#but I’m happy it’s getting seen though

[sansaorgana]

— STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader

SUMMARY — He's a psychotic killing machine and you're a shy and innocent lady. You have nothing in common except for the fact your bloodlines have been manipulated for centuries to create a match. And you seem to be destined to be together.

REQUEST — (1) // (2) // (3)

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I don't write children!Readers unless it's for the retrospections and memories. That's why I combined all these requests into one fic. Some parts of the requests didn't make it but I felt like it was already getting long 🙈 I included the trope of Feyd and Reader being destined to be together – some sort of Soulmates AU, I guess? ✨

WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood, spiders, mentions of Baron Harkonnen abusing Feyd, SMUT, fingering, oral, hints of innocence kink, The Harpies being a bit non-consensual

WORD COUNT — 7,500

🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

STILL WATERS RUN DEEP

Giedi Prime was surely a scary and intimidating place for a twelve years old girl. The lack of colour and friendly faces made you shiver and anxiously cling to your father’s hand. You couldn’t understand why he had insisted on you accompanying him on this official state visit for the meeting with Baron Harkonnen. He would never want to take you with him to much more pleasant places. You were too young to understand the hidden agenda, the Bene Gesserit scheming – whose plans had been destroyed by Lady Jessica giving birth to a son instead of a daughter. They needed a new match for the young na-baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, The Baron’s nephew. After years of searching and studying many possibilities, they had decided to create a union between your House and The Harkonnens. Your father was more than happy – it was an honour to bond with such a powerful family. You were from one of the planets of a lesser importance. That was the reason for The Baron’s distrust towards the plan. He would rather see his nephew marrying a great lady, perhaps even an Imperial Princess.

While he talked to your father, you were left alone with no one but one guard in an empty room. You were sitting on a black couch and looking with awe at the portraits on the walls. All men looked the same on them – big, bald, hairless and scary. They fascinated you as much as they intimidated you.

After a while, the doors leading to the corridor opened and you startled at the sight of a boy more-less your age entering confidently with a contemptuous look upon his face. He looked like all The Harkonnens – sickly and scary. He was wearing clothes you had only seen on gladiators and warriors before but it looked disturbing on a body so skinny and small, even though he was tall for his age. There was a splash of blood upon his face and it made you gasp and take a step back. He smirked at you.

“So, that’s you? Disappointing,” he commented harshly as you swallowed thickly.

“What are you talking about? Who are you?” You looked nervously at the guard but he remained stoic.

“I’m Feyd,” he introduced himself. “My training has been interrupted and I’ve been told to meet you for whatever reason. Haven’t expected such a scared, little bunny,” he sneered and you spotted his teeth were black. They didn’t look rotten, though.

“What happened to your teeth?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow.

“My Uncle made the medics paint them black to intimidate my enemies,” he answered, proudly.

“What kind of enemies might a twelve year old have?” You asked, surprised.

You had no enemies. Your life was of a typical spoiled young lady – full of mother’s kisses, father’s embraces, candies, ponies and maids braiding your hair in the evening while telling you tales of handsome and brave prince charmings. You couldn't imagine that it was different for other people.

“You’re stupid,” Feyd pointed out and you shut your mouth, feeling hurt at his words as tears pricked your eyes. He approached you and you took a step back, scared of him. “Don’t cry,” he tilted his head at the sight of your wet eyes. “Has no one ever told you that you were stupid?” Now it was his time to be surprised and you shook your head. “Do you want to see something?” He proposed as his eyes sparkled.

“I’m scared,” you admitted, genuinely.

“I will protect you,” he offered his pale hand and you looked at it with fear in your eyes.

“I am scared of you,” you raised your eyes to lay them on his face again while you explained.

“Good,” he nodded with a chuckle. “But I’d get in trouble if something happened to you. You are the daughter of my uncle’s guest. Come,” he encouraged.

Your status gave you courage as your curiosity only fueled your desire to actually follow him. Just like the portraits on these walls – he was as intimidating as fascinating to you. Perhaps because you had never before met such a boy.

You took his cold hand and a shiver went down your spine. For a short while, you thought you would faint as an odd feeling filled your small body. A familiar warmth that you only felt when you were back home, in your bed, feeling safe and sound with the nanny or your mother caressing your head to help you sleep. Like he was home. But he couldn’t be. You had never met him and he was scary. 

“Have you felt that, too?” You gasped.

“No,” Feyd lied. “Come,” he dragged you behind him and the guard opened the doors in front of you.

Feyd took you down the corridor and led you downstairs to some sort of dungeons beneath the fortress. You were starting to have a bad feeling about it but something deep inside you made you trust that odd boy. Without understanding it yet, you were starting to realise he was the one who had been meant for you from the day you were born. There was some connection between your bloodlines that was drawing you towards each other.

You found yourself in an old, dark and damp room. It smelt of something rotten and it was full of spiderwebs.

“What is this place? It’s disgusting,” you pointed out as you winced. Feyd let go of your hand and sneered at you.

“Life is unpleasant. The sooner you learn that, the better,” he pointed out and suddenly, he reached for a short knife by his waist you had not noticed before. You yelped at the sight, convinced he had only dragged you there to kill you.

“Don’t be silly, I won’t hurt you,” he rolled his eyes and you nodded, unsurely. “Do you want to see me kill something?” He smirked playfully at you.

It felt wrong and you felt the anxiety rising in your abdomen when you realised you’d get in trouble for that. On the other hand, you did want to see him kill something. It was curiosity mixed with excitement to witness something forbidden and something you had been sheltered from.

“Yes,” you nodded, eagerly. He was a little surprised at your reaction but he only smiled.

Feyd beckoned you over by waving his hand and you followed him, quietly. Then you gasped and covered your mouth as you gagged out of disgust at the sight of a big, fat spider in the corner of the room. It was huge – nearly as big as you were. But it was also fat and slow. The legs were long and thin, furry black sticks.

“I found it a few days ago,” Feyd told you as he looked at your disgusted face. “Gross, isn’t she?”

You nodded.

“She reminds me of my uncle,” Feyd explained with hatred in his voice. “Do you see those small spiders on the ground?” He asked and you looked down. It was full of smaller spiders but they were all laying there dead. “She feeds off of her own children.”

You took a step back, utterly disgusted and sick. Feyd snorted at you and turned his back on you to gut the big, black spider. You watched with terror how much satisfaction it was giving him. He struck the monstrosity so many times that you lost count. He kept striking when it was already laying there dead.

“That’s enough,” you whispered and Feyd froze before turning around to face you. There was pure murder in his eyes and when he walked towards you with a knife in his hand, you were sure he would kill you now, too.

You took a deep breath in and closed your eyes, expecting the worst. But when you felt his breath on your face, you heard him hiding the knife away.

“Stupid little bunny,” he told you and you opened your eyes, hesitantly. He was staring at you as if he was studying your face.

The door opened suddenly and a few guards entered, sighing out of relief. Your father was standing behind them, scared. Baron Harkonnen was there as well, floating ominously.

“There you are!” He raised his voice and you spotted that all Feyd’s confidence was gone in a second. The boy looked down and blushed. “I’ve told you to behave. Why are you scaring Lady (Y/N)?!”

You turned around to face The Baron, hiding his nephew’s from his sight with your small body.

“He did not scare me, my Lord,” you assured with a slight bow of your head. “I wanted Feyd-Rautha to show me around,” you lied to protect him.

You had a feeling his uncle would punish him and he looked like a man you would never want a punishment from.

“She’s naive,” your father tried to save the situation. “Curiosity killed the cat,” he reminded you and grabbed you by your wrist to pull you closer to him. “Forgive my daughter, my Lord Baron.”

“She is forgiven,” the big man smirked viciously before lying his eyes on his nephew. “The boy, however, is not.”

You wanted to protest but your father gave you a stern look and announced it was time for you to leave now. So, you obeyed and walked away, following the guard leading you out of the corridor. But you kept looking behind, trying to see Feyd-Rautha for the last time.

“Will I see him again?” You asked your father, looking up.

“Who?”

“Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha,” you explained and your father sighed as he looked down at you.

“You will in eight years,” he announced. “You will become his wife.”

Those eight years you had not wasted a day, practising for your new role every day. Learning all about The Harkonnens; their culture, their history, their customs and war strategies. You knew that their nobility would not give you an easy time for being a Lady of the lesser house. You wanted to prove your worth with knowledge.

Your wisdom was your only weapon because you lacked confidence nor experience in nearly anything. Sheltered your whole life, surrounded by books and teachers, you were shy and innocent. The spider incident on Giedi Prime still remained your only sin – that no one except your husband-to-be possessed the knowledge of.

You had not been in touch with him at all but the stories had reached you about his nature and his victories in the gladiator arena. You believed them all because your short encounter had been enough to give you an idea about what kind of man he would become. You had never protested whenever your marriage was mentioned but you felt anxious. You didn’t belong on Giedi Prime, you didn’t fit in the world of death and violence.

Tested by Gom Jabbar, you nearly failed the test. The scary Reverend Mother gave your mother a look of disapproval. On the very next day you were shipped to Giedi Prime for your wedding, though. You had survived the trial and only that mattered – the long-planned scheming couldn’t be sabotaged.

On the day of your arrival, you were led with your parents to a room you had remembered from your last visit. There was the same black couch and the same portraits on the wall – only now there was one more than before. The last one in line, of a young man with handsome facial features, signed with your betrothed’s name. You opened your mouth slightly as you kept staring at it. He was a young and handsome na-baron; a strong warrior surrounded by men and women who admired him. You could only imagine how inconvenient a marriage had to be for him. Especially to an uninteresting and unimportant woman like you.

The doors opened and you turned around to see him in real life as he entered the room in black gladiator gear. He looked better than in the portrait – raw and magnetic, dangerous. Your parents stiffened at the sight of him and they both bowed their heads.

“Lord Na-Baron,” your father greeted him. “We have delivered our daughter to you, according to the agreement,” he explained. “We have hoped to be greeted by your uncle The Baron.”

“He’s busy,” Feyd interrupted your father in a low and raspy voice that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes were only fixated on you – curious and mocking. You bowed down slightly as well, not wanting to disrespect him.

“Y-yes, of course, my Lord…” your father took a step back.

“You’re grown now,” Feyd-Rautha stood in front of you with a smirk and you took a deep, shaky breath in.

“So are you, my Lord Na-Baron,” you nodded.

“She hasn’t changed a bit,” Feyd turned around to give your father a contemptuous look. “A timid little bunny. But it’s no surprise since she’s been raised by a coward and bootlicker like you.”

“My daughter is of many qualities, my Lord, I can assure you…” your father panicked.

“A wife only needs one quality,” Feyd sneered at him as your blood ran cold at his words. “Show them to their rooms,” he told the guards and left the room.

“I can’t believe you’ve made deals with these people,” your mother snapped angrily at your father who was standing there with his head kept low, ashamed.

But it was not like he had any saying in this. It was the plan of the Bene Gesserit. You were nothing but pawns in it. You tried to remember that Feyd-Rautha was a pawn, too.

After the scary and bloody wedding party, you were taken to your husband’s bedroom where you were supposed to be prepared for the wedding night. However, it was not the maids waiting for you there. Three bald Harkonnen women were sitting on your husband’s bed and smirking at you, showing off their sharp teeth. They were dressed in black leather and clinging to each other as if they were one body instead of three.

“We will prepare her for the Master,” one of them told the servants who had taken you there. You looked at them with panic and they only looked back with guilt and compassion before walking out as quickly as possible, leaving you alone with the scary snake-like creatures.

They were circling around you, sniffing you and chuckling contemptuously. You didn’t understand anything but you tried to bravely keep still and endure. Then, one of them approached you and licked a fat stripe across your cheek. Your eyes widened in terror.

“Oh-so-innocent,” she commented. “Have you ever pleased a man?” She asked.

You were terrified and embarrassed, you didn’t know what to do.

“N-no, my Lady,” you stuttered and nodded your head, unsure how to address her.

They all found it amusing as they laughed.

“My Lady, she calls me. I might like this one,” the woman caressed your hair with some sort of perverted delicacy that made you feel even more scared. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands turned cold and sweaty. “I’m not a lady, na-baroness. I am your husband’s whore,” she informed you and you nodded again, hesitantly. “We are his favourite pets. You see… Our Master likes perversion,” her hands landed on your hips as she pulled you closer to her body. “We will teach you how to please him and how to take him.”

“He’s a lot to take,” another woman stood behind you and grabbed your breasts from behind.

“W-won’t he mind, my husband?” You swallowed thickly.

“Not at all,” the third one giggled. “He always shares his toys.”

“Not this one,” the doors opened as Feyd-Rautha entered the room. He glanced at the women angrily and they immediately let go of you and moved away. “She is not a toy, she is your na-baroness. What are you doing here?” He snapped. “Have I not forbidden you from entering this room from now on?”

“Oh, Master…” one of them approached him to put her arms around his neck but he pushed her away.

“Get out,” he hissed and they ran away.

When the doors closed behind them, Feyd looked at you and sighed before approaching you and caressing your cheek.

“You alright, wife?” He asked.

“Y-yes, thank you,” you nodded and flinched at the feeling of his cold fingers brushing your cheek. An odd and out-of-place warmth started to fill you like all those years ago. It made him startled, too, and eventually he took a step back.

“You must be exhausted,” he only said as he looked away, awkwardly. “We can perform our duties in the morning.”

“Th-thank you,” you nodded. “I’ll go take a shower now…”

Feyd pointed at the doors leading to the bathroom and that was all for that night. When you came back to his bedroom, he was already gone. You went to sleep without him, confused by his behaviour.

Baron Harkonnen watched carefully with his own eyes and through the eyes of his servants. He observed and he listened – nothing could ever escape him. But the new na-baroness was as easy to read as a book. When she joined him and Count Rabban by the breakfast table, she didn’t wince while sitting, which was an obvious sign she had not been claimed by Feyd the previous night. The Baron smirked when the new na-baroness began to eat the meal, keeping her timid gaze down, terrified of her surroundings.

If Feyd-Rautha refused to be her friend, The Baron would surely find her a purpose. She would be an easy tool to keep Feyd in place. A silent, obedient shadow following her husband everywhere. A perfect spy.

“Na-Baroness,” he addressed her and she flinched before looking up, scared. “I would like you to join the council after the meal. Your husband rarely takes part in them since he is too busy training but now you are an extension of him,” The Baron forced a smile and she nodded. “I’ve been told by your father you are well-trained in Harkonnen history and customs.”

“Y-yes, my Lord,” she bowed her head.

“I know that Feyd-Rautha is not an easy man to be around,” The Baron continued as Rabban raised his head, curious about his uncle’s scheming plan. “He’s been like this ever since he was a child. I’ve been trying to temper him.”

“I remember,” the young woman whispered.

“You can tell me about anything that is worrying you,” The Baron assured her and she smiled genuinely. “Has he hurt you?” He squinted his eyes, knowing the answer already but wanting to test her honesty.

“No, my Lord. Feyd-Rautha did not spend the night with me at all,” she answered and he nodded as Rabban sneered.

“You have to forgive him, my Lady. He prefers other… forms of entertainment,” The Baron explained softly.

“I believe I have met them, my Baron,” the woman looked down.

“Most likely, yes. They don’t like to share him,” The Baron chuckled.

“But the heir…”

“Do not worry about the heir. You are both still young, you have time. There is no need to hurry anything. Take your time to adjust on Giedi Prime first,” The Baron tried to calm her down and she looked up with so much gratitude in her eyes that he was sure he had succeeded. She was his agent now.

To your own surprise, you found new friends in your husband’s family – his uncle and brother – but not him. Feyd-Rautha was mostly avoiding you and a few attempts to claim you were ending in a fiasco. You couldn’t understand why he would pull away suddenly and leave you without a word or fail to get hard enough no matter how long his touch lingered upon your body. It made you feel as if you were lacking, because you knew for sure he had no problems of this sort with his concubines. They often bragged to you about it. They had offered to help you to excite him and you nearly agreed to that but Feyd hated to see you around them. He snapped whenever he caught you talking to them or them approaching you.

He hated to see you around his uncle and brother, too. He had been warning you about them but it felt cruel to do so. Did he want you to not have any companionship at all? To be sad and lonely and miserable all your days?

You weren’t appreciated in marriage but you were appreciated as a part of this family – representing the na-baronship during the council meetings with your decisions and advice. The Baron seemed to be pleased with you and Count Rabban had stopped to make fun of you over time. Still waters run deep, The Baron would often say about you as your cheeks heated up and eyes sparkled. Perhaps all the years of studying the customs and tradition of this House would not be useful in your marriage but they seemed to be useful when it came to your political presence.

It still bothered you that Feyd-Rautha was acting so weirdly towards you. You remembered the boy he had been eight years earlier. You had never feared this union because you had been sure there was some sort of bond now between you two, some sort of connection. Perhaps you had been wrong.

It was right after one of Feyd’s failed attempts to claim you, when he left you half-naked in bed with tears pricking your eyes. He walked away and most likely went to his concubines as you fixed yourself and left the room, too, not wanting to remain in the chambers filled with the smell of embarrassment and humiliation anymore. You nearly crashed with your brother-in-law walking down the corridor.

“My Lady,” Rabban nodded at you. “Is everything alright?”

“Y-yes,” you answered, trying not to show your nervousness. There was no need for him to know the details about the problems your marriage was facing.

“I was just looking for you,” he confessed and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Tomorrow, my uncle wants me to lead the council meeting only for the most important members of the court. It’s about a matter of a very high importance and it’s confidential,” he whispered. “I hoped you would join me. Without my uncle there, I will be the only one representing our family.”

“But tomorrow Feyd has his fight. I am expected to be in the stands,” you looked up at him.

“Uncle will be there. You are more needed here, (Y/N),” Rabban tried to convince you. You could see his hands were a little shaky – he was stressed about the responsibility placed upon his shoulders by his uncle. “It’s not like Feyd will even notice your absence,” he added.

You bit on your lower lip. He was right.

“Alright, I’ll join you in the council,” you nodded your head. “Our state affairs are much more important than some fixed gladiator fight anyway.”

The servants’ slim fingers were applying the black paint upon Feyd-Rautha’s body as he observed his three harpies from the corner of his eye. They were giggling between each other and some of the words reached his sensitive ears.

“...naive…”

“Silly little thing.”

“...taste her heart…”

“What are you talking about, pets?” Feyd turned around to face them as he asked and they went silent.

“Nothing important, Master,” the bravest of them all answered eventually.

“I have a feeling you’re whispering about my wife,” Feyd pointed out.

“As I said, nothing important,” she chuckled and the rest giggled. Feyd squinted his eyes and approached them with a clenched jaw and an angry expression on his face. When he grabbed her by the chin, they stopped laughing.

“You are forbidden to even think of her,” he hissed out. “You’re not worthy of that.”

“M-Master…” She trembled as she pleaded for his softness. Her companions hid behind her and observed him carefully. “She doesn’t even know how to please you, Master.”

Feyd’s hand dropped down and the squeeze tightened around the woman’s neck. He watched her struggle to catch a breath for some time as he observed with a smirk. Eventually, he let go of her.

“My wife belongs to a different realm than you,” he stated. “She is not to be discussed, looked at, thought of… Am I understood?”

“Y-yes, Master,” they all nodded, obediently.

“Good,” he smiled and went back to the servant girls.

“You might be interested in the gossip, though, na-baron,” one of the concubines whispered. “We are your eyes and ears…”

Feyd pretended not to be intrigued although he was. He didn’t react, hoping she would say more. And so she did.

“Your uncle keeps the young na-baroness close. The rumour has it he wants to make her one of his agents. And she is slowly taking your place during the councils. Count Rabban is his Plan B if you fail. Then she will be given to him.”

“I’m sure Rabban won’t have a problem with fucking her,” the bravest concubine added as if his punishment had not worked at all. Because it didn’t. She loved his punishments. “Her innocence will only make him more eager. He will tear her apart.”

“Shut up!” Feyd growled, making the servant girls take a few steps back as he turned around to face the girl with a big mouth. “Let me remind you that I don’t need your tongue to fuck you,” he sneered. “Your sisters are better at using their tongues than you anyway.”

The woman looked down and he was informed that he was about to enter the arena in five minutes so he went back to putting the gear on, furiously clutching to his blades. He was grateful to his concubine for fueling his anger so much – he wanted to make good use of it in the arena.

But when he approached the tower with his uncle’s balcony to bow down, he spotted that his wife was not there. Suddenly, the fight made no sense to him at all. What was the point of putting on a show, what was the point of killing with grace when she could not watch?

He had been waiting eight years for her to come back. The timid little bunny girl that made him feel so warm inside. That made him feel like home. Nothing had ever made him feel this way. They were destined for each other. Now, when she was by his side, he had no idea what to do. He had been training his body for years to impress her and be able to protect her but nothing was working out the way he had planned. She was slipping away.

