaking her head at the brunette.

It had been weeks since any of them had heard from you, and he didn’t need to be a genius to feel their annoyance at him. They blamed him for your scare presence, and rightfully so, he guessed. It was looking more and more like you wanted nothing to do with any of them, and seeing their somber faces was almost enough to make JJ feel bad. If they only knew the half of it…

“She’s obviously hiding out at your house,” Pope said. “How is it possible that you don’t even run into her?”

“She hasn’t left Rafe’s room in weeks.”

They all, sans JJ, perked up at that, wearing deep frowns.

“Are you sure?”

Sarah nodded, and Pope looked thoughtful.

“Okay,” he dragged the word out. “That’s not normal.”

“JJ fucked up, but this seems like it’s about more than that,” John B. commented, and JJ looked away, sipping on his beer.

“That’s all that happened?” Kie wondered, talking to him, now. “You kissed her and…you and Rafe fought?”

“Yes, I already told you.”

His tone wasn’t the nicest, and Kie picked up on it.

“Excuse me for just wanting to make sure we have all the details on how you ruined our friendship with Y/N,” she snapped.

Their eyes met at that, and JJ rolled his, pushing himself to his feet.

“Besides, some of us have to be concerned…”

JJ slowed to a stop at that, turning to face her as she frowned at him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we’re in this situation because of you, and you don’t seem all that worried,” she threw out, shrugging at him. “For someone that messed this up all by himself, you don’t seem to care nearly as much as you should.”

“Maybe because I know I screwed up. I know exactly what I did wrong and moping about it and trying to force her to talk to me isn’t going to fix it.”

Kie didn’t have a response to that, simply eyeing him. The atmosphere was tense, and when it became clear that no one else was going to say anything, JJ walked outside. Their anger and irritation was valid, but it didn’t suck any less.

Hearing that you hadn’t left Rafe’s room in weeks had him swallowing. He’d done that, and JJ blinked back tears, so angry at everyone and the world and himself. He hated where you two were at, because even when he was angrily listening to you gush about Rafe, he could at least talk to you. Even when he watched you two, he could at least see you, but this… He hated this more than anything, and he only had himself to blame.

JJ wondered if Rafe was comforting you, and he wished it was him instead.

Rafe didn’t deserve you, that much everyone could agree on. Everyone except you, and knowing that you were in a place where you saw JJ as the bad guy while Rafe was the one to lick your wounds had him seething. JJ knew he fucked up, he knew that, but deep down…

You had to have known it was him.

You had.

You’d been too loud, too wanton, too into it. JJ could still remember you begging in his ear. Your legs wrapping around his waist. Your hips moving over his as you fucked yourself onto his cock. You’d been desperate to have him inside of you, a woman possessed as you wildly chased your orgasm. It was like you couldn’t get enough of him, and JJ had to believe that you knew deep down, because otherwise that meant you’d been that unrestrained for Rafe.

And he could barely stomach the thought.

JJ closed his eyes, fingers tangling in hair as he allowed himself to get lost in the feel of your mouth wrapped around him. The party on the beach sounded so far away, the only light this far coming from the moon and what stars were visible. Your tongue laved against his cock, sliding over him and making him shudder.

A shaky breath left him, hands tightening, and he wanted to drive himself towards the back of your throat.

The spell, however, was broken.

“Ow, JJ, what the hell?”

He could feel himself softening some at the sound of a voice that did not belong to you. He angrily exhaled, weakly opening his eyes and looking down as he loosened his grip some. It was some girl he’d hooked up with before, last year or maybe even half a year ago, he couldn’t remember. Your absence was weighing on him more than he wanted to admit, and something in her smile had been familiar.

It had taken nothing at all to pull her into a kiss, forcing himself to pretend it was you as she hummed into his mouth. Her lips had traveled to his ear, voice light and teasing as she suggested they go back to her place, but his frustration had guided him to grab her arm and pull her further down the beach. He’d kissed her for all of ten seconds before his hand met the top of her head, forcing her to her knees.

