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#reader fanfiction
mynewblackdress · 6 months
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Title: Puzzled
Pairing: Sanji x Reader
Summary: Due to your insecurities, you thought Sanji was making fun of you whenever he complimented you until you realized he wasn’t. | Genre: Fluff, some angst, hints of a troubled past| Warning: none | Words: 4.5K
You already felt nervous while sitting next to your new crew.
It wasn’t them. Well, maybe to some extent it was them as you had a hunch a secondhanded embarrassment would occur very soon in such a nice-looking place like the Baratie.
Your new crew were good people. If you didn’t believe it, you wouldn’t have left the security of your little merchant shop just because Luffy decided he liked your skills of calculations and the odd ability to seemingly fit everything that was needed into any small place imaginable.
Even if he didn’t take your no for an answer, you never really felt forced. At least not like how you did with your old crew, but you rarely liked to think about those times.
Then, before you knew it, you were checking the inventory on his ship —your new home.
Still, as good as Luffy, Zoro, Nami, and Usopp were, you did not believe for a second they wouldn’t cause some distress in the fancy establishment. Trouble always seemed to follow the bunch, and unfortunately or not, you were dragged along the ride.
Despite the fear of embarrassment, there was another reason why you were sweating bullets under your clothing and once again easily surrendering into your specific nervous habit, no doubt looking crazy or at least unstable.
In the open like this, surrounded by all these pirates and sailors, you dreaded seeing anyone from your old crew. The chances were high. Ever since you managed to leave, you had no idea what they were up to.
You would have gladly stayed under the deck just as you used to rather than stay in the security of the shop. Still, everyone told you to come with them, and if you didn’t want to burden them with the real reason why you didn’t want to join another pirate crew in the first place, you didn’t really have much of a choice.
I have to come up with a believable lie for next time, you told yourself, deciding a small lie would be better than enduring this as you not for the first time nervously looked around.
After another few tense moments, for you at least, you decided to use the restrooms and try to wash up a bit.
Your eyes scanned the place a dozen times before you found the courage to do so, somewhat confident no one who knew you from before was around.
You stood up from the table, mumbling about the restroom to the crew just as you noticed someone approach it and, in passing, heard a rather annoyed voice with a thick accent say something like, ‘Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant…’
Weird, you thought without looking back and hurried into the restroom.
The cold water helped at least a little bit, but you still took your time trying to calm yourself down.
No one was here. None of them would find you, and why would they? You reasoned with yourself. Whatever happened before was history, but deep inside, you always feared they would hold a grudge.
You returned in the midst of chaos as a small fight broke out between some of the customers.
Great, you thought to yourself grimly and waited it out, surprised when it seemed a waiter had defused the situation by beating both customers up without dropping any food in the process.
You weren’t much of a fighter unless you had something you could use to hit them over the head with, but even you were impressed by how skilled he seemed. Something about him caught your eye for a second before you carried on your journey back to your crew.
As the passage cleared, you tried to finally return to your table, only to slip on some spilled water and almost crash into the ground.
Before you did, however, you felt someone snatch your arm and tug you away from the hard floor and toward something solid and dark.
‘Careful now, madam,’ you heard a smooth accented voice above you while your face was pressed against the solid black fabric at an odd angle, ‘Wouldn’t want someone as precious as you to injure yourself.’
Your eyes blinked and leaned away from your salvation, trying to assess what was going on.
Once you did, you found yourself looking at someone with a fine black suit. Someone who was quick and strong enough to save you from falling, it seemed.
You managed to raise your eyes from his suit toward his face and immediately felt heat rush into your cheeks.
Something cracked in the air around you, and for a moment, you forgot where you were and everything else along with it while looking at the stranger.
Huh? You thought desperately as your breath caught inside your throat.
A very nonchalant smirk played across his lips, and the grey-blue eye that wasn’t covered by his blond hair seemed to hint amusement. Whether it was because of some form of endearment, simple amusement, or mockery, you didn’t know.
What you did know was that, based on everything you felt apart from the embarrassment and shock, you were sure your body reactions could only mean one thing.
This man was far too handsome for you to handle.
‘Oh Gods,’ you mumbled, feeling mortified that you almost fell like that. Feeling mortified that someone like him caught you. Feeling mortified that he was now looking at you.
You were never good with attention — much less attention from someone like this man in front of you.
Your heart speeded up, and you averted your gaze. You were also never good with direct eye contact, and despite how it might look, at the moment, you just couldn’t stand to be in the man’s presence any longer.
‘Thank you,’ you mumbled and tried to rush away quickly.
Only when you felt his hand slipping from your arm you realized he had been holding onto you all this time.
Why?
‘You’re very welcome, madam, but the apology is unnecessary,’ he said, causing you to stop before realizing what you were doing. You immediately realized he must have been the waiter who came to your table as you were leaving.
Hesitant, hoping your face didn’t reveal your blush, you looked back at him. You found him still looking at you with that playful smirk, ‘After all, who wouldn’t want to assist a beautiful woman such as yourself.’
Just like that, you snickered before you could stop yourself and felt whatever warm, if slightly embarrassing feeling this man sparked inside you to sour into annoyance and humiliation, ‘Right.’
You turned around and, feeling like an idiot, returned to your crew, debating if you shouldn’t just excuse yourself and leave.
‘I ordered for you,’ said Nami, and you nodded grateful, ‘That’s fine.’
You were right, and the waiter, Sanji, as you learned from Luffy, showed up at your table a couple of times.
You tried to be polite and purposely busied yourself with the menu or gave out short answers without meeting his eyes.
You didn’t like being rude, but you couldn’t really force yourself to look at him or be your usual nice self. Not when it was obvious the man was mocking you.
You weren’t naïve and had a good pair of eyes. You knew how you looked compared to others. You made your peace with that and, in certain ways, even found comfort in not having to fight off the attention of gross old men the way Nami and other striking, pretty women had to all the time. So, to have someone as handsome as Sanji show up and call you beautiful and stunning and like a dream every once in a while, when he showed up at the table, left you feeling completely miserable.
Why was he so cruel?
Why did he need to mock your appearance?
You just met and barely spoke to him. So did he really have to be that much of an asshole? You would still blush and feel embarrassed if he complimented your skills or work on the ship. Still, at least a part of you would accept that he was being sincere and that you truly did a good job, but your appearance was a tricky subject.
You felt humiliated every time Sanji showed up and commented at you, to the point you couldn’t look at anyone, not even your crew, or swallow another bite. That was the real tragedy because before your mood dropped so low, you thought the food was delicious. Luckily, your new captain had no problem finishing your plate so the food wouldn’t go to waste.
‘Was the food not to your liking, madam?’ asked the accented voice close by at one point while you desperately tried not to look anywhere else but at your hands, ‘It was good. Thank you.’
‘I understand,’ he said, and even if you made a point of not meeting his gaze, you knew he was smirking, ‘Perhaps you would enjoy something specific to please your unique palate.’
You winced at his words.
Was he insulting your body or calling you high maintenance or something? Your old crew would do that. They would wrap something up in a compliment or concern, trying to seem like they meant well, only to strike you down or make you look back in your captain’s eyes, and your captain…well, he never bothered with words when he could use his hands.
You got up from the table, mumbling you weren’t feeling too good, which wasn’t much of a lie since you now really did feel bad.
It was unclear to you what took over, but for a moment, you dared yourself to glance at the blond waiter, who was still present. Once you did, you wished you hadn’t because you found him looking directly at you with that smirk still playing across his handsome face and amusement radiating from his eyes.
Not only did he make you feel shitty about yourself, but he was smiling about it now?
It would have been kinder if he kicked you into the gut.
Needless to say, your first impression of the handsome man was not good, and you mentally hoped you would leave as soon as possible so you wouldn’t have to deal with him any more than this.
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Unfortunately, you discovered it wouldn’t be that simple when you and your crew brought Zoro’s unconscious and wounded body into Nami’s bed after his fight with Mihawk.  
It was the first time you properly looked at him, feeling your stomach sinking.
The bleeding was excessive, and a single look at his wounds was all you needed to be triggered back to the times with your old captain and crew. Deadly injuries were common when the captain’s temper got out of hand. It was why many resorted to snitching on others or making up rumors and such, if only to be labeled as valuable and loyal and avoid his wrath themselves. At times, you wondered if things would have been more bearable if your crew showed more solidarity with each other.
You blinked several times, trying to chase away the fog of vicious memories and return to the present time to your badly injured friend.
‘Baratie,’ your voice was weak when you spoke, and you watched Nami nod.
‘Luffy, we need to go,’ you said to your captain whose gaze never felt Zoro’s wound, ‘I’m not really in the mood for food, you guys,’ said Luffy, uncharacteristically quiet next to you.
‘To get a doctor!’ yelled Nami, and you merely shook your head and pulled at his wrist to drag him back toward the restaurant with you.
You weren’t thinking clearly when you found the head chef and the waiter in the kitchen. You weren’t certain what was said as you were still too shaken from the reality of Zoro being injured and the trauma from your past.
You vaguely recalled Luffy begging for their help while you rambled over what happened all too fast; you didn’t really make sense to yourself, let alone an outsider.
You didn’t notice Sanji approaching you. At least not until you felt a warm, solid palm against your shoulder blades and another against your cheek.
Your eyes got trapped by a pair of grey-blue ones while that accented voice you found all too soothing in that moment spoke, ‘It’s alright, sweetheart.’
His expression was oddly severe for once, but still not completely, ‘Breath with me.’
In a heartbeat, you obeyed, feeling grounded by the instruction that took your mind away from the distress, ‘Our friend is injured. Can you help us, please?’
‘At once, madam,’ said Sanji, and you were certain never in your entire life had anyone looked at you so gently as this man had at that moment while promising his help.
Swallowing, you nodded and allowed the man to lead you back to your ship and your injured crewmate.
It wasn’t until you noticed Usopp’s raised eyebrows and gaze at your side that you realized that somewhere along everything that happened, you or Sanji took hold of the other’s hand and remained that way until now.
With a rapidly beating heart, you gently shook your hand free from his hold, immediately mourning the absence of his touch and warmth, and pushed it into your pocket for comfort. It didn’t seem to help, though. Still, you forced yourself to be grateful and optimistic since, after all, right now, you brought someone who could help Zoro, and that was what mattered.
Your injured crewmate was your main focus, of course, but every once in a while, whenever your gaze met the blond’s, you found him looking at you with fondness and a smirk that seemed just soft enough to be a kind smile.
Sighing you offered him a small nod unsure if it meant there was some peace between you two or something else entirely.
For now, you let it rest.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After the head chef Zeff did all he could for Zoro, you took turns talking to your unconscious friend and maintaining the ship, but apart from that, there wasn’t much to do. The waiting was the worst of it. You left Nami to read to Zoro and went to find something to do. You often felt like morose by nature, but with everything going on, it all seemed even more depressing.
Even if there was no reason for him to stick around, you found Sanji in the ship’s kitchen when you went there to check the inventory. Something you only did to fill the time, as you had already done so just yesterday, ‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ he chuckled, stealing a glance at you with that typical smirk of his, ‘If anything, a little bit of company would be nice.’
You felt the familiar uneasiness inside your stomach, wondering if he would make fun of you again. Still, simultaneously, you recalled how he calmed you down when you came to ask for help and how sincere he seemed since.
There was also the story he told you all about how Zeff sacrificed his leg to save him, which forced you to excuse yourself and cry a little bit on your own, only for the man to call after you, mocking you again by acting all sweet and lovable.
Overall, you didn’t think you ever met a man who puzzled you as much as Sanji.
‘Please,’ he said, ‘I find it abnormal to have a kitchen all to myself.’
Biting your lower lip momentarily, you decided to enter, telling yourself you could pretend to be busy while checking the supplies.
Yet, you darted your eyes to his hands. They work for a moment before you move to gaze at his face. You were puzzled by this man. He seemed so focused, and in his element, you almost didn’t want to speak in fear to ruin his concertation and work.
Your gazes met, and once again, he offered you a little smirk. You couldn’t decide if he was secretly making fun of you, trying to trick you, or being genuine? But if so, why the games?
You rushed to the opposite side and turned your back to him while taking quick notes and counting.
You could clearly hear him cutting vegetables and stirring something occasionally, and yet, you felt his grey-blue eyes on you at all the time, too.
‘I have to say, I’m impressed,’ he said after a moment of tense silence.
You blinked, turning to find him with his back to you. Were you just imagining his gaze after all?
‘I find the number of supplies you manage to fit almost surreal,’ he chuckled and glanced at you.
You averted your eyes, feeling the familiar heat return to your face, ‘I’m just good at filling every little crack with something.’ At your old ship, if you didn’t find a way to fit all the supplies and things the captain wanted on the ship, you wouldn’t eat dinner or, worse, face his wrath.
He glanced at you again, and when you looked at him, you found him smiling, ‘Now you’re just selling yourself unfairly short, sweetheart.’
He turned his back to you and said, ‘If I’m not mistaken, you have to consider the number of people on board. How much will they eat or need for however many days you have until your next stop? Not to mention, consider the weight of everything on the ship.’
Your heart swelled with pride just as it had when Luffy pointed out how cool it was that you could do all that, like it was one of the best tricks he ever saw. Even if it was hard to accept the praise, it was nice to be appreciated. You never got such a treatment when you were with your old crew.
As you felt too self-aware to look at him and see his eyes after he made you feel so good about yourself, you chose to turn away, ‘Thank you. You’re… that’s nice of you to say.’
It was a nice thing to say, and you felt a bit guilty that you always thought of him so harshly.
When you suddenly felt him by your side, your eyes widened, and you swiftly turned to glance at him.
Too close, you thought as you felt his body heat against your skin, even through clothing.
He offered you another smirk. Oddly, no matter how many times he smirked at you, you never felt genuinely threatened or put off by it. They just left your heart beating too fast and your palms sweaty.
Sanji reached for one of the boxes in the cabin above your head, ‘Just being honest, madam. Cross my heart.’
Your heart might as well have been trying to jump out of your chest with how fast it was beating when he said that.
Cruel, you thought to yourself. No matter how he wrapped it, he was a really cruel man for doing all of this to you.
He offered you a single wink and returned back to his cooking while you decided to finish this later and ran out. You just felt too overwhelmed by this man at the moment to stick around longer, even if perhaps a tiny part of you wouldn’t have minded.
You still weren’t sure what to think about the blond, but when he praised your skills rather than your looks, you felt he might be sincere.
The fact remained that the man puzzled you. At times, he sounded like a genuinely nice enough man, even funny and pleasant to be around, but then he would start to compliment you and make you feel nervous. It wasn’t good when it was just the two. As much as you would prefer to avoid him, it seemed impossible. But by the gods of the sea, it got worse when others were around, and they could hear it all.
You just found yourself feeling too exposed and embarrassed. You didn’t like to be made fun of. And the only reason why you never tried to tell him it bothered you or stop talking to him was that, despite all of this, you didn’t wish to start anything. You wanted to keep the peace, and as long as his comments remained just comments, you would endure. You endured far worse, after all.
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It honestly took you a while to realize he wasn’t mocking you, or at least not doing so on purpose. Maybe you would have realized it sooner had you all not been dealing with Nami’s absence and the whole Arlong mess.
It wasn’t until you met with Nami’s sister, Nojiko, that it really hit you.
He was a flirt.
That was all to it.
He wasn’t mocking or singling you out; he just acted like this with every woman he met.
You felt a mixture of things. You were relieved that he wasn’t making fun of you, just being himself. Another part of you was even grateful that despite your apparent lacking in the traditional beauty department, he still treated you the same way as any of the number of the really beautiful women he encountered. You couldn’t recall the last time you were treated nicely in such a way. But of course, because of your insecurities, you couldn’t completely shake the feeling of embarrassment whenever he would call you beautiful or give you attention, mainly because even if he wasn’t making fun of you, you knew some might or worse people would think you actually thought all those things were true. You just didn’t like the attention. It made your flaws feel far too exposed.
‘Here, let me do that, so you can eat,’ you offered to fill the plates in his place. You already finished eating anyway, and you didn’t really like to sit around pointlessly.
‘Nonsense,’ he said, but it seemed he brightened up even more than he was before when you approached him, ‘It wouldn’t feel right to let a woman of your beauty to do all the work.’
You almost sighed, but now that you knew it wasn’t in bad taste, you forced yourself to grimace, ‘Then at least let me help you with the dishes?’
The blond chuckled and shook his head at you. He seemed genuinely amused with a hind of fondness when he spoke, ‘You certainly are hard working. Don’t you ever rest?’
You shrugged your shoulders before you quickly started to work on the pile of dishes the villager brought for cleaning during the celebration of the Straw Hat Crew’s victory.
‘Here,’ you heard Sanji behind you.
Before you could properly turn around, you watched a pair of hands put an apron around you, ‘Wouldn’t want you to ruin your clothes.’
You forced yourself to stay calm and offered the man a smile and a quiet thanks before you resumed your work on the dishes.
It was nice. Due to your personality, you never particularly liked crowds or a lot of people. But whenever you were forced to be around them or had a need for it, you always tried to gain an option to still find your personal solitude for a few moments or hours. Sometimes, when it happened, you felt lonely, but tonight, you couldn’t help but smile at how happy and festive everyone was around you. Their good mood affected your own.
Especially Nami’s. Watching her from time to time, you smile to yourself, knowing she was genuinely happy for her to have her freedom and name cleaned at last.
‘Our captain sure is something else,’ said the blond behind you, still serving out food.
You turned to see what he meant and smiled at Luffy goofing around with Usopp and some villagers.
You nodded, ‘He is. But given how pirate captains usually are, it’s a good thing.’
You resumed your work, and based on the number of times someone said thanks or Sanji chatted up some random woman, you assumed he did, too.
After a while, you heard him speak again, ‘Usopp said he’s not your first captain, though.’
‘Usopp talks a lot,’ you commented, feeling your stomach sinking and your nervous habit awakening just as it always had whenever you thought about your old life. Even on such a nice night like this one, with everyone so happy and carefree, your traumatizing past snuck up on you.
‘Ah, don’t do that, sweetheart. You’re hurting yourself, and such a pretty woman should never do so to herself,’ said the blond effortlessly, yet with a hint of concern.
You quickly stopped and tried to busy yourself with work again, ‘Sorry.’ You still felt nervous and knew if you weren’t busy and trying to actively fight it, you would easily succumb to the habit again.
You finished the last plate so far, and without anything else to do but anxiously wait.
Debating with yourself for a moment, you turned to watch the blond. Seeing the way he worked so focused, pleased with his work, himself, and skilled, you felt your heartbeat slow down. It seemed you found comfort in watching him.
He wasn’t looking at you, but you could tell he was aware you could see him.
It must have been the sense of peace he seemed to have brought you that you found your lips moving apart, ‘My first captain was not a good guy. Neither was anyone in my old crew.’
You regretted your words immediately. You didn’t speak about your old crew for a reason, and you honestly didn’t want to ruin everyone’s mood at the moment.
For a second, you noticed Sanji pause and look very much lost in his thoughts before he turned toward you. 
You were confused, especially when he reached for your hand, but nevertheless, you allowed him to take it.
Even if he must have been going for serious, he looked nothing but properly soft when he said, ‘I can assure you at least this cook plans to be nothing but good to you.’
It was just a bunch of words in a sentence, but when he said it and pressed a soft kiss against your palm, you couldn’t help but wonder if it was a personal vow to you. It sure sounded like one. Oddly enough, despite everything you’ve been through, even if just a tiny bit, you believed it. You believed him.
His eyes remained kind and face soft, and for one wildest moment, you almost found yourself wondering if he would do something else. Something more.
Then, however, out of the blue, someone loudly cleared their throat, and you jumped away, pulling your hand out of his.
‘If you two plan to slack off, you should let someone else handle this,’ you heard Zoro say and mentally cursed yourself while feeling your face heating up with embarrassment.
‘Don’t be jealous,’ you heard Sanji reply, ‘If you smiled every once in a while, and wasn’t such a pain in the ass, I’m positive we could find you someone to adore too.’
You didn’t dare to turn around and tried to appear busy with the new dishes someone brought you making sure not to look at the blond again no matter how often you felt his gaze on you-
Wait-
Someone to adore too?!
Koniec
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A.N: Hello, thank you for reading. English is not my first language, so I apologize for grammar and other mistakes. Have a lovely day. Stay safe. 
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shegatsby · 6 days
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Love Thy Enemy
Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.
A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)
Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.
Words; 1.520K
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Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’
‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.
When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s  voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.
Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.
Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.
Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.
There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.
‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.
 Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…
She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…
She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.
Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.
Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus
He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.
She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.
One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.
They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.
The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.
Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.
Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.
Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.
It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.
Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.
They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’
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bennyden · 2 months
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User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism
Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.
I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.
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First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism. 
I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it. 
On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).
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Not SFW content starts here. 
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Not SFW content over.
Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately. 
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“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.
“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.
My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:
If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.
If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.
In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now. 
And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did. 