She was slipping away because of his uncle’s scheming and because Feyd-Rautha himself had no idea how to approach a creature so pure and innocent as this woman. If anything in this world was still able to save his rotten soul, it was her. But maybe he had been naive to think so. He was beyond saving.

He didn’t give the audience a show on that day. The fights were quick and swift. No playing with his victims, no tormenting. Just a kill after kill to finish it as fast as possible. And no bowing down at the end. He just walked out of the arena, still clutching his fists on the blood-dripping blades. He walked past the guards and servants, not wanting to change or bathe – he wanted one thing only. To find his wife.

The sounds of the cheering audience were becoming more and more quiet. They waited for him to walk back and bow down, raising his knife in the sign of victory. He had no plans in doing so. He would not kneel in front of his uncle. Not when his wife was not beside him, because it was her he had been kneeling for. Not Baron Harkonnen.

The council was over now but you stayed inside the conference room with Count Rabban to discuss what had been decided and what to tell his uncle. You were staring at the maps of Arrakis and wondering whether the Emperor’s assurances of help were trustworthy.

“What I’m saying is… If he is so willing to get rid of The Atreides just because he considers them to be dangerous… He might do the same to us one day. We are a real danger to him way more than any Atreides is,” you pointed out.

“Especially now when we have knowledge that can turn other leaders against him and…” Rabban’s words were interrupted by the heavy black doors opening rapidly. You flinched and instinctively hid behind your brother-in-law’s broad shoulders.

It was Feyd-Rautha himself walking inside with an angry look on his face. Wearing his gladiator gear stained with fresh blood and still wielding two bloody swords. He looked ferocious as his cold eyes searched for you. When he spotted you behind his brother, his jaw clenched and so did his fists on the handles of the blades.

“What is going on here?” He barked as you and Rabban looked at each other, questioningly.

“Husband,” you tried to be brave as you took a step ahead to approach him very carefully. “I see you’re finished now. I assume you’ve won.”

“(Y/N), wait,” Rabban grabbed your sleeve to keep you in place. He didn’t want you near Feyd in such a state. But Feyd didn’t like his brother’s gesture.

“Let her go, brother,” he snapped. “She is my wife and she will approach me if she wishes. I would never lay my hand on her,” he drawled through gritted teeth.

You felt Rabban’s fingers letting go of the fabric of your dress and you walked up to Feyd. Something inside you was telling you that he needed you at that moment. Perhaps that was the intuition of a wife.

“Oh, we all know that you don’t lay your hand on her at all, brother,” Rabban snorted at him.

You watched in terror how your husband’s face became even more angry than before. He yelled and attacked his brother with all the burning wrath he had before been trying to stop from outbursting with.

“No! Stop! Please,” you pleaded as they fought and struggled one against another. Rabban took out his own blade now, too, and they ended up wrestling on the floor like two children. “That is enough, please!” You cried out.

Your tears brought attention to only one of them – your husband. He was distracted by them and ended up with his brother’s blade pointed at his face. You froze and Rabban laughed with contempt.

“Such a great warrior you are, my brother. Trained day and night for years, got your little arena shows… And now you got distracted by a woman,” he pointed out.

“That woman is my wife,” Feyd drawled.

You looked around in panic but the guards stood there petrified. They were afraid to attack any of the brothers. Usually shy and timid, you felt an odd outburst of courage as you took a blade from the guard standing nearby. He did not protest but only watched in terror as you approached the brothers and pointed the blade at Count Rabban himself.

“Don’t be stupid,” he laughed at you.

“Let my husband go,” your voice shivered but you managed to stand your ground.

“Or what?” Rabban sneered. “We both know you won’t strike me.”

In that very moment Feyd kicked him and got out of the direction of his brother’s blade. He ended up on top with his own knife pointed at Rabban. A smirk on his face revealed that he had never been defeated even for a second, he was only toying with his brother… and with you, too.

“She might not but I will,” Feyd hissed at his brother. “My marriage is none of your business, brother. And you stay away from my wife.”

“I am only representing you during the councils,” you tried to explain and Feyd looked up at you with his brow furrowed. “Your uncle told me I should because you rarely take place in them.”

“He’s scheming, can’t you see? Trying to turn us against each other. Thought you were smarter than this,” his anger was directed at you now.

He let go of Rabban and stood up to walk out of the room. You swallowed thickly and lowered your blade, scared of your brother-in-law’s reaction now when you were left alone with him after threatening him.

“Why did you take his side?” He only asked as you gave the blade back to the guard. “He doesn’t treat you any good. He never will.”

“He is my husband,” you explained quietly, avoiding his curious gaze.

“By name only. Your marriage is not even consummated.”

“Feyd was right,” you looked up. “Our marriage is none of your business, brother,” you emphasised who he was to you now before walking out to follow Feyd. It was easy because he left a trail of sand and blood from the arena behind him.

He went to your chambers so you took a deep breath in and pushed the doors open to face him in all his wrath and anger. He was struggling to get out of his gear with shaky hands as he shot you a furious glance over his shoulder.

“Should I call for the servants?” You asked.

“No,” he snapped and you sighed before approaching him and helping him yourself. At first he tried to shake you off but you were stubborn so he gave up and allowed your gentle fingertips to work on the pieces of clothing. “How do you even know how to do that?” He asked. “Did Rabban show you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, dear husband. I’ve read dozens of books about The Harkonnen art of warfare. I know your gears by heart. And Rabban is no gladiator,” you explained.

“Dozens of books about the art of warfare and The Harkonnens and yet it slipped your mind what masters of manipulation we can be?” Feyd barked at you and you chuckled. He didn’t find it amusing as he looked you up and down with contempt so you leaned in and placed a kiss upon his soft lips while your hands cupped his face. He was visibly taken aback by that, he didn’t even close his eyes for the kiss and he continued to observe you as if you would attack him any second.

“I have studied everything like a good pupil I was,” you whispered after breaking the kiss. Your hands kept caressing his cheeks in a soothing manner. “And now I’m one of The Baron’s closest people. I’m your inside man, Feyd-Rautha,” you smiled gently and his eyes sparkled at the realisation.

“But… why?” He only asked, confused.

“What do you mean why?” You bit on your lower lip.

“I’ve been treating you… coldly,” he admitted.

“Well, that is another matter. But that is between you and me. The marriage is between a husband and a wife. Not between them and his uncle or brother,” you explained. “I still remember that big fat spider. I’ve known ever since I was twelve years old that the thing you crave the most is to gut your uncle like you did to that monstrosity in the dungeons. And as your wife… I will do everything I can to help you,” you assured him.

But Feyd was not convinced. He pushed you away although he did it way gentler than you’d expect. He walked away from you as he stepped out of the pile of clothes by his feet. He was wearing nothing but underwear now and you watched how his muscular body glistened with sweat after the fight. 

“You can be a double agent, wife. I don’t trust you,” he confessed.

“You have no reasons to,” you nodded. “Except for the fact we have fate and destiny bonding us. Am I the only one feeling this when we touch?” Your voice lowered as uncertainty began to grow inside of you. Perhaps you were. Perhaps you were the only one feeling that warmth indeed.

“No,” Feyd admitted, nearly inaudibly. “Why do you think I can’t fuck you?” He approached you again and you gasped at how close he chose to stand.

“Because you find me unattractive? Or boring perhaps,” you shrugged your arms. “I don’t care about that. Our bond is stronger than physical attraction.”

“I can’t fuck you because that feeling is overwhelming me and I don’t know what to do. I’ve never felt like that. You’re too pure for me,” he confessed, visibly uncomfortable with his own words as he looked away.

You were stunned for a moment.

“You’re an idiot, Feyd-Rautha,” you laughed eventually and he blushed. “I am not pure. I am flesh and blood just like you,” you told him. “For example now… When you’re standing in front of me… like this,” you allowed your hand to wander all over his hard muscles. “You’re starting a fire that will be difficult to put out later,” you looked up to meet his gaze. “Every time you start and don’t finish, you leave me in torment,” you confessed. “And nothing helps,” you pouted. “I writhe and I roll around and grow more and more bitter knowing that you’re giving your whores what you’re supposed to give me.”

He was nearly paralyzed in a way he was staring at you. You grabbed his hand and pulled your dress up to press his hand to your womanhood. You were soaking through your underwear now and he blinked a few times as his gaze intensified.

“I will never forgive myself if I break you,” Feyd took his hand away despite your protests.

“You’re breaking me by refusing to touch me,” you whined.

“Touch yourself,” he said suddenly as his eyes sparkled and you were left speechless. “Touch yourself for me. I will help you. I’ll make it feel good,” he proposed.

Out of desperation, you decided this was better than nothing – at least for now – so you agreed. As fast as possible, you got rid of your dress and remained in nothing but your sheer underdress. You laid on the bed and watched him approach you. Feyd laid next to you, observing you carefully. His eyes were admiring every curve of your body and every inch of your skin. Without waiting for his command, you pulled the underdress up and took off your underwear to toss the panties aside and start playing with your wet folds. It was embarrassing to see him watch but it also excited you in some twisted way. You toyed with your clit, moaning softly, showing him what kind of pleasure you could bring to yourself – what kind of pleasure you had to bring to yourself since he refused to do so.

“Easy, slow down,” Feyd breathed out and placed his rough hand on your waist. He was caressing you and joined your lips together in a sloppy kiss. His free hand undid the ribbon on the top of your underdress to free your breasts. They shivered under the touch of his big hand as he played with your nipples and buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your sweet scent and sucking on the sensitive skin below your ear.

You shut your eyes close, trying to focus on the pleasure as your fingers rubbed on your sensitive swollen clit but it was not enough. It never was.

“I can’t…” You admitted your defeat as you tried to catch a breath.

“Yes, you can,” Feyd whispered into your ear in that low, raspy voice of his that sent shivers down your body and straight to your core. “What’s stopping you?”

“It’s just… I don’t know…” You didn’t know how to find the right words. “It’s not enough,” you admitted. “It’s not you.”

“Let me, then,” he raised himself to look into your eyes as his hand moved your hand away and his fingers replaced yours on your exposed clit. You gasped at the feeling of his fingertips drawing circles and teasing your entrance. 

You pressed your hands to his chest and then you moved them lower to explore the hard muscles of his abs. To feel them underneath your fingers was enough to make your back arch needily, exposing even more of your hungry pussy. Feyd smirked at that and buried his fingers deep inside as you gasped out of pain but it was quickly replaced with pleasure.

His free hand grabbed your chin gently and when you looked up, batting your eyelashes and opening your lips slightly, he put his fingers inside of your mouth and you grabbed his wrist to hold on to it as you sucked and moaned. His other hand was bringing you close to your release as his movements were fast and rough and his thumb circled your clit.

You cried out but his fingers muffled it so you ended up choking on the sound escaping your lips as you came writhing under him with sweaty forehead and single hair strands sticking to your face, your whole body set on fire, trying to catch a breath. Feyd swallowed thickly as his eyes sparkled.

You yelped as he smacked your sensitive pussy right after pulling his fingers out of it and licking them clean, looking deep into your eyes. You were speechless as your mind was left thoughtless.

You could only watch him lower himself and open your thighs even further with his strong arms as he buried his face between your legs to lap on your juices. You were sensitive so it burned in the beginning but the uncomfortable feeling submerged into pleasure once again. Feyd’s tongue was cleaning your folds thoroughly and penetrating you while you threw your head back as you laid your hands on the back of his neck, keeping him close. But this time he didn’t let you cum so easily.

When you were about to reach the peak again, he moved his head away and the next thing you saw was his face right in front of yours, his chin dripping with your wetness and his cold eyes filled with so much fire that you felt like a prey trapped by a big predator.

But you loved that feeling. You loved to feel small and tiny under him, trapped, vulnerable. You dug your nails into his biceps and looked down. He had already tossed his underwear aside and his cock was hard now, swollen and aching for you, you could see it twitching and leaking black precum. He looked heavy and big and you wanted him badly to claim you and violate you to the point no other man would ever even think of touching you after him.

You had never made him that hard. You had never gone so far before. You were sure you’d succeed now.

“Take me, claim me, make me yours,” you pleaded. “Please, I want more of you.”

Feyd shut you up with a kiss and a strong, stinging pain of his hard cock finally penetrating you. Your eyes widened as you whined. He intertwined your fingers together and held you through the process of adjustment to his size. You were the first one to impatiently rock your hips to show him you wanted him to move. So he did, slowly and carefully. He winced from his attempts to keep himself in control and you let go of his hands to pull him closer by his shoulders and deepen the kiss.

You moaned softly and helped him to fuck you by you rocking your hips against him as your legs wrapped around his waist. You both had been waiting so long for this moment of unity that it didn’t take long for you two to reach your highs and the familiar feeling of warmth filled you whole. You didn’t remember your own name, the only thing you knew was that you were home and the man above you was destined for you; you were born to be his wife and he was born to be your husband. The thousands of years of manipulation of the bloodlines had led you to this moment and nothing could tear you apart now. No amount of rumours, scheming or the disability to show emotions.

You were catching your breath as Feyd was slowly coming back from his high above you, panting heavily and looking at your face with hazy eyes.

“You belong to me,” he leaned in to kiss your lips again. “You always have.”

“No matter what happens, we are one,” you agreed with a nod and intertwined your fingers with him as you held his hand. “Now, when that is settled, we shall focus on our most important task.”

“And that is?”

“Killing the fat spider in his nest,” you answered.

“Thankfully, we have experience,” Feyd teased before placing yet another soft kiss upon your parted lips.

MASTERLIST

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen x reader #austin butler x reader #lilysfiction

[puckinghischier]

Hat Trick

Nico Hischier x fem!reader, Jack Hughes x platonic!reader, Luke Hughes x platonic!reader

summary: part 4 of the locksmith series! reader attends her first ever devil’s hockey game, and leaves a few pucks richer than when she came

notes: y’all i think this is my favorite part of this lil series so far. i literally wrote this in one sitting. i’m so happy with how it turned out. i hope you are too!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

[6k]

part 1, part 2, part 3

~

You’ve been to a lot of Hughes centered hockey games in your life. You’ve been to watch both Quinn and Luke play during their time in Michigan, and you’ve been to watch several of Jack’s minor league games when you were teenagers.

Though somehow, despite how long you’ve been intertwined with the hockey breathing family, you had never been to a professional game. You talked about making a trip to Vancouver with your family at some point to watch Quinn, but it never worked out with your school schedule. You wanted to come watch Jack with the Devils a few times, too, but the plans always fell through.

You wish you’d tried harder right about now, because walking into the Prudential center, red and black everywhere you look, you’re a little overwhelmed.

Jack had told you exactly where to go and who to call if you got lost, but getting there wasn’t the issue. You finally having your car with you helped with that, considering it was delivered just yesterday. The company that you hired to haul your car to you had gotten the date of your move wrong, so you had been depending on Jack and Luke for rides anywhere outside of walking distance.

Today, though, they were needed at the rink far earlier than you would’ve been allowed in. And, in true superstitious hockey player fashion, they claim they can’t ride to the rink together for home games because the last time they did they lost the game. So, you were extremely excited when you got the call that your car had just been parked outside of the apartment complex the day before.

You had found the arena just fine, leaving your car with the valet Jack had told you to go to. You had gone to the entrance designated for friends and family of the players, flashing the locker room pass Jack had given you, and even managed to find your way to the public areas of the arena by yourself.

The issue you had run in to stems from the fact that not only had you never attended an NHL game before, but you had never attended an NHL game alone.

Even though you blended in with the crowd outwardly, donning a devil’s jersey like everyone else, you were way out of your element. Usually at the boys’ games you had Ellen and Jim with you, or your own parents. They always made you feel like you belonged a little more, because they would explain certain fan behavior to you.

You knew all you had to do was simply sit and watch the game, but with the energy being so chaotic leading to the rivalry game, you knew that the fans were going to be absolutely buzzing. People were walking past you, jumping in front of you for high-fives and fist bumps, yelling “GO DEVS!” before walking away like nothing had ever happened. You didn’t miss the occasional dirty look from anyone in a blue Rangers jersey, either.

When you had first made your way to the foyer area at the front of the arena, you had already seen security having to separate a Devils fan and a Rangers fan. They had been screaming at one another over something that you were couldn’t make out when the Rangers fan slammed his fist into the Devils fan’s cheek.

The scene made you a little apprehensive about how the game was going to go. You knew this was one of the biggest rivalries that existed in the hockey world, and you had read that the Rangers had a tendency to play extremely physical, so you were nervous for all of the Devils players you were growing fond of.

You eventually make your way to your seat, but not before going full fan mode and buying a foam finger at one of the many merchandise stands you passed on your way. You thought Jack and Luke would get a kick out of it, figuring you’d need all the help you could get after they see what you’re wearing.

You kept your promise to Nico, currently sporting the number 13 on your back. You felt a little silly, honestly. You had never not worn a Hughes jersey to a hockey game before; you always wore the jersey of whatever brother you were watching, even if you had to buy one. But the conversation you had with Nico a few nights prior kept paying on a loop in your mind. The promise of a hat trick was too tempting to miss out on. Plus, even if he didn’t get a hatty, you knew you’d have the chance to make him do anything you wanted him to.

As you walk down the stairs towards your seat, foam finger on display proudly, you take in the pure atmosphere of the place. The arena looked huge from where you stood, lights dimmed and a red shadow cast over everything in sight. Not many people had made their way into the seating area yet, but there were a few fans bunched around the glass, waiting for the players to come out and start their warm ups.

You were pleasantly surprised when you found your seat free of any bodies, being able to settle in and wait for the arrival of the players on the ice. As the minutes ticked by, a few people made their way to your area, smiles and chants of ‘go Devils!’ once again filling the air around you.

You could see why people enjoyed coming to games so much. The sense of community was so strong in this building. Everyone was here to support the same cause, one goal in mind: a Devils win. You started to survey all the signs that fans had brought, setting them up against the glass for the players to see. Some of them had clever saying or riddles on them, some simply reading “puck?” with their favorite player’s number on it.

You also noted how many people were wearing Jack and Luke’s last name on their back. Even as you were driving up to the arena, you noticed the large presence of 86’s and 43’s surrounding you. It was odd, really, to see how many people were supporting your boys. It made your heart swell with pride, a little bit. To physically see the amount of people that believe in them the way you always have was enough to sell you on attending every Devils game from here until the end of time.

The newfound knowledge also further calmed your nerves surrounding your decision of wearing Nico’s jersey tonight. You had seen plenty of number 13’s floating around in the crowd, too, but Jack and Luke clearly had no lack of fan support.

The sound of pucks hitting the ice is what broke your attention from observing the people around you. You instantly clocked Luke’s curls, finding Jack not far from where Luke had settled on the ice. You looked around, trying to find a familiar head of brown hair you hadn’t seen nearly enough. Was he not warming up today? Was he okay? Did Luke actually hurt him the other day and he wasn’t playing today?

You don’t remember either of your roommates mentioning that their captain was hurt. That’s something they would’ve mentioned at least once, right? You continue to scan the ice for any sign of the Swiss man you couldn’t get off of your mind, not paying attention when Jack started skating in your direction. A loud bang on the glass in front of you was what finally broke your investigation.

“You’re here!” Jack yells through the glass at you, ignoring all the shouts of his name from the people standing around you.

“I told you I wasn’t going to miss it!” you shouted back, wondering if he could even hear you in the noisy environment.

Movement behind Jack caught your eye, Luke making his way over to stand next to his brother, causing an entirely new wave of sound to erupt around you.

“Bouy! You made it!” Luke shares his brother’s surprise, eyes flitting down to the jersey you’re wearing, noticing the black C that neither his nor Jack’s jersey had.

“Did you guys really have no faith I would show up tonight? Am I that bad of a friend?” you ask them, wondering why they thought you would be a no-show.

“Know it isn’t your scene, is all,” Jack shouts back, shrugging his shoulders, smile on his face.

“Uh-uh, it is now. Look, I even bought a foam finger! I’m legit, now!” you wave your newest Devils merch around.

They both shake their heads and laugh, your eyes wandering to the ice behind them once again.

“Who ya looking for, huh?” Luke is the one to notice they no longer held your attention, turning his head to look at his teammates warming up behind them.

“Oh, no one. Just, taking it all in,” you try to recover. Luke simply looks at you, the moment he caught you staring at Nico in your living room in the back of his mind.

“It’s awesome, right? I’m telling you, you’ll be wanting to come to every home game by the end of the night. There’s nothing like a Devils home game,” Jack tells you, oblivious to Luke’s implications moments ago.

Jack must have decided it was time to acknowledge some of the fans around you, skating off after he finishes his statement.

“He’ll be out in a minute, just so you know. Got hung up in a pre-game interview,” Luke’s muffled voice travels through the glass.