He didn’t want to see her face, and he didn’t even want to hear her talk. He needed to pretend like it was you, because at this point, he was going crazy, and his impulsiveness had almost driven him to head straight for the Cameron’s and force his way in. God, wouldn’t that be a sight?

After a quick apology, she was working her mouth over him again, and JJ thought about what it would be like to fuck you in front of Rafe. He would pay to see the look on the other blonde’s face, forced to watch as JJ tasted you and held you down and made you come around him again and again. The scenario was the only thing keeping him satisfied, her mouth not doing much to keep him hard, and he imagined you moaning his name, uncaring of your boyfriend’s gaze, only concerned with milking JJ dry.

That was the thought that sent him over the edge, and a low moan escaped his lips as he spilled down her throat. He couldn’t stop his hand from tightening in her hair, lips moving, and when she batted his hand away and hurried to stand, JJ worried that he might’ve unintentionally hurt her again.

…but then she’d slapped him, ruining his post climax haze.

“Y/N?”

JJ licked his lips, confused as he stared at her angry face.

“What?” he breathed, still struggling to calm his heart.

“You called me Y/N,” she told him, an attitude in her tone, and JJ sighed.

“I’m sorry, I-.”

“If you want to fuck Rafe’s girl, that’s your business, but next time, have the decency to leave me out of it when you want to get off on it,” she sneered, harshly bumping into him as she made her way back down the beach.

He couldn’t even focus on her deserved anger, her words making him roll his eyes.

Everyone on this side of the island knew that you and JJ were best friends since birth. You two were practically joined at the hip, so how in the world did your name manage to get associated with Rafe’s now in less than a tenth of that time? It was such a small thing, but it managed to make him so mad.

“We need to talk.”

That was how Kie greeted him when he made it back to everybody else after fixing himself and getting his mind together. JJ eyed her, grabbing a beer and gesturing for her to talk.

“Not here,” she said.

Something about her voice and the look in her eye had JJ frowning, and he started to seriously debate if he even wanted to talk to her. However, Kie being Kie, he knew that she was going to get her way one way or another, and he chose to just get it over with.

She spoke again as soon as they made it near some tree.

“Rafe came by The Wreck yesterday.”

Those words had JJ’s heart sinking, but he kept his expression even, cooly watching her and waiting for her to continue.

“He was angry and wanting to know ‘what the hell did you and Y/N talk about’?”

She used air quotes, and again, JJ kept his face even. Kie was frowning at him, now, and the more she stared at his face, it seemed, the angrier she got.

“See, Rafe was under some impression that weeks ago, Y/N left his house to meet with me. Left him a note and everything…”

“…okay.”

“…and the same night, something happened, and she hasn’t been the same since.”

JJ merely took a sip of his beer, shrugging at Kie.

“Did he say what?”

“No, he wouldn’t tell me, but I’m sure you can see how he partially blames me for whatever happened to her, right? Only…I never texted Y/N about meeting up to talk.”

Both Kie’s gaze and tone were accusatory, but JJ was just relieved Rafe hadn’t told Kie what happened to you. Beyond that, he was also relieved to know that you hadn’t told Rafe it was him who did it. Again, he wondered if there was some part of you that was still hanging onto the piece that cared about JJ. Kie’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“…but…I do know someone who might use me to see her, considering Y/N wants nothing to do with that person, now,” she evenly told him, holding his gaze. “…because if she knew it was that person who really wanted to see her, she wouldn’t go.”

JJ slowly blinked at her.

“…and I know that person just happens to know my password into my phone.”

“If you have something you want to say then just say it,” JJ spat.

“Did you trick her into seeing you?”

“So what if I had? Aren’t you the same one who was riding my ass about making things right?”

Kie pressed her lips together at that, tightening her arms over her chest.

“Well, Rafe is saying something happened to her after she talked to you. If he knew that it was really you who lured her out that night, he wouldn’t hesitate to find you. He already hates you, and you’re just giving him more reasons,” she sighed, running her hand through her hair. “…and why did you pretend you haven’t talked to her?”

“Because she’s made it clear she’s done with me, okay?”

Kie’s face fell at that, gaze sympathetic at the emotion in his voice.