After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping. 
Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.
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She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave. 
Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.
Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:
“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”
(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).
“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”
“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”
So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.
‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’
Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.
I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.
She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.
What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us. 
She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from. 
Thanks for reading.
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courtforshort15 · 1 year
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A Matter of Opinion
Pairing: Matt Murdock x femReader
Word Count: 2,800
Summary: A tale of disagreements, egging each other on, and a general disregard of the other’s opinion.
Trigger warning: So much fluff it might as well be cotton candy
Masterlist
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“So what you’re saying is…you don’t want to be with me anymore.”
From across the room, Foggy snorts.
The gloating smirk falls from Matt’s face, quickly replaced by a look of confusion. “What? That’s not at all–”
“That’s what you literally just said to my face.”
Matt scoffs, waving his hand in dismissive action. “I definitely didn’t say anything of the sort.”
“You told me you don’t trust my opinion, Matt,” you say with narrowed eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You stare him down, knowing that while he can’t see it, he can certainly feel it. With a mild look of alarm crossing his face, Matt leans back on his left foot as if the force of your stare actually unsettles his balance. 
He clears his throat. “Well, not when it comes to–”
“Ah ah ah,” you cut him off before he finishes his sentence. He rolls his shoulders, standing up straight, files of case notes at his fingertips from where he stands next to the table. Matt tilts his head, still looking incredibly confused. It takes everything in you to not walk out of the room and leave him to sweat it out. “You either trust it or you don’t.”
“Come on, you know that’s not at all how I meant it.”
“How are we jumping from not trusting you to not wanting to be with you?” he asks as his face shifts to one that’s a mix of incredulity and slight anxiety, voice growing steadily louder. He takes a small step forward, frowning when you take a step backwards.
“And if you don’t trust my opinion, then how can you trust me?”
“So you admit that you don’t trust me.”
“I didn’t say-”
“And if you don’t trust me, then why would you want to be with me?”
Matt groans and tosses his head back in a gesture of God help me. “Sweetheart–”
“Foggy,” you call to the other man in the room, not bothering to shift your head in his direction, eyes still locked on Matt’s tense form in front of you as you ignore the pet name. “Did you or did you not just hear Matthew say he doesn’t trust my opinion?”
Foggy snorts again, the sound of rustling paper sliding throughout the office as he picks up his folder. He doesn’t bother looking up as he shakes his head in amusement. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this.”
“Come on, Foggy,” Matt says, his tone bordering on exasperation. “You gonna let her tear me down this like this?”
“Not getting in the middle of it,” Foggy repeats with a wide grin that suggests he’s enjoying watching Matt be put on the spot. Foggy moves into your field of vision as he noisily slaps a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I love you, but she scares me. I’m playing Switzerland on this one.”
“I’ll get in the middle of it,” Karen cheerfully chirps from the conference room table as she picks up her own laptop and begins gathering her stuff to take back to her office. “I’m siding with your girlfriend on this one, Matt. You threw yourself under your own damn bus when you told her that you had better taste than her.”
Matt groans loudly as you send a bright smile her way, catching her wink and flashing one of your own. “Thanks, Karen. Your tab is on me tonight.”
“I did not say that,” Matt says as he runs an agitated hand through his dark hair. You bite your bottom lip in amusement, always secretly pleased at the way you’re able to rile him up, well aware that he’ll get you back at some point this evening. “You all know that I–”
You interrupt him with a smirk. “You said, and I quote, “Why would we go to that awful pizza place she likes when I have a much better option for us? You know I have a better sense of taste.””
One masculine and one feminine set of laughter match each other from the other side of the table, further fueled by the pained look on Matt’s face as his words are shot back at him. Karen and Foggy are helpless to stop the giggles at their friend’s misfortune. He flounders for a second as he flushes, and you briefly consider taking it easy on him.
“I didn’t mean it to sound that way,” Matt tells you, his tongue sliding out as he ran it over his lips, the telltale sign of anxiety. “I just thought that we should go to the restaurant off of 37th. I’ve walked by it quite a bit since it opened and it smells amazing. So much better than–”
All sympathy for the devil leeches out of you with a snap. “I dare you to finish that statement.”
“I’ve been to where she’s talking about, Matt,” Karen pipes back in. She finishes picking her stuff up from the table, curled blond hair sliding over her shoulders as she flashes a smile your way. “It’s pretty good.”
“No offense, Karen,” Matt says with a shake of his head, red lenses glinting from the office light, “but you’re not from New York, so you don’t know what good pizza is.”
Karen raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and you can’t help the cackle of glee that escapes your lips as Matt digs himself further into a hole. “You really want to go there, Matt? I think you’re sadly lacking in allies right now.”
“You chose her side, Karen. We’re not allies right now anyway.”
“Maybe not,” she says with a happy shrug of her shoulders, lips splitting her pretty face open in laughter. Her blue eyes glint in a sense of amusement that barely hides her sharp ability to tear a man down a few pegs. It’s one of your favorite things about her. She crosses the room with her laptop tucked in one arm, folders in the other hand. “But it doesn’t mean we’re enemies. Just take back what you said about her opinion on pizza places sucking.”
“She’s from Chicago!” Matt growls in frustration. “Of course it does.”
You throw your head back with a loud laugh, enjoying the look of your flustered boyfriend, finding the conversation too funny to even be offended. “New York doesn’t own the market on good pizza, Matthew. Why can’t you just–”
“There’s just something about Chicago pizza that isn’t right,” he cuts you off with a look that suggests aggravation. He shakes his head emphatically, hands on his hips. “The ingredients are wrong, the spices and sauces just don’t match together all that well. It’s a travesty.”
“You act like you know all there is to know about food and what things go together and what don’t.”
“I do!” Matt cries out as he suddenly throws his hands in the air. “I literally do. And even without my senses I’d know that nothing beats New York pizza.”
“So arrogant,” Karen quips. “Can’t bring yourself to admit that others simply have different tastes than you.”
“Karen, you eat your pizza with ranch. You really have no room to talk.”
“Pizza with ranch isn’t bad,” you throw in, sending Karen a wink as you shrug your shoulders in a display of casual nonchalance. “I’ve been known to enjoy it a time or two.”
Matt turns to the other man in the room, one hand gesturing towards his friend in frustration of being all but ganged up on. You can’t help but snort at the motion that seems entirely too desperate for the situation. “Foggy, back me up here.”
Foggy laughs loudly. It’s the kind of laugh that offers no pity or effort to console, just a laugh that tells the room that Matt is on his own. “No can do, my dear friend. I am an equal opportunist when it comes to pizza. A pizza connoisseur, if you will.”
“You all are crazy.”
“Says the man who only eats ice cream if it’s plain vanilla,” you say as you raise your eyebrows, watching the man. His mouth drops in a sharp sense of betrayal, as if you were giving away a private secret that no one else in the room is privy to, though you know both Foggy and Karen are completely aware of his extremely picky eating. 
“I eat sorbets, too,” he says defensively, hands back on his hips. From behind red lenses, you see his eyes narrow.
“Sorbet is not ice cream.”
Matt tilts his chin up. “It is a sweet and tasty treat that you put in a freezer and later eat with a spoon. It counts.”
“Ice cream is dairy based. Sorbet is fruit based. Big difference.”
“I’d hardly–”
“You’re so lucky you’re pretty, Matt,” you coo suddenly, taking a few steps in his direction and reaching up to touch his heated cheeks with the back of your fingers. “You had a late night last night, didn’t come to bed until three. I can tell you’re tired and not thinking straight. Maybe we should go home instead of going to dinner so my beautiful Matty can take a nap.”
“Isn’t this a form of gaslighting?” Foggy whispers to Karen in the background.
Matt gently pushes you away with a growl of annoyance even as his lips twist up in the beginning form of a smirk. “I’m fine. It’s not my fault your pizza sucks.”
“That’s super rude of you, Matthew. I hope you’re prepared to sleep on the couch tonight.”
The smirk falls. “Sweetheart–”
“You two fight like an old married couple,” Foggy interjects from the other side of the room, finally on his way out of the conference space, mouth tilted in a grin that doesn’t bother hiding her extreme amusement. “Just propose already.”
You flush, eyes wide as you give Foggy and Karen a look that’s both panicked and pointed. “We haven’t even talked about marriage yet–”
“Shut up, Foggy,” Matt hisses as you’re talking, a severe frown aimed at his friend. “You know the ring is still being sized, so I’m not–”
Your mouth clamps shut as his words hit you, effectively cutting off the rest of your response to Foggy and Karen, and Matt immediately freezes when he realizes what he’s said. The energy in the room abruptly shifts, silence sharply cutting through the laughter and teasing argument. You don’t turn to him just yet, instead letting your round eyes take in the hand that Karen had slapped over her mouth and the pale face of Foggy who clearly hadn’t expected Matt to respond the way he did. Between Karen’s shocked face and Foggy’s look of guilt, it’s enough to cause you to swallow sharply, goosebumps lighting up and down your skin.
Matt clears his throat softly, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice how tense his form has gone, his white dress shirt straining slightly at his shoulders as he holds himself stiffly. “Can you—can you give us some privacy?”
Foggy and Karen leave with jerky nods of their heads and exit the conference room without a word, though they both take multiple glances back. When they’re gone, you finally manage to turn your face back towards Matt’s, taking in the flushed skin and eyes that have suddenly lost their glasses. He doesn’t speak, though he opens his mouth and closes it a few times as if he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it. 
The silence is almost nerve-wracking, so you put an end to it.
“So…” you trail off, raising your eyebrows as you study him fondly, eyeing the way his hand twitches at his side, glasses held in a tight grip. “There’s a ring?”
Matt nods his head slowly, tongue poking out to run slighty over his bottom lip. His eyes flutter closed for a quick moment before he takes a deep breath and snaps them back open.  “Yes. There’s a ring.”
A wide smile blooms across your face, and you’re unable to reign in the joy that pulses through you. “Is there…a specific question that’ll go with that ring?” you ask as your hand reaches out to finger one of the buttons on his collared shirt, your tone teasing. The action is instinctive, one you often use to catch Matt’s attention and encourage to step forward closer, and it receives the same response as always. Matt’s lips shift into a soft smile, the one he so often gives you in these quieter, more intimate moments, and all at once, the nerves fall away.
“Of course there’s a question,” he responds with a brief nod of his head, the apprehension in his eyes shifting to something warm in his blank gaze. “Is there an answer that you might have?”
You tilt your head in consideration and pretend to ponder the question. Matt’s eyes blindly trail over your face, a barely noticeable hitch in his breath betraying a mind that, despite the small grin lighting up his face, is on edge in anticipation.  “Yes.”
Matt raises an eyebrow at your one-word answer. “Yes, as in there’s an answer? Or yes, as in…you’re saying yes?”
“What do you think it is?”
He tosses his head back with a groan. “Sweetheart, don’t play with me. What are you–”
“Y–”
“If I might interrupt for just a moment,” Foggy’s voice calls out from his office, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just cut off your answer to Matt’s question, leaving the two of you standing close to each other with Matt growling in annoyance under his breath even as your lips curve into an amused smile. “As best man, I’d like to offer the suggestion that pizza not be served at your wedding. And–”
The conference room door is quickly slammed shut in a brief flash of long blond hair as Karen opens her mouth to yell at the other man. “Shut the hell up, Foggy, before I cut your tongue off and make you mime your opening argument to the jury.”
Foggy makes a startled choking noise of horror before he manages to squeak out, “yes, ma’am.”
When Matt’s satisfied there will be no more interruptions, his head turns back towards yours from where he had been glaring daggers in Foggy’s general direction. A small smile tilts the corner of his mouth up as his body relaxes, no doubt having heard your mouth open with a yes before Foggy rudely had cut off the full word.
“You were saying?” he asks as he steps further into you and presses the heat of his body into yours until all you can feel is warmth.
You send him a teasing grin before it changes abruptly into a false frown. “You know, I actually just lost my train of thought,” you say in mock sadness. “What were we–”
“Holy mother of God,” he mutters under his breath. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”
“If you’re referring to our pizza argument, you’ll recall that I never dissed New York pizza the way you dissed Chicago pizza. You’re the one who—”
“Shut up,” he huffs in barely restrained amusement, reaching out to settle his hands on your shoulders in a failed attempt to change the tone of the conversation. Eventually he just gives in, eyes lighting up as he shakes his head. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”
“Technically, you haven’t actually asked any–”
“Marry me.”
“Honey, that’s still not a question. That’s a demand.”
Matt’s hands pull your face to his, angling your head up so that he can press his lips to yours as swiftly as possible before pulling away just as quickly. “Will.” Another kiss. “You.” A nip to your bottom lip. “Marry.” An open mouthed kiss as you giggle against his lips. “Me?”
You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out, Matt’s matching grin the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as he pulls away. It’s a question you don’t even have to consider the answer to, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease him for it. “Of course I will, but–”
Dark eyes widen drastically. “There’s a but?”
“Hush, Matthew. You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”
Matt gives you a frown that is far too exaggerated to be actually offended. “I can’t believe your answer to my marriage proposal was yes, but.”
You roll your eyes fondly as you reach out to tap his cheek in soothing matter that feels more like a teasing gesture. “Yes, I will marry you, but on one condition.”
He openly gapes for a second before he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Name it.”
“We ditch these losers and have our own naked pizza party at home.”
“I am NOT a loser!”
“Yes you are, Foggy.”
The smile on Matt’s face is nothing short of blinding, even as the other two object in the background. “I happily agree to these terms, but from the place I suggested.”
“You’re prepared to die on that hill, aren’t you?”
He laughs, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. “You gave your condition, I gave mine.”
“You drive a steep bargain, Counselor, but I accept.”
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hellsenthero · 2 months
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The Roommate Series | The Christmas Gift
Roommate!Bucky X Reader
This is a drabble series based on my life with my roommate.
MASTERLIST
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It was just before Christmas that you got a text from your roommate, Bucky.
'Hey, weird question for NO REASON'.
'What's your ring size?"
You laughed when the text came through, knowing exactly why he was asking. The two of you had been joking that you were practically a married couple living together, eating together, and shopping together. When Bucky first joked about it, you'd asked him,
If we're married, then where's my ring?
Don't worry about it. It's coming. Bucky had answered.
You thought he was full of it before, just going along with the joke. But now, you're not so sure.
You texted him back your ring size, a little smiley emoji next to it.
'Excellent, I'll do absolutely nothing with this info at all.'
You rolled your eyes at the text.
'As expected. Lol.' You texted back, but what you really meant was, sure, like I believe a word you say.
Come Christmas time, you found a bag, much bigger than what a ring would be in under your little tree. The bag was black and gold and you couldn't help but think it matched perfectly with his metal arm.
Bucky walked out of his room, dressed in loose fitted pajamas. He grabbed the bag from under the tree and sat down on the couch, beckoning you over. You happily sat by him, pulling your legs up and under you as you did so.
"For me?" You asked, nodding towards the bag.
"Of course," Bucky answered with a smile. He passed the bag to you, which was surprisingly light for the size of it. "Open it up."
With a large smile, you dug around the bag, grabbing hold of a small, black box. You eyed it for a moment before opening it up.
Inside the box sat a beautiful golden ring. A large oval gem at its center. In the low light of the morning, it glittered like fresh snow. On either side of the gem were small, triangular cut gems that pointed out in all three directions.
"You bastard," you breathed.
"I told you I'd get you a ring." Bucky answered.
"Yeah," you answered as you slipped the ring on your finger. "I guess you did."
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stirthewaters · 1 year
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Twenty Dollars
SUMMARY: Dared to make Wednesday flustered by Enid, you try your best to flirt with her, unaware of the fact that she knows far better how to break you instead.
WARNINGS: None, this is pretty much fluff.
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Nevermore in the afternoon is probably the favorite part of your day. Once school is over, you can hang out with your girlfriend and your friends, and typically even though you don't really do anything other than chat, it's pretty fun.
Unfortunately, your girlfriend, the Wednesday Addams, prefers to stay inside and maybe watch a movie or discuss philosophy rather than chat with your friend group.
So instead of hanging out with Enid and your friends in the quad, you're with Wednesday in Ophelia Hall, trying to get her flustered as part of a secret bet.
Earlier, Enid had bet twenty dollars that you couldn't make Wednesday flustered or blushy at all. Confident in your amazing skills as a girlfriend, you accepted, and now you're hanging around the raven haired girl as she types at her novel.
Clearly physical touch isn't her soft spot, since whenever you try to hold her hand, her expression doesn't change in the least. She hasn't blushed once in your relationship, so the bet you've accepted has started to become a personal goal.
"If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?"
"Are you a triangle? Cause you're acute!"
"Excuse me, but I think I dropped something. My JAW!"
The cheesy pickup lines you're currently smothering her with seem to do little to no damage as she frowns.
"If you say another nauseatingly cliche pickup line one more time, I'll tear my ears off as well as yours," Wednesday deadpans, not taking her eyes off of her typewriter.
"Hey, it's not my fault that you're so pretty," you shrug, smirking a bit. "Come over here so I can compliment you to your face."
Wednesday rolls her eyes.
"Your frivolous attempt at flirting is as transparent as the glass I'm considering cutting you with. If you're trying to fluster me, it won't work."
"I have no idea what you're talking about," you scoff, wrapping your arms around her neck gently. "Come on, admit it. My flirting skills are actually pretty decent."
"If by finding somewhat nauseatingly overused lines on the internet, then yes, you're somewhat above average," she turns to glare at you, which is clearly an awkward position since you're arms are wrapped around her neck. "Now take your arms away from me or I'll dislocate them."
Somewhat hurt, you pull away.
"Whatever," you sniff, folding your arms. "If you think that my flirting skills are trash then I'd like to see what you've got. From the way you're dismissing mine you must have some pretty nice ones, hmm?"
"Is that so?" she deadpans, eyes still fixed on the typewriter. "Or are you sure you're just not disappointed you can't ruffle my feathers?"
"No, I'm serious," you say, leaning against the desk so you can look her in the eye. "Surely the great Wednesday Addams isn't being a chicken?"
Wednesday pauses to look at you, her gaze challenging with only a hint of murderous intent. "Are you sure you want to go down that road, Y/N? Because if I make half the effort you do in flirting, you'll be wishing that you will physically incapable of blushing ever again."
You shrug. "I'm not seeing any effort, actually."
Wednesday stands, walking over to you. Even though she hasn't been your girlfriend for very long, she knows almost everything that can fluster you, from the slightest bit of physical touch to the right words that will make you blush. The observant Addams has carefully kept count of every single time that your cheeks have gone red or you've fidgeted with your shirt, without fail, and with a smirk, she knows that you'll be a mess after this is over.
"Is that so?" She murmurs, standing opposite you. She wraps a hand around your waist to pull you closer to her, staring you down.
Your breath hitches. It's as if she's been planning this. Realizing that this isn't a battle you're going to win, you curse under your breath, as she begins pressing all the right buttons.
"Because I think that in reality you're weak," she says, takin the other hand to tilt your chin upwards, forcing you to look her in the eye as her powerful gaze holds you captive. "And I know perfectly well how to break you."
Unable to speak, your breathing accelerates as she pulls you even closer, stroking your hair as she begins to smirk.
"And it's clear here that you've picked a fight you can't win." She whispers in your ear. Her hand on your jaw is sending goosebumps down your spine and it feels like you can feel everything there is to feel. You sputter a protest, but she shushes you with that same smirk she continues to wear; fully knowing of how much this is affecting you. Unable to pull away, she closes the small gap as she kisses you, eyes fluttering closed as she kisses you softly but firmly.
Heart pounding, your eyes widen as you hesitantly kiss her back until she pulls away. You're blushing now. Obviously. Your face is one whole shade of red.
"There it is. Now admit that I was right, and maybe I'll kiss you again," Wednesday says, a bit mischievously. Stammering and caught in her arms, you realize that clearly you've lost the bet at this point. With a small sigh of defeat, you lower your head.
"Y-you were right."
"Mhm. And don't ever forget it," she smirks again, cupping your face in her hand as she goes in for another kiss, using the other hand to accept the twenty dollars that Thing sneakily delivers from Enid.
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leezlelatch · 6 months
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Terzo x GN! Reader
A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!
~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.
The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week. 
You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document. 
Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them. 
“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration. 
The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold. 
He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little. 
Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye. 
You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored. 
Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated. 
You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story. 
“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner. 
Fuck it. 
You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat. 
“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs. 
“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”
“A ghost?” Penny frowns. 
“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?” 
“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.” 
The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.” 
He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night. 
As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die. 
You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?
I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon. 
Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off. 
Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection. 
His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation. 
The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare. 
“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. 
Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant. 
And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure. 
“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality. 
“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now. 
“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.” 
He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”
“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face. 
He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.” 
“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom. 
“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.” 
“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair. 
“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one. 
“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face. 
“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out. 
“It is more of a hobby than a profession.” 
“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.
“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly. 
“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring. 
His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then. 
“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in. 
“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks. 