“Huh? Who? What’re you talking about?” you look at him, confusion taking over your features.

Luke deadpans at you, basically telling you to cut the bullshit. “You know who, Y/N.”

“Really, don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m here for you and Jack, remember?” you remind him.

“Yeah? Then why do you have Cap’s jersey on?” Luke questions, raising an eyebrow at you.

Your head shoots down to look at the jersey you were wearing, cheeks turning red. You had almost forgotten you were even wearing it, too distracted by the atmosphere around you.

“Don’t think you’re getting away with that, by the way. He’ll be getting an earful once he gets out here, don’t you worry. And god help him when Jack finally notices. Might be the first time a player gets a penalty against his own teammate,” Luke continues, looking over to where Jack is chucking pucks over the ice a few feet away.

“It was Nico’s idea. Said he wanted to mess with you guys, is all. Then said if I wore it he would score a hat trick, and if he didn’t he owed me a favor of my choosing. Figured it’d be fun to mess with him and make him do some outrageous task. You know I never miss the opportunity to get under yours and Jack’s skin, either. Couldn’t resist the offer,” you confess.

Luke rolls his eyes, not wanting to call bullshit out here in the open like this, deciding to save the rest of the conversation for when you get home tonight.

You were going to respond, try to further plead your case, when you see a blur of red jump onto the ice from over near the Devils’ bench. Any attention you had granted to Luke was gone, watching a much anticipated head of hair flopping around as Nico does a few circles on the ice. You watch him wave to a few fans around the glass, conversing with a few of his teammates as he made his way around the ice.

Luke watches you follow Nico’s figure glide around on the ice, laughing to himself at how you were just trying to convince him you weren’t looking for anyone.

“I think I’ve proved my point,” you barely hear as Luke starts to skate away, noticing his captain skating over towards your section of the glass.

You’ve tuned out the shouts of Nico’s name around you as he makes eye contact with you, skating towards you with a smile.

“Hey! You’re here!” he winks at you, parroting Jack and Luke’s words. “And I see you chose the right jersey!” he lets his eyes fall to the jersey swallowing your body, eyes a bit bright than they were a few seconds ago.

“Why did no one think I was going to show up?” you huff out, throwing your arms up, foam finger still attached to your hand.

“Jack and Luke were convinced you’d bail because of your aversion to hockey crowds. But I see you’ve made yourself right at home,” he chuckles, nodding towards the foam finger.

“Well, yeah. Had to make myself official, y’know?” you give the foam accessory a small wave.

Nico laughs, sliding his feet back and forth in short strokes, planting his stick on the ice for stability.

“You ready to score that hat trick you promised, Cap?” you shout to him, crossing your arms in a challenging stance.

“Never been more ready in my life, Bouy,” Nico smirks.

“If you keep using that nickname I won’t be so nice in choosing a favor for you to do when you don’t score your hatty,” you threaten, hating that Jack introduced the nickname to Nico in the first place.

“Oh, I’m gonna score that hatty,” he moves closer to the glass, making sure you can hear him. “My good luck charm did exactly what I asked her to do, so I’d say my chances are pretty solid.”

You’re so focused on Nico’s words that you completely miss Jack making his way back over to your area, slapping Nico on the back once he reaches his destination.

“Hey, Cap! ‘Bout time you made it out here. Was starting to wonder if someone was going to have to come and save you.”

Nico removes his eyes from your flushed face, turning to chat with Jack as you’re left speechless.

You miss the rest of their conversation, too caught up in Nico calling you his good luck charm. You were entering very dangerous territory, here. Every conversation you have with the man bringing you farther and farther into a rabbit hole you might not be able to climb back out of.

On top of being stunned, you’re also confused. You’ve overheard Luke and Jack talk about Nico’s interactions with women. The amount of times they’ve poked fun at his obliviousness to women’s advances not forgotten. Or the way they claim he’s too focused on his career to think about anything other than hockey. You remember one story Jack told of Nico completely misreading a conversation with a woman at the bar, begging Jack to take him home after he all but ran away from the woman, claiming a stomach ache when she tried to coax him into an uber.

So, what was different about you? He clearly had no issues with casually sliding in comments that, although you try to convince yourself otherwise, are naturally flirtatious in their nature. When you let your eyes wander you notice Luke watching the interaction. He follows the way Nico’s gaze flicks over to you every few seconds, even though he’s in the middle of a conversation with Jack. Luke meets your eyes and gives you look you can’t decipher.

“Y/N, what the fuck are you wearing,” you hear Jack’s voice, snapping your head to look at his face, his eyes focused on the black C on the upper left side of the jersey you’re wearing.

“A…jersey?” you answer apprehensively.

“Yeah, I can see that. But why do you have on Neeks’ jersey, specifically?” He asks you, but looks at the player standing next to him.

“Guess she decided the better jersey wasn’t even in the Hughes family at all,” Nico references the argument Jack and Luke were having days prior.

Jack looks back at you, expecting an explanation from you. You open your mouth a few times to answer, but the reasoning of ‘I just wore it to get under your skin’ doesn’t seem appropriate when you can see the underlying anger on his face.

“You know what, I don’t have time for this. I need to actually warm up, but this conversation isn’t over,” Jack shoots to two of you a glare before skating away, huffing like a little kid.

“I knew he would get mad!” you point an accusing (foam) finger at Nico.

“Don’t worry, he’ll get over it. It’s just one game.”

“Well I’ll let you handle this then, mr. nonchalant. It was your idea, it’s your bomb to diffuse,” you wipe your hands of the situation.

“Gladly,” Nico flashes you a smile. “By the way, heads up,” he warns you before chucking a puck over the glass, it landing on the ground beside you. You bend over to pick it up, noticing the writing on the back.

You read the sribble of “hatty” followed by the date and Nico’s signature in silver marker, looking up to see him skating off with a wink.

———————————————————————————

After you watched Jack throw his fit about you wearing Nico’s jersey from afar, earning nothing but a laugh from the jersey owner himself, they both skated away from each other to start actually warming up for the game ahead. You noticed Jack kept glaring at Nico, shoulder checking him a few times for good measure. Jack wouldn’t even look over at you, earning a pout from you when you made eye contact with Luke, begging him to do something to make Jack love you again.

Luke just shrugged at you as if to say “told you so,” choosing to focus on his warm ups instead. As the players left the ice to prepare for puck drop, you watched Jack finally look over to you, sporting a glare and giving a shake of his head before he disappeared from your view.

Even after the game started, you could still feel Jack’s pouting from where you sat. He was hesitant to pass the puck to Nico, costing them a few chances at goals. You cursed him every time, worried that this would’ve happened. You don’t know what was said, but during one of the tv timeouts, Nico skated over to Jack and all you could see was a finger poking out to jab Jack in the chest. Jack’s face grew more and more unimpressed as the conversation went on, but ultimately Jack nodded and skated off, rolling his eyes when he looked over to you.

For the rest of the period, you noticed Jack was better about passing the puck, no longer alienating Nico from his plays. He was still mad, though. You could see it in his body language and how he was playing rougher than he normally does. As soon as the first period was over, you were out of your seat and making your way down to the locker rooms. You flashed your pass and waited patiently after you asked someone to go fetch Jack for you, claiming it was an emergency.

Jack comes walking out of the locker room into the hallway, towel around his neck, jersey left behind.

“Okay, get it all out now, or so help me god I’ll jump onto that ice and beat some sense into you,” you tell him, wanting him to get all of his anger out of his system.

“You always wear one of our jersey’s, Y/N. Always. This is your first time watching me and Luke in a professional game, and you’re wearing someone else’s jersey?” Jack asks you, a small bit of hurt showing on his face.

“Jack, it was a joke. A last minute plan between the two of us. We thought it’d be funny since you and Luke were arguing about it,” you tell him, feeling a little bad that he genuinely seems hurt. “Plus, I didn’t really want to choose between you and Luke. It was hard. I had all three jerseys laying on my bed earlier, and I just couldn’t choose between the two of you.”

“I still don’t like that you wore someone else’s jersey,” Jack grumbles.

“It’s just one game, Jack, it’ll be fine. I promise this isn’t going to become a habit,” you assure him, reaching up to ruffle his hair, regretting your decision when you feel how sweaty it is.

“You sure about that?” Jack asks you, catching you off guard.

“What?”

“Oh c’mon, Y/N,” Jack starts, dropping his arms to his sides. “Don’t act like you haven’t been staring at him the whole game.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you feel your cheeks heating.

“You can’t lie to me, remember? Know you too well,” he tells you, reminding you he’s always been able to tell when you’re caught in a lie.

“I mean…maybe I’ve been watching him. So what? He’s your friend, Jack. Not to mention our neighbor and the only teammate of yours I really know,” you try to justify.

“Bullshit. You’re into him.”

“No, I’m not!” you say too quickly, your voice going up in pitch, causing you to clear your throat. The sudden change in conversation came out of nowhere, causing your brain to short circuit.

“Oh yeah? Then why do you ask about him every time Luke and I mention practice, or our jobs in general? Why do you always ask us if Nico made it home when we get home from practice? Or when you spent basically the whole night talking to him at the bar your first night here?” Jack asks you, waiting for your answers.

“I- I don’t ask about him that much,” you say, trying to retrace your conversations with Jack and Luke. Maybe you do ask about him more than you thought. “And I spent the night at the bar being shuffled around from table to table, which you did!” you remind him, having felt like you were speed dating, but platonically.

“When I came to get you to leave you were completely alone with him in a dark corner of the bar,” Jack throws back at you.

“He came and found me. I was on the phone with my mom and he decided to come check on me. I had nothing to do with that,” you defend.

Jack still doesn’t look convinced, crossing his arms once again, tilting his head towards you. “Listen, I’m not trying to start an argument. You know how I feel about having a thing for my teammates. But, out of all the guys on the team, I guess you could’ve done worse.”

You open your mouth to respond, trying to defend yourself once again, but Jack interrupts you before you can get a word out.

“Listen, none of this is really important right now. We can talk about it when I’m not in the middle of a game, but I still don’t really like that you wore his jersey instead of mine or Luke’s,” he circles back to the original conversation. “I mean, you’ve known him for like, two weeks. Joke or not. You know what people think when you wear someone’s jersey, right?”

“It’s not like that, I swear. And it’s not like I’m the only one here wearing his jersey, Jack,” you tell him.

“I know, but I’m just telling you to be careful. Nico’s a good guy, but he’s also a professional hockey player. He’s going to have…admirers. And once they see that you’re actually close to the team and his jersey is the one you’re sporting, things could get messy,” Jack warns you.

You stood there for a few moments, trying to figure out how the conversation even led to what it is. You know Jack is just trying to watch out for you, but he’s jumping to conclusions way too soon. It’s one game, and no one even knows who you are. Plus, it’s a harmless joke. It’s not like you’re wearing his jersey for any other reason.

“Thanks, Jack, really. But I assure you, I only wore it because he suggested it. He wanted to pick fun at you and Luke, that’s it. I’m sure he’ll tell the same story if asked about it,” you reiterated, trying to reassure him.

“Wait, he asked you to wear his jersey?”Jack asks you, surprise in his eyes.

“Yeah, he asked me to wear it to poke fun at the two of you. Then told me he’d score a hat trick if I agreed to wear it, so I did. Thought it’d be fun to see,” you shrugged, not seeing the big deal.

“So, he wanted you to wear his jersey and he promised to score a hatty if you did?” You nod at Jack’s echo of your words.

Jack stares at you, looking like he wants to say something but decides against it. The look on his face has you wondering if he knows something you don’t. You decided to let it go, though, and shoo him back into the locker room.

“Alright, talk over. Go back in there and get ready, you have some Rags to beat!” you push him away from you. You hear him laugh as you walk away, thinking about the conversation the whole way back to your seat.

———————————————————————————

Shit. He actually did it. He scored a fucking hat trick. The crowd goes absolutely wild when Nico’s shot sails straight into the goal as the buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the game. You jump up from your seat, screaming as loud as you can with the crowd around you. You bang against the glass, cheering for Nico as he celebrates with his teammates.

Once he breaks away from the group hug, he skates right over to you, pointing a gloved finger in your direction. You flash him a huge smile, not even caring that you lost whatever bet – if you could even call it that – you had going on with Nico. You were too high on the atmosphere. The goal causing the Devils to win in the last second, ego a little inflated at the thought that you could’ve contributed to it.

After the players left the ice and the crowd started to disperse a bit, you slowly made your way back down to the locker room, having been told to wait there after the game by Jack. You took in the sight of the happy fans milling about the arena, soaking in the energy for a little bit longer. You didn’t realize just how much you were soaking it in until you realized the time, figuring the guys would be changed and ready to go any minute.

 As you were walking down the hallway to where other friends and family of the team gathered, you felt a harsh contact with your shoulder. It flung your body back, nearly making you lose your balance until you caught yourself at the last second.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you,” you said, knowing it wasn’t your fault, but apologizing anyways.

“Obviously,” you heard a deep voice say, a man in a blue Rangers jersey standing across from you, rolling his eyes.

“Well, no need to be rude about it. You bumped in to me, y’know,” you grumbled out, a little pissed as the man’s response after you apologized first.

“Watch it, bitch. Just cause your shitshow of a team won tonight doesn’t mean you’re truly better than us. Just wait till next game. We’ll smoke your asses,” he spits out at you, letting you smell the alcohol on his hot breath.

“What the hell does the game have to do with you bumping in to me? The two are completely unrelated,” you question, stepping back and scrunching your nose at the foul smell.

“Keep talking, bitch, and I’ll show you just how bad we can beat the Devils asses,” the man steps forward, stumbling a bit before correcting himself.

“Alright, chill out. It’s just a game, buddy,” you back up against the wall next to you, trying to put some distance between you and him.

“God, why do you puck bunnies never shut the fuck up? I literally told you to stop talking, what part of that don’t you understand?” he backs you up even further, not leaving much room for you to make an escape.

“Technically you told me to keep talking,” you say before you can think better of it.

The man basically growls at you raising his hand back. To do what, you never find out, because a voice brings him back to reality, making him seem to remember he’s in public.

“I suggest you drop your hand and step away.”

The man’s head whips around, looking behind him. Once he steps back from you slightly, you make your escape, removing yourself from the wall.

You see Nico standing a few feet away from you, a grey suit on his body, his hair covered by a cream color beanie.

“Oh, how convenient. Captain to the rescue,” the guy slurs, turning his body to fully face Nico.

“Do I need to call security or are you going to be smart and get the fuck out of my arena?” Nico spits, surprising you with his harshness.

“Whatever. I’m going. Don’t be so dramatic. The puck bunny started it, anyways,” the man waves you off, stumbling away without a glance back.

Nico watches him walk away, stepping towards you the second the man is out of view.

“Are you okay? Did he do anything to you? Do I need to go get security?” He fires off questions, concern present in his brown eyes.

“No, I’m fine. He bumped into me then started spewing some bullshit about the game. I asked him how the two were related and he just kept talking about how he was gonna show me how ‘we can really beat the Devils asses’,” you put up air quotes.

“Are you sure?” his eyes continue to look you up and down, darting across your face to check for any sign showing you weren’t okay.

“Really, it’s fine. He didn’t do anything. Thank you, though. For scaring him away,” you assure him, causing him to relax.

“Of course. Seems to be a pattern, after all. Me running to your rescue,” he references your previous encounters. Letting you into your apartment, getting the bartender’s attention so you could order a drink that same night, his help when you were making dinner just a few nights ago. He really did always show up when you needed help.

You look up at him with a smile. “My very own knight in shining armor.”

He bows dramatically. “M’lady.”

You laugh at the action, causing Nico to join in.

“So I guess I owe you a congratulations, huh?” you ask after your laughter dies down.

Nico beams at you, pulling a stack of three pucks out of the bag slung over his shoulder, the tape they’re held together by reading ‘hat trick”. He holds them out towards you, signaling you to grab them.

“Here, they’re yours. You’re the reason I got them, after all,” he tells you, placing the pucks into your hand.

“I don’t think I had anything to do with it,” you look at your hand before looking back up at Nico.

“Sure you did. I told you if you wore the jersey I’d score one. And you did. And then I scored three goals. I told you, you’re my goodluck charm,” he smiles at you, shrugging like a hat trick was no big deal.

You roll your eyes at him, trying to fight a smile. “Sure, whatever you say, Cap.”

He chuckles at your sarcasm, shaking his head at you.

“Guess I need to pocket that ridiculous favor I had in mind, then,” you tell him, toying with the pucks, thinking about how he gave you four different ones tonight.

“I’m sure you can save it for future use. Think you’ll be able to cash it in sooner than you think,” he tells you, a confused look on your face.

“You won, though. I wore the jersey, you scored three goals. That was the whole thing,” you remind him, not knowing where he was going with his statement.

“You never asked me what I got if I did score a hatty.”

You were taken aback by his words, not realizing that was part of the deal. “Okay…well, what do you get, then?”

“You have to do me a favor,” he tells you, grin on his face.

You furrow your brows, confused. “I thought the whole point of my end of the deal was because I already did you a favor?”

“You did. But now I get to ask you for another one,” he rocks back on his heels, way too giddy about the situation.

You look at him, a little scared at what he has planned. He just continues to look at you, his shit-eating grin still extremely present.

“Okay…what is it?” you ask him, getting impatient.

“Oh, I’m not telling you yet. I’ll cash it in when I’m ready,” He replies, amused at the unamused look on your face.

“Seriously? You’re not going to tell me what cruel fate you’re subjecting me to?”

You hear the voices of Jack and Luke echoing through the hallway on the other end of the room. You turn your head away from Nico, watching the two brothers make their way towards you, lost in their own conversation.

“All in due time, dear Bouy,” Nico says, taking a step back from you.

Your distaste for the nickname shows on your face, causing Nico’s eyes to twinkle, loving how mad you get over the silly name he still hasn’t learned the origin of.

“Whatever. Keep it to yourself, then. I don’t care,” you lie.

“Have a good night. See you soon,” Nico says with a wink, turning to walk in the direction of Jack and Luke, giving them a wave as he passes them. Both of them look up and notice you standing where he just came from, turning to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

You look down at the pucks in your hand once more, looking at the emblem on top noting what game and date they were from. When you look at the bottom of the last puck, you catch a streak of silver reflecting off of the fluorescent lights in the hallway. Turning it completely upside down, you make out the 9 digits of a phone number scribbled along the bottom, matching the handwriting of the words and signature on the first puck Nico gave you that night.

“Hey, ready to go? We’re starving. Luke wants waffles so we’re going to meet a few of the guys at a diner not far from the apartment, you want go?” Jack asks as the two approach you.

You don’t respond, too stuck on the fact that Nico gave you his phone number on the bottom of his hat trick pucks. You’re impressed at how smooth it was, but also freaking out and trying not to jump to conclusions. It’s just a phone number. It could mean nothing. Maybe he just wanted you to have it because you’re neighbors? Or because you’re so close with Jack and Luke. Maybe he wanted you to have it for emergencies.

“Hello, earth to Y/N. You good?” Luke snaps you out of your trance. You bring the pucks down to press the bottom against your leg, hiding the phone number from your roommates.

“What? Yeah. I’m fine. Great. Perfect.”

“Okay…” Jack trails off, giving you a suspicious look. “So, yes or no to the waffles?”

“Oh my god, yes. The answer to waffles is always yes,” you say excitedly.

“Okay then, let’s go. Some of the guys are already there. I’ll drive,” Jack laughs at you, walking towards the exit leading to where the players park.

“Shotgun!” Luke yells out, turning back to see your reaction to the competition that was so fierce when you were kids.

Your mind is once again on the pucks in your hands, and the player that gave them to you. You look at the numbers again, deciding the boys were far enough ahead for you to safely sneak a peek, wanting to make sure they were actually there and you weren’t seeing things. Your earlier conversation with Jack making its way back to the front of your mind, wondering if maybe Jack’s concern is relevant.

Luke just smiles and shakes his head, remembering watching his captain frantically ask around for a sharpie in the locker room, writing something on the exact set of pucks you now have in your hands before bolting from the room like a man on a mission.

#nico hischier #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischer x reader #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier blurb #nico hischier fanfic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier smut #new jersey devils #hockey #nhl blurb #nhl fanfic #nhl oneshot #luke hughes #nhl fanfiction #jack hughes #hughes brothers #nhl x reader #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl players #nhl #nhl hockey #hockey fic #hockey imagine #nh13 #jh86 #lh43

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

the girl next door 5

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

As your mother waits in her chair, watching the window, dolled up in her nicest skirt, with her hair pressed and her eyes lined, you follow the directions on the containers of the premade grocer meals. Roast the potatoes, veggies too, and heat up the chicken. It’s very easy, even for you.