“You messed up, JJ,” she softly told him. “When I thought this was just you being jealous and petty and childish, I was so mad, you know? You were acting like a kid who was losing his favorite toy, and it was ugly to witness.”

JJ’s gaze found the ground.

“…but then you said you were in love with her, and…I don’t know. As much as it sucked to hear, I just felt sorry for you. I feel really sorry for you, but you messed up, and you have to know that you might not be able to come back from this.”

JJ closed his eyes, thinking to himself if Kie only knew.

“I’m glad you tried to fix things, but…you can’t force her to forgive you.”

He swallowed, and he took another sip of beer, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“…and you didn’t see her with anyone else after you talked to her?”

“No,” he said, thinking that it wasn’t exactly a lie.

JJ could think of nothing but that night and how wrong it had all gone. He knew that once Rafe knew, it was over. From the moment you’d started dating the Kook, he’d had this feeling of dread that something would have to give. You were sweet, too sweet, and had foolishly thought there was room for both Rafe and JJ in your life, but both blondes knew otherwise. It was only a matter of time, really, and from the moment Rafe had seen him kissing you, JJ knew that he wanted him permanently out of your life as much as JJ wanted Rafe gone.

When Rafe found out what JJ did, the other guy was going to want to kill him, and JJ accepted that he felt the same. Rafe was your first, something that would always twist JJ up, but JJ fully intended to be your last by whatever means necessary.

They were at The Chateau when everything blew up.

They were sitting around the fire, drinking beers and hanging out, but it still felt so odd without you. JJ had become so accustomed to the feel of your arm brushing against his, your laugh in his ear at something he’d said. All of that was ruined now, and he still struggled with whether to put the blame on Rafe…or himself.

Everything had seemed, calm, too calm, and that was when Pope had brought up the party.

“Honestly, it was pretty lame,” he admitted. “…but then again, we only stayed about an hour because JJ got into it with some Kooks.”

Sarah had scrunched her face up at that, but JJ’s gaze slowly landed on Kie, a slight frown on her face.

“What? How come we’re just hearing about this?” she wondered, concern in her voice.

“I honestly forgot,” John B. commented. “It’s not like we saw it. When we ran into JJ, his face was all scratched up, and he was pretty over it.”

JJ watched Kie’s frown deepen, a thoughtful look on her face, and he felt his heart speed up in his chest. Kie had never mentioned to anyone else that you and JJ had met up at the party, trying to talk things out, and for that, he’d been grateful. Because JJ was sure that the same expression washing over Kie’s features would’ve taken over theirs too.

Her dark eyes met his, a troubled look in them, and he saw disbelief flit over her face just as the sound of speeding tires could be heard.

It drew all of their attention, and they all stood, warily watching a familiar black truck speed into John B.’s yard. JJ felt his jaw clench, and despite the fact that his life as he knew it was about to change, despite the fact that his friends were probably about to look at him like they didn’t even know him, JJ felt oddly…ready. He wasn’t sure why, but maybe it had something to do with the fact that no matter what happened tonight, it was either going to be JJ or Rafe, and JJ wouldn’t rest until Rafe was out of your life for good.

“What the hell are you doing?” Sarah called as Rafe threw the truck in park, hopping out.

Rafe looked like the Rafe they all knew, and nothing like the calm and loving boyfriend that had taken possession of him whenever he was with you. He strode towards them, lip curled over his teeth, and JJ didn’t have the heart to tell Sarah that Rafe wasn’t there for her.

“How’s it going?” he barely acknowledged them, his blue gaze immediately landing back on JJ. “JJ.”

He knew the greeting wasn’t genuine, any doubts long gone when Rafe reached behind his waist and pulled out a gun.

Sarah’s reaction was instant, a scream leaving her just as Kie screamed too. John B., the closest, was the first to go at Rafe, the brunette too close for Rafe to aim at him instead. When he pushed Rafe, the gun became unsteady, and JJ ducked just as the bullet hit John B.’s house instead.

Pope was helping John B. now, but Rafe only had eyes for JJ.

“Rafe, what the hell? Are you crazy?”

Between the two of them, they got the gun, but that didn’t stop Rafe from trying to get his hands on JJ.