“Are you preaching?” 
“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs. 
“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk. 
His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”
“Interesting,” you say slowly.
“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.” 
“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea. 
Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”
“Are you Italian?” You question. 
“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.
“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?” 
“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles. 
You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add. 
“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin. 
“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation. 
“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye. 
“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”
The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful. 
“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”
“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.” 
“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”
“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?” 
“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly. 
You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile. 
“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies. 
“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.” 
“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.” 
“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.” 
“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?” 
“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be. 
Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door. 
“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true. 
“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner. 
Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”
“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at. 
He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”
“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.” 
“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth. 
“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly. 
“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?” 
You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you. 
“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.” 
“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table. 
“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair. 
“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.
“Don’t sound so surprised.” 
“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?” 
“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes. 
“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?” 
“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little. 
“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.” 
“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?” 
“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff. 
“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”
“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. 
“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?” 
“Victor,” you answer immediately. 
Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.” 
“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”
“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature. 
“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke. 
Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”
“Go over well with whom?” 
“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”
“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks. 
“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features. 
“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes. 
“Do you like me?” He asks softly. 
The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra. 
“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.
“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.
“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”
“Frank Sinatra?” 
“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.” 
You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?” 
“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles. 
“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.
“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his. 
Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go. 
Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.” 
“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”
“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up. 
“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs. 
Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry. 
“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”
His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?” 
Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.” 
Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”
“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine. 
“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?” 
His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful. 
“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly. 
“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.” 
“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.
Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.” 
“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own. 
“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush. 
“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”
“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised. 
Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”
“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.” 
“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest. 
“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks. 
“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone. 
The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.” 
Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world. 
“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”
Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.” 
“I already told you that-” 
“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.” 
“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze. 
“Come and find out.”
Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone. 
“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises. 
“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily. 
“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully. 
Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy. 
When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter. 
“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?” 
Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons. 
“No, I don’t think I will.” 
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cleo-fox · 3 months
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Approved abbreviations are as follows:
YN = Your name
YLN = Your last name
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YCSWYPSWYDYPTYRDNTKTI = Your conception story which your parent shared with you despite your protestations that you really don’t need to know this information
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(* I debated whether to add this because saying it’s a joke kind of ruins the joke, but I’ve also been on tumblr dot com for more than 5 minutes and I want to mitigate the risk of some outraged person with dodgy reading comprehension taking this seriously and accusing me of crimes against fandom. My actual opinion: write what you want how you want, there are no rules, just tag your shit).
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Everything Stays
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Pairing: Rhysand x Sister!Reader
Warnings: this made me feel things 🥲, canon character death, war, trauma, grief, siblingxsibling, regret, guilt/shame, Rhysand's family have names in this fic, fingering, blame, sorry no happy ending 🙃, goes downhill very fast, so yeah be prepared for that, had a deep hunger for a big bowl of sadness
Words: 4857
Summary: You should have been there with your mother and sister. You should be dead
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"What are you doing here?!" Your mother's hiss would put a stop to any fun you and your brother were having. Really, it was rather dangerous for a young fae child like you to follow close behind your mother and brother as they traveled to the Illyrians mountains. The war camps weren't meant for little girls. If someone else had found you, they would have immediately clipped your wings before your father could get ahold of you.
Elowen usually had a gentle personality but when of her children dared to act stupidly, she wasn't afraid to show a bit of tough love. Especially toward her stubborn daughter. Little Isolde didn't mind being left back at father's court.
"Run!" Rhysand shrieks at you with a wild grin while Cassian hoots and hollers in support.
With a squeal, your wings start to flap; preparing your body to pick up wind. Only you're not fast enough for take off. Elowen grabs you by your ankle before you could really put distance between you and ground. Not like that would help you much. Your mother was a fast flyer.
"I tell you to stay home for a reason! You could've been killed following us!" Then she turns her attention to the two boys who were attempting to sneak away. "And you two! Both of you knew and let her? You're supposed to look after her."
"But I wasn't hurt!" You argue, trying to twist yourself out of your mother's grip. "I kept up with all of you without even being spotted!"
She's exasperated by you, you could see that on her face as she pinches at the bridge of her nose. "You willful girl."
You think she's upset or even worse, disappointed, until you watch her shoulders move as she chuckles softly. You may exhaust her, but you're constantly surprising her.
"As punishment, you have to stay by my side at all times when we're in the war camp. Understand?" Elowen chides but it was a fairly light sentence for you.
Smiling over at your brothers, they share your sentiment with their own large grins.
It was hard enough separating you from Rhysand to begin with, but since Cassian joined the family it was now near impossible to separate you from the two of them.
The three of you would not have carefree childhoods. Elowen knew this as she watches the three kids run around in the tall grass before Rhys and Cass were forced to go down to the base and train with the other young bloods.
Her eyes are glued particularly to you and Rhys who is fixing a weed that took the shape of a common flower into your hair. He's proven to be the sweetest brother through the years. First with you then with Isolde, but you had a special place in Rhys' heart. There was a depth to the relationship between the two of you that your mother couldn't quite place. If it were any other children, she would say that they might have had a crush on each other. That they were in love. Which to Elowen, looking at you and your brother, seemed obvious. Of course there's love between the two of you. You're siblings and strikingly close in age. However, sibling love wasn't it either.
"Mama!" your hands grasp at her arm, jerking to get her attention. Owlishly blinking, she gazes down at the roundness of your face. "Rhys and Cass says it's time for them to head to training. And you said I can't be away from you at the camps, so. . ." To make a point, you tug her toward where said boys were already heading down the mountain to where the Illyrian camp was.
Elowen breathes out a laugh and nods. She lets you continue to pull her along the path, her wings unfurling. You marvel at them. They were living testament to the grace and strength of your mother. You hope to one day have wings as beautiful as her's.
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The dress your mother made you for your coming of age ceremony was by far her best work yet. Isolde oo's and ah's at the glittering jewels that look like stars and the shining of the silver thread meticulously stitched into it. She's gentle with the way she touches the dress, as if it were a sacred garment.
You kneel down with her on the ground. "Mother really outdid herself this time, didn't she?"
Isolde nods enthusiastically. "I don't know how she does it. She's so fast with needle and thread." You saw the admiration in her eyes. Much like you did, Isolde adored your amazing mother. She'd been learning how to sew slowly, even embroidery similar to the fine details on your dress.
Lovingly, you play with one thick strand of her dark hair. Play with it and catch the undershades of it from the sunlight. Isolde had the darkest hair that it looked the darkest shade of blue. "Are you excited for tonight?"
Your younger sister snorts a laugh, something she'd picked up from you much to your father's dismay. "This party is for you. And you're asking me if I'm excited? Are you excited?"
Indifferent, you shrug. This would just be like the many other parties and balls put on through Prythian. Only difference was that it was dedicated to you. Honestly, you had more fun watching your siblings enjoy themselves. Especially when Rhysand would dance with Isolde and Elowen. Even cuter was Cassian stepping in to take her hand for his own dance.
"I guess I'm a little excited." You hum and stand back up to stretch your legs. "It's fun to watch all of the different courts mingle together. Looks weird how different each fae is from their respective court."
Isolde purses her lips, hands retracting from the gown as she gazes up at you with doleful eyes. "This party also means that father intends to find you a husband."
Yes, it was something both you and your siblings dreaded. The day your father would give you away to another important lord who would take you away from your family. Something Rhysand had brought up late last night when you'd snuck into his room. He knew it made grim pillow talk, but it was on both of your minds as your coming out ceremony. There would be nothing he could do to keep you in his arms. Not when your father was still the High Lord.
"Yeah. . . lets hope it'll take him a while to pick one out for me." You were still safe, at least for tonight. Tomorrow would be a different battle for you. "For now though, I'm free."
You don't like how your sister's expression is now heavy with sadness. For being younger than you, Isolde was already an inch taller than you were and easily wraps her arms around your neck to bring you into a hug. Your cheek brushes against the softness of her hair, inhaling the sweet jasmine that scented her tresses. Elowen once joked that the real parents to Isolde might as well have been you and Rhysand. Since your sister's birth, you and your brother did treat her like your baby. To the high faes, babies were more precious than any gold or gemstone and you and Rhysand treated her as such.
"I don't want you to ever get married." She whispers and you can't help the giggle that bubbles in your chest and past your lips. A sentiment she'd shared with you plenty times before. It was everyone's one major fear. Well, except for your father. He thought it was long past for you to be engaged. You'd heard him mention something about clipping your wings once. So that you wouldn't be able to fly away from your chosen spouse. Thankfully Elowen had quickly shut that down vehemently. No daughter of her's would have their wings clipped for as long as she lived.
"I know. I don't every want to get married either."
"Except for Rhysand?"
Sharply inhaling, you pull away from her to give her a stern look. "Isolde, we all know that's impossible. You shouldn't say those things out loud. What if someone else heard?"
"He'd be a good husband for you though! And that would mean you wouldn't have to ever leave us." she argues back.
She doesn't mean anything bad by it, but you couldn't risk anyone hearing your conversation. You lower your voice to a whisper. "He's my brother. No one in Prythian would allow it. Because. . . because siblings can't be mates. Can't marry each other."
Still not quite understanding, her lips fumble with more questions but you merely shake your head and pat her cheek.
"No more of this, Isolde. Please."
Hating to upset you, she closes her mouth and stiffly nods. Isolde murmurs out an apology but you dismiss it. There was nothing for her to apologize for.
You sigh and instruct her to start getting ready for the night's festivities. Ducking her head, she leaves you alone in your room to ruminate on your own dreary thoughts.
This truly was the beginning of the end for you.
Pleading with your own tears not to fall, you lean against a bedpost as it was the only source of support in that moment.
If only you were able to be with Rhys. To live out the rest of your days with him, happily ruling the Night Court together. If anyone knew of these thoughts you had, they would immediately condemn you. Marrying cousins was all fine and dandy, but immediate blood like siblings was another thing that was completely looked down upon both by the fae and human society. Rhysand would never be allowed to take over as High Lord and you would never be seen as a queen. Any children you had together. . . there'd be many cruel words slung at any children. In the courts, the lords regard you and your siblings as halflings due to your mother's Illyrian lineage.
Cassian was the only one worthy to know your secret, and apparently Isolde too to some extent, that you and Rhysand were actual mates. That rare connection which not many faes experience in their lifetime. Five years ago it finally snapped in place, confirming to your joy (and horror) that you and Rhysand were destined to be together in a intimate way. Rhysand was over the moon but understood the trouble that would come from this.
This was a secret difficult to keep hidden since you were official mates. Rhys would display the typical protectiveness of males when they're around their mate.
With stiff fingers, you lift up your hairbrush. You had to get ready too.
Through the whispers of your bond, you feel Rhysand's own trepidation.
Deep breaths, my love. Your mind attempts to soothe him, a hand to a cat's arching back. Rhysand's tendrils caress against that calming thought. You wish nothing more than to nuzzle against his conscious. Let Rhys sweep you up and take you back to the mountains. Back to the cabin that was filled with both wonderful memories and those splattered with blood. The only place where the both of you could be yourselves without discriminating stares.
You give yourself a once over when you finish putting on the last details of your outfit. A bundle of red poppies mixed with the dainty white dots of baby's breath are strewn in your hair. One who was savvy with the language of flowers would understand: poppies for 'I am not free' and baby's breath for 'everlasting love'. Your only flag of rebellion against the High Lord of the Night Court.
Outside in the hall, you already hear the faint sound of revelry vibrating from the main audience hall where drinks were freely flowing. A few sconces fixed to the corridor's walls cast a warm, orange glow that gave you a false sense of security. Instead of heading for the rest of the party, you turn the other way to where Rhys' rooms were. He probably wasn't ready yet. Your brother liked to be fashionably late to everything.
When you get to his door, you hear other voices from his side. The low, gravely chuckle of Cassian and Azriel's calming tenor. Being the typical snooping sister, you take a mini step forward, hold your breath and press your ear to his door.
"You have us. Tonight will be fine." Cass reassures his brother and you can practically image his broad grin that made his rugged features soften. "We won't let you do anything stupid."
That only causes your brother to groan. "You're the one who always encourages me to do stupid things!"
Az's laugh sounds incredibly close, in fact he probably already knew you were there on the other side eavesdropping thanks to his tattling shadows. "I'll be the one to make sure neither of you do anything stupid."
All three share another laugh. Your own smile curling on your lips made your cheeks hurt. How you loved your three idiots. Why couldn't the Cauldron have fated you to fall in love with Cassian or Azriel? It would make things easier for everyone.
I would not have it any other way. Rhys' voice rings in your head right before his bedroom door swings open.
You squeal and stumble backward but Rhys snags your waist and lifts you off of your feet to be unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder. "Put me down!!" The other two males playfully jeer at the little door mouse that was caught.
"Naughty girl!" He merely laughs and throws me onto his plush bed.
"You could have ruined my hair!" You glower at him once you finally manage to sit up. The three of them are giggling like school girls. You swat Rhysand's hand away when he tries to tuck a stray strand behind your ear.
"Ah don't worry. You still look drop dead gorgeous." Cassian grins. "Unfortunately for the males out there tonight. We fear Rhysand might claw out a few eyes."
"And it would serve them right for looking at his mate like that." You nod, supporting any and all eye gauging. That makes Cassian hoot a laugh.
Azriel chuckles as he goes to Cassian and throws an arm around the other's shoulder. "We'll wait for you two downstairs. Don't keep us waiting."
Their laughter was still audible, even with Rhys' bedroom door closed. Finally alone, Rhysand sinks beside you onto the bed. His fingers are soft as a brush against your cheek.
"You do look beautiful tonight." Rhysand murmurs in that sultry way that was an instantaneous knee shaker. "And I really fear I might attack any male that gazes at you with interest." The darkening tone of his voice tells you of what he wishes to do with you. His hand going to the back of your neck to press you closer to him was enough of a tipoff.
If you let him though. . . the other males at the party would be able to smell him all over you.
Choosing to be the responsible one, you pull away. "Rhys. You promised to be on your best behavior."
He just chuckles and pulls you toward him again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am behaving, sweetling." His cheek brushes against your's as he goes in to graze your neck with his sharp teeth. The roaming hands on you said otherwise. Rhysand cupped your ass, nearly lifting you off the floor with his strength. "You, however, are not behaving. I can smell your needy pussy."
Your breath catches in your throat when he turns you around and bends you over his bed. You want to fight him off, really you do, but the moment he pushes the skirts of your dress up you knew you were a goner. You'd let him do whatever he wanted.
"Just a taste, sweet girl." Rhysand separates your thighs to reveal your glistening lower lips. He dips two fingers in you. Your fingers grip at the bed sheets while you smother your face to keep all moans inaudible. Hips betray you when you find yourself grinding against his fingers. The obscene squelching noise from Rhys pumping his fingers in and out of you has your whole body shivering.
Rhysand knew your body better than anyone else. Knew how to make you come undone with just a few strokes and rolling of your clit. Your pussy walls clench around his fingers, restricting their movements or trying to. Rhys was relentless, grinning at your pitiful cries, muffled by the blankets you smother your face with.
Pulling his fingers out as you finish riding out your orgasm, Rhysand licks away the milky cream that coated his fingers. You wonder how he plans on hiding his erection. It was obvious as it strained against the dark fabric of his trousers making a visible tent.
Nonchalantly, Rhysand helps you to stand after cleaning you up a little with a discarded shirt of his. "Alright. Now we're ready."
You gawk at him, your cheeks still flushed. "You're not ready! Look at your dick! Poor thing is straining in your pants."
He loudly laughs and reaches down into his pants to readjust his cock. Settling it against the band of his pants. "There. Better?"
"Not really since the others are going to-" Your brother cuts you off with a heated kiss.
"Stop fretting, sweetling. This evening is supposed to be fun right?" Rhys smiles, tucking a few strands of your hair back into place. He appraises your face by tilting it ever so gently to make sure nothing else was out of place. With a satisfied smile, Rhysand's hand falls to hold your's. "Lets go show everyone my beautiful girl."
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Perhaps Rhysand did too well of a job in showing off his goddess-like sister because now all male eyes were glued to you. Hungry eyes that were starting to tick off your brother the longer he was by your side.
Eventually Azriel and Cassian pull him away, saying that they should get some drinks while you mingled.
You weren't alone for too long though. The High Lord of the Night Court takes Rhysand's place. He steers you toward his influential friends and fellow High Lords. Particularly the gold haired members of the Spring Court.
Cordially smiling, you play along. All the while you can feel Rhysand's eyes watching your every movement. His thoughts flowing freely to you. His jealous snarls when Tamlin dares to ask you for a dance has you giggling.
He was a good dancer, you'd give him that. Excellent on his feet. Easy on the eyes too (that musing had Rhys fuming).
As Tamlin twirls you around, you happen to catch your father and Tamlin's speaking to one another while casting glances over at the two of you.
You didn't like the way they conspiringly whisper to one another.
And neither did Rhysand as he and his brothers linger closely to eavesdrop. There was a slim chance that your father would betroth you to Tamlin, the youngest of the Spring Lord's sons. Ideally your father would want the eldest son, Pryr.
When the dance ends, you pull from Tamlin with a smile though he seems reluctant to release your waist. "Thank you for the wonderful dance, Tamlin."
"If you're up to it, I'd be more than happy to be your partner for the next." Tamlin proposes.
Not likely, Tam. You hear Rhysand hiss through your bond.
And on perfect cue, Isolde bounces between you and Tamlin. She beams up at you with those pretty amethyst eyes and gives you a quick wink. "Wow Tamlin! You were amazing! Can I be your partner for the next dance?"
You see he's prepared to say no but was struggling to phrase it as nicely as he could. "That's a wonderful idea, Isolde! A talent like Tamlin's should be shared." You turn expectantly to Tamlin. "You'll take care of her, right?"
"But-"
"Of course he will!" Isolde snatches Tamlin's hand and pulls him back to the dance floor.
You definitely had the best sister ever.
You flee to where your three Bat Boys were standing before Tamlin could realize what had just happened. Cassian is trying to hide his laugh.
"I don't think you could've gotten out of there faster than you did. Thought I saw your wings carrying you." Cass chuckles and hands you a glass filled with rose flavored alcohol. You lean along the wall with them, between Rhysand and Azriel, as you watch the rest of the partygoers. Tamlin's older brothers were stuck to their father as usual. The perfect sons. Observing as the High Lord of Spring murmurs to his oldest son. Pryr's eyes suddenly lock onto your's.
Quickly you avert your gaze and go to drinking from your glass.
Rhys doesn't miss it either.
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Sweet days with your siblings were over and any thoughts of your engagement were set aside. War was battering the world at all angles that didn't leave you and your family exempt. A battering of wings against slings of arrows and offensive magic alike. You saw bodies fall from the sky. The dry dirt soaking up the still warm blood of comrades. You'll never get that smell out of your head for as long as you live. Nor the fear that seized you when you cared for a wounded Rhysand, Cassian or Azriel. Your fingers ached from the long hours you were forced to brandish your blade against oncoming enemies of Hybern.
You saw your mother and sister less and less. Your father raged that you should also be left behind with them. Being a female and all. There was no way that you were leaving Rhys' side. The High Lord of the Night Court really should have clipped your wings when he could. Constantly disobeying him thanks to the ability to fly, you followed the war camps much to his displeasure. He couldn't keep you away.
Rhysand himself tried a few times to talk you out of fighting alongside him. The hardening of your eyes was enough to shut Rhysand up and accept the fact that there was no getting rid of you. If it meant you could potentially die next to him, so be it. A death with Rhysand didn't sound so bad to you.
The four of you persevered though. Hybern was all but defeated. There were still a few lingering troops left in Prythian but nothing your army couldn't handle. It was the end of the road for them.
"Mother and Isolde will be in the southern Illyrian camp." You grip the small note in your hand, smiling. You hadn't seen them in months.
Rhysand pats his lap and you flutter over to him, perching yourself on his strong thighs. His elegant hand takes the note from you and examines it. "I don't think we'll be able to get there until tomorrow. There's still so much to be done here."
The tip of your cold nose finds warmth against Rhysand's neck. He puffs out a laugh from the contact and wraps his arm around you to offer you extra heat. "I'll have someone take over our own missive to let them know." Your fingers toy with the deep dip of Rhysand's collarbone. His eyes flicker as he uses his to reach out to someone through his daemati skill to have them pass it along to his mother and sister.
He's practically purring at your merest touch, his needy hands softly groping you.
You giggle and shake your hand. "Rhys. You said so yourself. We're quite busy." You were never one to deny your brother anything, but there were more important tasks to attend to than letting him rail you in his tent.
Dramatically, Rhysand throws his head back and sighs; hands reluctantly release you but not before he gave your ass a little smack. "As always you're right. Do you know how annoying that is?"
Chuckling you hold your hand out to him. "Come on. I want to finish up so we can see mom and Izzy bright and early."
The following morning you make your sleepy way to the river to refill your canteen.