You set the table as the oven warms up and put out the nice plates you never touch. You fold napkins under the cutlery like you’ve seen on television and in restaurants, not that you ever go anywhere by the drive thru. It looks nice. Sort of.

You hear the recliner creak and your mother get up. The doorbell rings and you jump. You rush into the entry way as your mother looms in the front archway. You look at her and she sends back and expression with deadly venom. You go to the door and steady yourself, slowly turning the latch.

You pull it open and muster a smile which must appear closer to a cringe, “hello, uh, hi.”

“Hello,” Steve smiles, a bouquet of sunflowers in his hands. “How are you?”

“Mm, good,” you mumble.

“Great, I brought you ladies some flowers,” he looks between you and your mother as she steps into the hallway. “Something to brighten up the place.”

“Oh my, thank you, Steve,” your mother rushes forward, her left foot thumping a bit heavier than the other, “that is so sweet of you.”

As she snatches the bouquet, a petal flies loose from her tremor. She brings them to her nose, nearly crushing them into her face as her cheek quivers. She’s overexcited and her symptoms more obvious. You step aside as she beckons in your guest.

“You two look nice,” Steve comments as she stops to remove his shoes. His hair is combed tidy back and he wears an oceanic button-up with khakis. He is indiscernible from any other suburban dweller.

“Thank you,” your mother preens and you echo her softly. “Please, come in. I think dinner’s almost ready.”

She glances at you and you nod, “yes, uh, I’ll... go do that.”

You feel Steve watching you. You shrink down and cross your arm over your middle and back away. You turn and shuffle down to the kitchen. You feel how the skirt and sweater let in the breeze around your thighs and reach to tug the hem.

“Grab a vase for the flowers too, honey.”

You let her words trail after you. Honey. The epithet isn’t dripping in her usual poison. You go and open the stove, letting out the aroma of seasoning. It should be almost there.

You search under the sink and find an old mint green vase. You wash it out and fill it with cool water. You bring it out to the dining room and set it on the table. You can hear your mother and Steve in the next room.

She shoves the flowers at you before you can say a word. You take them as she keeps her attention on your guest.

“How’s the house coming along?” She asks in a singsong, “you’ve been doing so much work, I’m surprised you could make the time for us.”

“Of course. Nice to have a few friendly faces around. Not gonna lie though, I do have fridge full of casseroles already.”

You go back to place the stems in the vase. You linger there, safely away from their conversation. You have nothing to add anyway. You’re best to keep an eye on the food.

“Ugh, really? Let me warn you about this place, those bleach blondes aren’t as chipper as they put on,” your mother sneers as you wait for the gravy to simmer.

You don’t think the people around the neighbourhood are bad. They’re just different. Besides, you can’t blame them for their judgment. You might feel the same if you were like them. If you were pretty and perfect and rich.

You hover by the stove and stop the timer before it can buzz. You take out each pan and transfer the contents to thick porcelain serving dishes. You bring them to the table, one at a time.

“Mom, er, Steve?” You peer into the front room, “dinner is ready.”

“Oh, finally, I’m starving,” your mom sighs.

“Smells good. What are we having?” Steve gestures your mom ahead of him, waiting patiently as she moves stiffly. You can see the struggle in the stitch between the brows as how she stops herself from bracing her hip. She’s embarrassed.

“Roast chicken, potatoes, and grilled broccoli,” you explain, watching awkwardly as he pulls out the chair for your mom.

Your mom sits and Steve tucks the chair in. He surprises you as he rounds the table towards you and slides out another chair. You stare at him and your lips part.

“The gravy,” you squeak.

You quickly retreat to the kitchen. You pour the gravy into the spouted dish and balance it by the handle. You carry it carefully through the door and trip on the slightly crooked divider on the floor. The contents slosh and a splatter lands on your white sweater.

You frown and put the grave dish on the table. Steve lingers as he was. You look down at your sweater and he reaches for one of the spare napkins, holding it out to you. You thank him and sit, letting him push the chair in under you. You dab at your sweater but the brown stains remain.

As he sits, just by your mother, she was sure to sit where she would be next to him, you put the crumpled napkin by your plate. Your mother arches her brow at the front of your sweater. You raise your shoulders and give an apologetic look as you slip the cardigan off. You untangle your arms from the fabric and let it droop to the seat.

Steve smiles at you again. Your face is on fire, your chest too. The dress really doesn’t fit right.

“You made all this?” He asks.

“Heh, she bought it and put it in the oven,” your mom tuts. “She’s not the most gifted cook and... and my hands aren’t steady enough for that anymore.”

“Ah, well, food is food,” he shrugs, “regardless, it looks delicious.” He reaches for the plates of chicken and catches the tongs before the can fall, “may I?”

Your mother’s lips curl and she nods, “by all means.”

He puts a piece on her plate, then his own. He sets it back before he grabs the bowl of potatoes and scoops up a heap besides the marinated breast. Finally, he shovels on the broccoli.

You meekly fill your own plate, though you leave it sparse. Just a piece of chicken, a tiny bit of potatoes, and some broccoli. Your stomach is uneasy. You’re not used to company. You poke around with your fork.

“You know, Holly, I finally got all the furniture where I want it but I don’t know,” Steve begins, cutting into his chicken, “I think it needs something... a woman’s touch, maybe?”

“Mmm,” your mother nods and squints.

“I wouldn’t mind picking your brain. Maybe you have some suggestions. I got all these paintings but not really sure where to put them, you know?”

“Right,” she put a sliced potato in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. She swallows and takes her napkin, shakingly blotting around her coloured lips, “well, suppose I could give you a few tips.”

“Really?” He asks, “that would be amazing.”

“Not a problem at all,” she grins, “I could drop by tomorrow.”

“Yeah, that will be nice,” he agrees.

You sit quietly, keeping your face blank. You won’t mention how your mother complained when you tried to hang some of your drawings just in your same room. She always said art was a waste of time. No, you’ll say nothing. You’re better off that way.

“And uh, you’re welcome too,” Steve offers across the table and your eyes flick up to meet his, “if you want. Don’t want to leave you out.”

You glance at your mother. Her eyes narrow and you gulp, nearly choking on the potatoes. You take a breath and push your shoulders up, “actually, I was planning on... uh, I’m busy.”

You can’t even come up with a lie. Not a solid one. Just busy. Busy being alone. Busy hiding.

“Ah, that’s too bad. Well, how about once I get the barbecue fired up, you both come over for a cookout?”

“Lovely,” your mother chimes. “But tomorrow, I’ll swing by,” she squeezes her fork as it tings against the plate. Her tremor is getting bad. “Be nice to get out.”

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #the girl next door #drabbles #series #au #silverfox au #mcu #marvel #captain america

[sluts4matt]

Hiiiii Ik you are not Latina but you write for latinas (which I’m so thankful for btw because I can’t find many Latina reader fics as a Latina) but I wanted to ask that if you are comfortable with it and you know anything about it if you could right a fic about Latina reader dating either Chris or Matt and her introducing them to stuff like pan dulce, tres leches cake, flan, Hispanic candy and big family parties just how they would react to all of it. Again this is only if you are comfortable with it I don’t want you to feel pressured to do it at all I just really love your work so I had to ask.🫶

TRADITION

pairing: matt sturniolo x mexican!reader

summary: family get togethers happened once every year, this year you were more than happy to bring your boyfriend to share your traditions with.

warnings: swearing, fluff, small argument between reader and their cousin, kinda suggestive in the beginning, i make a small joke about white people which could set a snowflake off so 🤷‍♀️.

word count: 2074

authors note: i can't tell if i like it or if i feel like i didn't do your request justice. i'd like to say that i've never had flan myself, but like everything else i mentioned i've eaten before. (twas not made by white people)

you and matt had been dating for basically a year now. and while obviously your parents, and close family knew matt, your tía’s and tíos did not. however, this month your tía cindy was hosting a family get together.

they typically happen one time each year, each family member hosting a year. last year, your parents hosted. "i think you should come with me to my family get together," you mutter to matt, running a hand through the boy's brown locks as he laid his face on your chest.

the two of you were currently cuddled up in your bed, the babadook playing on your tv. your phone was resting on your pillow next to your head, your phone going off because of the groupchat you were in with your cousins.

"that would be cool," he mumbled, nuzzling his face into your chest. you could feel his eyes close against your skin, obviously meaning he was tired.

"i can introduce you to them as my boyfriend," you spoke quietly, almost as if you were trying not to scare him off, though a small smile was on your lips. though in reality you didn't know how you would. bro had seen you in all your naked glory, as well as seen you breakdown on many occasions.

there really was no scaring him away.

matt pulled his face from your chest, propping himself up on his elbows. the chain he wore dangling in front of your face as his blue eyes stared into your brown ones. "yeah?" he said, a teasing tone in his voice as he tilted his head.

you could feel your face heat up as you rolled your eyes, lightly pushing his face away. "don't tease me, asshat." you pout, looking away from the boy above you.

matt laughed, moving his face back down to press kisses to the top of your breast, before peppering kisses to the valley of your breasts and up to your neck. "i love you," he whispered, pecking your lips before pulling back, sitting back on his heels.

"so when is the gathering?" you snort at his response, "we're not witches matthew, this isn't a coven." you roll your eyes playfully. "mm, could be," he tilts his head.

"it's in a few weeks," you mutter, sitting up and grabbing your phone. you unlock your phone and click on the group chat, seeing what was going on. you rolled your eyes at the chaos that were your cousins.

"fun," he mumbles. "now lay back down," he states, pushing you back down. you look up at him and raise a brow. matt gives a small smile and grabs the blanket, resuming his previous position, pulling the blanket over your bodies.

he pressed small kisses to the spots his lips could reach on your boobs.

"you're such a horny bitch," you laugh, running your fingers through his hair. matt hums and shakes his head, "i am not, i'm just affectionate." he mutters, looking up at you.

"mm, whatever helps you sleep at night, babe." you tease. matt nips at your skin and shakes his head.

the two of you walked hand in hand into your tías house. the foyer was big, decorated with art, that quite frankly you couldn't exactly say where she had gotten the pieces from.

"dios mío, mira cuánto has crecido desde él año," cindy gushes, walking towards you. she incapsulates you in her arms, giving you a good squeeze. "tía, esté es matt," you introduce the confused looking boy. "i've heard so much about you matthew," your tía speaks, her mexican accent thick.

she pulls the boy in for a hug, "so glad you could join us this year." before you knew it, she was dragging him towards the snacks. there had been an assortment of candies, as well as salty snacks. next to it was a drink table, which held different types of liquor for the adults, as well as juices and jarritos for the kids.

you were greeted by other family members as you followed your stolen boyfriend through the people. "tell me matthew," you heard your tío marco say, making your eyes widen as you rush over.

"tío, hi, so happy to see you," you squeak, interrupting, knowing that your tio had a nick for scaring the people you dated away, either that or embarrassing you.

"i was just saying that your boyfriend looks like a real gentleman," he says, slinging an arm around the boys shoulders. "he threaten you?" you ask, looking at matt. this earns a scoff, "now, would a sweet, loving tio do something like that?" he tsks.

he looks over at matt, "tell me son, would i do something like that?" he says, squeezing matt's shoulders. the boys eyes widened slightly, "u-um, no, no sir," he says.

you give your tío a glare. he simply smiles and claps matt on the back, "excellent, glad we're on the same page. now, tell me about yourself." "i'm a youtuber-" matt starts, but gets cut off by your younger cousin who had just walked up the table. "a youtuber?" she squealed with excitement, "no wonder you're so pretty."

"back off kid, this ones mine," you mumble at the ten-year-old, wrapping your arm around matt's waist.

"okay, okay, no need to get territorial," your tía says, pushing her daughter away, "now, matt, let's get you a drink." "i don't drink, i'm sober," he says quietly. she winks at the boy, tapping her tongue on the roof of her mouth. "i like you, that was a test, you passed," she stated, grabbing a jarritos. "have a jarritos."

"and for my favorite sobrina," she stated, pouring tequila into two shot glasses. "don't tell your mom about this," she says, handing you one. you took it with a grateful smile, "cheers to you having a good guy by your side for once," she laughed at the last part. the two of you clinked your shot cups together, throwing them back.

the alcohol burned going down, causing you to make a face. "you okay?" matt asks, his hand rubbing your back soothingly. "woah," you shake your head. "mhm, fine," you hum, answering him.

everyone was seated at the table, the children sitting at the kids table. a bowl of pozole sat in front of everybody, as well as a big plate with some elote on it. "what it this?" matt whispers, ducking his head down to talk to you quietly.

"soup," you say, "tía sofia will you pass me a few limes," you ask. she nods her head, passing the small bowl over for you to grab a few. "look," you tell matt, "like this."

you squeeze the lime into the dish, "or you could just put it on top if you want," you shrug. you stir it around, adding some lettuce and onion to yours. "it's not authentic if you leave out the beats," you cousin miles whispers to matt. "literally shut up, like who asked you?" you mumble quietly, not looking to cause a scene over something as stupid as the way you like your pozole.

"here, let's try a little," you tell him, holding a spoon up to his mouth. he opens his mouth and lets you feed him. his eyes boring into yours as you do, he hums when his mouth closes around the utensil.

you pull the spoon away from his mouth and place it down, "how is it?" you ask, grabbing a piece of elote. "elote will never not be good," you state, "pass me the tajin miles."

the black-haired boy complies, sliding the bottle over to you, the plastic clanging with your glass. "thank you." you open the container and sprinkle the seasoning over the cob.

"isn't that a bit much?" matt says, tilting his head. "white people," you mutter, shaking your head as you take a bite of the corn. "no, it's never a bit much," you say, licking the tajin from your fingers.

you look up and see the eyes of your cousin miles staring at you, "what?" you say, glaring at the boy. "you're mean to him, wonder how you've kept him so long." he was obviously trying to get under your skin, it was what miles did. it was like he lived to be able to piss you off whenever he saw you.

"oh yeah, you're the fucking expert in relationships," you say, rolling your eyes. "because you haven't been able to keep somebody for more then five months," you add, looking back down to the table.

"i'm not the one who cheated on her last boyfriend," he says, crossing his arms. "miles," your aunt warns, "not here." "literally a bullshit lie and you know it," you state, getting up, walking inside to the bathroom.

matt quickly followed, leaving behind a table of people that were shocked. he walked in, closing the door behind him, and locked it.

you stood at the sink, gripping the edge as tears filled your eyes. his arms were wrapped around you, "it's not true," you mumble shakily, "i-i didn't," you hiccup. matt shushed you, pulling you closer to him.

"i don't really care if you did," he shrugs, though he knows there would have been a tad bit of fear that it could happen to him. "you didn't," he says, "but even if you did, i don't care. because you're mine, and i love you." he turns you around, cupping your cheeks.

"let's get you cleaned up," he says, using his sleeve to wipe the tears off of your face. you lean into his touch, and nod. "is it normally like this?" he asks, pressing kisses into your hair.

"miles will do or say whatever it takes to get under my skin," you mumble, "he's an immature little boy who doesn't care who's relationships he hurts," you scoff.

matt hums, and holds you close.

"i don't deserve you," you mumble, shaking your head, "i'm a mess." "then i will gladly be a mess with you so we can do it together," he mutters. "let's go back," he says, and unlocks the door.

as soon as he did, your cousin was standing there. "tía wants me to apoligiz-" "save it," you cut him off, holding a hand to his face. you and matt walk back to the table; pan dulce, flan, and tres leches cake gathered in the center of the table.

"here," your tía hands matt a piece of pan dulce. "thanks," he says, smiling at the older woman. he took the sweetened bread from her hands, tearing it in half before handing you one side. he takes a small bite, melting into his chair. "good?" you giggle, glad that most of the family was having their own conversations.

"magical," he hums, "then taste, tres leches," you state, grabbing a small plate with a slice. "tres leches is the only birthday cake i allow," you say, a smile on your face as his eyes light up. "why does this taste better then actual cake?" "because it is," you and your tía selena state at the same time.

matt nods his head and eats his dessert, looking around at all the people. his blue eyes landing on a picture that was hung on the wall. it was a photo of your abuela, the woman who raised your mom. you followed his eyes, "she was an amazing woman," you state, nodding your head.

“she would have loved you if she had the chance to meet you,” you mumble, resting your chin on the palm of your hand.

he looks over at you and smiles, grabbing a piece of flan. he puts the spoon in his mouth and hums, looking at you with wide eyes. "what is this? how did i never know this existed?" "because you never dated a bad ass latina bitch before me," you giggle.

"that's a good point," he shrugs. "and yes, flan is the shit," you laugh, "i love me some caramelized milk." matt's brows furrowed, "milk?" you hum, "milk, sugar, and eggs," you nod.

matt nodded his head and looked back at the dessert. he scooped some more and ate it. by the end of the night, mostly everyone was telling matt what a great guy he was, telling him they'd hope to see him at my cousin delorese quinceañera.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @etvar12 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolhoe @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @spencerstits @junovrsmp4 @breeloveschris @skyslondon @stars4chratt @monkeyscientist22 @sophssturn @hearts4chriss @l5ka @sturnlovr @blahbel668 @sturncakez @livvy4realll @raysmayhem-72 @jnkvivi

#matt sturniolo #nate doe #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut #nathan doe #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo #nate doe smut #nate doe fanfic

[utterlyotterlyx]

The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Six

Summary - Weeks have passed since the discovery of your Carranam status with Eris, but even as time floats by, you're struggling to grapple with the emotions that are haunting your every step, and someone appears to solidify those thoughts as truth.

Warnings - angst, fluff, found family love, mentions of trauma, ptsd themes, Nesta getting caught out, flirting, soft pining

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Eris struggled to remember a time when he was truly happy, when his life didn't revolve around the cruel clutches of his father.

It was a blessing really, how you had tumbled into his life, and he thanked the Mother each day that you spoke for him that day in the Night Court, he commended your bravery for speaking against your blood, and he watched you in awe when you had made the decision to forge the right path for yourself.

Eris' life had never been one of happiness, of fulfilment and laughter, of dancing in the rain and living in the moment, but, you had made it be that way.

Two weeks had floated by, far too quickly for his liking, but he took it as a good sign. Part of him thought that you'd retreat back into your shell that you had worked so hard to break free of once he told you of Rhys' motives, and it was hard to deny your strength when the news had only spurred you on.

It wasn't odd to see your nose burrowed into a book, and whilst Nesta read her smutty little fictions, you had focused on books that would elevate your power and understanding, and it wasn't long until you had pulled Eris to the edge of the estate, to the place where the water kissed the rocks, and asked him to touch you again.

Carranam.

It was a term that Eris hadn't heard of, and it wasn't something you had told him about, even after your powers had merged into one and black flame weaved through your joint limbs.

A soft humming danced through the air, soft crackles of the open fire sounded from the hearth before him, it's gentle glow illuminating the seating room that you had touched with comfort. Willow strewn atop you, her head on your chest that you were using as a perch for your book, your legs flung over Eris' thighs.

Two weeks had flown by, and he had never seen you look so strong, Autumn had seeped into you, and if he didn't know who you were, which wasn't possible, he would truthfully believe that you were born in Autumn. After he had told you of Rhys' motive, of the truth that had been hidden from you, you had asked Eris to help you to train your abilities, and he done so without question.

Many moons had gone where he had returned home battered and bruised, questioning why he had told you that he could take whatever you could throw at him. Turns out you could throw a lot.

And hard.

Eris had never seen darkness like it, not from Rhys or even Azriel, your darkness was playful with you, curling and coiling over your skin, but when you thought of attacking, even for a split second, those inky tendrils that resembled the blood of demons became poised and lethal, dancing like snakes over your shoulders.

The darkness didn't harm you though, it wound itself around you like a kindred spirit, like it felt sorry for you.

What are you thinking about, Fawn?

Warmth formed a shield around both of you, a shield that no one dared to prod. When you sat with one another, reading or chatting about everything and nothing, anyone who entered the room knew well enough to leave you both alone.

Your gaze flickered to him, a smirk tugged at the right corner of your lip. From what he knew, which wasn’t much, Carranam meant that you could speak telepathically to one another, that your powers balanced one another in blissful harmony.

I’m thinking about which one of your oils to steal, my skin has been feeling rather dry.

The echo of your voice in his mind was low and sultry, and you looked through your lashes at him. Eris enjoyed the moments he could spend alone with you, even if you didn’t speak much, your presence was an anchor to his consciousness, a thing that held him down to reality.

An incredulous glance was spared your way.

You look rather radiant to me.

Blushing, you turned your attention back to the book in your hands, trying not to squirm as his eyes roamed over you. It was hard to not notice the longing stares and proud eyes, the curved upward lips and the way he dressed when he knew he’d be spending the afternoon with you.

Eris always tried to impress you at every turn.

An array of fruits lay on platters on the table to your side, he knew that you were a stress eater, he had watched you pluck grapes from their vines at the turn of every page to try and distract your mind from whatever raged within it.

