#but it’s just. the quiet agony of being angry and sad and hurt because your person doesn’t want to be ur person anymore | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

--------------

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

#finn ohara #logan tremblay #alex ohara #leo knut #oknutzy #cubs #hurt/comfort #sweater weather #vaincre #my fic #fanfic #brothers #broken bones

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legendackerman · 3 years

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Heyo! Hope you're having a great day/night! I'm craving som angst fluff right now, SO, what if reader gets injured and is unconscious. Levi finds out is super scared and craves readers touch.🥰🤗 thanks again! 🐺

A/N: heeellooo again 😘🐺 thanks for your request! have fun, hope u like it <3 also perfect timing because i‘m so soft for levi rn so let’s do this

CW: mention of blood and death, angst, fluffy ending

It happens very fast - a careless moment in the panic rush, a wrong decision or a simple accident. Life will rip you apart.

—

↬ Abyssus abyssum invocat - Levi Ackerman ↫

A stormy day, the wind whipped through the treetops, the rain falls mercilessly on the hard ground, thunder and lightning crashing in the dark clouds. Endless screams reaching through the mind, blood is scattered everywhere, dead bodies laying significantly in the dirt - a common sight for him.

Your name, shouted terrified from him, echoed in your head for the last second until your body gave in, your sight turned black, your strength and consciousness finally capitulated. It didn’t happen out of a sudden, but it came fast.

He could only watch you losing control of yourself slowly, trembling movements with the ODM gear, getting in trouble in the violent storm, trying to save comrades attacked by the titans. He always watched over you, trying to be by your side, his fear of losing you was too big. But this time he couldn’t be with you, couldn’t watch out for you and this was the only time that both of you were doomed.

Fear took over him when he saw you colliding with a tree when the wind carried you away. The grapple-hooks from your gear came loose from the wood, your body lost its balance and fell into the nothing beneath you. He saw red, it felt like something turned inside him, a switch flipped over. Levi rushed down, towards your falling body, grabbed you by the wrist and tugged you, held you tight to his body before you could crash on the ground.

He repeated your name multiple times, but you didn’t react. Your eyes were closed, your body in his arms felt cold. Levi was terrified. You were alive, but your condition was critical. His heartbeat was fast, his mind completely messed up while you‘re laying unconscious in his arms, both of you wet and messed up by the storm, mixed with blood, tears and agony. He could only pray that you were okay.

The wind whistled against the window, he could watch from the inside how the dark sky lightened up as a flash of light appeared, followed by another loud thunder. And there he was. Sitting next to your bed where you‘re laying, his both hands holding yours tightly, almost hiding his face in it, his elbows resting next to you on the mattress. Levi‘s breathing got slowly when the nurses had told him that you were okay, without permanent damages. You‘ve had a little concussion, but it will be okay.

Levi gulped when he thought about the expedition. He blamed himself for not being by your side a few hours ago. He should‘ve been there. He should‘ve protect you. He should’ve watched over you. If he did, you wouldn’t lay here now. It was his fault. He failed you. Levi closed his eyes when the pain rushed through his body, directly throbbing in his heart. He would never forgive himself if something happened to you, never. “Levi?”.

He looked up, his dark eyes met your weak ones, a small smile appeared on your lips when you gazed to your lover, who held your hand tightly. He looked tired. His eyes empty, pain and fear lays on his gaze. You saw how his silver orbs lightened up for a moment when he saw you awaken. Hope and relief filling his body, a cold and warm waves streaming through his veins. “Sweetheart..”, he whispered so quiet, it was just a breath. His hands cupped your burning cheeks and his body automatically searched for contact with yours. “How do you feel? Are you alright?”, the concern in his voice was clearly audible. The haunted eye contact lets warmth flow through your body. “I’m okay”, you whispered, he knew that you felt weak. “Can you remember what happened?”, he asked you and you gave him a little nod as an answer. Levi let out a desperate sigh and buried his face in the crook of your neck. He needed your touch, he needed your presence and your warmth.

“I’m so sorry..”, he whispered into your skin, gritting his teeth to not to let the pain take him over. “I’m so sorry I failed you”. He felt your hand on the back of his head, carefully stroking through his black locks. “You never failed me, Levi”, you spoke quietly and pressing a soft kiss on his forehead. He was still hiding his face in your neck, not wanting to show his fear and sadness. “Hey, look at me”. Your voice was soft, your hands reached out and pushed his head slowly up so his eyes met yours. Levi rarely shows his emotions, but when it comes to you, it was a whole different thing. You looked in his glassy eyes, his jaw clenched to hold back the flood of emotions. Your hands gently caressed his cheeks and Levi immediately closed his eyes by your touch, leaned in to your hands.

“Don’t blame yourself for something you can’t control. You can’t save everyone and that’s okay. But please, please don’t be angry with yourself”. You were truly an angel. Who knows how many times you both have spoken about this, but you always know just what to say. You always know how to comfort him, how to bring him down with your touch. You are his light, you are his everything.

Levi gulped while looking deep in your soft eyes, leaned forward to gently press his lips on yours. His heart skips a beat, your hands crossed with his, fingers intertwined. He kissed you so careful for fear of hurting you. Your scent filled his messed mind and his lips only separated from yours to connect them with your skin on your neck. Levi spread small, gentle kisses on your skin, it felt like a butterfly roaming over you. His locks tickled on your face, which made you chuckle - his heart melted. He was addicted to your touch and he would never get enough of it.