“Me? You need to be looking at that snake you call a friend,” he spat, his finger aimed right at JJ.

“What is he talking about? What is happening, right now?” Pope wondered, voice panicked and shaking as he held the gun, now.

“Ask him.”

They all looked at JJ at Rafe’s words, and JJ scoffed.

“You sound crazy-.”

“I’m not leaving here until I know you’re fucking dead,” he hissed, attempting to get at him again, but stopped by Pope and John B. pushing against him. “…but I won’t be satisfied until they see you for exactly what you are. You’re going to tell them!”

“JJ, what is he talking about?” Sarah questioned, looking between them.

John B. and Pope were alternating between looking at him and keeping their eyes and hands on Rafe. Kie, though, Kie was the only one who seemed to have an idea of what Rafe was talking about. She looked at JJ as he glanced at her, and she slowly shook her head.

“What else did you and Y/N talk about at the party?”

At her words, Pope and John B. faltered, blinking and looking at JJ.

“What?” Sarah spoke for them.

“JJ wanted to go to the party so bad because he tricked Y/N into meeting him. She thought she was meeting me,” Kie whispered, tears in her eyes. “John B. said you had scratches all over your face.”

“Yeah,” Rafe breathed, voice cold and eyes blank. “Yeah, Y/N might’ve done that when you raped her…again.”

Time seemed to stand still once Rafe’s words reached the air, and JJ heard Sarah gasp, a soft ‘no’ escaping her. John B. and Pope’s eyes were wide, and in their shock, they had completely let Rafe go, and determined to kill JJ one way or another, the other blond tackled him to the ground. JJ was prepared for it, and his friends became background noise as he brought his fist straight across Rafe’s jaw.

#dark!jj maybank #dark!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #obx #outer banks fanfiction

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Carpe Noctem 16

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“Ma’am, I need you to get out and walk in a straight line for me,” Johnny opens your door with a grin on his face.

“What?” You hiss.

“You heard me. Standard check.”

“Why are you doing this?” You stare up at him.

“You’re not the one asking questions. Now get out and walk a fucking straight line before I drag you.”

You undo your seatbelt and get out. He doesn’t back up. You’re forced close to him as he crowds you against the car. He swings the door shut and points down the tarmac.

“Ten steps away and back.”

You obey, walking steadily while counting aloud, then turning and coming back. His smug expression irks you, more so it saddens you. You thought he loved you. All those years…

“Alright, now this time, I want you to touch your nose, back and forth,” he taunts, “tap with your finger, both hands.”

You cringe and turn your back to him. You take even paces, taping your nose first with your left, then your right, repeating it over and over until you’re back by your car. He snorts and taps his pen on his notepad.

“I think we should do a breathalyzer,” he glances over pointedly. You see Carol across the street, watching. Really?

“Can we just get this over with?” You whisper.

“What was that, ma’am?” He cups his ear, “you’re gonna have to speak up.” You frown and cross your arms. He tilts his head, “you getting defiant?”

You pull your arms apart and drop them straight. You lift your chin and stare at him. He directs you to follow him to his car. He has you stand by the hood as he goes inside to get the breathalyzer.

He brings it before your mouth and you put your lips around it. He tells you to blow, watching you with a sneer.

“Is that how you do it with him, hm? Getting sloppy all over his dick–”

You hear a car honk and another veers around. You glance over, popping your mouth off as the machine beeps. A door flings open as you recognise the car. You’re not so relieved to see Lloyd as he marches through traffic without a single concern for the residential traffic.

“Ey, Officer Fuckface,” he blusters over, only one button on his satin shirt buttoned, “you’re ruining date night.”

“Sir, go back to your car–”

“Sir, fuck off!” Lloyd retorts, “she’s over your limp dick. What do you want? You gonna smash her face in again? I’m sure resisting arrest is a fair story when you don’t have a dozen witnesses hanging around.”

His blunt words, the reminder of what Johnny did, makes you wince. He's so nonchalant it hurts as much as the memory.

“Sir,” Johnny puffs out his chest as he faces Lloyd and they come up close, “I said back up.”

“Make me, Officer Cum Sock.”