Golden light glimmered about the room. It was only you two that evening, Lucien had taken Elain out for dinner to silence her incessant begging to see the court where he had grown up, and Nesta was burrowed in her room on the other side of the house, no doubt nose deep in one of her fantasy novels or thinking about Cassian and everything that had transpired.

The guilt had settled into your heart, the guilt of being the reason that Nesta had walked away from her mate, and from her own sister. For you.

Eris’ fingers drifted up your calves, as if he sensed where your mind had roamed to.

I’m fine.

It’s okay not to be.

Silence.

Huffing, you folded the page of the book so that you could resume it later and placed the large thing onto the table with a dull thud. Willow sighed in your lap, and you scratched the place between her eyes to coax her back to slumber.

I feel bad.

Eris shuffled, craning his body to look at you properly, his hand resting gingerly on your knee, waiting for you to continue. It was so difficult to concentrate when he touched you, from the ghosting lingering hands on your hips during training, to the tender touches to your shoulders when you were bustling about the kitchen.

You’re all risking so much for me. Nesta has lost her mate, her and Elain have lost Feyre, Lucien has lost yet another home. I struggle to believe that it’s all worth it.

You had cried the moment Eris had admitted that Rhys had threatened war against the Autumn Court, a place you had come to love dearly. The browning leaves and the golden sun, the scent of bonfires and cinnamon, and the gentle chirping of the foxes that scoured the woodlands were what gave you solace, even the ways his people looked at you with hope and awe made you feel like you belonged.

We are your court, y/n, Eris spoke to you sternly, his voice echoing through the blank canvas that shrouded your mind. There is nothing that we wouldn’t do for you.

You shouldn’t have to.

The ability to speak to one another through your minds was a different feeling compared to that of Rhys' daemati talents. You were glad that you hadn't been gifted the ability yourself. Rhys was able to infiltrate and control the minds of anyone he wished, he had the power to influence their thoughts and, in some case, shatter their minds entirely. What you and Eris, your Carranam, shared was unlike that darkness, what you shared was the brightest of lights and warmest of summers, speaking through your consciousness felt natural and welcomed, like returning home after a long day, what you shared felt relieving.

"A home isn't a place, y/n. It's a person. Home is wherever you make it with the people who build it with you," Eris' voice was as soft as autumn rain, rain that drizzled over the trees and gave them life whilst the sun poured through the branches.

You went to curl your knees to your chest but Eris wouldn't let you, he didn't want you to retreat into yourself, drowning in guilt. Eris lay his hands firmly on your knees to keep your legs draped over him, to have your smooth skin brushing against the cloth of his briefs, to let you know that your place with him was one of safety and respect.

"And if I decide that my home is here?" Your question trailed off, you fiddled with seams of your nightgown, a long plum coloured satin number that was modest but sinful in the same swing.

"I would be honoured," Eris' fingers reached for your face, grazing the curve beneath your ear and following it across your jaw all whilst his eyes admired the fire burning in your own.

If Eris knew of the effect he had on you, he didn't let on, how he made your heart race and thoughts cloud, you weren't sure how he'd react if he did. Would he turn you away? Would he sternly tell you that your place was not meant to be by his side? Would he choose you?

You weren't sure what to think of it, but you knew for certain that you were so screwed.

The day had long since disappeared and you didn't know how long you'd been sat there with Willow and Eris, in that bubble of serenity that you actively sought out since the first instance it had occurred. It had been a long day, your mind was reeling with pain and guilt, and you had needed to feel a moment of peace, a moment where you felt like you belonged somewhere in the world. That's when Eris had led you to the seating room, he had lit the fire and whistled to his hounds, all of which lay scattered around you on the free seats and on the rugs adorning the floor, and then there was Willow who always found her place beside you.

Eris couldn't even find the will to be annoyed about it before he had nestled in beside you, placed your legs on his lap, and told you that no matter what happened you would always have a place in Autumn, and, if you chose to leave, he would happily give you whatever it is you would need to build a life that you wanted, that you deserved.

It was his own tortured soul that craved to give you whatever you desired, he couldn't give himself the same luxury, but he could give it to you.

As if sensing his own self-doubt and the lingering emotion of feeling completely unworthy to breathe the same air as you or else taint it, Eris pulled back, and an unwelcomed shiver ran up your spine at the sudden movement, "It's late," the look on your face wounded him, the flash of dismissal that clasped around the ring of burnt orange and molten gold in your irises.

Shaking your head softly, you rose from the seat, Willow groaning at the movement of you sliding out from beneath her, "It is," you reached for the book on the table and held it close to your chest, taking a moment before retreating toward the staircase but not lingering there at all before pattering upward and disappearing from sight.

Gods.

Eris ran a hand over his face and threw his head backward, sighing. There was nothing that he wanted more than to know what your lips tasted like, how they would feel moulded to his, but he couldn't let himself find out. After everything you had been through, you deserved real love, you deserved to know what it felt like to be independent, and Eris didn't believe that a life with him would do you any amount of good. Eris believed that he was an evil male, many would agree with the thought, and he couldn't allow himself to give into that carnal desire to be with you.

In whatever capacity you could allow, Eris wanted to be in your life, and if that was simply as a friend, then he would choke down every emotion he could to ensure that friendship lived as long as you both did.

"She doesn't believe it, you know?" Eris' head snapped to the side to see Nesta lingering in the archway to the room, her silver eyes flittering about the space with intrigue as she inhaled deeply and smirked softly, to herself. When Eris didn't answer, waiting for her to explain, she continued, "If y/n thought that you were evil, truly evil, then she would have never aided you that day."

Of course Nesta Archeron had to be the voice of reason and truth, "She deserves better," Nesta cocked her head to the side and examined him, but more than that, she was noting the moulded scents that clung to the air.

A tingling harmonisation made the hairs on her arms stand on end, it was both of you, your scent of freshly blown out matches and adored parchment with a hint of jasmine, and his scent of pine and warm oranges, of subtle spices and apple pie straight from the oven.

Stupid. Blind. Fools.

Nesta took a step into the room, allowing your scents to wash over her, a strong prominent smell that threatened to overwhelm her senses, "After I was Made, y/n was one of the very few people who understood me, she saw straight through the mask I had dared to wear around her and picked it from my face piece by piece."

Settling into the armchair across the way from the High Lord, Nesta smiled fondly, lost in the memories of you, and continued, "I wasn't the best of sisters to Feyre and Elain, but as soon as I met y/n, I found myself working for a second chance to do things right. That's what y/n can do, she can make you feel like you can change, like there's still time to turn the tables and be the person you have always wanted to be," Eris listened intently, a soft smile on his lips, "I may have lost Cassian, my mate," she swallowed hard, "And my sister, and nephew, and friends if you could even call them that," Nesta looked to Eris, she looked deep into his soul and saw parts of you burning within it, "But I would lose it all again, in every life, if it meant that I had her. The person who made me believe in the goodness of the world, in the light that existed in me, and mended parts of me that I didn't even realise were broken."

It was an honest conversation, one that Eris didn't think would ever occur again.

"She wouldn't allow you to go to war for her," the atmosphere shifted, "She would sooner rather give herself back to a life in that prison than risk anything happening to you, and you wouldn't be able to stop her from doing it."

"Is it something she thinks about?"

Nesta craned her head to look over her shoulder, half-expecting you to be stood there, but when you weren't, having confined yourself to your room prior to Nesta's appearance, she sighed, "I know it is."

Time halted for a moment, and his breath became caught in his throat. So much work had gone into training your abilities, from both of you, if war was to rage on then no army would be able to stand against you.

That was the problem.

In doing that, in decimating armies and going to war against your own brother, the entire land would see you as what Rhys had made them fear. A monster. A putrid thing of the darkest pits of Hel.

"You never told her what you found," Nesta stiffened, "When you went Under The Mountain, you told her that Azriel didn't find anything. Not we, not I, just Azriel," Nesta leaned forward in her seat, her silver eyes blazing with flames of warning, "What are you hiding, Nesta? What did you find Under The Mountain? What did Amarantha do?"

"Rhys can never know, and she can only know when she is ready to."

And so Nesta told him what she had seen, what she had felt, and once she had finished, she sat back and said nothing as the colour drained from his face.

A morning alone was exactly what you needed.

The early morning light had woken you before the rest of the house, and the sleep you had gotten was deep enough to allow you to dream, dream soundly enough that you had woken feeling lighter than you had felt in weeks.

Birdsong drifted through the woods, your cloak drifted along in the gentle morning breeze, and the dry leaves beneath your feet crunched under yours and Willow's weight as she trotted beside you over the mound of earth. Axos snorted in the background as you nearly slipped over a damp twig that slipped under your foot, and you looked back to the stallion with a craned brow.

The courage to ride Axos on your own had sprouted from nowhere, the notion of it called to you as soon as you had glanced to the cream riding boots from Eris, and you had dressed in your riding gear quickly before entering the stables and asking one of the stableboys to ready the stallion for you.

Axos was more surprised to see you than you were to see him, and the beast had even lowered himself a few inches to make your ascent a little easier.

You weren't entirely sure where you were going, or where you wanted to end up that morning, but it had been hours and you were happy to find the place where your feet wished to carry you.

Unbound hair drifted over your face, and you blew the strands away as you continued to climb upward, up and up until you couldn't see Axos anymore, up and up until the ground and air began to turn cold and your breath was wisps of smoke before your face.

Expecting a spectacular view, your heart stopped beating in your chest when you saw it.

The large black wings and the coiling grin.

"Hello, sister," his voice drawled, he was dressed in his usual attire, a black suit of sorts, wearing a face you couldn't quite read.

Rhys was far enough away that he couldn't reach through the wards and grab you but close enough that you could feel his anger rippling along the barrier of the Autumn Court.

Looking about the space, you felt like a rabbit backed into a corner, waiting for the dogs to tear it apart. Willow bared her teeth at him, and he looked at her with such insignificance that it made your blood roar.

Turn around, y/n. Just walk away.

Those violet eyes roamed over you, flaring at the sight of your unbound hair, the cloak, the clothes covering your skin and the riding boots smudged with mud. How Autumn had poisoned you, "You look different."

"Why are you here?"

Rhys smirked, finding amusement in your reluctance to engage with him, "Just because we can't get in, doesn't mean we can't go above."

The earth rumbled as another body joined the fray, and you winced when you saw Azriel take his place at Rhys' side. Of course he had been tasked with soaring over the court, he was keeping an eye on you.

"I knew it would only be a matter of time until you ventured out on your own," Rhys stated. Azriel's eyes were wide as he took you in, his lips cast downward and eyebrows scrunched, contorted in pain as he saw the same sentiment lying in your eyes, "It's time to stop this nonsense, y/n. You've made your point, now it's time to come home."

In the distance, you heard Axos call out to you, Willow moved to stand in front of you, seemingly believing that she alone could protect you if the High Lord dared to make a single move to reach through those shields.

"I'm not coming back."

Rolling his neck to keep his temper in check, Rhys clenched and then relaxed his fists, exhaling through his mouth is a perfect o, "Do you know what is going to happen if you don't? You are property of the Night Court, people have been killed for less."

There was no choice but to throw up your mask, "The only one I belong to is myself, and you'd do well to remember that. Let's not forget who holds the true power here, brother."

Matching his façade of calm, you caught his lip twitch, "I will kill them all, Nesta, Lucien and Elain, even your precious Eris, and every male, female, or child who would dare to try and keep you from me, and I will make you watch as I do it, until you submit yourself."

Kill Nesta. Elain and Lucien. Eris.

You would not let your mask break, you would not let him see the panic that ravaged within you, "I will burn your court to ash if you even try it. I wouldn't bother testing me," you raised your hand against your side, allowing those black flames to spark at your fingertips and lick up the skin of your forearm. Azriel gasped softly, the flame reminding him all to well of his own afflictions, and he stepped back.

Wincing in your chest, your heart skipped a beat or two, you had never wanted Azriel to think that you'd hurt him, even if your bargain prevented such a thing from ever occurring. The horror in his eyes made you believe for a moment that you were the monster Rhys had spread the word of.

"Not even you could survive my wrath, Rhys. And now that I know of everything you have done to keep me chained, you're lucky that a shield stands between us."

Rhys smirked, it was sadistic and menacing, it was something that fuelled your nightmares, "Everything I have ever done was to protect you. The power you have is not natural, it is not from this world."

You inhaled deeply, a feline grin tugged at your lips and you kept quiet, waiting.

"Stop pretending that her power doesn't threaten everything that you are, Rhysand, which isn't much," you didn't need to glance over your shoulder to know that Eris was stood behind you, you could feel his face hovering to the side of your head, you could feel his fingers move to rest on your waist.

"I would say that it was nice to see you both, but that would be a lie. Don't come here again," you turned your back to them and caught a glance of Eris, of his stone cold face and deadly stare, deadly enough that you were sure that Rhys wouldn't be safe from it even if he was six feet under.

Making the decision to walk away, to descend the hill, shivers prickled down your spine at the words that flew through the air, "I won't warn you again, y/n. Come home, or I will make sure that you are left with nothing."

Eris placed a hand on the small of your back, his thumb rubbing circles into the fabric atop your skin in attempt to soothe you, and he guided you onward, and you didn't once look back at the males you once called family.

Neither of you spoke a word on the descent, even Willow padded alongside you silently with her head hung low, her nose kissing the ground. As soon as the ground was flat and Axos was back in your view, you couldn't help but speed to the nearest tree and use it as leverage as you emptied the contents of your stomach.

Palms rubbed slow circles into your back, Eris' soft voice called to you and he moved your hair from your shoulders so that it didn't become covered in the liquid. After a few moments, you let out a panting breath and wiped your lips with the back of your hand.

"I didn't realise how far we'd gone. I'm sorry."

Eris looked to you confused and hurt, hurt that you'd think he would ever scold you for exploring your home, "Are you alright?"

The nod you gave him wasn't at all convincing, that paired with your shaking form, he knew that Rhys had gotten under your skin. Without hesitation, Eris pulled you into his chest, entangling his fingers in your hair and held you as sobs broke through your lips, "I didn't want to believe it, I didn't want to believe that it was true," the sounds of your broken words hurt him.

Amongst all of the fire and sass, amongst all of the kind words and wonder, there was still a little girl inside of you that wanted nothing more than to be loved, to be valued and protected in the most pure sense possible.

An entire life of chains had dulled you, taken parts of you that weren't theirs to take, and Eris was finding it hard to restrain his anger, he was finding it hard to not set the High Lord alight and chuckle as he burned.

Whatever happened to Rhys from here on out was solely your decision, Eris wouldn't take that from you.

And in that moment, as he stood in the woodland of his court with you broken and crying in his arms, did he mull over Nesta's words in his mind and decide that loving you openly was better than depriving you both of the notion.

Love was a risk, but he would rather waltz into the unknown, whether that mean death or not, with you by his side than allow either of you to spend another moment believing that you were unworthy of happiness.

Authors Note

It's getting hot in hereeeee

Hope you love it! x

Taglist

@mybestfriendmademe @jesskidding3 @rosewood-cafe @fandomarchiveilyd @brujitafantomatico @crazylokonugget @mai-adaptive-dreams @magicstrengthandcourage @acourtofmoonlightandstars @ysmttty @lilah-asteria @circe143 @xyzmeh @paleidiot @namelesssav @amberlynn98 @acourtofbatboydreams @azrielsmate3 @ivy-34 @mp-littlebit @honeysuckle-daydreams13 @iamjimintrash @ifonlyiwerefiction @pirana10 @donttellthecats @padbaeamidla

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar imagine #maasverse #fanfiction #imagine #azriel x reader #rhysand #cassian #azriel x you #eris imagine #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x y/n #feyre x rhysand #rhys acotar #nesta #nesta archeron #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #acotar x reader #acotar x you #acotar x y/n

[xrenjunniesx]

May we continue to love forever

bf!haechan

fluff, mentions of murder jokes

word count : 1,341

In moments like these where you let yourself delve into your thoughts. Staring out the window as the train began to start up again, slowly chugging down the rail road, you found yourself thinking of how you became so lucky to meet the guy that sat right next to you.

It was cliche, really. He ran into you when talking to his friends and proceeded to get lost in your eyes as he apologised. You two talked for hours after that first meeting, he left his friends just so he could go and get to know the girl he fell for.

His soft brown hair soon was dyed black and you fell for him all over again - even when you two had been dating for months at this point.

It was times when you least expected it, that you would fall in love with him all over again.

When the wind would be blowing your hair back, messing it up in the process but he would just stare loving at you and brush the hair behind your hair so it didn’t bother you so much.

You always thought about that moment. The way your heart fluttered and you felt your face heat up, it always brought a small smile to your face.

You felt a tap on your thigh, “Babe, this is our stop.” You looked towards Haechan and quickly stood up, following after him as he walks off the train.

“What would you do without me.” He spoke in a teasing manner, passing you your bag - which you had forgotten about completely.

“I would be perfectly fine without you.” It wasn’t a lie. It just so happened that whenever you were with him, you became so relaxed that you forgot things that you wouldn’t normally forget. You knew he would be there for you to pick up on the things you forgot.

“So why did you want to come here?” He asked, stuffing his hands into his puffer jackets pockets.

“It’s a surprise.” You smile at the boy and begin to walk in front of him to lead the way. He followed behind you, a love struck smile plastered onto his face despite the icy winds that had the both of you shivering even in the warmest jackets you had.

“Did we have to come down near the ocean on a day like this? I’m going to freeze to death.” He complains after a few minutes of walking in peacefully silence. It was a quiet area, but with the weather it was even more quiet. People chose to stay inside the warmth on days like this. Not the two of you though.

You were sure that Haechan would love to go back home now, but you were determined to show him the surprise. It would be worth it once you get there

“Don’t start complaining now, Hyuck, we will get there soon.”

“Gosh, why is there no people around-“ he paused and you heard his teeth chattering for a moment before he continued. “You’re taking me to a murder spot aren’t you? Is this why you were so eager? Is my death the surprise.”

You stopped walking and began to laugh at the boy. He stopped next to you, a lazy grin across his face.

“No Haechan, I don’t want to murder you, at least not here.”

“Why? I think this would be a lovely place to die.” You sigh at his words, beginning to walk again.

“Let’s not talk about such matters when I’m quite literally taking you to a place of pure happiness.”

“is it my grave-“

“Haechan!” You shouted, looking at him only to see him avoiding your gaze and laughing to himself.

The two of you arrive at a local restaurant. As you stepped inside, memories seemed to come back to Haechan. His eyes widened and he grabbed ahold of your jacket.

“No way… you found this place.”

“I didn’t. Mark said he had been here and I wanted to surprise you.”

Haechan stared in awe as he looked around the same restaurant that he had only seen in movies and dramas. The same restaurant that he for some reason was never able to find the address off.

As the two of you followed a waiter to a table, you felt Haechan grabbing ahold of your hand. He interlocked your fingers for a brief second, giving your hand a squeeze before letting go when the waiter looked back to speak to you.

The both of you sat down and looked at the menu. it was a quiet family owned restaurant that left Haechan in awe. He took in the beautiful layout and the romantic lighting the place had. Plus the heating in here made it a perfect moment for him.

He took off his jacket and looked towards you while you read the names of the dishes that you were interested in getting. You weren’t doing anything special in that moment, simply sitting there and reading a menu, and yet Haechan fell in love with you all over again.

He lifted his phone up, aiming the camera at you and quickly snapping a picture. The clicking sound caught your attention and you look up from the menu to see the boy giggling to himself as he looked at his phone.

“Did you really take a picture of me?” You say, placing the menu down on the table, unable to hide the smile slowly growing on your face.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” He says, putting his hands up. “I just think you look very pretty right now.”

You blushed and quickly looked away from his eyes, picking the menu back up and telling him to pick a dish. He chuckles at you but never the less listens to what you said.

The both of you eat your meals rather quietly, simply enjoying the atmosphere and the gentle music that played in the background. The cloudy blue sky became darker as the night rolled in and the sun set.

“I want to stay here tonight.” Haechan says, sinking back into his chair. He looks over at you, staring into your eyes that were growing tired.

“I should book us a hotel room.” He says, picking up his phone.

You reach over the table and push his phone down a bit. “We don’t have any extra clothes on us.”

Haechan shrugs his shoulders. “We can always buy some tomorrow, or tonight quickly before stores start to close.”

You sigh and say, “You really don’t want to go back home?”

He shakes his head, reaching across the table to grab a hold of your hands. “I want to stay with you all night in a place as beautiful as this town.”

You chuckle at his words, “You’ve only really seen this store, what do you mean this town.”

“I’m sure the town is as beautiful as you are.” You want to laugh at his over the top flirting but you decide to delve into it. He loved complimenting you, even if it was in the more embarrassing way possible.