Bobbing in the gentle waters were odd boxes.
Quizzically, you flick your hand to send your magic to fish them out. Once placed in front of your feet, you kneel to the ground and examine it. Doesn't look like anything out of the ordinary. But it's presence here in the mountains made you grab a knife to flip open one of the lids with the blade. Cautious.
Large, void amethyst eyes stare up at you.
The horrific sound of your screaming shattered the once quiet mountain. Earth shaking under you as you hold up Isolde's severed head, both hands clutching at her cold and stiff cheeks.
You just couldn't stop wailing.
Couldn't bring yourself to open the other box.
Even when tears cloud your vision, you can still make out the blurry features that had once been flush with life and love. Your screams were of utter pain, pure and guttural that were ripped so viciously from you.
You didn't notice the others crowding around you.
Didn't recognize your brother's hands or Azriel's scarred ones that hurriedly fly over your eyes. Someone removes Isolde's head from your grip.
You understand your body was moving. That someone was trying to quiet you with soft, tender words. Anything that would beckon you from your hysteria.
"We need to do something!" Cass' voice is so far away.
There's more screaming but you don't know if the voice voice still belonged to you. Didn't have the chance to find out before you black out.
Even when you come to, you're still in shock; unable to comprehend the savagery.
You'd been out for only a short amount of time but it was enough for you to have been moved to a bed. Did Rhys winnow you to the cabin?
The last person you were expecting to be in the room with you was the furious High Lord, your father, Rhain. When he registers that your eyes are open, awake, his stride is fast and soon he grabs the front of your shirt despite shouting coming from the healers.
"YOU."
Your lips dumbly part, words fail you as you attempt to weakly lift your arms to push him off of you.
But Lord Rhain gives you a good shake that rattles your brain in your skull. "You should have been with them." He kept shaking you. His words were hard to decipher as his speech became more growling than vocabulary.
"Let go of her!"
"She should be dead too!" You'd never seen such an expression on anyone's face. Not when you were killing others in the war. Rhain's features were twisted between the features of fae and monster.
Cassian and Azriel struggle to hold back the Night Court's High Lord. Especially in the state that he was in right now.
Rhysand trusts the two at his back to handle Rhain while he tends to you. "It's okay- Did he hurt you? Look at me, please."
Your eyes rapidly flutter, no dam was strong enough to stop the large tears that build over your eyelashes and drip down your cheeks. "I- What happened was real then. . ." You can't look at him. His eyes painfully remind you. . .
A sob is caught in your throat as your chest heaves. You turn your face to the side.
"The Spring Court did it." Rhysand hisses and grips your hands tightly in his. His warmth felt painful, like they would leave blisters to your ice cold hands. He repeats your name when your gaze wanders to Rhain still putting up a fight against the burly arms of your adoptive brothers. "Please look at me. My love, my heart, please look at me."
Lips quivering, you shake your head. "I can't. I can't. Your eyes-" You gulp down air as grief reaches high up into you and squeezes your heart. "Isolde- Isolde-"
"That's right! If you had been with them-" Your father's words were cut off by Rhysand's commandeering voice.
"Get him out of here!"
The bobbing heads of others gather at the door to assist the general and spy master.
Could. . . could you have prevented their deaths?
"Don't listen to him." Rhysand immediately reads that echoing voice. "None of this is your fault."
You'd just wanted so desperately to remain by Rhysand's side. Being away from him, well, you'd never accomplished being away from him except for when he went through the Blood Rite. You hadn't slept the entire time he and the others were fighting for their lives.
W-was this retribution for your abnormal relationship with your brother?
A ragged sob has you curling into yourself.
There was truth to Rhain's words.
"(y/n)." Rhys near pleading in tone. Through the telepathic bonds mates were graced with, you hear his actual begging.
Please look at me.
Don't believe our father.
(y/n).
Please.
I love you.
All Rhysand saw rolling in your mind was the image of Isolde's head in your trembling hands.
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toboldlygohome · 2 months
Text
Pining
Leonard McCoy x Reader
Summary: Leonard has it bad for you and doesn't know what to do about it. All he knows is that this little crush is getting out of hand.
Character(s): Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James "Jim" Kirk, Spock, Nyota Uhura, Pavel Chekov,
Warning(s): Wounds, Cursing, Slight Angst (Don't worry, there's fluff at the end)
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"Bones.... Bones.... Bones?...............Bones!"
Leonard snapped back to reality and returned his focus to the conversation he was having...well...supposed to be having.
"Seriously Bones, what's with you lately?" Jim raised an eyebrow.
"What are you going on about?" Bones scoffed.
"I've been trying to discuss this report with you and you're not even remotely paying attention to me."
"I'm paying attention!"
"Really? Cause it looked like you were staring at Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N." Kirk crossed his arms.
"No I was not," Leonard frowned.
"Were too!"
"Was not!"
"Were t-" Jim was cut off by Uhura turning around in her seat.
"Boys, seriously. You bicker like an old married couple. Some of us actually have work to do." She scolded.
Leonard sighed and shook his head. "Look Jim, I was just spacing out. That's. All."
"Yeah, spacing out while your eyes are burning holes into Y/N's back. Sounds an awful lot like staring." Jim laughed
Leonard's eyes darted over to you as you patted Chekov on the back, said goodbye to him and Sulu, and made your way out of the bridge. When he turned back, he found three pairs of eyes watching him with amusement.
"Oh what now?" Leonard put his hand on his hips. "Seriously, do you all have nothing better to do with your time than speculate on where my attention's at?"
"There is no need to speculate doctor, you have your sights set on Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N. It is perfectly natural, there is no need for you to feel ashamed," Spock said.
"I'm NOT ashamed! I'm a doctor, not some giddy little schoolboy with a crush," Leonard defended.
"Hey, no one ever said anything about a crush. We just said you have a staring problem," Jim laughed.
Leonard sputtered for some sort of comeback. Some way to deny any validity to the things they were saying. But the truth is that they caught him in a lie. He was staring. Bones had been watching as you talked animatedly to Chekov about an experiment you were doing in the botany labs. Leonard imagined it was him you were talking to, him you were laughing with. Just the thought of it made his stomach churn in a mixture of delight and grief.
"Aaaaand now we've lost him," Jim snickered, interrupting his thoughts again.
"Really doctor, it's not that big of a deal. We've all been in your predicament before...well... maybe not all of us." Uhura glanced at Kirk playfully, who shrugged in response. "Y/L/N is a great scientist, and an even greater friend-"
"Yes yes and very beautiful, with eyes like stars!" Chekov added, "Y/N has many admirers, you are not the only one."
"Chekov?" Bones asked
"Yes sir?"
"Stop talking."
"Yes sir." Chekov turned back to his screen.
"Look, Bones you don't have to admit it just yet. You have that whole brooding cowboy doctor thing going on, I get it! Just don't let it get in the way of your happiness," Jim reasoned.
"You are all delusional! Now are you all going to continue turning me into a spectacle, or can we get back to this mission report?" Leonard demanded.
"Whatever the doctor orders. Try to listen this time will ya?" Kirk teased.
~~~
Leonard was noticing it more and more. How his eyes searched for you every dinner, every meeting, in the hallways, even in the medbay. And once his eyes found you, they rarely strayed too far.
When you weren't around him, his thoughts always drifted back to you. How nice your hair looked, how fascinating your last report was, how enchanting your voice is, ...how soft your lips look. It was all getting out of hand. He was regularly staying later to finish paperwork because he was too lost in his own head.
Leonard was having one of those moments where his mind was far away, musing about you. He was so spaced out, he nearly didn't notice the tap on his shoulder.
When he turned around and saw you standing there smiling shyly at him, his heart nearly went up into his throat.
"Lieutenant-Commander, what can I do for you?" Leonard asked, finding a smile of his own.
"Can you take a look at my hand please?" You asked, holding one of your hands closed. Leonard noticed some red peeking from between your fingers.
"Oh boy, what did you do this time?" Bones asked as he led you to sit on one of the biobeds.
"You know those plants I picked up from Lainatha?" You asked
"The ones with the purple flowers that smell like a dead body?" He asked as he grabbed his kit.
"Mhm!"
"What about em?"
"They have VERY sharp leaves," You laughed.
Leonard shook his head and groaned, "Let me take a look."
You winced as you slowly opened your hand, revealing a cut that spanned the length of your palm.
Leonard lightly cradled the back of your hand as he inspected the minor wound. "Damn darlin' those leaves must be mighty sharp to nick you this deep." He murmured. "this plant ain't poisonous, right?"
"Not that I've found, doctor." You laughed. His ears welcomed the sound. He felt his cheeks warm as he admired you. When you laughed or smiled, it was contagious. Even to him.
"Leonard?" You asked gently, breaking from his daze once more.
"Sorry, just thinking that um... We're gonna want to keep an eye on this, just in case you have some unexpected reaction," He returned his focus to your hand. "I'm gonna clean this up, put some bandages on it and give you something to speed up the healing process," Bones explained.
He went straight to work on your palm, handling it as carefully as possible. Luckily it didn't need stitches. He bandaged it nice and tight before giving you a couple hypos to prevent pain and infection.
"I expect to see you here at least once a day, so I can see the progress and monitor for allergies or poison," Leonard instructed.
"Do you always worry this much?" You giggled.
"Only about my favorite patients," he said without thinking. Perhaps it was just a figment of his imagination, but he could have swore you were blushing. Impossible! You? Blush at him?
'In my dreams,' Bones thought.
"I promise I'll stop by," You said sweetly.
"You better. If I don't see you in here by the end of my shift tomorrow, I'm coming after you." He teased accusingly.
"I'm counting on it," You...did you just... wink at him? "Thanks for the help Bones, I'll see you tomorrow!" You lightly patted his shoulder with your uninjured hand and hurried back to your lab.
Leonard slumped in his seat and contemplated the mess of feelings he was experiencing. He wasn't sure if he was ready to love someone again. He wasn't even sure if he knew how to love anymore, but he was sure of one thing. You had him wrapped around your finger and you didn't even know it.
~~~
The next day, Leonard strove to keep his mind on work. When his thoughts drifted to you, he would immediately turn his attention to the task at hand. It worked for awhile, but toward the end of his shift he realized he had not seen you all day. You had promised to come in so he could take a look at your cut again, but of course you were nowhere to be seen.
Leonard asked around the medbay, but no one had seen you except for one nurse who claimed you were still in the botany lab. "That's just typical," Bones grumbled, grabbing his kit. "I'm always running around, gathering these officers like a cat chasing chickens."
The moment he stepped into the lab, he couldn't find it in his heart to be mad at you. You were totally engrossed in your work, testing the ph levels in some alien soil.
"How are the tests coming along, Lieutenant-Commander?" Leonard smirked.
You beamed at him, "wonderfully! I'm learning so many new things, it's crazy. I-" Your face fell. "Oh no! Forgot to meet with you! I'm so sorry Leonard," you hurriedly put down your soil container and made your way over to him.
"Yeah yeah you're so sorry, whatever. " He teased. "Get over here so I can see that hand."
The inspection went just fine. Your hand was healing nicely and there was no sign of infection or allergic reaction. He changed the bandages and gave you something for the pain.
"All finished. I still want to observe it, just to make sure it heals nicely... And wear gloves from now on! I don't want to have to keep chasing you around for injuries like this." Leonard quipped.
"Yes sir," you giggled, "I won't forget to come in next time."
"I'll believe it when I see it," he closed his medical bag.
"I mean it! i'm almost done testing all the samples, so I should have ample time for remembering... at least until we visit another unexplored planet." You shrugged playfully.
"Then you'll find some new plant to creatively injure yourself with. Razor sharp leaves... give me a break," Leonard ran his fingers through his hair.
"Oh! that reminds me, I have something to show you. Come on!" You nudged him with your leg and stood up, striding over to the 'plant nursery' as you so lovingly called it. Leonard grinned at your enthusiasm and followed.
"You're sure none of these are poisonous?" He asked
"We don't keep the poisonous ones here, silly."
"But you do have them?"
"What's your obsession with poisonous and allergy educing plants?"
"I wouldn't call it an obsession, a mild concern maybe," Leonard smirked.
"I'm not gonna poison you doctor, I want to show you this!" You proudly presented him with a somewhat unassuming plant. It had a black stem with thorns on it, as well as wide black leaves. On top was a bulb; the kind that usually holds flowers inside. He couldn't for the life of him understand what was so interesting about it, but he was sure he was about to find out if that dazzling smile on your face was any indication.
He loved when you ranted about your work. The joy in your voice was infectious, your ramblings were so passionate, and he always learned something new. He would listen to you talk all day if he could.
"What is it?" he raised an eyebrow at the plant and bit back a smile.
"Don't sound so unimpressed Len, this little guy is one of my favorite plants to date." You crossed your arms. "I found him during our exploration of Conate Ultima-A." Leonard nearly melted when you called the plant a 'little guy.'
"The planet orbiting the red dwarf star?" Leonard clarified.
"Mhm! he's black all over because black absorbs all available wavelengths of light. That's important for a plant feeding off such a dim star like Conate Ultima. He has these big leaves, you see." You lightly touched one of the leaves. "That's also for absorbing light. Not only that, but they've developed thorns to keep herbivores from eating them." You explained.
"Like Earth roses," Leonard smiled at the way your eyes lit up.
"Exactly like Earth roses!" You agreed, "They also have this really unique trait where if you pick the flower, it doesn't wilt. Instead, it sprouts roots at the bottom and you can transplant it!" You beamed "But that isn't even the best part."
"It isn't? Tell me darlin', what could possibly top that?" Bones asked.
"Technically, this is another defense mechanism, but..." You cradled the bulb in your hands. "When you caress the bulb like this," You delicately brushed the sides of the bulb with your thumbs. Slowly, the bulb opened to reveal the brightest yellow flower he had ever seen. It practically glowed against the black leaves. He had to agree with you, this was the best part."
"Wow..." Leonard tried it with another bulb. It slowly opened for him as well.
"I know, awesome right?" You lightly bumped his shoulder with yours.
"What do you call it?" Leonard inquired, pulling his hand away from the plant.
"Well, officially we call it Conate Rosaceae... but I've named this one Leonard." You looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes and he couldn't look away.
"You named it after me?" He asked.
"Yeah, it reminds me of you."
"How so?"
"Well, it's perfectly designed to find light in dark places." You chuckled, "no matter how many times you try to cut it down it just comes back bigger and stronger." You fiddled with your bandages sheepishly. "It has this intimidating exterior that most people try to avoid... but... on the inside, It's the brightest, most breathtaking flower. So bright, it stands out from all the others."
To say Leonard was flattered would be an understatement. He had received compliments before. On his work, his hands, maybe even his hair, but he couldn't recall the last time someone had told him something so meaningful. Bones didn't know what to say; he didn't even know what to do with his hands. This was ridiculous. He was a grown man for crying out loud! But here he was, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a roomful of rocking chairs.
He needed to say something, anything. A simple thank you didn't feel like enough. Nothing about him felt like enough after Jocelyn.
He swallowed.
You made him feel like enough.
"Y/N..." Leonard stepped closer. You looked up at him with those eyes again. Those eyes he loved to get lost in. Your gaze met his and it was like something clicked inside him. Your eyes flickered down just for a moment, but he caught it. His heart fluttered and his blood rushed to his face. It was now or never.
He leaned in.
You leaned in.
There were mere inches between you.
He could feel your breath on his lips.
"Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N to the bridge," the intercom startled you both apart.
"Dammit Jim..." Leonard slid a hand over his flushed face and sighed, clearly displeased with his friend's interruption.
"The captain always has the most impeccable timing, doesn't he?" You smiled awkwardly, bouncing on your heels.
"That's one way to put it, yes" Bones frowned at ceiling. There was an awkward pause. He could sense your expectant gaze on him, but he could already feel his walls coming up again. The love would start off sweet, sure, but it wouldn't last. It never did. Leonard cared about you- no, that wasn't right, it was more than that. He couldn't bear it if this didn't work out.
Maybe this is for the best.
"Leonard?..." You said softly.
"It's okay Y/N. You'd better get up there, see what he wants," Leonard offered you a terse smile.
You nodded softly, "yes sir, I'll um.. I'll see you later." He didn't miss the disappointment in your eyes as you left.
He was disappointed too, but Leonard was used to disappointment.
~~~
Two weeks went by and Leonard seemed to be avoiding you. Your cut had healed, but another form of hurt took its place. Had you done something wrong? Pushed him away somehow? It made you sick to think that your almost-kiss had cost you a dear friend. You had tried to speak with him several times, but he always had somewhere else to be. He was busy immunizing security personnel for an upcoming mission. Your silly affair in the plant nursery was probably the last thing on his mind. Still, you felt incredibly lonely. You missed sharing meals with him, stopping in the hallway to chat with him. You missed his anecdotes about Georgia and his snide remarks about Jim's inability to stay out of trouble.
As much as it pained you to think this way, you wished you could take back what you said in the lab. You wished you had just kept it buried, then none of this would have happened. Leonard would have patched you up instead of Christine, and you wouldn't be left in this weird limbo between friends, lovers, and strangers.
"Lieutenant-Commander?" Spock interrupted your lamenting.
"Oh! I'm so sorry Commander, what can I do for you?" You forced a smile.
"I want to discuss your productivity. Can we speak in your office?" Spock asked.
"Of course, right this way." You led him to your office and shut the door behind you. You already had an idea of where this was going. You had been feeling anxious lately and your work was suffering because of it.
"Should we...have a seat?" You asked awkwardly.
"I do not believe that will be necessary, this will only take a moment." Spock pulled out his PADD. "Tell me, are you feeling well?"
You were a bit taken aback by the question. It wasn't often Spock inquired about your state of being. "I um... yeah, I feel fine. Why?" You lied.
"Your colleagues have informed me that you seem... fatigued during your experiments. I have also noticed your report was full of misspellings and grammatical mistakes, which is unusual for you. Additionally, you appeared distracted and dazed when I approached you just moments ago. Normally you greet me by the door." He slightly raised an eyebrow.
"I'm sorry Spock..." You sighed and sat on the edge of your desk, "I've just been feeling...uneasy I guess."
"Uneasy?" Spock inquired.
"Yeah, my anxiety has been really bothering me lately. I don't mean to worry you." You gave him a half smile.
"Have you spoken with the doctor?" Spock asked. Your stomach sank at the thought.
"I um... no, I haven't."
Spock studied you for a moment, scrutinizing you for any hints as to why you haven't sought medical assistance or counseling when both were readily available.
"I just...don't feel welcome there right now." You met Spock's gaze. A silent conversation passed through you.
"I see." Spock said and looked down at his PADD. "Well, Lieutenant-Commander Y/L/N, I was pleased with your research on the razor-leaf corpse flower. I have kept a watchful eye on your lab access logs and have determined you are due to have two cycles off."
You smiled. For real this time, "thank you Commander Spock. I will use them well"
"I trust that you will. Good day Y/N."
"Good day, Mr. Spock."
~~~
Leonard stared at his PADD in frustration. Everything had irritated him lately, even the blinking of the cursor on the screen. His irritation quickly turned into aggravation when Jim barged in unannounced.
"Bones! My good, good friend Bones!" Kirk shut the door behind him.
"What?" Leonard grunted.
"Yeesh, don't sound too excited to see me." Jim sat in the seat across from his desk.
"I'm busy, what do you want?" Bones refused to look at the captain. Maybe if he just didn't look at him, he would go away.
"Can't I just chat with a pal without wanting something from him?" Jim fiddled with a paperweight on the desk.
"Jim." Bones warned.
"You know doctor, it's very unprofessional to scare away patients, right?"
Defeated, Leonard looked up from his work. "What in god's name are you talking about?"
"Y/n" Jim crossed his arms and stared hard at him. Something about his expression put Leonard on edge.
"What about Y/N?" Bones narrowed his eyes at the captain.
"Spock just got done telling me that Y/N, and I quote, 'doesn't feel welcome here right now.' I wonder why that could be."
Leonard huffed and ran a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time that day. "Dammit..."
"What happened bones?" Jim leaned in.
"Nothing happened." Leonard snapped.
"Clearly something happened for you to be so-"
"Nothing happened... that's the problem," Bones clarified. Leonard didn't realize it was even possible to feel so terrible. He hadn't felt this bad since the divorce, but at least with the divorce he wasn't the only one at fault. Leonard had been childishly avoiding you, and now you didn't feel comfortable in the one place you should always feel safe to go. "I'm a goddamned coward, Jim."
There was a long pause between them. Leonard didn't need to tell him what happened for Jim to understand. "What did I tell you about not letting the brooding cowboy act get in the way of your happiness?" The captain teased.
"Not helping." Leonard rested his face in his hands.
"Right, sorry." Jim shifted awkwardly. Bones was grumpy at the best of times, but he always had this undertone of playfulness. He could scold you about missing an exam or tell you your plan is trash, but it would be wrapped up in southern metaphors and clever insults. This was different, this was real. "You...you really love them, huh?"