“You think I care about a slut?” Johnny growls.

“I think you get lonely without someone to tug you off for the thirsty seconds it takes you to drain those raisins you call balls,” Lloyd barks, “now I got a date. I’m due at six o’clock to blow a certain lady’s back out–”

Johnny doesn’t hold back. You feel the crack in Lloyd’s nose as Johnny suckers him. Lloyd recoils, covering his face with a hand as he snarls. Johnny pulls free his nightstick and you gasp. You latch onto his arm before he can swing at the other man.

Johnny tries to shake you off, knocking your head with the end of the club. You cry out and splay over the pavement. Dizzily you look up as Johnny staggers back. The men swing at each other. Lloyd deflects the night stick, grabbing onto it and twisting it free. He aims it at Johnny’s leg and knocks him on his ass.

You whine and try to crawl forward as Johnny shields himself. Lloyd lays another strike on his shoulder, then his forearm. Johnny cries out, grunting as he’s beat down by the angry man, satin fluttering in rage.

“Lloyd,” you get to your knees, regaining your senses, “please, stop, stop! You’re gonna kill him.”

“I fucking should,” Lloyd throws the night stick at Johnny so it bounces off his stomach.

“There’ll be more cops on their way,” you gulp.

“So the fuck what,” Lloyd nudges past you. You cling to his arm as you try to stop him. He wipes his face and spits blood onto the pavement as he bends over Johnny, “say hi to Fowler for me.”

“Fowler,” Johnny gurgles, his teeth red with blood.

“Have fun working the turf for life, scumbag,” Lloyd tries to shrug you off as you tug on him, “dollface, the men are talking.”

“You’ve done enough of that,” you turn and put your hand on his chest, “let me get you home. You’re bleeding all over.”

“What– huh?”

You reach up to touch his jaw as he looks down at you. You swipe your thumb over his mustache as the blood gushes down and stains the hair.

“Come on, you did good, let’s just go,” you plead gently, shaking, “I’ll get you cleaned up…” You try to look flirty but jitter instead, “so we can get dirty…”

You don’t sound convinced but he doesn’t seem to care and his lips curl, “oh, fuck yeah.”

“Alright, let’s go,” you pat his chest, “I’ll just go leave my car at the daycare, alright?”

His eyes are fiery with adrenaline. He peeks down at Johnny and you shake your head, saying his name firmly.

“I owe you, right?” You say, “can’t pay you back if you’re all messed up.”

He huffs and raises his hands. He takes a step on his heel. Johnny groans and coughs, “you’ll fuckin’ see–”

“Want more, baby dick?” Lloyd goes to charge at him and you insert yourself between them once more.

“Hey, hey,” you raise your voice, just a little, louder than you would ever dare. “I said get in your car,” you point at him, “if we’re not home by six, I’ll be too tired to…” you let your eyes trail down, unable to say the words out loud.

He follows your gaze, “you gonna… suck it?”

“Sure, please, just wait for me. In. The. Car.” You enunciate each word.

“What about this fuck?” He gestures to Johnny.

“Don’t think he’ll get up anytime soon,” you mutter, “go.”

“Hey, with that mouth on my mind, the weight of my balls is gonna throw me off too much to throw a good hook,” Lloyd cackles.

You give him a pointed look and he winks. He retreats and strides across the street, legs slightly apart as he ignores the car that beeps at him. You turn and look down at Johnny.

“I never cheated on you. Never would’ve,” you say softly, “I loved you, J.”

“Bullshit,” he spits.

You shrug and step over him. You can’t say your feelings for him are entirely gone, but you feel them dwindling. It’s clear to you now, he never cared as much for you as you did him.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the club #johnny storm #au #drabble #series #the gray man #fantastic four #carpe noctem

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husbandohunter · 7 months

Note

hello!! this is my first time requesting something ever so if i did something wrong im so sorry 😭

but i’d really like to request something with xiao where reader really wants to go to the festival with him but obviously he can’t/doesn’t want to so he rejects them :’) and reader ends up not going and just watches the fireworks alone from afar untilllll xiao comes and sits next to them and it’s just the two of them enjoying each other’s company 🙊🙊 and maybe like an angst to fluff/comfort typa moment

idk idk AHH if u aren’t comfy writing that it’s all good! this scenario just been stuck in my head for a while.