“and if it’s ugly?” You say, raising an eyebrow expectantly at him.

“then it’s because you’re too beautiful that everything else becomes ugly.”

You roll your eyes and stand up, ready to go pay for the meal. He leaps from the chair and almost trips you as he rushes past you to pay for it.

“You paid for the train tickets, I’ll pay for the meal and the hotel room.”

you couldn’t deny the offer and decided to let him pay for the meal.

As the two of you put your jackets on and stepped outside into the freezing cold air, you hear Haechan say in a light manner,

“You know, you should’ve lied when you said Mark found this place. It’s less romantic knowing he found it.”

You scoff out a laugh and shove the boy. “Shut up and get a hotel room, it’s too cold out here.”

#nct dream #nct dream imagine #nct imagines #nct #nct dream imagines #nct scenarios #nct fluff #nct haechan #haechan imagines #haechan imagine #haechan

[casuallyimagining]

Doubt || kth.

Kim Taehyung x female!reader

Summary: Taehyung is an eccentric young musician working on a song that he believes will save him. Can it also save the woman he loves?

Genre: Greek Mythology AU, Orpheus AU, Fluff, Angst Word Count: 8,678 Rating: T Warnings: hunger and poverty; manipulation; major character death

Notes: Based on the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. Thanks to @daechwitatamic for beta-ing. Banner by @itaeewon.

It’s so cold out that you can see your breath, a puff of pale steam that quickly disappears into the dull landscape around you. The clouds are starting to lighten, they’re less grey, less dense, and you can tell the sun’s still somewhere up there, at least. But gods, it’s almost mid-May and you can’t remember the last time you’d seen blue sky. Hell, you can’t remember the last time you’d seen the sun.

Growing up, you’d heard stories of the seasons changing on time. Tales of spring coming in late March, bringing rain and flowers and much-needed warmth; that fall would reliably start at the end of September, the land turning to shades of orange and red and yellow. Between that, days got warmer and longer, and then colder and shorter. It was a cycle, and it was predictable, and it was nice, and it was mundane.

That didn’t really happen anymore.

You tug your jacket closer around your body. It’s starting to wear thin and the zipper is broken. You’ll need to find a way to fix it when you get into the next town. There’s no way you’ll be able to afford a new one, but maybe you can trade for some lining and a new zipper. Though that means you’ll have to find something to trade… 

Good-paying jobs are hard to find, especially with the world’s economy in flux the way that it is. Most everyone is more focused on finding food and shelter, and people are much more willing to migrate to find work during the good season if they can. You’d been doing odd-jobs up and down the eastern seaboard for years now, as long as you could take care of yourself. Some cleaning here, accompanying someone to a different town there. You’d even done some childcare near the gulf when you’d been down south. 

Now, you’re following the railroad tracks north.

Eventually, you stumble upon a sleepy town somewhere south of the city you’re trying to get to. There aren’t that many buildings that you can really see, and most of them are still covered in snow. Snow’s piled up along the streets and under the windows–it’s almost touching the sills in some places. None of the buildings look to be taller than three stories. The town is small, but the square in the middle of town is surrounded by lit buildings. You’re freezing. First stop: find a bar or a hotel or an inn.

The bar isn’t hard to find, but it’s dark when you finally push through the door in a swirl of bitter wind and snow flurries. Every head in the bar turns to look as you enter. You slide into a table by the door, a little embarrassed but ultimately just happy to be out of the cold.

“You’re not from around here.” The man who approaches your table is tall and confident, and when he offers you a soft smile, you instantly feel more at ease. He pulls a small pad of paper out of his back pocket and slides into the booth across from you. “I’m Yoongi.”

You tell him your name, and he tells you what’s good on the menu before taking your order. Yoongi leaves you alone with a promise to check on you later to make sure you have a place to stay the night. You allow yourself to relax into the vinyl cushions of the booth, enjoying the atmosphere–significantly less tense now that Yoongi has welcomed you into the establishment–and the warmth of the fireplace across the room.

There’s a house band that sits in the corner playing some jazzy number that reminds you of one of the gulf cities you’d stayed in back when you were passing through the bayous of the south. The pianist is slight, a little too skinny, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he plays. He’s talented, remarkably so, and paired with the saxophone and the upright bass, the music they play is some of the best you’d heard in a very long time.

A plate clattering onto the table in front of you draws your attention from the band. A young man stands in front of you, honeyed eyes wide. He looks to be around your age, his dark hair pushed out of his eyes with a thick cloth headband. He has a kind energy, despite his sharp features, if not a little odd.

“Yoongi said you’re new in town,” he says finally, his voice a little deeper than you were expecting. “Do you have somewhere to stay? Are you going to be here long? You should stay with Yoongi and I.”

You sigh. The man is forward, that’s for sure. You’d been hoping to grab a hot meal here, rest a little, and move on. You’re close to the city–maybe a couple days of walking, less if you can hitch a ride with someone or sneak on the train. But you can tell that this place, and these people, is somewhere you could easily stay in.

You can’t let that happen.

Yoongi appears then, a glass of water in his hands. He places it on the table in front of you, nudging the man out of the way. “Don’t be a pest, Taehyung. Remember what I said about scaring away my customers?”

“Oh, so he’s like this with everyone?” You ask it playfully, but there’s a bit of real questioning in it. You get the sense that maybe this guy–this Taehyung–is a bit of an oddball. Not in a bad way, but you’d like to know what you’re dealing with.

The way Yoongi rolls his eyes tells you that yes, Taehyung is like this with everyone. “He tell you about his song yet?”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh, he’s a singer.”

Taehyung blushes, a light dusting of pink blossoming across his cheeks. “There’s this contest, and I… The prize is a year’s supply of soup.”

You hum. Any more, money isn’t really a great prize. Bartering is more or less how the economy runs. But soup? Any kind of food in that amount would make someone richer than even the wealthiest city dwellers.

Taehyung is certainly an intriguing fellow.

You can’t say at what point in the night Yoongi slipped away, or when Taehyung slipped into the booth across from you. But you can’t deny that--despite his way too forward introduction--his presence is comfortable.

“What brings you into town?” he asks as you take a bite of your sandwich, watching you expectantly as you chew.

“Job hunting,” you say simply, glancing in the direction of the band as they start to play again.

“What did you do before? Where are you from?”

You shrug. “Bit of everything.”

Taehyung hums and rests his chin in his hand. If he notices that you ignore his second question, he doesn’t mention it. “Hey, maybe Yoongi could give you a job? He’s always saying about needing someone else to wait tables. Apparently I’m ‘unreliable’ and ‘flighty’.” He makes a face, eyes widening almost comically as he wiggles his head.

Then, he sighs dramatically and watches the band for a moment before bursting into a fit of giggles. It’s a little dopey, but it’s endearing how his face scrunches up and he covers his mouth with his hand.

When he calms down, he leans on his hand. “Yoongi really isn’t that bad to work for. He’s just busy is all. He runs the bar, but he’s also station master over at the train station, and he delivers mail sometimes when the post office is short-staffed.”

“That’s… a lot of jobs.”

Taehyung shrugs. “He likes to stay busy.”

Things quiet down, then, and you listen to the band play as you finish your meal. Sometimes, Taehyung speaks, telling you a bit about his life and about the bar, but for the most part, he sits with you in silence. He nods along with the band, and every once in a while, he pulls out a small notebook to jot something down. Even though he isn’t talking as much, he seems happy. You get the sense that he’s just excited you aren’t ignoring him or shooing him away. 

When it’s time for the bar to close, Yoongi comes to collect Taehyung so they can get to work cleaning and closing the establishment.

“Wait for me?” Taehyung whispers to you as you stand from the booth. He tugs the scarf from around his neck and drapes it over yours. The striped fabric is a little thin, but you can feel his body heat radiating off it slightly. “I’ll meet you when we’re done. There’s a park down that way three blocks.” He points east. “It’s just across the street from my apartment. You can wait there if you want.”

He’s gone before you even confirm that you’d wait for him. 

“He’s a good kid,” Yoongi’s voice from behind you makes you jump. “He’s a little naive, but he’s got a big heart.” He holds the door open for you as you leave the bar. He nods at you. “I’ll see you later.”

The night is cold, but nowhere near as bitter as it had been a few nights before. The seasons are starting to change. This year, if you’re lucky, maybe it'll last the correct amount of time. 

You find the park easily, wandering around it for a few minutes before selecting a bench near the center fountain. It’s turned off to prevent the icy spray from getting whipped around in the wind, and you’re grateful. The last thing you need is to be cold and wet.

It’s a surprisingly nice night. The clouds have parted, if only slightly, and you can see stars in the breaks in the gloom. You tug your jacket around your body and wrap Taehyung’s scarf around your neck, closing your eyes and leaning back against the bench. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten to just relax.

You’d started out almost a month ago when the blizzard ended. The town you had been staying in had started to get too small, the people had started to get too friendly. It had all started to chafe at your brain. So you’d left and started walking, catching a ride where you could, always following the train tracks.

You don’t hear the footsteps behind you until a body sliding onto the bench beside you makes you jump.

“Sorry,” Taehyung apologizes, a soft, boxy smile on his lips. “We uh… we finished up early, and you looked so pretty just sitting here. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

It’s not a problem, and you tell him as much, placing a hand on his forearm as he leans sideways against the back of the bench. The flush springs to his cheeks almost immediately, his eyes flashing to where you’re touching him.

“So you’re a singer,” you ask, changing the subject. Taehyung nods sheepishly. “Sing something for me?”

“Oh! I uh… wouldn’t know what to sing.” Taehyung dismisses you with a wave of his hand.

You hum. “Oh come on. You can’t just say you’re working on this song and then not sing.”

He sighs. “I don’t know...”

“At least hum something for me?”

For a moment, he stays silent, and you think he’s going to tell you no again. Which would be fine. You would drop it. You’re curious, and you’re a little stubborn, but you know when to drop something. But when he opens his mouth, he sings.

The tune is beautiful and haunting, despite it being incredibly simple. It’s only a few notes that for the most part move up and down along the scale. You’re mesmerized, and you close your eyes, feeling a warmth spreading through your body. He stops suddenly, and the park grows eerily quiet.

“Taehyung, you’re amazing.”

His smile is brilliant, and he looks beautiful in what little moonlight there is. You don’t know why your stomach is doing flips.

“Oh hey you two,” Yoongi greets, suddenly in front of you. “Ready to go home?”

As it turns out, Taehyung and Yoongi live together. You walk across the street with the two men, pausing in front of a door between the two ground-floor businesses–a bookstore and an empty storefront. 

Yoongi slumps into the sofa, seemingly exhausted, while Taehyung disappears deeper into the apartment. He returns a few minutes later, changed into more comfortable clothes, carrying some blankets and a change of clothes for you, too. 

“You can use these,” he says, handing the bundle to you. Then, he turns to Yoongi. “It would be nice to be able to offer a job, you know…”

“It’s late. We’ll talk more later. It’s past my bedtime, and you kids have to be up early tomorrow. It’s a big day.”

“Wh-” Yoongi waves goodnight, and he’s gone before Taehyung can even finish his sentence.

A few moments pass in silence before Taehyung yawns, stretching his arms above his head. He encourages you to get comfortable and bids you goodnight then, apologizing for not having a proper bed for you to sleep in. His is small, he says, or he’d offer to share. But honestly, the couch doesn’t seem so bad. It looks soft, and it’s better than sleeping on a bench outside. He looks like he wants to leave, but he’s frozen in place.

“Thanks,” you tell him softly. “For everything. You’ve been nothing but kind to me. I appreciate it.”

“Of course.”

“Do you want your scarf back?” You unwind it from around your neck, holding it out slightly for him to take.

“Keep it.” He offers you a shy smile before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight!” He hurries away, turning off the light as he goes, leaving you standing in the middle of their living room alone and in the dark.

You hadn’t missed the bright blush on his cheeks, or the way your pulse had quickened at his touch.

-----

It’s a beautiful day. You were worried because the past few days, it had been sweltering hot. The kind of oppressive summer heat that saps your energy and makes you want to do nothing but lay in front of a fan all day. But it’s cooled off some, and there’s a nice breeze going. 

You sit on the bank of the river, just close enough to the water where you can feel it lapping at your bare feet, but not close enough to actually get wet. It’s serene sitting there, listening to the birds chirp in the trees and the ducks splashing around in the water. Very different from the seemingly constant chaos that is Yoongi’s bar. Even when it isn’t busy, it’s loud. And while you enjoy the atmosphere, you’re not used to constantly being around that many people. It takes a lot out of you.

Which is why you took the opportunity to come to the river just on the other side of the train tracks to take a break on your day off. Taehyung had followed you, because of course he had. But you don’t mind. You don’t feel the need to entertain him, to constantly be talking with him. You barely have to focus on him. It seems to be enough for him to just exist in each other’s company. It’s nice.

He has his head in your lap, laying perpendicular to you. One of his knees is bent and he has the other one raised and resting against his bent knee, creating a little table for himself as he scribbles in his notebook.

“What are you thinking?” you ask him, reaching down and brushing his hair out of his eyes. It’s grown longer. You wish he would let you give him a haircut.

“Music,” Tae responds simply, his attention flicking to you for the briefest of moments. You can see the playfulness in his eyes, even as he turns his focus back to his notebook. He’s determined to finish that song. “And how I want to marry you.”

He’s been playfully asking you since the second day. At this point, he says it so nonchalantly that you aren’t even phased anymore. You roll your eyes and poke him right in the middle of his forehead.

You brought a book--one of Yoongi’s, he doesn’t mind that you borrow it--and you read while he works, stealing glances at him subtly every once in a while. His concentration face is truly a sight to behold, all focused eyes and set jaw and furrowed brow. Sometimes, he catches you looking and flashes you a confused, boxy grin, which you return. You’re pretty sure he has no idea what he does to you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks softly. When you look down at him, his full attention is on you, his notebook resting face-down against his chest. He fiddles with his pen.

You hum and lean back against the hill, letting the book fall to the ground gently beside you. “Sing me something?”

So he does. He sits up only to fall to the ground again to lay beside you, his shoulder brushing against yours. He sings of longing, of love lost, and of love yet to be. It’s beautiful and haunting and sad, but there’s a kind of hope in the song, too. When he’s done, he reaches out, hand grasping your own, and the two of you sit in silence for a long while.

Eventually, he shifts beside you and grabs his notebook from where it fell to the ground when he sat up. Smiling, you reach out and brush his hair off his forehead. He glances up at you, eyes sparkling with the reflection of the smile on his lips. His smile is unlike anything you’d ever seen. It’s innocent, and warm, and so unabashedly joyous that it makes you feel like nothing bad can ever happen if he was there.

You’ve never felt like that before.

You’ve been alone for so long--it’s been just you since your parents had passed in your early teens--you barely even recognize how much it sucks. You’ve gotten so used to being alone, you no longer even recognize that you’re lonely. For so long, you’ve forced yourself not to get close to anyone, have focused on taking care of yourself for so long, that you hadn’t even recognized your heart had grown cold. All you’d ever known was how to take care of yourself and get to the next day. And the next one. And the one after that.

You like the warmth he brings you. You like how he makes you feel: as if maybe you don’t have to go it alone. You like that he makes you feel happy.

And you have no idea what to do with that information.

It terrifies you a little. You’ve only known him for a few months, but it feels like you’ve known him for your entire life. 

“What are you thinking about?” Tae’s voice cuts through your thoughts. He reaches over and squeezes your hand, fingers slotting between yours. “You look like you're thinking hard about something.”

You hum. There’s no way you can tell him your exact thoughts, you can barely articulate them to yourself. It’s a lot, and you don’t want to scare him away. You want this--whatever this is--to last. So you sigh, and instead of telling him what you want to, you simply say, “Just thinking.”

“Ah.” He nods sagely. “Big thoughts. I get that.” For a moment, he’s quiet, toying with your fingers in the silence. “Can I tell you something?” All of a sudden, he seems nervous. You can feel the anxious energy practically radiating off him. He can’t seem to look you in the eye. His other hand clutches at his notebook.

“Yeah, of course.”

“I just…” Taehyung swallows hard before taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “I know I can be a lot. I know I daydream a lot, and I get too into my songs, and I have trouble paying attention sometimes when you tell me things. I know I’m weird. So, I guess, just… thank you for wanting to spend time with me.”

You smile gently, feeling your heart soften even more at his vulnerability. “I like spending time with you, Tae,” you say earnestly. And you do. You’ve never enjoyed someone’s company as much as you enjoy his.

“I really do want to marry you,” he confesses softly, his eyes darting out to the river. “I know that’s dumb, but it’s true.”

Two months ago, you would have dismissed him--you had dismissed him--as just being a man looking for one thing. But now that you know Taehyung, well… things are different. “Let’s get through this winter, then we’ll talk.”

“Really?”

“You would have to promise me things, Tae. We both know how rough the world can be. I need to know you’re willing to weather whatever storms come this way.”

He nods eagerly. “I will. You know I will.”

You wrap your arms around him then and pull him to you, his arms immediately slotting around your waist. He’s warm, and despite the fact that it’s sweltering hot out, you’re certain you could stay wrapped up in his arms until you both turn to dust and scatter to the wind. 

“Tell me you’ll hold me forever. Tell me that things won’t change when the storms get bad. Promise we’ll stay with each other and it will always be like this.”

You feel him nod against you, feel him hold you tighter. “I will. All of it. More. I promise. It’ll always be like this. You and me.”

When you pull away, his dark eyes are warm and inviting, the small smile on his lips inviting, drawing you in until you’re connected. His kiss is soft, tender, and for a moment, he’s frozen, as if his brain short-circuited and he’s trying to reboot. But then he’s kissing you back, slow and measured. You want to memorize what he feels like in this moment, his hair tickling your face in the light breeze, his hands pressed into your lower back. 

His nose brushes against yours as you part. There’s a dusting of pink across his cheeks, and he has the goofiest, most awestruck smile. It makes your stomach do a flip seeing him like that. And in that moment, you know that this adorable man will be the death of you.

-----

You cringe as the door to the apartment slams shut behind you. The wind had kicked up over the past half-hour, and while the door needed some extra force to shut it, you had overestimated just how much extra. Thus, the slam. Normally, Yoongi would have yelled at you, but he’s working double duty at the station because of the storm, making sure that travelers are getting where they want to go in a safe and relatively timely manner.

If Taehyung heard the door slam, he doesn’t seem to care. Though, you doubt that he had heard it at all. Tae had entered a self-imposed sabbatical almost two weeks ago, attempting to finish his song. He seems to have placed an arbitrary deadline on it, and he’s determined to meet that goal.

“How’s it going?” you ask softly, hanging up your coat and scarf on the hook by the door. They were gifts from Yoongi at the start of the winter. Something to help you to survive if you’re going to keep working for him at the bar.

Taehyung doesn’t even look up from his notebook at the sound of your voice. He sits at the small piano in the corner of the living room, brows furrowed, staring at the pages of scribbles he had been working on for the past few days. He’d been in the same place when you’d left for the bar.

You nod, walking into the kitchen and pulling a glass down from the cabinet over the sink. “It’s starting to get bad out there,” you say absently, watching out the window as you fill the glass with water. And it is. You can see the wind blowing snow flurries perpendicular to the ground. Snowing sideways, your mom had called it.

You glance at the cupboards as you walk back into the living room, briefly opening up the refrigerator to check out the situation. “We need food,” you tell Taehyung as you sit the glass of water down beside his piano. “And we’re starting to run low on firewood.” Luckily, Yoongi had stocked the apartment with wood for the fireplace before the storm had gotten too bad, but those supplies are starting to dwindle now that he hardly has time to come home. 

“It’s right there,” he mumbles, and though you suspect he’s talking more to himself than to you, you can’t help but respond.

“What?”

“The melody. It’s right there. It’s like it’s just been… forgotten.” He scribbles something more down into his notebook. “That’s why the seasons are all messed up. But it’s right there, just out of reach. It won’t get better until we remember.”

“Then you’d better finish it quick.” You push his hair back and lean in, placing a delicate kiss to his forehead. He hums briefly and squeezes your hand. “I’m going to run out and get some firewood and maybe swing by the pantry to see if I can get some supplies to hold us over until Yoongi comes back.”

But he’s gone again, his attention back to his notebook and the 88 keys in front of him. You sigh and nod, returning to the hook by the door to grab your coat and scarf. You want to have faith in him. You want to believe he’s right, and that the song he’s working on can fix things.

“Okay, you finish it,” you tell him, knowing full well he isn’t paying attention. “I’ll be back soon.”

And so you step back out into the biting wind and freezing cold. You pull your coat tighter, flipping your collar up to attempt to shield your neck from the snow. The public pantry is further away, so you turn in that direction, going mostly on instinct because it’s nearly impossible to see with all the snow that’s falling. 