Leonard nodded.
"Something happened and... now you aren't sure how to take that next step." Jim said.
"Something like that... I thought I knew what I was doing, but now I'm not so sure. I thought some distance would make it clear to me, but I'm more lost than ever... I've made a terrible mistake Jim, one I don't know how to fix," Leonard peered into his coffee mug to avoid the captain's piercing blue eyes.
"Look Bones, clearly you and Y/N are miserable, so why don't you do the both of you a favor and talk to them. I'm sure Y/N will understand if you just...explain how you've been feeling," Jim attempted to reassure his friend.
"I don't exactly have the best track record on talking about feelings, Jim. I'm a doctor, not a psychiatrist." McCoy frowned.
"First time for everything," Jim reached over and patted Leonard's shoulder. "Go make it right. That's an order."
Leonard took a long drink of his coffee, "can't believe I'm taking dating advice from James T. Kirk"
"Like I said. First time for everything."
~~~
You had spent the entirety of your day off attempting to read, but you really weren't in the mood for much of anything except sleep. Nyota had stopped by earlier and you greatly enjoyed her company, but the sick feeling in the pit of your stomach hadn't gone away.
You just really wanted to talk to Leonard, apologize for misreading the situation. You handled the unrequited love for years and you'd do it for many more as long as you knew you could still be friends.
You heard a buzz at the door and contemplated ignoring it. It was way past normal visiting hours and you were trying to wind down. Perhaps it was something important. You answered the door, expecting Chekov, Nyota, or maybe even Spock. Instead, you were greeted by an extremely exhausted looking Bones.
"Oh, doctor I um, wasn't expecting you." You said, feeling your heart-rate skyrocket.
"Can I come in?" Leonard asked with that rough, gravely voice you had always loved so much.
"Of course," you stepped aside "Come on in..."
Leonard hesitated a moment before stepping inside. Your room was homey, full of furnishings that were so you, it made his insides churn with affection.
"Len, are you okay?" You asked softly from beside the door, afraid to get any closer.
Leonard watched you for a moment, trying to find the words to say, but one look at you and all of his practiced lines had disappeared for good. All he could say was, "I'm sorry darlin'..."
"You're...sorry?" You asked.
"I've been acting like a kid... I'm sorry I haven't been around. We should have talked about this as soon as it happened."
You sighed. You knew this would be coming sooner or later. You were glad he at least wanted to do it in private. "I'm sorry too, I shouldn't have come onto you like that... I scared you off and made things awkward for us both professionally, and as friends-"
"No, no, wait a minute. That's not." Leonard took a deep breath to organize his thoughts. "Y/N, you are so beautiful and smart and dedicated, and funny. You light up every room you walk into."
You swallowed the lump in your throat and wondered if this was a dream. Leonard stepped closer and gave you a hesitant smile. "I'm damaged goods sweetheart. You deserve more than I can give, but it's only been two weeks and I'm a goddamned wreck." Leonard's voice was strained as he poured his heart out to you. "I can deny it all I want, but-" His breath hitched when you placed your hand on his cheek. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the sharp poke of his stubble.
"Leonard, please..." You whispered, eyes pleading with him.
"Please what, darlin'?" He drawled, bringing his hands to your face. He noticed the heat of your blush in his fingertips, he could feel you quiver, eager for him to close the distance.
"Please, just-" His lips were on yours before you could even answer. Your mind was fuzzy. All you could think about was how soft his lips were, how perfectly they fit with yours. His smell was everywhere, it was intoxicating.
He was intoxicating.
He hummed as your fingernails scratched the base of his neck. Leonard pressed you against the wall, desperate for some way to bring you closer. He couldn't remember how to breathe, how to think. All he could do was press his body against yours.
You sighed blissfully against his lips. His hands on your waist were your only anchor to the real world. You clung to him, crumpling his uniform, but you hardly cared. You just wanted him to keep kissing you.
Leonard suddenly remembered to breathe and pulled back, only to press his forehead against yours. Your breathing was shaky and your legs felt weak. You caressed his cheeks once more and placed another soft kiss to his lips, which turned to two, then five.
At last, Leonard pulled you into his chest. He didn't want to let you go just yet. You didn't want to let him go either.
"Darlin'?" He whispered.
"Hm?" You replied, face buried into his neck.
"I love you," Leonard kissed your temple. Your heart leaped in your chest and you held him a little tighter.
"I love you too Len," you whispered softly. Leonard smiled against your cheek and placed another kiss there. "Oh, and just so you know..." You started.
Leonard pulled back to look at you curiously.
"If I ever hear you call yourself damaged goods again, I will kick your ass." You grinned at him.
"Message heard loud and clear Lieutenant-Commander," he chuckled and captured your lips in another searing kiss. Leonard's communicator chimed in his pocket, but he ignored it. There was no code red, the captain could wait. After all, they could have been together by now if it weren't for him. There was a lot of lost time to make up.
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startwelve · 2 months
Text
🎨The muse
Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader
Synopsis: Benedict asks his maid to be his muse...
Warning: Slight smut and English is not my first language.
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The day was rainy, though the sun persisted in the sky. The room echoed with the pitter-patter of rain against the windowpane and the soft brush of the brush against the canvas. Benedict held his breath as his eyes glided between the painting and his model.
"Could you stay still for a moment?" he raised an eyebrow.
"My apologies. It's the first time I've posed for such a purpose," the model responded.
"I understand."
The night before, Benedict ventured into the servants' quarters and requested the youngest and most beautiful, Emily, to be his muse. Though she initially refused, she eventually agreed to the offer of generous remuneration. Now, she sat on an elegant sofa, clad in a dress she could never own… All hidden from the Bridgerton family and society to avoid any scandal.
Benedict's eyes roamed over Emily, from her reddish hair to her pale shoulders, and back again. Her attire, too revealing for his taste; but the canvas would not judge.
Benedict dipped his brush into a jar of paint and began to apply colors to the canvas with swift strokes, a faint smile dancing on his lips as he worked.
He continued painting, his brush moving skillfully to capture the essence of his model. He paused for a moment, furrowing his brow slightly.
-"Miss Emily, could I request a few minutes of your time after our session concludes?" There was a pause, then he continued. "I mean, after I've finished my representation of you?"
She frowned, not understanding the implication.
-"Oh, yes, of course."
-"Thank you, Miss Emily." Benedict's eyes returned to the canvas, his concentration unwavering. After a few more minutes, he finally set down his brush and took a step back to admire his work. "Would you mind observing my progress so far, Emily?" he inquired.
-"Yes, may I move now?"
Benedict smiled.
-"Of course, you may move now." He reclined on a table, waiting for Emily to leave the sofa. He couldn't wait to show her how he had captured her beauty on canvas.
She rose and approached the canvas to gaze upon it. Upon seeing it, she was astonished.
-"Is it me?" she whispered.
Benedict nodded.
-"Yes, it is," he replied, with a slight blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks… lovely," he added. "I've tried to portray you as you are, as you appear before my eyes."
Her cheeks colored, and she thanked him in a whisper, while nervously toying with the fabric of her dress.
Benedict smiled gently but remained silent. He noticed how Emily's dress had caught his attention, and he couldn't deny that it had a similar effect on him.
Clearing his throat, Benedict resumed the conversation: "Miss Emily… you are an extraordinary woman; I truly enjoyed this session… But I also must complete this portrait. Would you be willing to pose for me again?"
She nodded, though some doubts lingered in her mind.
"Let me ask you a question," Emily said.
"Of course," Benedict responded, intrigued to know where her question was leading.
"Why did you choose me, a maid, as your model when there are high society ladies who would be willing to do so?"
A gentle smile appeared on Benedict's face.
"Ah, of course," he replied slowly. "It's because I'm an artist, Emily, and I see you as you are. High society ladies have been pampered all their lives, so their appearances are somewhat artificial, and their minds often lack substance," he explained. "But a maid like you, a simple and hardworking woman, possesses an authenticity in your beauty and personality that I find inspiring."
She didn't know what to respond, and they both fell silent, creating an atmosphere between them until she asked:
"May I ask another question?"
Benedict nodded and encouraged her to continue.
"Of course, ask, Emily," he said, with a slight smile on his lips as he looked at her.
"Where does this beautiful dress come from?"
Benedict chuckled softly as he watched Emily, the picture of innocence and wonder.
"This dress," he said, walking to the dresser behind her. "It belongs to my lovely sister, Daphne…" he said casually.
Emily looked at him in disbelief, unable to believe it.
"If your sister found out I borrowed one of her dresses, she would dismiss me."
Benedict put a finger to his lips, asking Emily to keep the secret.
"No one needs to find out, alright, Emily?" he asked, looking at her as if his life depended on her answer. She nodded, and Benedict let out a deep sigh, releasing the tension that had been building up unnoticed. "Thank you, Emily," he said, with gratitude in his tone. I assure you I won't allow anything to happen to you. Now, shall we continue working on this portrait?" he asked, approaching the easel to resume painting.
She settled on the sofa, and Benedict began painting again, adding shadows and lights to the canvas. He had grown accustomed to seeing Emily on the sofa, in her dress.
After a few minutes of intense concentration, Benedict reclined again on the table and stared fixedly at the canvas, with Emily's figure in front of him.
"Emily," he began, addressing her. "May I ask you a question?"
"Yes."
"Would you be willing to be my muse… not just today, but for… a long time?" he said, shifting his gaze back to Emily's eyes once more.
His words hinted at something more, something that transcended the simple request to be a muse. However, perhaps Emily didn't care about what lay behind this proposal. After all, Emily was quite delighted with the dress she was wearing…
"I… your muse?"
"Yes, Emily," Benedict began, his tone becoming more confident with each word. "I want you to be my muse for all my paintings, as long as you allow me," he said, looking deeply into Emily's eyes. "Your beauty is extraordinary and inspiring, Emily, and I want to capture it in every work I do. And if you permit me, I'll paint you every day," he added, waiting for her response.
"I don't know what to say."
"Just say 'Yes,'" Benedict whispered, taking slow steps towards her.
As the wind howled outside and the rain beat against the windows, Benedict's eyes met Emily's, while he held his breath, awaiting her response.
"Yes…"
When Emily's voice broke the silence that had settled in the room, Benedict's heart beat fast. He took another step towards Emily. He couldn't believe that she had agreed to pose for him day after day. The idea excited him tremendously.
"I'll paint you with all my heart," he promised finally, with his eyes fixed on Emily's.
She smiled softly.
Benedict sat beside her, and a hand rested on her cheek. He leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Benedict's fingers slid to the buttons of Emily's dress as he moved closer. He unbuttoned one, then another button, before allowing the soft folds of the dress to slide off her body, setting her free.
Benedict's eyes continued to admire Emily's body as he bit his lower
lip. He wouldn't stop exploring until he had seen every inch of that body, and then… he would paint it, over and over again…
Benedict's hand moved to Emily's arm, his fingers tracing lines along her skin. She looked away, her cheeks flushed.
"Look at me," he said, gently stroking her chin.
The heat between them was palpable.
Benedict's finger traced the line of Emily's bare shoulder, smiling as he saw how the light made her skin glow. His eyes traveled every inch of her body.
Benedict's hands returned to Emily's chin, forcing her to look at him.
She couldn't believe what was happening between them, and a feeling of desire took hold of her.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, with his eyes fixed on Emily's lips as he spoke.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"Emily…" Benedict whispered. "I want to hear something more than your 'thank yous'…" he said, his eyes fixed on her lips. As he spoke, his fingers moved to the button of her corset and began to unfasten it.
Benedict watched as Emily's cheeks flushed, while her body slowly became exposed to him. As the corset fell, he allowed his hands to gently return to her cheeks, her hair now falling on both sides of her face.
"You're breathing so fast," Benedict whispered, running his fingers gently along her collarbone. "Let me calm your heartbeat, Emily…"
He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, he emitted a soft sigh.
Benedict smiled as he used his hands to gently push Emily back onto the sofa. With her bare back against the sofa, Benedict leaned forward and began to kiss her neck softly, before moving his lips to kiss the soft part of her shoulder.
He could feel Emily's heart beating between his fingers. "I believe…" he whispered, taking a second, before speaking again. "I believe I enjoy making you feel this way, Emily."
Emily's breath became heavier the longer they spent together, and a slight blush covered her body, as the heat between them was enough to fill the room.
He continued to trace his fingers along Emily's body, while kissing every part of it. Slowly, but surely, they were heading where both minds were thinking.
As the sound of the rain outside faded away in the midst of the pleasure between them, their breaths became one.
Emily's arms wrapped around Benedict as their lips met once more. And when they finished, Benedict's chest rose and fell at a rapid pace.
Benedict's eyes filled with amazement as he stared at her. He hadn't realized he could desire something more than just her body; he wanted her mind, her soul. Was it possible what the poets wrote? Was it possible to fall in love in a day?
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mynewblackdress · 5 months
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Title: Unraveled
Pairing: Sanji x Reader
Summary: Some of Sanji’s thoughts about you | Genre: Fluff, some angst, hints of a troubled past| Warning: none | Words: 5.5K | Note: This is a standalone. You don’t have to read Puzzled or Dazzled or Muffled  or Bewitched but if you want you can 😊
‘Ah, I don’t have a favorite. I’ll just eat anything they’ll give me.’ 
The cigarette paused an inch away from his parted mouth when Sanji heard an unfamiliar female voice say such an awful thing. 
The blond cook shouldn’t have been smoking in the middle of his shift. Zeff, the closest thing he had to a father and the old geezer, who ran the restaurant would surely have his balls claiming the smoke was getting on his clothes and on the food Sanji would prepare.
He wasn’t entirely in the wrong, and Sanji would have done a better job controlling his distasteful habit, but the young man was already on edge over how uncreative, more than that, absolutely dull the menu was. It was heartbreaking, truly, to have a gift and vision to create something unique and wonderful and be stuck doing the same old boring dishes every bloody day.
So as to not let his intrusive thoughts about burning the place down just so he wouldn’t die out of boredom, win, Sanji stepped outside the Baratie to have a quick smoke.
He noticed the group of five approaching the restaurant because regardless of how nonchalant he appeared, he always made a habit of being aware of everything he could. Just in case. 
It would be a lie if he claimed he noticed you first. 
The truth was apart from catching the sight of the beautiful ginger-haired woman, who he later learned was named Nami, Sanji didn’t really pay much attention to the rest of her companions. Pitifully, and a horrible oversight on his part, but the blond cook, didn’t realize there was another woman present in your little group until he heard those words. 
‘Ah, I don’t have a favorite. I’ll just eat anything they’ll give me.’ 
Two things shocked him when he heard those words. 
The first one was the fact that behind the seemingly annoyed-looking man with green hair and three swords who was standing there with his arms crossed obviously not impressed with the restaurant and a tall lanky boy than a man with a straw hat who looked too excited about the restaurant hid another woman. You.
The second one was the fact that you said such a thing in such a way. As if it didn’t matter. As if the fact that you were about to eat didn’t hold any real weight in your life. As if the food was food and nothing else. 
A horrible oversight on your part, he would later confess when he would tell to you about that first moment, he saw you.
For as long as Sanji could remember, he made it his life’s mission to cook, to feed. Those that were hungry, but also those that were starving regardless of who they were. A civilian. A criminal. A marine. A pirate. A revolutionist. Everyone needed to eat in the end, and no food should go to waste. 
But for the last couple of years, he did everything he could to make meals that wouldn’t just feed the stomach, but also the soul. Despite how much it annoyed Zeff it couldn’t be helped. This was something he needed to do. This was something that brought him joy. This was something he promised to himself and to the first woman who ever held his heart, his mother, he would do. So, this was something he did.
So, to have someone, a woman, whom the blond chef always regarded as far more special than any men, say they would eat anything given to them and that they did not have a favorite would simply not do for him. 
He pulled the cigarette completely away from his lips and looked through your little group noticing another young man, the one who probably asked you about your favorite meal and, well, you.
Oh…my beloved, he thought with a hint of possessiveness and longing as his grey-blue eyes finally landed on your frame partly hidden behind your group. 
He couldn’t really pinpoint one single thing that prompted him to think of you in such a way. 
Women always caught his attention, mainly the beautiful ones. The thing was their beauty was never repetitive. He learned a long time ago, that women were unique beings and so was their beauty, and they deserved nothing but admiration for that. 
He thought your ginger-haired companion was beautiful and unique too, but for some reason seeing you standing there all nervous and twitchy as if you were expecting trouble of some sort in your everyday clothes outside of Baratie on that foggy day made Sanji’s heart swell with fondness and possessiveness, he wasn’t acquainted with before. 
That’s new…, he thought taking a closer look at you.
You were pretty. Something about your demeanor no matter how anxious sang to him like a siren bringing him closer. Just a little bit closer. 
Funny
He didn’t think he had a type. He considered all women to be goddesses in their own right. But perhaps, he too preferred some to the other. Even if it was the first time he saw you, he felt compelled to refer you to any other woman he ever met.
Then one by one your company entered the establishment leaving you to linger behind. 
You stopped looking around, but Sanji could clearly see, you were still on high alert. 
He brushed his lower lip with the tip of his thumb scratching the skin there with his nail tempted to call out to you. 
Perhaps, he could toss you a charming compliment or an endearing praise of some sort. You were certainly lovely enough to deserve both and some.
Before he could, however, you seemed to have stopped worrying about whatever plagued your thoughts for a moment and took a proper look at the restaurant.
Sanji’s heart skipped a beat. 
Your posture was steady now, and your eyes slowly took Baratie in with haunting calmness as they moved over every edge, corner, and even inch of the ship. 
Then once you were done, the corners of your pretty mouth pulled into a small appreciative smile, and just as you were about to enter, your eyes shifted again and for a moment, briefer than a second, they landed on him.
Sanji’s heart speeded up. 
You were gone before he could process what happened. Much later, when the two of you were close enough to talk about anything and everything, he learned, you didn’t even remember the moment. 
Not just to soothe your guilt, but the blond chef didn’t mind the fact that you didn’t remember the moment. Not one bit. If anything, he found joy in the idea that a moment like that one, that first one that had both of you in it belonged solely to him. 
His heart was still startled by what happened even if you were long gone, no doubt being seated somewhere inside by now.
‘Ah, I don’t have a favorite. I’ll just eat anything they’ll give me.’ 
Now, that just won’t do, darling, thought Sanji right then and there and finally took another drag from his cigarette with a small playful smirk. 
The status of his heart didn’t do much to worry him. He was no stranger to being affected by women and their beauty. But you and your words. Gods, you and your words affected him very much. 
Finishing the cigarette, he quickly returned to the kitchen, your soft smile and words became inspiration for a new unique dish. He knew Zeff would protest. If it wasn’t on the menu, it was no good, yet Sanji couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t contain it. 
 ‘I’ll just eat anything they’ll give me.’
Certainly not! Food should be enjoyed. A meal should be loved. If you truly did not have something you loved the most, then…then he would just have to create something for you to love. 
To fall in love with, Sanji thought grateful to you for your role as his unaware muse while working. 
His good mood didn’t survive long since just as he finished, Zeff unkindly banished him from the kitchen again. 
At the time he was upset. Cursing the old man and his restaurant and everything he could, it wouldn’t be until much later, weeks even when Sanji would have you help him do the dishes in the kitchen on Going Merry laughing at something he whispered into your ear with your cheeks pink that he would look at you and think, Thank gods, Zeff kicked me out. Thank gods, I went to waiter your table. Thank gods, I got to meet you. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘You know. She’s the only one who knows how a real pirate ship should look like,’ said Usopp offhanded once right at the beginning of their shared journey when Sanji handed him a pike fish that he had been begging the cook to make for a few hours now claiming a full stomach would help with his nerves over their upcoming meeting with Arlong. 
You had been around too, a moment ago, but all so very quickly as he grew to be used to, you left seemingly unwilling to stay in his company for too long. 
Sanji wasn’t a fool. At least, he would like to think, he wasn’t one. He picked up on your discomfort quickly. You were an anxious person. You would get overwhelmed easily. And yet something about you confused him. 
He was no stranger to the less-than-desirable effect his flattery had on some women. He knew they were annoyed by his flirting and often found his praises and wordplay cringy rather than pleasing or kind. It didn’t bother him as much as one might assume because even if he would rather for those beautiful ladies to enjoy his attempts and words, he mostly said those things because they deserved to be said. 
Every woman should know she’s beautiful and desired and her mere presence brings joy to this world.
Yet, your behavior left him puzzled. At times it seemed you enjoyed his company, and he was sure…no! He knew with absolute certainty he made you happy when he praised your work, and skills, the other day, but every other time, when he would comment on your wonderful figure or exquisite face, he would earn himself this look. 
It wasn’t annoyance, mockery, or anger. He was used to those by now. It was something far worse. It was more like a disappointment. Not even distaste, but actual disappointment as if you expected better of him. 
This deeply confused the chef. Did you expect better or more creative praises? Did you expect him not to give you any at all? 