The Lights Bring me to my Qixin [Xiao x Reader]

Synopsis: He was hard to love, you were easy to love

Genre: angst/comfort, gender neutral reader, You fell first but Xiao fell harder and I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL!!

(A/n): tldr; Xiao needs to love himself 😤 also I'm so sorry it took this long anon. And you didn't do anything wrong! Thank you for sucha cute prompt :)

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

Xiao materializes himself on a bridge, a gust of wind fading beneath his feet. He doesn't move for a certain time, standing still as if he had no presence and just stares quietly. Only the moon was present tonight. No stars. A lone glow emitted right above where he remained and briefly he imagined, there was something melancholic about it. How the scenery made the lights in Liyue Harbor more apparent.

You would have loved to see this.

The adeptus recoils immediately and shakes away from those impending thoughts. No, he musn't dwell too much. He already made his decision. When you asked him to spend the lantern rite together, a voice inside his head acted before he even realized.

"No."

That was what he told you. It came out far more blunt than intended, followed by the poor choice of teleporting away. The pain on your face was something Xiao didn't want to think about. Because to him, you were like the city he gazed upon. Best admired from a distance. What affected the adeptus at the cost of what he wanted didn't matter.

His heart tightens. It's better this way.

"Why hello there! Care to join me for a drink this fine evening?"

Xiao spun around and saw Venti crouched on the handle while holding out a ceramic cup. Was he there the whole time or had his senses been dulled? It was hard to tell coming from an Archon.

Normally, he would refuse just as he would with anybody. But a part of him wanted to. Part of him wanted something that would help him take off his mind from those bothering emotions.

The two anemo users share a glass of rice wine pudding under the sky. Venti downs his fourth drink and Xiao glances at the watery reflection held by the glossy rim.

"If I recall, festivals are meant to be celebrated with wine and laughter. Maybe more of the former but it can't be complete without the other!" The bard cheers, his voice echoing around them, "Is the taste not to your liking?"

Xiao frowns, "No."

"No? Hmmm," Venti hums and taps his chin, "That's a shame. You were the second person who told me that."

As if he waited for Xiao to ask him who exactly, Venti proceeded to answer anyways, "As a travelling bard, I like to spread tales of heroic stories far and wide. Just so happened I landed a spot at the Teahouse yesterday. This good fellow sat in a corner, not even reacting to a single word I spoke, hmph!"

The teahouse? Wasn't that the place you always told him about? Repeating exaggerated stories about the mighty Yakshas who fought beside Rex Lapis during the Archon war?

"Ridiculous. Adepti cannot transform to anything but what they're already given. Mortal imagination are incomprehensible these days."

"Though you gotta admit, Bosacious with a serpent guardian sounds pretty cool...hold on, are you...laughing?"

"...Ridiculous."

"Did they say anything in particular?"

"Let me think, aha!" The bard snaps his fingers and looks upwards, "They said my interpretation of the story brought back good memories. That it reminded them of someone, which, they didn't tell me the name. But poor thing looked as if they were about to cry."

"...I see," he downs the drink in one gulp.

"Not even curious about who this mysterious person may be?" Venti insisted.

The adeptus huffs quietly and turns his head, "I have no recollection of such events. I must have mistakened them for someone else."

That's right. Whether you were happy or sad doesn't affect him in any way. Xiao knew where he stood. Karmic debt was a heavy burden to bear, it could be contagious and destructive if he wasn't too careful. Although you didn't like whenever he mentioned this, he truly believed that soon the curse will consume him completely. The yaksha's sole duty exists primarily for Liyue and to serve Rex Lapis whenever needed. Everything else becomes insignificant.

It's better this way. Xiao tells himself again. Mortal desires have no substance to him and neither does his own. I really don't care.

Settling down the glass, the adeptus walks toward the opposite direction, his back facing Venti away from the Harbor they watched.

"Leaving just when the celebration started? Someone's in a hurry," Venti chirped.