You walk for about 20 minutes before stopping. You should have reached the pantry already. But there’s a large open lot beside it. Yoongi said it was an old field for playing sports--an old football field, he had said, and a baseball field beside it. You know the field is to the left of the pantry, so you turn to the right and begin to walk again, the snow getting tougher to trudge through, and the visibility continues to worsen as you go. 

You’re confused. There’s no way you had gotten this far off-track. The town isn’t that difficult to navigate, and you should have come across some building by now, even if it isn’t the communal pantry. Instead, you’re still in the middle of a snow-covered field, the blizzard raging on around you. You turn around in an attempt to follow your steps back in the direction you came.

Unfortunately, your footprints are gone, already covered by the snow.

“You’re resourceful,” a voice behind you says, the howling of the wind calming as if commanded. 

You spin around, coming face to face with a young man. He looks to be Taehyung’s age, maybe slightly older, his dark hair neatly styled and combed back off his forehead. He wears a white collared shirt under a smartly tailored suit jacket and a woollen double-breasted coat, a pair of lined leather gloves on his hands.

“Are you lost, little songbird?” His voice is deep and warm, and you find yourself drawn to him, taking a few steps forward. At your silence, he smirks, and you can see the stars dancing in his eyes as dimples press into his cheeks. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

“I was trying to get to the pantry,” you manage, taking another step forward. And then another. Until you’re standing directly in front of him.

“You’re going to freeze to death out here.” He pouts, reaching out to rub your arms, creating some friction and heat. His touch isn’t even direct, but you can feel the warmth in him, like he’s made of fire. “You’re going to the pantry? Why?”

“We’re running low on food.”

He hums and nods sagely. “That’s no good. Pretty little songbirds like you don’t deserve to suffer.”

You feel your cheeks heat at his words and pray that if he notices you’re flushed, he assumes it’s from the cold. You have no idea why he’s affecting you like this. Normally, you would walk away by now. But something about this man’s aura draws you in. 

“I’ve seen you around,” he says, adjusting the hat on your head. It’s Taehyung’s beanie. You borrowed it to keep your ears warm. “You have a good head on your shoulders. Smart. Resourceful. You’d do well as a manager. Have you ever thought of working in a factory or a warehouse?”

“No, I… I’ve never really been one to put down roots.” You have no idea why you’re telling him that.

“Shame. I think you’d be good at it. And it’s a good job, you know? Steady income. Guaranteed housing. Meal vouchers provided by the company.”

“Which company?”

“Mine.” He flashes you a wide smile, the corners of his eyes wrinkling. The sight of it warms you from the inside. “Think about it, okay? When you have nothing to lose, you’ll be welcome.” He digs into his pockets and pulls out a slip of paper. “Take the train to the end of the line. I’ll be waiting.”

With that, the snow and wind pick up so harshly you have to shield your face. When it calms down seconds later, you’re standing in front of the public pantry, and the man is gone.

-----

Two days pass, and you can’t get the beautiful man with the captivating aura out of your head. He hadn’t said much, but he was charismatic, and you couldn’t help but hang on his words. He had said you were smart and resourceful. No one had ever complimented you like that before. It threw you off, but you can’t help but admit that it had made your heart soar a little.

It was nice to feel wanted.

Taehyung is still working on his song when you walk into the living room in the morning. It seems like he never moved. He’s always sitting at the piano, staring at his notebook. Sometimes, he’ll move to the couch, but he never leaves the living room, never looks up from his notebook. 

You know his song is important, know he has to finish it to send it off, and truly, you know that when he does, it could save you all, even Yoongi. But at the same time, you have concerns. Things were so different in the summertime. It was supposed to be the two of you: birds of a feather. You were supposed to weather the storms together. 

And yet…

You sigh, looking into the cupboards to try to find something small. You’re starving. The pantry wasn’t able to help nearly as much as you hoped, and it’s hard trying to feed both you and Taehyung on the meagre leftovers in Yoongi’s cabinets. You hoped he would’ve been home by now to help--he always seemed to be able to help find food--but the storm hadn’t let up and he’s still out there making sure mail gets delivered and travelers arrive at their destinations safely.

“We’re going to need food again soon.” You say it loud enough that you know he can hear you, but whether it registers  or not, you have no idea. 

You watch him work, watch as he taps one of the piano keys repeatedly as he thinks, the sharp ‘tink tink tink’ of the note permeating the otherwise silent living room. After a moment, it becomes clear that he didn’t, in fact, heard you, and you feel the annoyance and hurt flare inside you.

You’re angry at yourself most of all. You could have left. You could have gone somewhere else, found a job--a good paying job where the owner wouldn’t forget to pay you because he’s out playing postmaster and barkeep and stationmaster all at the same time--found shelter and food and safety for the winter. But instead, you had followed your heart for once.

And look where that got you.

Your mind drifts once again to the mysterious stranger and his promises. You have no idea if he would keep them, but anything is better than starving to death. You want to stay--it almost physically hurts you to think of leaving--but you can’t ignore the ache in your stomach or the chill in your bones.

“Tae?” you try softly, walking into the living room and stopping in front of the piano. “Taehyung?” Your tone is sharp in an attempt to get his attention. But he doesn’t look up. He simply hums in a brief acknowledgement. “I’m going out.” The words leave your mouth before you even really know what you’re saying. “I don’t know when I’ll be back. Or if.”

He plays another note on the piano.

You turn away, not wanting him to see your heart breaking. As you grab your coat off the hook on the wall, the paper the mysterious stranger had given you flutters to the ground from your pocket. You pick it up and examine it one last time. 

It’s gold, but it doesn’t glitter. The writing on it is neat, if a little smudged, as though placed there by an old-fashioned stamper and inkpad.

No charge. 

One-way.

VIP.

Your fingers tremble as you stuff the ticket back into your pocket. With one last glance at Taehyung scribbling in his notebook, hair falling into his eyes despite his headband, eyes and jaw set in concentration, you’re gone.

-----

The factory floor is quiet. The only sounds come from the machines. You sit at your workstation, your eyes strained from watching the repetitiveness of the assembly line. You tried to talk to some of your coworkers the other day. Or was it yesterday? Last week? You can’t remember. 

It doesn’t matter. None of them answered you, anyway.

Outside, the shift whistle blows, and you stretch your arms above your head, hearing your joints pop and crack from sitting still for the past however many hours. Your shifts always seem to fly, you can hardly remember what you do during them.

However, despite your fast shifts, you aren’t really sure what it is you make. The factory is huge, encompassing at least five huge buildings the lengths of city blocks. The parts you’re responsible for are small, unidentifiable, made out of metal and a bit of plastic. You don’t even know what they are, let alone what they’re used for. But thousands of them pass by you daily as you make sure they sit upright on the conveyor.

You find yourself wandering through the park just outside of your apartment complex. You aren’t quite sure why, but the park always seemed to draw you in. You love the view from the bench in front of the fountain. The way you can see the buildings peeking out over the tops of the trees makes you feel sentimental in the weirdest way, though you can’t quite put your finger on it.

Along the path through the park blooms flowers in the most brilliant shade of red you’ve ever seen. Sometimes, if you look at them too long, you’re overwhelmed by a sense of melancholy, but you have no idea why. You’ve never seen flowers like that in your life. 

There are times where, if you close your eyes, you can almost see yourself somewhere warm and bright. Someone is always at your side. You can never quite make out their face, only how your heart speeds up when they look at you. You’d been in the city for months–you can’t remember how many exactly–and these daydreams don’t look like they happen in the city. Maybe they’re premonitions, or some sort of deja vu.

You hope so. Daydream you always seems so happy.

You’re sitting on your bench in the park after your shift one day when you hear someone speak far off behind you. It makes you jump slightly. You haven’t heard someone speak in… the factory foreman had said something recently, but you hadn’t really paid attention to what he said. So when the voice behind you speaks again and comes closer, you turn to investigate.

The man that approaches you is handsome, if not a little eccentric. His shirt is half-tucked into his pants, and the sweater he’s wearing is too big and very thin. His dark hair bounces as he lightly jogs in your direction. As he gets closer, his smile widens, his dark eyes sparkling with joy. 

He speaks again, baritone voice soft and full of emotion. It’s a name he’s calling. Is that… your name? How does he know your name?

“I can’t believe I found you!” he says excitedly, his hands capturing your own as soon as he’s close enough. “Yoongi said it could take forever, but I’ve only been down here a few days. I… I can’t believe it’s you!”

He pulls you to him then, arms wrapping around your waist tightly. You’re confused, but you find yourself hugging him back. He feels skinny--too skinny--and his face is a little sunken-in and dirty, like he hasn’t eaten in weeks. There’s something about him that’s familiar, but…

“I’m sorry,” you say softly when he pulls away. His eyes dart around your face as he holds you at arm’s length. It’s almost like he’s inspecting you. “I… Do I know you?”

For a moment, his eyes light up and he laughs, a gentle guffaw that pulls at your heartstrings in a way that sets your mind–and pulse–racing. But then, it seems, he realizes you aren’t joking. You watch, unable to do anything as his heart breaks right in front of your eyes.

The way he whispers your name, halfway between a prayer and a plea, convinces you. Even if you don’t know him, he certainly knows you. No one sounds that broken over a complete stranger. 

“Who…”  you try tentatively. There’s no way this won’t be awkward. But you want to know more about him. You’re oddly drawn to him, like you’d known him in some other life. “Who are you?”

“Taehyung.” His voice is barely audible. His fingers twitch, and you get the sense that he wants to pull you in for a hug again and it’s taking a tremendous effort to not.

Why does his name sound so familiar? You’re certain you’ve never seen him before.

“I can’t leave without you.” He sounds determined, confident, like he’d walked halfway through hell to find you. And, well… perhaps he sort of had.

But that’s crazy. You don’t know him.

“Come home with me,” the man–Taehyung–pleads, reaching for your hand. You let him take it.

“I can’t.” For some reason, it makes you sad. You know it in your gut. Even if you do know him, there’s no way you can leave the city. 

“You can, though. I know the way. We just have to go back the way I came down. Yoongi told me about it. I don’t know how he knew, but-”

“You’re not from around here, are you, boy?” You have no idea when the man in front of you appeared. The air smells of ash and sulfur, and all of a sudden, it’s hot.

Immediately, you freeze, and you find yourself squeezing Taehyung’s hand. You haven’t seen the man since you’d signed the contract, but down here, he had a reputation for being no-nonsense. When he’s in a good mood, Namjoon looks harmless. But when he’s angry, he’s downright terrifying. And judging by his set jaw and hard eyes, he’s pretty angry. Beside you, Taehyung stiffens, standing up straighter.

“I don’t know who the hell you are, but the little songbird is a law-abiding citizen. You should go back to where you belong.”

“Taehyung, you should go,” you whisper, dropping his hand and taking a step away.

He turns to you, dark eyes sad when they meet yours. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Namjoon laughs, loud and boisterous and dark. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” he asks, taking a step forward. “Don’t you think she would have left already if she could? She signed on the dotted line. She’s here forever now.”

“What?” Taehyung’s attention darts back and forth between you and Namjoon. “That’s not true. Is it?”

You sigh, avoiding his eyes. “I did what I had to.”

Namjoon’s jaw clenches, and he motions for you to head back into the factory. “Heed my advice, boy. It would be in your best interest to leave. I won’t ask twice.”

A swirl of shadow. The smell of sulfur and ash. And Namjoon is gone.

It takes a few moments, but eventually, the tension leaves your body. Beside you, Taehyung visibly relaxes before he lowers himself to the ground in a defeated huff. For a second, you watch him, unsure of what to do. You still don’t remember him, but he’d come a long way, and for that, you feel bad.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, voice soft. 

“No, it’s… it’s not your fault.” For the briefest moments, he stares down at his hands, but then he looks at you, dark eyes big and sad. “What happened?”

You shrug, kick at a rock on the ground and watch it skitter across the pavement before you crouch next to him. “I don’t remember,” you admit sadly. “But there’s this contract. I signed it. I… He made such pretty promises.”

You don’t remember what they were, exactly, but you remember the way Namjoon’s eyes glistened as he spoke, the way his dimple pressed into his cheek as he promised you whatever it took to get you here.

Taehyung hums, his head hanging low. “This is my fault.”

Your heart breaks at the sadness in his voice, at how disappointed in himself he sounds. Part of you wants to comfort him, to tell him that no, it’s not his fault. He did his best. This is just a shitty situation and a powerful man chose you to manipulate and deceive. But you don’t. Because you don’t know how true any of that is. 

Something inside of you says that it’s not as true as you’d like.

He grows quiet. All you hear is the factories around you. The next shift has started. You should be in there with them. You wonder if anyone has even noticed that you’re missing. Absently, Taehyung picks at the grass, and something stirs in the back of your mind. A memory, though it feels almost like it belongs to someone else. Taehyung and you laying in the grass on the bank of a river, the sound of a train in the distance.

“Can I show you something?” he asks, and silently, you nod.

He clears his throat and begins to quietly sing. His voice is beautiful, a delicate baritone that nimbly, delicately touches on each note. He’s in full control, eyes closed, hands folded in his lap, a master at work showing you the melody that lives in his mind.

You can’t deny that the song is beautiful, a haunting acapella that moves you the way a psalm might move a priest. You feel it in your heart more than you hear it, his voice so soft that you really aren’t even sure that you’re hearing it properly at all. It wraps you up, gentle cocoon around your broken heart, and you feel it trying to heal what it finds there. You find something swelling within you. Something akin to pride.

You have no idea why you react this way. But you want to. You want to remember.

“That’s beautiful,” you tell Taehyung when he’s finished. And for a second, he looks at you, a hardness in his eyes that you can only describe as determination.

He leans in, lips gently brushing your forehead, before he stands. “Come with me,” he says cryptically, offering you his hand.

You take it without question.

-----

You’re uneasy. The path is dark--you can barely see Taehyung walking in front of you. He’s just far enough that you can’t reach out and touch him, but close enough that you can easily follow behind. But the soft dirt below your feet muffles your steps as you go, so it’s too quiet. Thus, your unease. 

The path is barely wide enough for a person to pass through, and it slopes upward fairly steeply. You have no idea how long you’ve been walking, only that the longer you walk, the lighter you feel. You hadn’t noticed it in the Underworld, but the fog that seems to surround your thoughts and memories parts more and more the closer to the surface you get. By now, you remember almost everything--Yoongi, the bar, your past, everything. 

But most of all, you remember Taehyung. And you remember fully why you left.

You want to call him, to tell him that you forgive him, to tell him that you’re so proud of him for finally finishing his song. But you don’t dare. You refuse to do anything to jeopardize your future. Namjoon has given you one chance. You doubt he’d give you a second.

The stones on either side of the path are damp and oddly shaped, and they’re difficult to use as hand-holds when the path gets too steep. But you hang on anyway because the other option is to stumble and fall flat on your face.

In front of you, Taehyung trudges on. You can tell he isn’t happy about the situation just from the visible tension in his back, but there isn’t anything he can do about it. He walks quickly, but not too quick so as not to lose you. His hands are stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, his broad shoulders set against the chill of the underground path. 

“Go. Before I change my mind,” Namjoon says, turning his back on you.

You have no idea what Taehyung said to change the man’s mind. Maybe it was his persistence. Maybe you caught Namjoon at a good time. Maybe he just liked Tae’s song. A combination of all of the above and more. None of it at all. But you can’t believe what you’re hearing.

“How?” Taehyung asks, his grip on your hand tightening.

Namjoon sighs. “You’ll walk. You know the way well enough to lead, don’t you?” He sounds exhausted. “You lead. She’ll follow. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your eyes on the road ahead. If you don’t, well… maybe it really was her time to go.”

“It’s a trick.” Taehyung sounds angry.

“It’s a trial. One you’ll do well to pass if you want to make it out of here alive.” Namjoon rubs his eyes. “You test my patience. Leave. Or regret it.”

You stumble as the path slopes upwards more steeply, your hand reaching out for the rock. You must have made some sort of noise, because Taehyung pauses. You can see him fighting himself, refusing to turn around.  

“Are you okay?” he calls back. When you don’t answer, he grunts but continues walking. “I hope you’re still back there,” he mumbles. 

That’s the hardest part about this trek. You can hear him talking to himself. Sometimes, he hums his song, and you can hear the soft echoes off the stones in the passage. But mostly, the long stretches of silence are interrupted by Taehyung’s whispers to himself. 

“Only a little further.”

“I hope you’re still back there.”

“Gods, I’m so stupid.”

“Please still be back there.”

Suddenly up ahead, you can see a speck of something bright. It’s only a pin-prick in size, but it grows steadily the more you climb. You find yourself pushing yourself to walk faster, attempting to match Taehyung’s speed as he practically runs up the slope.

And then he stops, and you stop, almost walking straight into his back. The mouth of the cave is just a large hole in the ground, like some gaping maw prepared to swallow someone whole. You recognize the area vaguely as being along the railroad tracks just past the station. 

You breathe deeply. The air is still a little frigid, but it has that smell to it, like it could turn warm at any moment. You try to remember what month it was. March? Maybe April? You had gotten on the train in early September. Has it really been six months?

Before you know it, Taehyung’s arms are around you, catching you mid-step and forcing you to take a step backward. You hold him, allowing yourself to get lost in him for a moment. He’s warm, and he smells like dirt and wood and lavender. 

“I missed you,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. 

Pulling away slightly, your hands find his face, cupping his jaw tenderly. “I’m sorry,” you say earnestly.

Tae hums, offering you a wide, boxy smile. “You’re safe now.” His hands grip your shirt at your waist. “Plus, I’m the one that should be apologizing. I let you down. I got too focused on my song, I forgot why I was in a hurry to finish it in the first place.”

A tug on your ankle draws your attention, and you try to glance down subtly to see what’s happening. But Taehyung’s grip on you is tight, and he notices you shifting. His eyes fall to your feet, one of which is firmly planted on the frozen ground of the mortal world. Your other foot is still in the soft dirt of the path from the Underworld.

Shadows are already starting to creep up your ankle.

“No,” Taehyung says firmly, trying to tug you forward. “No we made it. That’s not fair.”

You shake your head, your foot not budging. “Apparently not.” The shadows slowly grow, engulfing more of your leg.

Taehyung pulls you to him, then, his arms wrapping tightly around your waist. “I’ll come find you again. I’ll sing my song for Namjoon. He’ll have to let you go.”

You sigh, your hands balling in the fabric of his jacket. “I love you,” you whisper. And you do. You realized it while climbing out of the Underworld. He’s the one who had been in  your daydreams down below, he had been the happiness you had been missing.

He kisses you, then, tenderly but desperately. You let yourself melt into it, one hand finding purchase in his hair. You want to remember him, to commit this moment to your memory so that even when you do inevitably forget him, you’ll remember how he made you feel. The happiness, the joy, the love. Even the frustration. Because of course, that was part of it. You love him so much that you did get frustrated with him. 

Your neck is cold, and you know it’s the shadows, swirling and trying to pull you back down. Taehyung’s eyes are wide when he pulls away, and they glisten in the midday sun. He blinks quickly, and you can tell he’s trying not to cry.

“Wait for me?” he asks softly, brushing your hair back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“I always will.”

Taehyung offers you a sad smile just before the shadows overtake you. In a second, he’s standing alone, the smell of ash and sulfur in the air.

#taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #bts taehyung x reader #kth #bts fic #taehyung angst #bts taehyung angst #taehyung fic #taehyung fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader

[tonguepiercedanyway75]

summary: you are watching a movie with Ross and he’s the sweetest

a blurb

────────────────────────

Your girls talked you into watching 'me before you‘, and now you’re on the couch, snuggled up on Ross‘ chest, watching the most cruelest scene. It was a serene moment, with the only sounds being the gentle hum of the movie and the occasional sniffle from you.

Ross is engrossed in the film, doesn’t immediately notice your tears. But as your sniffles turn into quiet sobs, he turns his attention to you, a teasing grin playing on his lips, while his arm wraps around your shoulder.

“You alright there love?” He asks, a teasing grin on his face. You wipe way a tear and sniffle, giving him a playful glare.

“It’s a sad movie, okay?” Ross chuckles softly, reaching over to gently wipe away a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sure,” he still has a shit-eating grin on his face, you playfully swat his arm away from you.

“It is!” you try to convince him, “she just died and they loved each other so much.” You frown, crossing your arms in front of your chest, waiting for him to break.

"Alright, alright. Come here,” He pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around you protectively as you lean into his embrace. You rest your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Still can’t handle romantic movies, I see,” he teases. At the beginning of your relationship you forced him to watch romantic movies. Really sad ones. You should be getting used to the same endings but you’re not.

"Oh, please. Like you're any better. I've seen you tear up over a sad commercial." Ross feigns offense, clutching his heart dramatically.