‘Sweetheart, ask me for anything in the world, but don’t ask me to stop praising your beauty,’ he told you the first time he made dinner. He knew you were tempted to leave right then and there with how your eyes shifted out of the kitchen door toward the deck. 
Ultimately, you decided to eat in the kitchen with the others, but it was obvious he made you uncomfortable. 
‘If you want to eat in your room that’s alright,’ he spoke after he carefully watched your tiny bite and slow chewing, ‘I won’t be offended.’
You stopped eating and raised your eyes to his face for what felt like the first time that day making him regret making you so uncomfortable before. 
He noticed the others stopped eating or at least slowed down to be able to see and hear what you would do. Nosy bunch. Then again, perhaps, he should have done this in private, but how? When all you did was take your leave far too quickly for his liking whenever you ended up alone?
If you would decide to leave. He would let you if only to offer you some comfort as an apology, but instead, you started to eat again quickly mumbling that it was fine. 
To be frank, he was insulted more gently by the boyfriends and husbands of the women he mistook for single than by how cold and hurt your little it’s fine made him feel. 
It didn’t help that the horrible mosshead who seemed to have it out for him snickered. Prick!
After everyone was done, Sanji stopped you from leaving with a raised hand, ‘I meant what I said. If you would feel better, I can bring the food to your room or the storage room-’
‘No!’ you said far too quickly and loudly which by what little he picked up about you meant you genuinely did not want to do either of those things. 
You swallowed and looked away your voice shaken and your face a bit red. He noticed at times it was troublesome for you to look directly into his eyes when talking. Although, he wasn’t sure why. You obviously did not like him if you were disappointed with his flirting. Were you also disappointed with his face?
‘I-I really…don’t… I don’t want to eat alone,’ you confessed to him.
‘You know. She’s the only one who knows what a real pirate ship should look like,’ Usopp’s words rang inside the blond cook’s ears then, and he offered you a charming smirk even if you couldn’t see it, ‘Then I’ll do my part and keep my comments to a minimum while you eat. Everyone deserves nothing but the best experience while eating.’
A slight frown wrinkled your forehead as you walked toward the door away from him, ‘You shouldn’t have to force yourself. You should want to be…better.’
Better in what? What do you think is going on here, beloved? He asked but only himself because you seemed like another minute in his presence alone might just be too much for you. 
Sanji pushed his lips into a tight line and did his best to sound as sincere and not upset at all, ‘Very well, darling. I’ll be better, so your beautiful face never has another wrinkle caused by me.’
The way you lowered your head and let out an exhausted sigh made it clear; that he did not understand what you meant one bit. 
The truth was, he wouldn’t figure it out until almost a month later when you would confess you thought he was making fun of you with his compliments and praise until you realized he said those things to every woman, so they were harmless and weren’t meant to single you out.
By gods, were you wrong though. He would never make fun of anyone let alone you, and he genuinely believed and meant the things he said. 
And Sanji was very much so singling you out because, by the time that conversation took place, on your first date during your last stop on your way to Grand Line, he already couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful, caring, generous and lovable woman in the world standing on your own pedestal above anyone else in his heart and mind. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘My first captain was not a good guy. Neither was anyone in my old crew.’
It wasn’t until a day later, when he flirted with Nojiko that you finally looked at him properly.
He wasn’t thrown off by the other’s woman blunt rejection of his compliments as much as he was by the fact that what felt like the first time ever you were looking at him, directly and unapologetically him, with something other than disappointment or embarrassment. 
Surprise
Not shock or something equally alarming and vulgar, but a beautiful sunny look of surprise that caused your pretty eyes to widen and your pink lips to part. 
Then before he could ask what was wrong, that surprise shifted into something he could only call understanding or realization, and you gave him the absolute devastating and most beautiful smile, you ever did, and thank gods for that because how on earth was Sanji supposed to ever get anything done when you would smile at him so breathtakingly?
Oh, my love, do you wish to kill me on this very spot? He thought as he pushed himself to smirk back at you although his rapidly beating heart was threatening his very life. 
Luckily, the conversation shifted to your main goal and your reason for coming to Conomi Island, so he could focus on that. 
After they saved Nami and the island from Arlong’s gang and everything seemed to work out alright, Sanji was thrilled but still surprised to see you approach him and want to help him with feeding the villagers during the celebrations. 
He smirked torn. 
The gentleman in him absolutely refused the idea that you should bother yourself with helping him. But the lover boy couldn’t allow an opportunity to spend time with you just slip away.
So, you two worked and talked and every piece of information was carefully tugged into the back of his mind to recreate a real-life image of you. Believe it or not, it was a breathtakingly magical image.
‘My first captain was not a good guy. Neither was anyone in my old crew,’ you confessed after a moment so nonchalant and troubled at the same time it took a moment for your words to register.
Sanji could feel the truth behind your words recalling Usopp’s offhanded comments once again realizing there was a whole new meaning behind those words. ‘She’s the only one who knows what a real pirate ship should look like.’
My love, he thought moving on instinct at that very moment.
You were puzzled by his actions, he knew, but how could he not have taken your hand and vowed to be nothing but kind to you? How could he let another moment go by without you knowing he would do first, last, and everything in between that you would never be treated poorly ever again? He would make sure of it. 
‘I can assure you at least this cook plans to be nothing but good to you.’
He then pressed a kiss against your skin like a promise enchanted by how beautiful it felt to touch you, but even more so when he could see your stunning eyes believe his words. 
I won’t break your trust, beloved, he silently swore on his life not losing his good mood even when mosshead came and ruined your moment making you shy and embarrassed again. He rather like that about you. Truth be told, even when you didn’t like to spend time with the blond cook, he couldn’t find a single thing he didn’t absolutely adore about you. And he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t find any later.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘Nothing. Sorry, I just remembered something.’
Since the moment, you first raised your eyes to his in the middle of the Baratie after Sanji saved you from falling on some spilled water, you were an open book to young cook.
Your embarrassment, anxiety, and kindness marked every page that was who you were. Personally, the blond chef found great joy in being able to read you so well. Women were often hauntingly beautiful mysteries, but you could be so expressional, anyone could figure you out.
Watching your cheeks flush a bright, brilliant pink, a startlingly attractive sight if you asked Sanji, it lured a warm laugh from his chest and forced a charming smirk across his face that wasn’t forced at all. He liked it a lot just as he liked every laugh, smile, and twinkle in your brilliant eyes because they felt all the more earned and sincere when he managed to coax them out of you with a witty compliment or charming praise.
Warmth
You felt so warm and soft at times like freshly baked goods out of the oven, and he adored being able to touch that warmth if not with his fingers against your skin then at least with a word that got him a reply.
But despite your honest face and reactions, your thoughts were entirely a mystery as all woman’s thoughts should be. He wouldn’t pry. But he was curious as he was concerned.
As you were an open book, he could tell when you drifted away into a place behind your eyes that caused them to lose their spark, their light, and became almost soulless.
The first time it occurred the cook dropped his ingredients so carelessly that they scattered across the counter and took hold of your arms searching your face for any sign that you were still there.
‘D-darling, what’s the matter?’ he asked in a voice that almost didn’t feel like his own with how shaken it was.
Just like that the light returned to your eyes, and you blinked, ‘Nothing. Sorry, I just remembered something.’
He didn’t think you ever told him anything that hurt him more.
The unnecessary apology. He started to little-by-little tease you about those hoping it would get you to stop using the word sorry so often, as he learned that a wonderful, kind, and dedicated person like you never had any reason to apologize for anything.
The failed attempt of trying to act like it was nothing. Sanji wanted nothing more than to take your face between his palms and tell you that it was never nothing if it caused you even a little bit of distress no matter how much of an anxious person you were. You deserved to be heard and helped.
The implication that it was your past, the one that at times brought you up to the deck to calm down in the middle of the night, or caused you to nervously look around whenever you left the safety of the ship or returned to your nervous habit of hurting yourself, was once again to blame made the blond cook want to introduce your old captain and crew with his foot.
When you added a fake smile, he easily saw through, Sanji thought it would hurt him less if you told him, you hated him.
You went to help him pile up the ingredients again. Always eager to help out anyone and with anything. He often teased you about resting more as he was genuinely concerned that you were overworking yourself too much.
‘No one will get crossed with you if take a moment to breath, darling,’ he told you the first time he managed to convince you to sit down with him for some tea. He didn’t know if you believed when he said those were the highlights of his day, but he genuinely meant it.
He saw you worry about Nami and Zoro, so he knew how you looked when you were stressing over the health or safety of your friends. But this emptiness was different and new. At least to him.
Since then, he saw that lifeless look behind your eyes a couple of times. It was a great source of distress for him, and he wished for nothing more than to help you and bring back your beautiful spark.
Sanji was never an overthinker, but he was observant. And he remembered things and gathered information adding them piece by piece into the puzzle that was you.
Honestly, to hell with your old captain, and to hell with your old crew. Because they were unlucky. They were fools! For ever letting someone as beautiful and caring as you get away. For chasing you away with their ignorance and abuse and whatever else, you refused to speak about. Sanji didn’t care what they did. How much or how little, all of them were guilty in his eyes. And if he ever so much as heard one of them was in the same town, village, or island as you, he would personally find them and give them hell.
For a moment, he thought he found such that person when a stranger approached your table in a bar leaning so close to you, he might as well headbutt you and ask, ‘We know each other don’t we?’
A second passed and although it was more obvious than ever based on the quick shift from your happy carefree behavior to the trembling anxious yet beautiful mess that you weren’t comfortable with the man, you said, ‘No. I-I’ve never seen you…before.’
‘Well, perhaps, we could change that.’
It would never stop baffling Sanji how could this man, drunk or not, not see that as lovely as you were, you were sitting by a table with four other men, not to mention with him by your right side as close as your chairs allowed it. Did the man not see how Sanji kept you company that night like he did every night when you left the ship for some time on the land? Did the man not see you were laughing and talking with him with a spark inside your pretty eyes and a cute blush across your cheeks? How could anyone see all that and still come up and try to flirt with you right there in front of him?
Seeing that the man didn’t take the hint even after you instinctively moved closer to Sanji’s side like you wanted to hide inside his jacket. You didn’t handle situations like these well. He knew that by now.
The blond cook purposely put his arm around your shoulders pulling you even closer selfishly enjoying what you needed and relying on him this much.
‘Sorry, mate,’ said the blond cook doing his best not to sound as angry as he felt if only for your sake. Not only did this man flirt with you in front of him, but he ruined your good mood, and if Sanji didn’t want to stress you out even more by starting a fight in this place, he wouldn’t mind fixing the man’s face with his foot.
‘This lovely lady already knows everyone she needs to.’
‘What? You speak for her or something?’
‘Yes,’ you answered against the fabric of Sanji’s jacket before he could tell the man something nasty, ‘he does. Please leave me alone.’
Luckily for the man, he left with raised hands and without a fuss because the blond cook was very close to kicking him out. Literally.
Unfortunately, your mood could not be improved after that. At least not to the level it was before your interruption.
Even if you untangled yourself from him, he remained with his arm over your seat somewhat shielding you.
‘I think I want to go back to the ship,’ he said finishing his smoke, ‘Would you care to join me, my love?’
He could see the absolute unmistakable relief in your eyes when he asked you to join him.
He was no fool. But if you would have really wanted to stay on the ship, Sanji would gladly keep you company. No questions asked, but he knew you, and he knew that the fact that you joined Luffy and left the security of your little shop meant you wouldn’t want to be a prisoner on Going Merry. You wanted to explore the Grand Line. You wanted to see, learn, and experience as much as possible. So, he would do his best to support your dream and make it a reality by being by your side wherever you wanted to go, and offering you escape if you needed it.
Outside, he took your hand with an excuse on the tip of his tongue about how cold it was, or he didn’t feel steady on his feet even if he only had a single glass of red.
Yet, you never questioned the gesture and merely gripped his hand tighter synching your steps to his and making him feel grateful to be alive.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
‘How did you know I would like this book, Sanji?’
Sometimes, not too often, you would tell him about good things that happened with your old crew. Little things like how you helped a younger crewmember sleep or hid them in the storage room, or shared your dinner even when your tyrant of a captain refused to give them any. 
You always made it sound so casual as if those were just harmless memories in the wind. 
Yet, all Sanji could think about was, And who took care of you, my beloved?
When you were sent to sleep without dinner. 
When you hurt yourself with your nervous habit enough to draw blood because you were anxious to fulfill all the wishes of your madman captain.
When you hid yourself in the storage room between the cargo if only so your crewmembers wouldn’t torment you while you slept. 
When you endured the beating, you never spoke out loud about it.
Who took care of you then, my love?
Sanji knew he couldn’t be there for you then. You were strangers, unaware of each other’s existence in this world that can make a person starve so cruelly. For food. For company. For joy. For love. 
He knew he couldn’t be there for you, and he was not at fault for it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t regret it. 
And so, he made it his mission for you to always have him. After all Sanji’s sole purpose in this world was to feed the hungry. Whether you needed a tasty meal, a friend, a good laugh, or someone who would love you, he was there for you. His mission was a secret one of course. As much as he wanted to be honest and open with you to his heart's content, he could read you like his favorite book. He needed to be slow and patient with you. As lovely as you were, you were easily overwhelmed, and he didn’t wish to cause you more anxiety with his feelings.
It was in his nature to be good to women. To want to assist them. He wanted to feed you, to aid you when you couldn’t sleep, when you felt sad or needed help with your duties or errands.
He wanted to help you, but then…then you noticed he wasn’t sleeping and offered him your body to help him rest for god’s sake.
Then you baked him sweets because you wanted to do something nice for everything, he did for you even if he always wanted to do nice things for you regardless of any reward.
Then you helped him in the kitchen every chance you got and all sorts of different things you started to do for him that made his heart beat like it wanted to break free from his chest and fall into your palm.
Your presence alone already did everything for him he could ever need, but you still found new ways to do more. Always a hard worker. Always eager to help out more. Always so caring.
He couldn’t remember if he ever received so much from any of the women, he took an interest in, and he found himself glad because the idea that you were the first and only one warmed his chest and caused him to brush a piece of your hair behind your ear and say, ‘Beloved, you’ll spoil me.’
And if everything that you did for him wasn’t enough, you met his eyes embarrassed yet firm, and told him, ‘You deserve it.’
It was a wonder he didn’t react on instinct and sink to his knees and take you as his new deity or bury his fingers deeper into your hair and claim your lips right there surrounded by dirty dishes and your laughing crewmates.
He knew you liked to read.
He knew you liked spending time with the crew. Probably because of how little time you spent with your previous one, but he knew you liked this one and loved to humor them with their shenanigans, games, challenges, and such. But he also knew when it got overwhelming, and you needed your solitude. A moment to yourself, and your thoughts. A moment to catch a breath. 
He knew when you were on your own with time to spare that didn’t require you to check and rearrange the storage or help catch fish, do laundry, or anything else you do it just to be useful and help out, you read. He noticed you tried to hide it or at least avoid the others from figuring it out. He would rather swallow rocks than to embarrass you on purpose, but he did learn the names of the books to later search for them in his tiny show.
When he found out what you read about, he smiled to himself.
My precious romantic
‘How did you know I would like this book, Sanji?’ you asked him slowly obviously surprised eyeing the book in your hands he brought on your first little date in the town that would be your final stop before Grand Line. 
He smirked to himself and leaned closer to your face pressing a soft kiss against your cheek burning with affection for you grateful he could touch you like this, ‘If you’ll eat anything then I’ll just have to make personally sure you only eat delicious things, my love.’
He took great pride in the way your cheeks got red and the slightly embarrassed look behind your pretty eyes.
Koniec
A.N: Thank you for taking the time and read this. English isn’t my first language, and the story didn’t turn out as well quite the way, I wanted it to, but I hope you still enjoyed it. Have a lovely day and stay safe.
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shegatsby · 4 days
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Love Thy Enemy
Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.
A/N; Couldn't wait, I had to post it lol. I hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉) Don't forget to leave a comment.
Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.
Words; 2.417K
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Chapter Two ‘’Forcibles’’
The boy with pure eyes had grown into a tall muscular man with menace in his orbits. ‘’May I?’’ he asked not leaving his gaze from Pyramus, it wasn’t a request, it was an order and Pyramus who was coming from a small house couldn’t say no. Without a word he let go of Y/N, she felt empty. She was about to object, maybe excuse herself to rest but Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen acted quickly, like a snake he placed his hand on the small of her back and held her hand, she had no choice but to place her hand on his tense shoulder. His eyes so blue, ‘’How long has it been?’’ he asked, his boy voice was gone and classical Harkonnen tone made its home. Manly. ‘’I truly don’t remember.’’ She replied with a flat tone, couldn’t do anything but let him lead the dance. It had been only a minute and Y/N had every information she needed;
Predator
Dominant
Show off
His grip was strong, maybe he was sending a clear message to other houses. Y/N didn’t want to care but her Bene Gesserit training made it impossible not to care. ‘’You wound me.’’ He mocked. He was much taller than Pyramus. She had to look up to meet his icy blue gaze. Y/N noticed the looks they got, a Harkonnen is dancing with an Atreides…. Outrageous.
‘’I see you become a witch like your mother.’’ His tongue was a whip, was he trying to get a reaction out of her?
‘’I’ve heard you become a beast.’’ She was quick to answer, she felt the grip on her back tightened. Did she stroke a nerve? Good.
‘’If we were in Giedi Prime I would have your tongue.’’ He was amused and it made her more angry, ‘’Proves my point.’’
She noticed Irulan and Paul’s questioning look, they seemed shocked and concerned for Y/N. She gave them a small smile.
She felt like a black cobra snake swallowing her whole, Feyd-Rautha made sure to press her close to him, he wasn’t gentle like Pyramus, she looked but couldn’t see him, ‘’Looking for someone?’’ he sounded annoyed, Y/N heard how his mood changes quickly and she didn’t have time for an ugly scene. ‘’My friends. I assume you’re not familiar with the concept.’’ She thought maybe detesting Harkonnens were genetic. Feyd laughed hard which attracted stares around them, they were mostly concerned for Y/N Atreides. Up close, for a split second she saw that innocent boy but he disappeared.
The music ended and she excused herself, before she left Na-Baron grabbed her wrist, she turned in shock, what was he doing? He leaned and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, the kiss felt so soft she couldn’t believe it was coming from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. She bowed in courtesy and got away from his grip, she could feel his icy blue orbits on her back, stabbing her.
Irulan came to chat with her, ‘’What was that about?’’ Irulan didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention but she wasn’t the only one who witnessed that. ‘’What do you mean?’’ Y/N asked drinking her champagne, cold liquid made her more relaxed, ‘’Feyd-Rautha ate you with his eyes.’’ Irulan signed with her hands, didn’t want pointy ears to hear. ‘’He is an intense man. That’s all.’’ She signed back.
The night was too long for Y/N’s liking. Since she was a lady she had to sand by her family and talk to other houses about spice, politics, etc. She needed some air.
Y/N chose a balcony at the back, front ones were occupied, she inhaled deeply, her hands on the stone railings, ‘’Here you are.’’ Pyramus’s soft voice made her calm. They hugged, he immediately tried to kiss her but Y/N had to be careful, she moved her head and Pyramus’s thin lips landed on her cheek. He huffed in annoyance, ‘’How long we have to hide in the shadows?’’ he loved to whine. ‘’Soon I shall tell my family.’’ Y/N kept mustering up her courage and loosing it the last minute. It wasn’t going to be easy. Pyramus held her hands, ‘’Be mine, they can’t say anything then.’’
‘’I’m already yours.’’ She was confused,
‘’Be mine… fully.’’ His dark eyes looking for answers. ‘’Oh,’’ Y/N understood. ‘’I don’t know. We should head back.’’ She changed the topic. Before she could leave Pyramus didn’t let go of her hands, ‘’Think about it, please.’’
Y/N Atreides could hear the whispers; ‘’Did you see?’’
‘’Poor girl.’’
‘’They seemed a perfect match, how odd.’’
‘’Na-Baron seems interested…’’
She only held her head high, pretended like she was deaf. Long night came to an end, she felt so tired running from unwanted company, the Harkonnen boy. Her father had to talk to them, Y/N managed to ignore them.
Tossing and turning in her bed with questions in her busy mind she bolted to her feet. The palace was quiet, guests were fast asleep. Y/N wanted to talk to someone, someone who would understand.. she wore her white satin robe and left her bed chamber. Her family were staying at the guest wing, she knew Paul would be awake. Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, glowglobes were on the walls, giving a dim light to the corridors, her Bene Gesserit training made her stop, someone was following her, she calmed her mind.
‘’Why so hasty?’’ a rough voice echoed behind her back. She turned to face the owner of the voice. Feyd-Rautha.