Xiao looks with downcasted eyes, stopping right at the edge. The trees rustle and a soft breeze picks up, brushing against his skin. It was colder now.

"Sorry," he breathes out, "Tonight, I just want to rest."

•••

You headed home through your usual route, sword in hand, except now there were no monsters to be dealt with.

How strange. Surely the landlord didn't suddenly commission members from the adventurer's guild, at least not regularly. It had been reoccuring for the past couple of days. Hilichurl masks sprawl across the field and whoever left this mess surely wasn't the type to play gently. Judging by how it looks, they were probably an aggressive fighter. A very powerful and aggressive fighter.

"Totally not complaining, though..." you mumbled, still perplex. It would be nice to know who did all this.

...

Xiao pierces the eye of a ruin guard and grunts as he retrieved his spear forcefully.

Just how many lives does he need to keep taking until he can finally rest? The question occasionally pops into his mind. Though seeing that he was fighting another day is proof enough. These hands were meant for war and destruction. Whatever comes near him, whatever he touches, would wither like a Qixin affected by poison.

When Rex Lapis appointed him, the adeptus said to be treated at his disposal. Xiao was a tool for battle. An extension of his blade and a mind equivalent to the vigor of any weapon. If he was ordered to throw his life away by facing the gods of Celestia, then there would be no hesitation.

But really, Xiao was more of a shield than a blade. He took every blow without complaining and did so for many years. Even if his achievements resulted in no glory, Xiao would remain in the shadows, exactly where he belongs. Just as you would one day come to hate him for hurting you that day, despise him for his silence, and see him as untrustworthy, Xiao would never leave his post. Because...that was his duty. The guardian yaksha.

Yes he'd rather had you hate him. Yes, he distanced himself without explanation and left things unsaid in more instances than one. Yes, it was better this way.

What am I even doing?

Regardless, in this year's lantern rite, he wanted you to enjoy the festival as you did the last. It was the least he could do. Xiao thought by eliminating the monsters that crowded your path would somehow alleviate the trouble he had caused. So he tosses blow after blow, harder than the last, trying to eradicate that pain and these unecessary emotions.

And right before the final strike, he stops. Within the adeptus a Qixin flower sprouted alone amongst the depths of his withered heart. Something that had already been planted during last year's lantern rite. Xiao made his decision. But he hesitated, unable to gather the strength and remove the thorn that bothered him incessantly.

"Adeptus Xiao."

The yaksha's breath races. Your voice. Thankfully he didn't sense any danger and concluded you made your way home safely. Did you eat yet? What were you doing out this late? Xiao waits and listens, once more, watching from a distance.

"Nevermind. I just missed saying your name, that's all."

The hard line of his mouth opens halfway as he tried not to make a single sound. He camaflouges himself among the trees, your back in his view while you hugged your knees close. Xiao leans against the bark, a shadow casting over his features.

He really shouldn't be here. An adeptus has no right to traverse into the realm he does not belong in. Xiao knows better than anyone exactly how the events will turn out between god and humanity. Like dark and light, made to balance the other, but too close would result in one's destruction, and the thought of that terrifies him to the core.

"I wonder if I said something wrong back then," you softly said, "He always did how much of a nag I could be. What if he...was fed up with everything I did...?"

Xiao caught his breath on hold, almost saying something he shouldn't. That's not true! Those words are clawing on his throat. You have no idea how hard it was for him to reject you over and over again. He pushed you away because he was afraid he would hurt you in more ways than one. Do you realize these feelings have been torturing him? Seeing you hurt, on the verge of tears, why can't you just understand that all he wanted was for you to be happy?

"I'm sorry. I had no idea that my actions affected you so much."

Yes. Yes they have, and he was forever grateful for it.

"Are you...happier though? If you're out there."

Silence passes through between the mortal and yaksha, accompanied by the chilly touch of a sky's breathly sigh. Bright rays thinned across the plains built upon Wuwang hills as the sun sets and around your small form. A golden reflection mirrored in the adpetus' eyes.

He could never.