"Oi, that was one time, and it was a particularly moving advert about... I don't even remember what it was about, but it was moving, alright?" You laugh, leaning into his embrace, feeling comforted by his warmth.

"Sure, Ross. Whatever you say.” Ross presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his voice softening.

“Wanna keep watching?” He asks and you nod because one, you can’t start movies and then not end it, second, you know you’ll fall asleep in the next 15 minutes.

It’s late. Almost 1 am, but you love to spend couch time with Ross. You nudge him to lay across the couch, so you can completely lay on top of him.

You drape the blanket over the both of you, and snuggle close, feeling a wave of contentment wash over you.

“Shouldn’t we head to bed?” You mumble something incoherent (‘I’m comfy here'), not quite ready to leave the warmth of his arms.

Ross chuckles softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back. "I can see that. But the couch isn't the most comfortable place to sleep, you know."

You let out a soft sigh, nuzzling closer to him. You tell him you don’t want to move, and tell him only a few more minutes. Ross smiles down at you, his eyes filled with affection.

"Alright, fair enough. But if you wake up with a sore neck tomorrow, don't say I didn't warn you." You playfully swat at his chest, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Stop worrying, I’ll be fine.” Ross wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling you into a gentle embrace. He lifts your head then, by grabbing your chin, to give you the sweetest kiss.

“But if you change your mind, I'll be more than happy to carry you to bed." You smile and kiss his chest as a small ‘thank you’ gesture.

You remain in the same embrace, the movie fading out into the background as you focus more on Ross’ heartbeat.

Time passes and you stay like this until the credits of the movie roll. Ross takes the remote and switches the TV off, only street lights illuminating the living room.

“Darling, you awake?” You blink groggily, the haze of sleep clouding your thoughts as you turn to look up at him.

“Barely I see,” he chuckles, “c’mon love, our bed is so much comfier.”

“You win, carry me though?” You let out a tired laugh, knowing he was right but still reluctant to leave your current spot of coziness.

Ross grins, his arms already shifting beneath you as he prepares to lift you from the couch.

“As you wish my dear,” With a gentle heave, Ross effortlessly lifts you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he carries you towards the bedroom. You nestle against him, feeling safe and secure in his embrace as he teases and teases you along the way.

“See, wasn’t so bad, was it?” Ross preps a row of kisses to your head, his heart swelling with love for you. He tucks you under the blanket and then wrapping you up in his arms.

“Thank you Ross,” you mumble, “I love you.” He kisses your neck in return, mumbling a quiet “I love you” back.

In this position you drift off to sleep.

#the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #george daniel #adam hann #ross macdonald fluff #the 1975 fic #ross macdonald imagine #ross macdonald x reader #ross macdonald x you #ross macdonald blurb

[bluelockmaniac]

★ ft. itoshi sae x gn!reader 彡 wc: 1k

▯ synopsis. he reluctantly agrees to let you do his nighttime skincare routine, but surprises you at the end with something you don't expect.

sae still couldn’t quite understand why he had agreed to let you do his nighttime skincare routine. he silently laid in bed, watching you from afar as you clumsily rummaged through the the drawers of your glowing vanity, searching for whatever products you had planned to put on his uninterested face.

a few moments later, you cheerfully skip over to him with breathy giggles and colourful containers in your hands. from the content smile tugging at your lips alone, he was beginning to regret ever allowing you to help him out. 

in hindsight, he realized he should have just slapped on some moisturizer as he normally would and gone to bed, but no— your adorable pleading earlier had managed to soften his heart.

“quit the bubbly act,” he mumbles, voice muffled by the pillow. he feels the mattress dipping next to him under your added weight. “it’s creeping me out.”

“c’mon, look at me,” the corners of your lips quirk up as you bring his head to rest on your plushy thigh. he reluctantly looks up at you through his thick lashes, letting out a soft groan when he feels you sliding a fuzzy teddy bear headband over his head, gently pushing back his red bangs.

he raises his arm slowly and places his palm on the rise of your cheek, soothing your soft skin. “sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this– the moisturizer is fine.”

“yes, yes, i know,” you turn your head to the side, picking up the cosmetics and placing them messily on his chest. “i’m doing this because i want to. you’ve already cleansed your face, right?”

sae subtly nods, sighing as his arm falls back to his side. he closes his eyes and readjusts his head comfortably on your lap as he hears the sound of you flicking the toner container open. you pour the solution onto your palms, gently dabbing it onto his soft face, and then rubbing it from his forehead all the way down to his neck.

“does this feel good, sae?” you cooed serenely, tossing the toner aside on the bed before reaching for the serum tube. his teal eyes, partially open now, were deeply immersed in watching you as you applied the serum, massaging it smoothly and carefully to avoid getting it in his eyes.

“mmh, you’re talking too much,” he grumbles faintly as his hand slips up your loose shirt, gently caressing your stomach. his half-lidded eyes were hesitating, threatening to shut once more under the calm soothings of your fingers. “just shut up and hurry, i want to sleep…”

“i’m almost done— look, only the moisturizer’s left now.” you giggle as you look at your boyfriend’s drowsy face, hearing his occasional sighs and noticing his struggle to stay awake. it warms your heart that he trusts you enough to allow himself to be seen by you in his most vulnerable moments.

“sae, can i please please please put the cream on my face and then rub it from my skin to yours? pleaseee?” you beg, batting your eyelashes at him as if it’ll convince him— it worked once, but sae won’t let it happen again, right?

right.

his auburn brows knit together, eyes narrowing as he shoots you a disgusted look. his big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. “ew, no. weirdo.”

you pout, “sae! stop acting as if my face is infested with germs!”

“it is, though.” he retorts calmly.

“—contagious germs.” you correct yourself, squishing his slippery cheeks harshly. “fine, whatever… so much for pampering and making me happy, sae…”

he rolls his eyes as you begin smearing the creamy substance on his face, a small smile threatening to stretch along his lips. “stop being so dramatic and hand me the chapstick,”

you blink in confusion, turning your head to grab the said product. you hand it over to him without much thought, watching as he pushes himself up with his arms, sitting up against the headboard— the warmth of his head on your lap dissipates, feeling empty now that he was no longer resting there.

sae brings the lip balm to his mouth, biting the cap off. “c’mere,” he beckons you closer to him, gripping your chin as he drags the vanilla-scented bliss across your plump lips. he tilts his head to the side, then throws the tube inattentively on the bed.

“woah, sae being a gentleman? that’s n—” you were interrupted as he brought his hand to the small of your back, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest and kissing you on your lips delicately, stealing the scented, buttery salve he applied earlier and transferring it onto his lips.

your eyes widen, hands instinctively sliding up your face to cover the blush blossoming on your cheeks. your fingers separated carefully, peeking at the football player’s blank, unaffected expression. “w-well, that’s one way to put on chapstick…”

“you looked beautiful, i guess.” he sighs, flopping back onto the bed.

it wasn’t until hearty, soft laughs escaped your parted lips that he glanced at you confused, wondering as to why you palmed your mouth, fruitlessly trying to suppress the sounds. he lifts a brow, “what’s so funny?”

you shake your head, still giggling, as your arm reaches to your nightstand to grab your phone. grinning mischievously, you aim the camera at his now-frowning face and snap a photo.

“what the heck are you d—”

“shh,” you smile, handing him the phone and kissing his cheek as you comb your fingers through his hair. “aren’t you adorable?”

his face falls, cheeks warming as he stares at the childish picture of him wearing the wooly teddy bear headband. he gives you back your phone with a grunt, flicking your forehead gently before pulling you into his arms. pressing soft kisses to your head, he holds you close, a smile tugging at his lips despite his mock annoyance. “what a little tease…”

he did not take it off.

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

#౨ৎ — vivi writes. #bllk #bllk x reader #blue lock #bllk fluff #blue lock x reader #bllk manga #bllk imagines #sae itoshi #blue lock sae #sae x reader #itoshi sae #itoshi sae x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #bllk sae #x reader #blue lock x y/n #blue lock x you

[luveline]

I love your KBD universe, I know that Beth is having a hard time with being the weird kid and I just have to say as a lover of weird things and people I would love to see something where Bethie comes home from school happy to have met someone who LOVES that she’s a little weird!

dad!steve and his weird girls <3 mom!reader, 1k

When you get home from work with the big kids in tow, Steve’s gonna kiss you stupid. With baby Wren gurgling on his tummy and less-baby Dove sitting by his head where he lays on the couch, he’s never been this happy. He’ll be happier when the big girls are home, but for now, he’s snug as a bug, treated by his second youngest to a buffet of affection. 

“Love you,” Dove says, kissing his cheek for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He can’t stop laughing.

“I love you, too!” he says, shifting his hand to give Wren some more room. 

“Love you, dad,” Dove says.

“I know, baby, I know. Thank you for the kisses, you’re so nice.” 

Dove kisses him again. “You’re happy,” she says. 

“So happy. Can I get another kiss, you think?” 

He turns into her. She’s sitting too high to be cuddled; all Steve can do is take in her sweetness. He can’t believe how quickly her babyhood has passed into toddlerhood, and she’s been sort of a nightmare, but she’s also his little girl. She’s your daughter, her sisters’ sister. She was always going to be lovely, and Steve feels it like a loving punch as she noses at his ear. “Daddy,” she laughs, “you’re too warm.” 

“I’m blushing, babe, I’m getting all these nice kisses!” He laughs like an idiot and decides he must hug her, pulling his arm up and scooping her into his chest. 

She groans in annoyance before she realises what he’s doing, “Hug!” she says excitedly. 

“Hug!” he echoes, wrapping his arm around her. She’s starting to look less like a baby and more like a little tiny kid, which he hates and loves at the same time. “Aw, I love you, Dovey.” 

The door clatters open. Wren jumps at the sound, hiding her face in Steve’s neck, to which he gives a good back rubbing. “It’s okay, bubby, it’s just your mommy. Don’t be silly, huh? Just mommy. You’re gonna be happy when she turns the corner.” 

“Shoes,” you’re saying from the door, though Steve can’t see you, he can tell you’re smiling. “Shoes, Beth, then you can tell dad.” 

“Daddy, we’re home!” Avery shouts. 

“I can hear you, babe!” he shouts back, not unkindly. 

“Dad, I have something to tell you!” Beth shouts. 

Steve hoists himself up into a sitting position, two babies in his arms, knowing you’ll know he’s laid down all day from the mess of his hair alone but not trying to hide it. You can do whatever you want on your vacation days, you’d teased. Just make sure you feed the kids.

“Hi,” you say, appearing in the doorway, two balls of energy at your legs that bolt for Steve the second they see him. 

“Girls, I don’t have long enough arms,” he says, trying to cuddle them all, even though it’s impossible. 

He finds himself suddenly relieved of the second youngest. Dove might love her father, but she adores her mother, and she hasn’t seen you all day —she slinks down out of his hold and through the mess of her sisters to grab at you, to which you gratefully receive her, pulling her up to station on your hip. “Hi, gorgeous,” Steve hears you say. Avery pushes him back, climbing into his lap with a happy sigh. “Miss me today? I missed you,” you ask sweetly. 

“What did you want to tell me, Beth?” Steve asks curiously, grinning as Avery makes herself comfortable on his thigh, her arm wrapping behind his neck. He’s happy to see everybody else so happy, even if it’s hectic. 

Beth beams up at him with her brightest smile in weeks. She’s been having such a hard time at school, Steve wondered if he could start homeschooling, coming home upset nearly every other day. It isn’t fair. His relief that she’s had a good day is palpable. 

“Dad, there’s a new girl! Her name is Francesca and she’s got the same birthday as me and guess what!” 

“What?” he asks. 

“She said she likes being weird!” Beth’s eyes glow shiny with joy. “Cos Hilly called me weird, and she said she likes being weird. She said we can be best friends.” Beth hits his knee in her excitement. “She liked me, dad.” 

“Why wouldn’t she like you?” he asks, wondering how old he’ll have to be before he stops tearing up at Beth’s good heart. He blinks quickly to dispel any tears before they can gather. “Her name is Francesca? When did she move? Do you think she wants to come for dinner?” 

Your laugh is a snort. “Steve.” 

“What? Friends come for dinner. Best friends! Did you speak to her mom?” he asks you. 

“I didn’t see her.” 

“Don’t worry, Beth, I’ll speak to her in the morning. We’ll see if they want to come for dinner or go swimming or something.” 

Beth’s smile gets wider, “Really?” 

“Yeah, really!” He gives Avery a little shake. “Did you meet Francesca?” 

Avery nods. “She’s pale and she has big hair. Curly hair, too.” Her voice is a tad scratched, perhaps from the cold out. 

Steve lets his weight fall into the arm, cautious not to squish your baby, a grin on his face to rival Beth’s. She gets the memo and climbs up, claiming that last bit of space under the baby to hug his stomach. He tries to wrap them all up, gurgly Wren, exuberant Beth, and poor cold Avery. “You coming?” he asks you. 

There’s dinner to make. You ignore it, crossing the mess of the living room to flop down on the couch next to them all. Steve lifts his face in that way you always recognise, and is pleased as punch when you peck him quickly. 

You don’t realise how Steve thinks of you, he’d say. Don’t realise he wants another kiss, then another, that you’re on his mind when you aren’t there, and dominate it when you are. He loves his babies, but he loves you too. He wants another kiss. 

“Steve,” you scold lightly, surprised as he presses two kisses to the corner of your mouth. 

“Sorry. Beth, tell me more about Francesca. What did she say exactly?” 

Beth takes a deep breath. 

#kisses before dinner universe #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #dad!steve harrington #dad!steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington x mom!reader #steve harrington x afab!reader #afab!reader #mom!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fandom #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington fluff

[the-phantom-peach]

Meeting the Light Dragon ✨🐉

[tagged as spoilers!]

#do you like the color of the sky #sorry long post #anyways #everyone’s talking about ‘the theme of totk is hands’ okay yeah but have you seen the eyes?? #this game is so good I’m biting my hands #I just wanted to get this one off my chest bc im tired it didn’t turn out the way I wanted but that’s okay #coloring was really fun though! #im sad now gotta draw happy stuff to cope #totk spoilers #the legend of zelda #legend of zelda #tloz #loz #tears of the kingdom #breath of the wild #totk #botw #Zelda #Nintendo #totk link #totk Zelda #totk light dragon #light dragon #totk zelink #zelink #tloz fanart #totk fanart #art #my art

[unawakening-float07]

Nomad

#me #selfie #spent the night with this dom i use to sub for like a year ago #and as a thank you for sleeping with him all night #he gave me this pair of boxers that belong to another one of his subs that he hates #they’re a little small but whatever #he’s fun #i use to visit him like ever night because he was my neighbor but we both moved to opposite parts of town #happy we reconnected though #he treats me very well and he says i’m his favorite sub and no one else gets him off like i do #seen each other a few times now

[r0achezz]

Before and after. <taken from two different angles of the room I know, I can show you the after in the same angle if you want!>

I was kind of hesitant to post this, i though people might think I was faking but uhm- y e a h.

before: date, around February 2023 (it had been in that state, since 2022 though)

after: date, today! January 28th, 2024. Piece by piece and little by little I was finally able to put it back together! I was getting better around February and couldn’t stand it, but it took awhile because my body just didn’t wanna do anything still XD

I’m happy with my growth though! It’s not much ofc, my room is still dirty (paint on the floor, clothes piled on my dresser, some stuff still on my keyboard) but it’s definitely better than what I was originally in.

it’s not extreme like how other rooms usually are (which is not a problem at all) but idk, it still makes me happy

#depression room #cw depression #im so glad it’s better now #God I hated living in filth #YOU SHOULVE SEEN THAT DESK IN THE BEFORE #I didn’t get it in the camera but just piles upon piles of random clothes and trash bags! #It’s even worse that when I was in that state I just- couldn’t do it #I’m glad I’m out of that now #Obviously this doesn’t mean my depression is suddenly eradicated #I still have it #it isn’t that bad anymore though #of course my room is still dirty I have a long way to go #But I’m happy I even made it ^^ #r0achezz #r0achezz wonders

[shiqingxuanz]

before and after reading erha

#caused me so much pain (loved it) #i was literally in the middle of an ap stats quiz and i started thinking about how mo ran just wanted to be a good person and i got sad #i finished today at lunch #i have to read the extras still but wow… #i can’t tell if i’m satisfied with the ending or not #i’m happy about ranwan’s ending but a little sad about xue meng’s #snow.txt #erha #wait but also i still don’t get how people can hate mo ran #i‘ve seen people say that they disliked him at first or whatever but i don’t get how like idk i loved him from the beginning #that’s your opinion though i won’t argue

[blueish-bird]

sorry if I don’t remember your name or conversations/experiences or basic things about myself, every few weeks my brain gets factory reset and I have to relearn how to be alive

#lighthearted but also serious bc what is going on here buddy #been feeling weird as hell these past few months #like I can remember some stuff… but it doesn’t feel normal to forget the names of anyone I haven’t seen/heard the name of in a few days #or forget about basic interests and personality traits and experiences and feel like a blank slate every day #idk like ultimately life goes on and I’m happy to live in the moment but it would be nice to understand why my brain is doing this #just thinking #meposting #I think my brain just. does this sometimes when I’m stressed. which is annoying #I recall (lmao) feeling similar during earlier parts of life so this isn’t *new* it’s just unexpected and much more disruptive as an adult #I’m feeling better about it than I was. after like. acknowledging it. bc my mind has not always felt like a sieve it isn’t always this bad. #whatever #I’ll tag as dissociation just in case it’s related/reminiscent and ppl don’t want to see that #dissociation #me and her go way back… haven’t seen each other in years though #she wasnt all bad! coping mechanisms can provide relief and a sense of safety #and as far as coping mechanisms go it’s not the most unhealthy. though it ranks high in ‘socially stunting’ #I kind of miss the distance sometimes to be honest everything’s just So Much all the time #I’m so solid now #so stuck in the ruts of capitalism #fuck capitalism #I wish my imagination didn’t feel so dulled #sorry I love talking #and I don’t miss dissociation when I feel mentally present because I feel so Here with the people and things I love but rn? #it’s like a lose-lose bc I am not Here nor am I untethered. I’m heavy yet hold nothing #I enjoy being dramatic/poetic about it — I feel pretty fine. I just hope this isn’t a permanent and/or long-term state of existence. #like it makes me awful at my job I went from remembering a solid amount of the student body’s names (built up over a few years) to. like 5. #overnight it felt like. like Stressful Thing happened and I went to work and I couldn’t remember anyone’s names. #can’t believe I have to start from fucking scratch AGAIN I’d be better off quitting and working at a different school #bc at least then my lack of knowledge/remembering is justified rather than strange and seemingly rude #I’m getting better now but at the beginning of this it was blue screen in my brain all the time

[tariah23]

They’re calling my baby Gojo, Joseph Joestar now

#rambling #the diff is that Gojo did apologize after being called out and face to face with his racism whilst Joseph literally befriended nazi’s 😵‍💫 #and there was never any explanation from araki as to why he’d even wrote German soldiers in the shit in the first place like that was #absolutely jarring as hell to read for the very first time back when I’d gotten into jjba #well I watched it first but you know #like Joseph really thought fondly of Stroheim as this stand up guy even though he’s first of all #a Nazi #and second #the first scene that we were introduced to was of him sexually harassing a Woman #it’s……. 🗿 #still to this day I wonder if araki had ever addressed this because lord #Joseph was just happy to get the help I guess but that felt so ooc for him from what he’d seen 🗣️ #happily receiving the help of a Nazi and calling them a nice guy ahhh Joseph- #Gojo would never sjjsaj #my boo boo is a little prejudice but he’s working on it 🗣️ #I still think that gege was trying to have a ‘racism is bad’ moment but again #the execution was pretty awkward and it felt out of place considering what had been currently going down in the manga #like the Racism was pretty random but it was swiftly put to a stop which I can appreciate even if it shouldn’t have been a point of #conversation to begin with since why couldn’t Miguel just exist as a character instead of him being the now token negro #who everyone sees as instantly more frighteningly powerful than everyone else like this didn’t even need to be brought up wllssldk #idk gege was trying to be ‘woke’ 😭. sorry nbs and wp ruined the term for me but like basically lol #gojo’s pretty intelligent and extremely gifted but he’s never been perfect lol #it’s just that idk why gege chose to talk about antiblackness in Japan out of nowhere about the only black character on screen hehhhhhh #like gege tried but lmfao #this is so funny to me #at least it didn’t drag on putting Miguel in an even more awkward situation than he already was and it was nipped in the bud quickly #Gojo isn’t one to dwell on things but when he’s face with new information and is taught something he does try to reflect and do better and #I’m sure he probably started to become even more aware of what he’s saying especially when talking to Miguel in an honest way since that’s #always been the kind of character who he was despite the horrors #the only ppl who’ve been kinda annoying about this are nbs and white people as always 🗿