‘’I could ask you the same thing, my Na-Baron.’’ Her heart beat got faster as he approached hands in his back. His manner was predatory, observing his prey. His tunic was thin and loose, ‘’Why are you wandering so late at night, little dove?’’ pet name made her blood rise but she had to keep her calm. ‘’I don’t see why it is-‘’ he was circling her now, ‘’your business.’’ Feyd came to stop in front of her which made her look up to meet his eyes. He liked having the height advantage, he could sense her fear, so delicious. ‘’Witches and their secrets…’’ he leaned and whispered to her face, his breath hot. Y/N wanted to run away and hide from him but something in her told her that no matter what he would find her.
‘’I’m good at revealing secrets.’’ His left hand rose, his forefinger tracing her arm covered in satin, both of them felt the electricity. His eyes travelled on her chest and find their place on her eyes again. ‘’How is Pyramus?’’
Y/N had to be extremely careful, or her house’s honor could be at stake. ‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about Na-baron.’’ Her tone flat yet Feyd noticed her posture change. As if she was going into a trial by combat. Deep down he wondered how would it feel to be loved like this, he could feel the rise of jealousy… a member of an insignificant house could achieve her love so easily? No. he would not allow it. A sinister plan ran in his dark mind.
She wanted to wipe that arrogant smile on his face, ‘’I shall bid you good night.’’ With that she headed back to her room. Whenever she wanted to open up about Pyramus something would stop her…
When the morning came with its shiny sun and fresh smell of flowers she was having breakfast with her family. Padishah Emperor Shaddam made majority of the house leave and announced that after breakfast he would announce his decision.
‘’You seem upset my love, is everything all right?’’ Duke Leto asked gently, she hadn’t touched the food on her golden plate, she looked around, no one but her family. ‘’I’m in love with someone.’’ She unraveled, feeling the years of burden leaving her delicate shoulders. Leto and Paul were smiling but her mother’s face didn’t move a muscle. ‘’Who is the lucky gentleman?’’ Leto asked, ‘’Pyramus, from house-‘’
Jessica cut her short, ‘’That house?! Have you lost your mind?’’ Jessica knew that Reverend Mother had something else planned for Y/N. Bene Gesserit has been working for this union for years. ‘’Let’s not lose our temper.’’ Leto warned Jessica with a calm tone. ‘’They are a small house, it is true. If he is good enough for my daughter he is good enough for us.’’ He finished. ‘’Excuse me.’’ Everyone thought Jessica was leaving in anger but she was about to send a message to Reverend Mother an change the whole course of Y/N’s future.
Harkonnens were having breakfast together, Feyd-Rautha was so fed up with his obese uncle’s eating that he lost his appetite. Rabban was in his normal self, quiet and tense. ‘’I wonder who will be the princess’s husband.’’ Rabban said curiously, was he hoping? Feyd-Rautha was seated away from them, watching them like a hawk. He knew well that Shaddam would never take that risk, to send his one and only daughter to the hellhole called Giedi Prime? Not in a million years. ‘’One way or another he has to satisfy us.’’ Their uncle spoke with full mouth, Feyd had to look away, he could feel his bile coming up to his throat. He drank his wine to suppress. ‘’What do you think uncle?’’ Rabban asked, he kept trying to impress their uncle and failed miserably. Baron’s fat fingers were shiny with the bacon’s juice he was eating, ‘’I believe we won’t leave until we get something.’’
Their Mentat Piter de Vrives knocked on the door and walked in, ‘’My Baron, Emperor is expecting you and your nephews to the throne room.’’
Baron laughed, ‘’We shall be there.’’
The throne room was packed with lords and ladies that remained, including Reverend Mother Helen. Y/N didn’t remember seeing her last night’s ball. Strange. Y/N Atreides and her family arrived early, Padishah Emperor Shaddam spoke with her father Duke Leto in private. Behind the golden throne there was a door which opened to a small room where Shaddam’s office took place. When Duke Leto came back his face held grim, he refused to look at anyone but the Emperor, was that resentment? Emperor was seated on his golden throne which had colorful ornaments, on his right much smaller and silver throne was placed and Irulan was sitting on it. Looking like a statue, she was a strong woman. Reverend Mother was at Shaddam’s left, whispering into his ear. She was covered in black, just like Harkonnens.
Y/N noticed how old Shaddam got, every child at one point in their lives come to the realization of their parents’ old age. Emperor was a second father to her, a sudden whip to her heart she focused her eyes on the floor to prevent herself from crying. In order to keep her racing mind busy she looked around to see the remained houses. Pyramus was right there, she waved at her and Y/N waved back. He had a colorful suit, just like his personality. Pyramus and other low class houses were on the left side of the room, other old and powerful houses were on the right. Everyone watched the way Harkonnens entered, they were the last one to arrive. Baron Vladimir was a man of show off, he loved to show his power given any chance. Baron was at the front, Rabban and Feyd following behind, when Y/N saw Feyd-Rautha, her mind immediately went to last night’s events.
‘’Does he know me and Pyramus?’’ to be the first one to reveal the secret she had to tell it to her family this morning but she wasn’t sure anymore. All day Pyramus was after her asking how they reacted, she felt overwhelmed.
She wanted to be brave so Y/N watched them stand close to Atreides, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t shy of eye contact, as usual he was wearing his black suit, with his boots he looked much taller. Y/N watched him eye her up and down, she was wearing a dark blue dress, her arms and neck covered in dark blue laces, her head was tightly rounded like a ball on her head, a thin silver tiara was placed. She kept her posture high, she wasn’t going to shrink because of a Harkonnen, even though Feyd looked as if he could disintegrate her with his shiny blue eyes.
Shaddam rose to his feet, his regal robe sweeping the floor, ‘’Thank you for waiting so patiently,’’ everyone were focused, eager to hear his decision. ‘’I have decided that it was due time to choose a life partner for my one and only daughter. After last night I have consulted my daughter Irulan and the young gentleman that I choose is,’’ Y/N could feel the tension in the room, she slightly observed the room and Shaddam’s subjects were focused on him but one person. Feyd-Rautha, his snake eyes kept finding Y/N. Why did he look like he knew something that Y/N didn’t?
‘’Paul Atreides, from house Atreides.’’ Applauses could be heard, Y/N got positive energy from them last night so she wasn’t wrong. Irulan was her sister and Paul her brother, she knew that they would make each other happy. Paul walked to princes Irulan to kiss her hand. ‘’The wedding shall happen tomorrow.’’ The applauses died down, ‘’If you have no objections or requests you may be dismissed.’’ Shaddam announced, Y/N couldn’t wait to be left alone with Irulan and listen every detail.
‘’Emperor!’’ a man’s strong voice echoed in the throne room, ‘’I have a request.’’ Y/N turned to see Feyd-Rautha leaving his spot and slowly approaching to stand in the middle of the room, ‘’Come forth young Harkonnen.’’
Y/N had a bad feeling, this whole thing look staged, she turned to see her family’s reaction. Duke Leto, again, trying so hard to avoid her, Lady Jessica smiled at her. Y/N was puzzled, ‘’This is for the best.’’ She signed to her daughter.
Feyd-Rautha did what Shaddam said, before he knelt in front of the Emperor he gave a last look to her.
‘’What is it that you request?’’ Shaddam’s calmness irritated Y/N.
‘’Since you raised her as one of your own it is best to ask your permission,’’ Feyd paused to get more reaction from his spectators, his head was down but after that pause he tilted his head and look into Shaddam’s eyes. Shaddam had never seen such power in a young boy before. Baron did great job.
‘’I demand Lady Y/N Atreides’s hand in marriage.’’
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Thank you for reading. :)
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halfofmysoulsblog · 3 months
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Steve Rodgers who finds out he’s going to be a dad
Soon to be dad!Rogers who is not sure what to think at first. When you stood there holding your blanket around you, the pregnancy test and papers in hand. The first thing he did was throw his things down and envelop you in his arms, kissing you sweetly. Then promptly made love to you for the rest of the night.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who held you all day and the night when the pregnancy symptoms started to kick in. Who brushed through your thick mane of curls in the night, his hand across your stomach, eagerly waiting the day to feel your stomach grow.
Soon to be dad!Rogers whose eyes brightly lit up and a smile graced his lips when he felt the baby kick for the first time. He just looked at you with so much adoration.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who doted on you hand and foot. Who went out late in the night to get you a Double Cheeseburger from McDonald’s and a blast milkshake from Sonic because neither tasted good without the other.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who rushed his way home from a mission to go to your very first doctor’s appointment, adamant he wouldn’t miss it for the world.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who didn’t believe in a higher being but prayed every night that you and his child would be okay.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who called you every night he was away just to hear you breathe into the phone and tell him that you miss him.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who found your belly the most beautiful and precious thing in the world, kissing and rubbing a hand over the bump assuring you that you never looked more beautiful.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who was anxious to find out the sex but wanted to wait just because you did.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who held you late in the nights when your emotions would spiral, whether that be into a fit of happiness or when you’d find yourself upset.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who didn’t care which sex the baby came out to be but was a proud man to find out he would have a little princess to dote on. Mind filling with the great times ahead.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who hated when the two of you would fight over something so small, leaving you both upset, yet he’d still bring you flowers and put on your favorite movie.
Soon to be dad!Rogers who fought tooth and nail to make it to the delivery room on time, pushing past doctors and nurses just to hold your hand and assure you he was right there.
Dad!Rogers - A man never so brought to his knees by the sound of his wailing child, your tight grip on his hand finally easing as you let out relieved but pained breaths.
Dad!Rogers who’d never been so gentle when he held his little girl for the first time, vowing to give her the world right then and there. Looking at you and the little life the two of you created. Who sat in the room for the rest of the night, assured he didn’t need to be anywhere else.
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courtforshort15 · 2 years
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Choice and Chance and Promise
Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader
Word count: 7,300
Summary: You can't help the way you feel about one Matthew Murdock, though you've spent years wishing you could. It would probably have made things a little easier.
Trigger warnings: none. Slight angst (but not really) with a happy ending.
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"I don’t think this is working out for me anymore.”
The words echo in your head as you say them, getting louder and louder each time it finds a wall, ledge or corner to bounce off of. The man across the table stiffens, and there’s a sharp intake of breath that causes his nostrils to flare.
“What?” His tone is one of utter disbelief, and honestly, you can’t blame him. It had seemingly come out of nowhere, though lunch had been awkward as all hell, at least from your perspective. Apparently he hadn’t felt the same.
You wince, shifting your eyes away from him, hating to see the pain that’s beginning to bloom across his face. You hate this part. “I said–”
“I know what you said,” he snaps, the red tint in his cheeks deepening. You don’t take the tone to heart, knowing he’s only reacting the way he is because he’s hurt. “I’m just confused.” 
Taking a deep breath, you continue to steel yourself, feeling the way your spine has straightened as you force yourself to say what you need to say. It’s not that you don’t want to break up with him, it’s just that you’re awful at confrontation. “I just…don’t think this is working. I don’t know what else to say.”
“You could start by telling me why,” he says, and you watch as the pain slowly shifts into something that’s a little frustrated, a little angry. “I thought things were going well.”
“They were–”
“Then what’s going on?”
“--until they weren’t.”
His face hardens. “But why? I don’t get it.”
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and your thumb, briefly closing your eyes. You look back up at him, noting the way his knuckles have turned white around the plastic cup of soda he’s holding. “I’m just not into it anymore, I guess? I don’t know.”
He gives you an incredulous look. “Not into it anymore?”
“Yeah. I don’t think this is right for me.”
“You don’t think I’m right for you, is what you’re saying.” The look on his face is accusatory, but what he’s said is 100% correct.
“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” your voice is quiet as you respond, shrugging your shoulders. You look at the wall over his shoulder, reluctant to look at his face directly and see the pain that’s radiating off of him.
The man barks out a sarcastic laugh, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. A few other patrons look up in curiosity before continuing on with their lunch. “This is great. Fantastic.”
You grimace, fingers playing with the hair tie that's wrapped around your wrist. You’re a fidgeter, you can’t help it, and this is something that’s turning your stomach. You hate being the bad guy, even though it’s completely unintentional and you’re only trying to do what’s best for you. You’re allowed to be selfish in that regard, right? 
“I’m really sorry,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear. The apology doesn’t help, but you don’t really expect it to.
“Did I do something? Say something wrong?”
“No, it’s not that,” you say as you shift in your seat awkwardly. 
“Then what?”
Groaning, you toss your head back to stare at the ceiling. Breakups suck, and it doesn’t matter what side of the equation you’re on. “It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know how to describe it.”
He’s not satisfied with the answers you’re giving him, if the look he’s giving you is anything to go by. “You’re not making any sense at all. Can’t we just talk about this?”
“We are talking about this.”
The man gives a frustrated sigh as he runs his fingers through his hair. “No, you’re breaking up with me. That’s not talking about it. You’re telling me we’re done without giving me the chance to change your mind, or see what’s fixable.”
“There’s nothing wrong, and there’s nothing that needs fixing. You’re a great guy, I just–”
“Are you seriously giving me the “it’s not you, it’s me” line?”
You cringe, cheeks flushing. “That’s not…Look, I’m really sorry, but this isn’t what I want anymore. You didn't do anything wrong, so please don’t think any of this is on you. Some people just aren’t good matches, you know?”
“I can’t believe this,” he seethes. A waitress comes up to presumably ask a question, but you shake your head before she can say anything, trying to indicate it’s best she stays away. With a nod, she walks over to another table instead. You turn to look back at the man across from you, watching as he just about glares at you. 
“I’m sor–”
“Stop apologizing,” he bares his teeth as he hisses the words. “Just tell me why my girlfriend is up and leaving without a conversation about it.”
Your mouth drops in surprise. “Girlfriend?”
“Yes, girlfriend. We’ve been dating for three months, what else did you think you were?”
“Three months isn’t a lot of time,” you say weakly, faltering just slightly. “I guess I didn’t see myself as your…girlfriend.”
A brief look of hope crosses over his face suddenly and a bad feeling settles over you. “Is that…is that why you’re breaking up with me? Because you wanted to be serious and you thought I didn’t?”
Fucking hell. “No–”
“Because I promise you, I want to be serious. I’m serious about you.”
“That’s not–”
“I’m really sorry if you thought I didn’t want more, and if that made you feel like you needed to cut yourself off before you got too attached. I can totally understand that.”
You’ve reached your breaking point. “Enough. No. That’s not why. I didn’t think this was serious, and I don’t think I wanted it to be serious. I don’t want to be with you. Why can’t you just accept that?”
His face darkens again as his eyes narrow drastically. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?”
You jerk back, surprised at the accusation. “What?”
“That’s it, right? You’re fucking someone else, and you don’t want me anymore.”
“That’s a hateful accusation,” you glare at him as your voice lowers. “We may not have been serious, but I wasn’t…sleeping around.”
“Right,” he scoffs. “Maybe you were or maybe you weren’t sleeping with someone else, who knows. Maybe you just have feelings for someone else.” The words are spat out at you as if having feelings for someone else is worse than fucking someone.
But this accusation coming from him is…not wrong.
Flashes of a man, a devastatingly beautiful man, flip through your mind, and it’s easy to allow the images flood your consciousness. His dark hair and the way it has a reddish tone when it catches the light just right. A wide smile, framed by dimples and laugh lines, full lips open to give you a dry comment or a quiet compliment. Calloused hands that still feel smooth wrapped around your elbow, broad shoulders that carry the weight of Hell’s Kitchen on them.
Him. It’s always been him. 
And it’s taken way too long to figure it out, way too long to give it a chance, way too long to admit how you feel.
The man across from you utterly sneers as he correctly reads the emotions flitting across your face. “That’s bullshit. You’re breaking up with me for someone else.”
You hang your head in an act of shame. You really do feel awful about this, even if he’s currently being an asshole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to end this way. I can’t…help how I feel about him.”
His lips curl in something that’s bordering on loathing. “And if you could? Would you want to change how you feel about him?”
For the first time since you’d sat down with him to end things, you look him straight in the eyes, with absolutely no hesitation in your mind. “No. I wouldn’t.” 
A bitter laugh escapes him. “Right. Great. Guess I’ll be leaving then.” He stands up, his chair screeching across the tile of the restaurant floor. He angrily tosses a twenty down on the table to cover his meal.
You look up at him with wide eyes, still hating the way you’ve hurt him. He was a good guy, just…not the one for you. “It was…uh. It was nice knowing you, David. I hope you find what you’re–”
The man storms away and exits the restaurant door in a fit of fury before you even finish speaking. 
—---
Hours later, you’re standing outside his run-down green door, take-out in one hand and a pack of disgusting German beer in the other, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.
It’s ridiculous, you know it is. You told him you were coming over, so you know he’s home. And you also know he’s likely tracked your movement from two blocks away minimum and is fully aware you’re standing outside his door. 
Sure enough, before you can even knock, it’s being opened from the inside. Matt stands in his doorway in casual clothes, his favorite ratty t-shirt and gray sweatpants (yes, fucking gray sweatpants, holy hell), with a smile on his lips as he immediately beckons you inside.
“Hey,” he greets you as you cross the threshold into his apartment. He reaches out and wordlessly grabs the beer and take-out from you so that you can remove your jacket and scarf and place them on his coat rack. “You know, it’s usually customary to knock on one’s door when you’re ready to come inside.”
You smile at the simple way he teases you as the pair of you walk into his living room. Things have just always been easy, always been effortless between you two. “I think the key word is ready in this situation.”
“Oh?” He asks curiously while he immediately begins unpacking the food and placing it on his coffee table. He’s already set out plates and napkins to eat dinner with, and there’s a glass of water waiting for you, knowing you prefer it to the beer you’ve brought over for him. “What were you waiting on?”
Oh, just trying to figure out how not to fuck this up.
“Nothing, I was just thinking,” you say instead as you toe off your shoes and move to sit on the ground in front of the coffee table. Matt thinks it’s amusing when you sit on the ground instead of the couch to eat, but he’s always quick to join you anyway. It's therefore no surprise that once the food is properly laid out, he’s sitting across from you on the other side of the table, legs stretched out underneath.
His feet, like usual, are covered in fluffy socks that roll up over the bottom of his sweats, much to your ever-lasting amusement. It’s adorable, and the fact that he has no idea what it does to you is ridiculous.
God, this man.
“Thinking? What about?”
You. Always you.
“Things,” you shrug nonchalantly.
“Things,” he says dryly. He places a large serving of your favorite dish onto a plate before he hands it to you. You’ve known each other long enough, been friends long enough, that he knows what you’re going to eat before you even say anything, always correctly anticipating what you’re hungry for. You take it from him with a grateful smile.
“Yes, things.” 
He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. It’s generally not like you to be vague, but he’s never been one to push. He knows you’ll tell him when or if you’re ready, because you always do. He’s the one person you tell everything to.
“Well, let me know if you need to talk about anything, okay?”
You smile, and the expression is genuinely open and happy. It’s an expression that is on your face more often than not when you’re around him.
Matt tilts his head towards yours, beautiful brown eyes that sometimes look hazel in the light aimed in your general direction, as if he can see the way you’re looking at him. Your heart is pounding in your ears, but in a way that you hope suggests excitement for your favorite take-out place rather than anxiety. He smiles softly, and you know he’s listening in.
You suppose people could find it intrusive, the way he’s able to know more about their bodies than they do. But to you, Matt’s only ever used his abilities to seek the truth and hold people accountable for their actions, regardless of the setting.
With a dorky grin still on your face, you find yourself digging into dinner, suddenly starving, realizing you hadn’t been able to eat much at today, both because David had taken you to a place he knew you hated for lunch, and because your stomach had been twisted into knots as you paced back and forth in your living room, trying to find the right words to say to the man in front of you. 
“How’s that case coming?” you ask him, eyeing the sheets of paper spread gathered in a pile and his laptop on his kitchen table. It must have been one of the days he chose to work from home, if the mess is anything to go by.
Matt lifts a shoulder in response as he shoves another bite into his mouth and swallows. You eye the way his cherry, bow-strung lips wrap themselves around his fork. “It’s a bit of a beast, to be honest. No concrete alibi, a witness that places our client at the location of the crime within a few hours of it happening. But Foggy thinks he’s got a lead, so we’re hoping something comes through.” 
“But you don’t necessarily have to have great leads, right? As long as you can discredit the prosecution’s?”
Matt looks so downright happy that your heart flutters in your chest. He sends you a teasing smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Look at you, it seems you do occasionally listen when I’m talking.”
“I guess I just like the sound of your voice,” you tell him sarcastically. Matt throws back his head and laughs as you chuck back the line you know he’s used on women before, yourself included.
“I’m blind,” he says when he’s done laughing. He takes another bite, and again you find yourself distracted by the movement. “It is fully within my right to use that line.”
“If you used it as a genuine compliment rather than a line to seduce women, I might be able to excuse it.”
He drops his mouth in mock upset. “Why can’t it be both?”
You snicker before taking another bite. “I’ve known you for years, Matt. If it was a genuine compliment, you’d say it to women you weren’t trying to hook up with.”
“That’s…fair.”
You laugh again. “I’ve known you for too long, Matt. I’ve figured out most of your secrets.”