You hear a thump and the sound of leaves falling down as Xiao unmounted himself from the branches. Seeing him was like a dream, you hardly believed it was real. The man wore an unreadable expression, often carrying the hard edge in every part of his features. However perhaps it was the sunset which hindered your perception. There was something different this time, something you haven't seen before and you were oblivious to.

"You called?"

Even until now the shock hasn't left you completely and you struggled on what to do next, "I did, but," still seated where you were previously, you dared not to blink, "Why are you here?"

Xiao casted his gaze to the side as if unable to look at you any longer, "I should be asking you that question. Didn't you want to see the lantern rite?"

What a silly statement. Of course you wanted to watch the lanterns, and most of all, with him by your side.

You stood up and dusted the grass of your sides, "It's not the same without you, Xiao."

"They're just lights," he dismisses.

"Yeah, now that you mention it, there really are just a bunch of floating lanterns," you shrugged your shoulders, "But not for me. When my siblings passed away, I thought nothing would ever be the same again. We used to make lanterns every year. I didn't have the courage to do them on my own because I just thought there was no point."

For the first time in a while, Xiao stays instead of leaving, "Is that so?"

The adeptus has observed the changes Liyue had gone through. If there is one thing in this world which can carve the core of every human, it was loss. He has known many who were victims to it or were the cause of each grief. An emotion that can warp a man, to something more darker, more distant.

"I was right. Things won't be the same," you parroted, yet grinning from ear to ear, "When we watched the festival with you last year, I realized just because you've lost something good doesn't necissarily mean you won't find it again."

"Don't ever change," his gaze on you was softer now.

"I didn't but you did," stomping up to him, you puffed out your cheeks with an angry look, "What has gotten into you? If I did something to upsetting, don't just get up and leave me hanging! Here I thought I made you so angry which caused you to he in a bad mood around everyone else."

"I-- I apologize..." Xiao nears himself to you, little by little, he examines your countenance, "It wasn't my intention."

"I was worried, you know?"

Although you were showing signs of relief, you continued to bring forth your hands and wipe away the tears building up at the corner of your eyes. What an emotional creature. His Qixin. While you slowly recovered, Xiao waits patiently, with every passing moment filling his withered heart. And then things became clear to him.

It was impossible for the adeptus to severe his bond with this human.

"You can be such a fool sometimes," you meekly stated, sniffling from the cold, "The worry you cause others. Always putting up a mask when you obviously don't want to."

"I know."

"And going off on your own without considering how they feel."

"I know."

He wasn't going to argue against your words and admittedly, well deserved. You let out a breath and the two of you stayed there in comfortable nothingness. No exchanges but the gap mended itself somehow. Xiao hadn't moved all that much even when you were in arm's reach. This man was always so careful and you knew he wouldn't hurt anyone out of his own selflessness.

You took a hold of both his hands and brought them to your face.

"What are you doing?" Xiao retorts, desperately, "You can't touch me."

The nudge indicates that he wanted to pull away, but when you squeezed them a little tighter, his tugs have grown weaker.

"You're saying they do nothing but kill and destroy," whispering, you closed your eyes and reveled in his warmth, "They're rough from years of use but so soft. I can't help think about those horrible things you said about yourself, weren't true at all."

Xiao feels as if he was being washed away in a current he couldn't control. It brings him from his own sense, watching you fondly speak of him with words he didn't think was very fitting. Not a single drop of urge from the adeptus wanted to remove your touch. Like water to the Qixin growing in his heart, a healing balm to his tattered soul, he revels in it.

"Stay with me," you whispered.

How could he refuse?

In the sky, a thousand lanterns lit up among the stars. Xiao wonders to himself, if it would be selfish for an adeptus to dwell in human feelings. The battles he fought over a milennia was enough to make him solidify his identity as a warrior. Yet the new emotions he have come across, Xiao doesn't know when he will ever have the courage to give it a name.

Time. He has plenty.

Whatever the future may bring, Xiao will accept it as long as he can see you flourish into the beautiful Qixin he'd come to cherish.

#genshin impact xiao #genshin impact #xiao x reader #xiao headcanons #xiao #genshin x reader #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin impact x reader #genshin scenarios #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact headcanons

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