“I highly doubt that,” he says with a grin, blank eyes aimed over your shoulder. “We wouldn’t be friends if you did.”
Your eyebrows raise as you consider him. “Is that so?”
His laugh is almost self deprecating, and it causes your lips to twist into a small frown. “No one wants to be inside my head. I don’t even want to be inside it.” 
“And if I did?”
His expression is curious, his head tilted as he observes you in the way that is uniquely him. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Maybe I just want to know more about you,” you shrug your shoulders. You take a large sip of your water, lips curling briefly in disgust as he does the same with his beer. His beer of choice is revolting, and you’ve never been able to tell if he actually likes it, or if it’s because he thinks he deserves the worst in all things, even his alcohol. “We’ve been friends for a while, haven’t we? Sometimes I can tell you want to let things slip, but you always hold back.”
“It’s been a rough road,” he says in response, letting out a sigh as he shakes his head. You grimace, knowing just how rough the road has been, having met him at a low point in his life. But even at his worst, he managed to draw you in like a moth to the flame. “It wasn’t pretty. Not sure that’s something you want to hear about, sweetheart.”
His name for you rolls off his tongue easily, which is no surprise since he’s been calling you that ever since it randomly slipped out at a drunken night at Josie’s. You’ve worked hard over the years to not react to it in a way that wasn’t strictly friendly, but tonight you…can’t help it. The word runs through your veins before it settles in your heart, and you find yourself flushing. 
Matt pauses, his next bite of food sitting on his fork halfway to his mouth. The tilt of his head indicates he’s picked up on the way your heart has briefly stuttered. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, attempting to brush it off and not give yourself away so soon. You’ve planned out what you want to say tonight, and you’re…not quite ready to go there. You need to ease into it, prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not feel the same way, because there is still a very real chance that this will all blow up in your face.
“You sure?”
You smile softly, his quiet concern washing over you like a gentle breeze on a warm spring day. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
There’s a quiet lull in the conversation as you focus on the food in front of you, and the silence is a comfortable one. You watch as he takes another bite, eyeing the way he never spills a single piece of his food with a small sense of envy. You, on the other hand, cause a mess all over your own t-shirt with every meal, and tonight is no exception. You wet a napkin with your water and try to get rid of the stain that’s forming, though you know it’s not going to do much.
“What were you up to today?” His voice snaps you out of your head, the question popping up out of the blue after he takes another swig of his god awful beer. “Didn’t you take the day off? Karen said she called you earlier to ask if you wanted to grab coffee, but that you said you were out of the office today.”
“Uh, yeah,” you say as you push your plate away from you, having finished with dinner. Matt does the same after funneling in one last bite. Over the years, your work has sometimes overlapped with the practice of Nelson, Murdock & Page, so it’s not unusual for Karen to call you up for coffee breaks or lunch dates.“I took some time just to decompress for a bit.”
“Just for fun?”
You shift in your seat awkwardly before you choose to stand up to grab your dishes from his coffee table, intending to help clean up. Matt stands up quickly and waves your hand away, picking them up instead, along with the extra food neither one of you had eaten. He walks them over to the kitchen and places them into his sink with a clank. 
“No, not really,” you tell him honestly after a moment. Your mind quickly shuffles through the best way to broach the topic. “I uh…I had lunch with David earlier.”
The entire line of Matt’s body goes stiff, and you watch as every inch of him stops moving in front of you from where he’s standing in front of the facet. He’s quiet for a moment, and it looks like a war is taking place inside his head as he frowns. He lets out a loud breath, and it strikes you that he looks like he’s trying to shake himself out of it, but failing.
“That’s…nice,” he says, and the words sound incredibly tense and forced. “I hope he’s doing well.”
You grimace at the reminder of David’s angry face, twiddling your thumbs as you stand awkwardly in his living room. “I don’t think he’s doing especially well right now.”
Matt grabs a few tupperware containers from under his kitchen sink and begins shoveling leftovers into them, his face carefully blank. “That’s a shame. Is everything okay?”
“Okay with me? Or okay with him?”
Matt’s head tilts at the question. “Both? Mostly you, though. Are you okay?”
“I mean…yeah,” you say, realizing it’s the absolute truth as a small smile appears across your face. Matt nods to himself, snapping the lid of a container shut, and if he uses a little more force than usual, neither one of you acknowledges it.
“That’s good,” he mumbles just loudly enough for you to hear from across the room. You watch as he walks over and places the leftovers in his fridge. “Good. I’m glad everything is good.”
“It is good,” you repeat, and your smile widens hesitantly, despite your nerves. “We went to that Mexican restaurant on 51st.”
Matt pauses and tilts his head towards you, looking confused. “You hate that place.”
You let out a laugh. “I absolutely detest it, actually. It’s not authentic at all, and the rice and beans are awful.”
“Why would you go there then?” The look on his face tells you that he thinks the concept is absolutely ridiculous.
You shrug your shoulders lightly as you make your way closer to his dining table, fingers running over the paper he has piled up, tracing lightly over the bumps. “David wanted to go there.”
Matt’s face returns to a look that is forcibly blank as he turns on the water and begins washing the dishes. “Does he know you don’t like it?”
“He was hoping I’d change my mind. He uh…didn’t always care too much about the places I liked going to.”
“Right,” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear as he begins scrubbing furiously. You find yourself almost feeling bad for the poor sponge. “That’s kind of him, always taking you to places he knows you don’t like.”
Your eyebrows raise at the borderline hostility towards a man who’s not even in the room. “It’s okay, Matt,” you say, watching the way his face has screwed up slightly in frustration. “It’s not a big deal.”
“You’d think your boyfriend would at least try to find places to go to that you both like, instead of just choosing what works for him.”
You don’t disagree with him, mostly because it was something you’d picked up early on with David anyway, but the sentence still makes you frown. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“You’ve been dating for a few months though, right?”
You open your mouth to respond.“Well yes–”
“Then even if you haven’t made things official, he still should make more of an effort to keep you in mind when making plans.”
“Matt–”
His voice has grown louder, and it’s almost alarming, the way he’s reacting right now. “It’s kind of inconsiderate, actually. He should–” 
“I broke up with him.”
Matt freezes, every inch of him momentarily coming to a screeching halt, the dish towel still in his hands. He frowns, appearing extremely bewildered, and you don’t necessarily blame him, not with the words you let slip past your lips in an effort to stop his tangent. He looks briefly like the wind has been knocked out of his sails before he recovers. “Why would you do that?”
You shrug, observing him as he slowly places the dish towel on the counter. “It didn’t feel right with him.”
“It didn’t feel right with him?” He repeats almost flatly. You nod, biting your bottom lip. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the counter, fully facing you now. “Well, it’s…good you figured that out, right? No one deserves to be led on.”
“That’s right,” you whisper, and you’re almost taken aback by the sadness that flashes across his face. 
Does he not–
He’s still frowning, his lips tugged down on the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay? Shouldn’t you–”
“Matt,” you sigh as you take another few steps forward into the kitchen, effectively cutting him off. Matt looks like he can’t tell if he should stay still or bolt at the sudden movement. “I broke up with the guy I was seeing, and the only thing I’ve wanted to do was come here.”
He licks his lips nervously, and the motion draws your eyes to his mouth, a mouth you’ve thought about more times than you want to admit. “I’m…I’m not sure what to say to that.”
You smile sadly, quickly coming to the realization this isn’t the way you pictured this conversation going. “You don’t really need to say anything. I just…thought you should know.”
“But why did you think I should know?” 
You shuffle your feet, and you know you’re quickly losing your nerve as your heart settles in your stomach, a heavy wrecking ball ready to destroy whatever you had come over here to say. “Because we’re friends. Right?”
Matt almost flinches, his body practically deflating in front of you. “Right. Friends. This is totally something you talk about with friends.” The man shudders in front of you and closes his eyes, head turning away from you. He’s silent, and the longer he doesn’t say anything, the more uneasy you get. 
Had you…read this wrong? 
Years of warm, flirty comments. Years of late night take out. Years of bright smiles and impromptu sleepovers when he’s too tired to leave your couch after you’ve patched him up. Years of random coffee meet-ups and hugs that lasted longer than they did with Karen and Foggy. Years of Saturday morning walks through Central Park and dry, sarcastic comments thrown at each other like confetti.
Years of feeling like something was always lurking beneath the surface, but never quite knowing, never quite believing what it was or could be.
You honestly don’t know why it’s taken you so long to get to this point in your life. Matt was a man you once upon a time had a crush on, before his apparent lack of interest forced you to shove those feelings aside. It was more than enough, you’ve told yourself over the years, to just be his friend, and so eventually, you dropped it.
Until one day…a side comment from Karen caught your ear and everything simply slid into place.
A side comment that suggested that just perhaps…he felt the same way, too.
But maybe, thinking back on it, Karen had been wrong. She was drunk when she slurred it to you three weeks ago at happy hour, so perhaps listening to her wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she saw something that wasn’t there. Maybe she simply hoped for her best friends to be happy, and made up a story in her head and nonchalantly passed it along to you.
You shift on your feet in mild distress, and take a small step back, unconsciously trying to separate yourself from the pain and panic that is suddenly rippling through you. You haven’t even really said anything to him about your feelings yet, and things are already crashing and burning around you. “I’m sorry that this kinda…came out of nowhere, I guess,” you laugh humorlessly. 
His face snaps back to yours. “What came out of nowhere?”
“Just…nothing.” The words come out as a quiet sigh and your eyes drift over to the billboard that flashes outside his living room window, unable to look at him anymore. The display shifts through multiple colors on repeat, and while you’ve always been comforted by the light it offers Matt’s often dark apartment, today you feel like the cheery image on the screen is mocking you.
“No, tell me,” you hear him insist. His voice is laced with something you can’t quite put a finger on, but you shove it aside.
Running your hand through your hair, a bitter laugh makes its way out of your mouth. “Me, coming over here to tell you I’d broken things off with David. I thought…well I don’t know what I thought, actually.”
“You’re lying,” he accuses, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him cross his arms across his chest. You know it’s a habit he has when he feels flustered or when he’s unconsciously trying to shut someone out, a barrier between someone else and whatever he’s feeling. The motion causes you to flinch.
You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to make your voice sound as blank as possible. “I’m really not.”
The man doesn’t let up, his voice growing louder with each word that comes out of his mouth. “You came over here to say something specific, didn’t you?”
Your eyes shift back to him. “No, I just–”
“Did you forget that I can tell when you’re lying?” Matt’s beginning to look borderline frustrated, and you wince at the way his voice has shifted. It’s rare that he uses that tone on you, usually reserving it for when he’s upset about a case he’s working on, or someone who’s stirring up trouble on the streets.
You shake your head, and you feel a traitorous flash of heat on your cheeks. This is embarrassing. Why did you think a man like this could possibly feel the same? “I’m not trying to lie, I just realized that maybe I was wrong about something and that I should probably just go home.”
You move to turn on your heel and leave the kitchen, but hands wrap themselves around your upper arms before you can move more than a few inches. He pulls you in further until you can almost feel the heat of him against you, and you shift your eyes back away from him, struggling to think with him so close.
“Don’t leave. I’m…I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you. You’re acting strange,” he says as he continues to hold your arms, though his hands are exceedingly gentle like always. You try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let go.
“I’m fine, I think I’m just tired.”
He shakes his head, his face still a mix of upset and concern, his voice lowering to almost a growl. “Am I really going to have to pry it out of you?”
“Matt–”
“Just tell me.”
You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, the words tearing themselves out of your lips. “I came over here to tell you that I have feelings for you.”
He stills against you, his sightless eyes going wide, his mouth opening in shock. You hear his breath catch, no doubt surprised beyond belief. “What?”
You bow your head in something neighboring shame.
“Yeah,” you mumble under your breath. He’s silent, his face still a combination of frustration and surprise, and you decide his processing of the new information isn’t something you want to be around for. “I think I should go home.”
He seems to snap out of a haze, and his hands tighten around your arms when you try to pull away again. “You can’t just say something like that and then leave. I can tell there’s more that you want to say, so just say it.”
You’re suddenly exhausted, energy leaching from your pores. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”
“No,” is all he says, jaw tight, locked and ready to latch on to anything that might pour out of your mouth.
“Right,” you mutter under your breath. Your eyes drift away from him again, suddenly desperate to separate yourself from him as much as possible. “I think I’ve always felt this way. I, uh…it’s stupid really, but I–”
“Then why now?” He demands, though the tone isn’t as harsh as you would have suspected of someone who had just had their whole world rocked. “Why are you saying this now?”
Your eyes well at the question, and it takes every inch of you to not let a single tear fall, devastation beginning to settle in like an unwanted freeze in the middle of spring, unknowingly killing all the plants and flowers that have already been so lovingly attended to. 
“Karen said something a few weeks ago, something about you maybe feeling the same way, and I knew I needed to at least try to say something. And I also knew that I couldn’t have anything going on with David if there was any chance that you had feelings for me, too.” 
Head hung in misery, you try again to pull away as he still doesn’t say anything. “I hope…I hope that this hasn’t ruined anything between us. We can still be friends, right? This doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to. It’s seriously okay that you don’t feel the same–”
“I do.”
Every cell freezes in your body and your heart stutters to a stop. Your eyes lift to look at him, taking in the way he seems as equally as terrified as you felt when your own words ripped out of your head and into an actual confession. “What did you–”
He licks his lips again, but his face suddenly morphs into something more focused, something more sharp and heated and purposeful. “You heard me.”
“You feel–”
“Yes.” The way he’s still holding you suggests that he’s reluctant to pull away from you more than a centimeter. It’s shifted from something that merely kept you close to him because he didn’t want you to leave, to something that seems more intentional, more determined to keep you near for the sole sake of just holding you. “I feel the same way.”
“For how lo–”
His eyes land somewhere on your cheek. “A while. Years.”
Your heart thunders in your chest, the sound of it in your ears almost as deafening as standing next to a waterfall. “Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask quietly once you’ve caught your breath, your eyes flitting across his face as he suddenly reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear. 
“I was not in a good place when we met,” he whispers, and you wince, because he was right. He hadn’t been. “It took me a while to put myself together, after everything that happened with Midland Circle and Elektra. And by the time I realized how I felt, by the time I felt like I could maybe be a person at least somewhat deserving of you, you had met Brad.”
Brad. An ex-boyfriend you had dated for about a year. Nice guy. Boring, but nice. He treated you well, at least, and you hadn’t necessarily been unhappy with him. 
It’s just that…you had used him as a distraction from your feelings for Matt, if you were being honest with yourself. Not exactly a kind thing to do to someone you knew had genuine feelings towards you, but it worked enough that you were able to shove things aside and convince yourself you were over Matt.
As if I could ever be fully over Matt Murdock.
“I told myself you deserved to be with someone who was whole. Someone who could spend every evening with you. Someone who could invite you to dinner with his family, someone who could give you a stable, simple life. Things I knew I couldn’t give you.”
You frown at the words pouring out of his mouth. “But I…that was a few years ago, Matt. You could have said—”
He interrupts you gently with a calloused finger over your lips. “You’re right, I could have. But just because you weren’t seeing Brad anymore, didn’t mean I didn’t want those things for you. Even if you were single, I couldn’t bring myself to take those things away from you.”
“And…and if I didn’t care about all of those things, as long as I had you?”
He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “There are still some things I’m not sure that I can give you. Some things that–”
You open your mouth to object before he even finishes his sentence. “Those things don’t matter to me.”
He looks extremely pained as he finally releases your arms, and you mourn the loss of contact. He takes a small step back, and this time it’s you who chases him, your feet bringing you right in front of him again, unwilling to allow for any sort of distance. “You say that now, but–”
“We’ve been friends for years, Matt,” you tell him, denying him the chance to argue his way out of this. “If I didn’t want to be in your life, I would have left a long time ago.”
His smile is wry. “Friendships are different from relationships.”
“I know that,” you tell him honestly and without hesitation, because you do know that. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a wonderful man who deserves happiness just as much as everyone else.”
His laugh is almost bitter. “I’m not so sure–”
“You don’t have to be, because I am.”
“You can’t possibly–”
You cut him off again. “You deserve all things that are good and wonderful and gentle. You deserve someone who is there for you, no matter what. You deserve love.”
He finally pauses, taking a breath that rapidly expands his chest before he lets it out, the air shuddering as it leaves his lips. His hand is shaking lightly, when it slowly reaches out to settle itself on your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, and he looks like he’s so hesitant, so afraid of whatever you’ll say in response to his next question. “And you…you want to be that person?”
Your answer is simple, and it requires no thought. It’s as if the words have spent the last few years laying dormant underneath your tongue. “I do, if you want me to be.”
He still looks extremely doubtful as he speaks, as if he’s nervous you’ll be scared off, or take the words back. You’ve come too far to ever let anything this man throws at you to chase you away. 
“You understand that I can’t promise you all the things you might want?” He begins, eyes shutting again as he all but tears himself apart in front of you, exposing all the muscle and blood underneath his scarred flesh, and you watch as the dark of his eyelashes settle against his fair skin. “I can’t promise I’ll be home every night to fall asleep with you, I can’t promise I won’t try to push you away sometimes, I can’t promise that I’ll ever want kids, given the life I lead.”
You grab the hand that’s not resting on your cheek and place it directly over your heart, the muscle pounding underneath the flesh and bone that’s keeping you together despite your nerves. “I don’t care what our life looks like, as long as it's you next to me, every step of the way.”
He’s quiet for a moment, before his eyelids flutter open, letting his brown eyes fall where they may. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”
“Was I lying, Matt?” 
You watch as he takes a deep breath, his head jerking side to side. “If this…” he trails off, head still tilted towards yours as he licks his lips. “If you’re…there’s still tons of things going through my mind right now, most of them not good, and I need to hear you say it. I won’t believe it until I hear you say it.”
You already know what he’s asking before he finishes speaking, and the words come to your lips without thought, without hesitation. “I love you.”
Despite all the fear and pain and panic that you’ve felt at the thought of him not feeling the same way for you, the three-word sentence is the easiest thing you’ve ever said to him in the years that you’ve been friends. It feels like the words were always meant to come out of your mouth, always meant to wrap him up in you until there’s no space left between your skin and his.
He sighs, and this time it sounds content, happy almost. He takes a small step towards you, eliminating most of the remaining distance between you, and lowers his forehead to yours.
The hand on your cheek lowers slightly so that he can run a calloused finger over your bottom lip. “Can I…can I kiss you?”
“Please.”
He uses both of his hands to cradle your face gently, keeping you locked into place as he presses his lips against yours, at first almost shyly, and then with more pressure. There’s not a single question or thought in your head as you respond, mouth opening under his, parting to allow him to pour all of his unspoken words into your body. Soft lips. Heated cheeks. Stubble rubbing your face. Firm body pressed against yours. Your own hands slide against his waist as you anchor yourself against him, and he takes the opportunity to press more fully against you.
The kiss, even while it remains soft, is as heated as the flush that is spreading through your skin like wildfire, your blood burning as it pushes through your veins. 
Matt pulls away reluctantly, panting against you. “I love you, too,” he says quietly, reverently. “In case I didn’t make that clear.” It’s the first time you’ve ever believed a man when those words have been said to you, but maybe it’s because you’ve always been waiting for him to say them. 
With a small smile, you bring his mouth back down to yours, eager to feel his lips pressed against yours again. His hands move from your face, one sliding into your hair, the other to your hip as if to steady him. He steps forward, pushing you into the counter behind you, before lifting you and placing you on top of it.
He spreads your legs immediately and steps in between them, still appearing desperate to press every inch of your body into his, as if he’s nervous you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not holding you to him tightly enough. His entire torso is burning against you through his shirt and your own, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll catch on fire the second his skin is on yours.
You feel him smile against your lips, and it doesn’t drop as he leans back and places another light kiss on your forehead. “It really took Karen saying something for you to realize that this could be…more?”
You snort, because of all things that could come out of his mouth after kissing you breathless, mentioning another woman was the last thing you could have imagined. “That woman could run the world with her hands tied behind her back if she wanted to.”
“I’m not going to disagree with you there,” he says with a laugh, gentle hand running through your hair again. “But was that seriously the tipping point?”
You blush and divert your eyes from his face. “I thought there was no way someone like you could ever feel that way about me, so I buried it,” you admit, hands fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “And I guess it took Karen saying something offhandedly for me to realize I had never actually moved on. It took her pointing out that I just might have a chance. So…I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”
He shakes his head silently before pressing a brief kiss on your mouth. You lean in, but he pulls away with a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. Not for this. Maybe…maybe things had to go this way, you know? And we’re here now, aren’t we?”
Your voice is shaking when you reply. “We’re here now.”
“And I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers as he lowers his mouth back down to yours. You watch as his dark eyes land somewhere on your cheek, the gaze heated. “Things won’t be easy for us, but I promise that loving you will be the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I promise.”
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hellsenthero · 2 months
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Little sneak peek at my ACOTAR wip. Who's ready for some cazriel?
Read the fic here.
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