Levi tilted his head, eyes met again, the distance between you both closed again, lips harmonised perfectly together. Kissing you with passion and love, giving you everything he had.

And he would never stop with it.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #snk levi #aot levi #attack on titan #aot imagines #levi scenario #aot angst #aot x reader

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certified-sloth · 3 years

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Consider: Teen/child MC. Gets into a fight / attacked by a lesser demon, one of the brothers arrives just in time to save them. As he’s carrying MC to safety, while they’re slipping in and out of consciousness– THAT’S when they accidentally call him “dad.”

!!warning! May contain sensitive content, please read at your own risk!!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Lucifer

He should have found you in your classroom at the end of classes, but you weren't there.

He frowns, notifying all of his brothers to look for you in every nook and cranny of RAD.

Stops in his tracks when he saw you getting beaten to the ground by a few lesser demons.

They're too brave to think of planning this against you.

His eyes darkened and approached them with a stern glare.

They immediately stop and look at him surprised. He picks you up and makes sure to remember their faces.

"Report to the council room. Immediately. If you do not follow my orders, you will face the consequences." He ordered, turning around to leave with your limp body.

If you weren't in need of immediate care, he would've dealt with them first, but you are his priority.

"Dad..." you whimper, making him glance down at you, but he didn't stop walking.

"I'm... a disappointment aren't I..?" You ask in your delirium, unaware that it wasn't actually your father you're talking to.

He sighs and fixes your hair, you need medical attention, so he walked faster, making sure to not hurt you as much through the transportation.

"Rest for now."

Mammon

Oh, Lucifer's going to kill him... where have you gone?-

He froze when he saw you getting attacked by a lesser demon but wasted no time to rush over to protect you.

It wasn't often for him to change in his demon form, but right now he needed to protect you.

He was the second strongest for a reason, so the moment the demon was knocked out, he picked you up worriedly.

Calling out your name in panic, he notices you slip in and out of consciousness, so as he takes you to get treated, you mumbled a call,

"Dad..?"

He abruptly stopped his steps as he looked at you surprised.

"You're... home..." you muttered with a soft smile before fainting and his eyes widened.

Just what in the world did you go through with your dad? Unless he misheard you..?

He sighs, thinking he should get his ears checked as he brought you to Simeon to heal you.

Leviathan

Come on MC, where did you go?

Nervously looks for you everywhere. Where did you-

Finds you getting attacked and he could've sworn he only blinked before his eyes saw red.

He's part of the military and the 3rd strongest of the brothers, so even if he's some shut-in otaku, no one dares to come close and get him in a bad mood.

But seeing this right now is making him very angry.

You could only hear muffled screams of agony, slipping in and out of consciousness... did you hear begs of mercy or were you imagining things?

"Hey, hey!" Levi called worriedly, you looked up with a blurred vision, you've mistaken the avatar of envy as your father.

"Dad..?"

He didn't catch that as he was panicking on what to do.

He hurriedly fished out his phone and called the others to help him immediately while he checked for any more injuries.

"Stay awake for me, a-alright? You're going to be fine..."

Satan

He's getting more and more frustrated that he can't find you anywhere.

He wanted to bring you to the new bookstore that just opened today, only to find you getting beaten by lower demons?

This just made him lose all the self-control he mustered all his years, breaking each and every bone of those who hurt you with a sadistic smile on his face.

Then he heard you let out a cry, snapping him back to reality.

He hurriedly went to your side and checked your injuries.

The lower demons were attempting to escape, but the 4th-born wasn't having it.

He muttered a spell to keep them in their place, he wasn't done with them.

He was far from done.

Calls over Simeon and Solomon to help heal you because he can't sustain a healing spell that won't cause a side-effect for humans.

Then you called him 'dad'.

He froze in his spot, looking at you surprised.

He sighs, letting this slide as it was possibly because of the situation you got into.

Stroking your hair in comfort as you both wait for the others.

"Yes, I'm here. Stay a bit stronger alright? The others are coming soon."

Asmodeus

Now the least you wanted to see was an angry Asmodeus.

Although he's not a fan of getting his hands dirty, he seethed at the sight of demons who didn't know their place.

"Get your filthy hands off them." He ordered with dark eyes.

The demons flinched, this was the first time they saw the 5th-born like this.

He chuckled darkly and went closer to their ears, charming them to head outside and wait for him there.

They should be happy that someone like Asmodeus would grace them a 'beautiful' death.

As soon as they left, he turned around to check on you with pained eyes, letting you rest your head on his lap.

"Oh darling... I'm sorry for being late." He apologized, he had already notified the others of your location.

They should have Simeon or Solomon with them as we speak.

You called him 'dad'.

And he stared at you with sad eyes.

He smiled and kissed your forehead.

"Yes dear, I'm right here."

Beelzebub

Lucifer told him to fetch you for a council meeting, but couldn't find you.

He was getting hungry, then he heard laughter in one room.

He stopped in his tracks, eventually looking inside the room to see you getting beaten by two lower demons.

He never smashed the door open faster than he opens the fridge.

The demons were about to complain of who interrupted them when they found the 6th-born towering over them.

They yelped as he picked them up.

Looks like he found himself something to eat.

But... you needed to be treated.

He frowns and raised them higher to look them in the eye.

"Lucifer won't be happy if I eat you now and they won't know why..." he trails off, figuring out what to do.

He resorted in telling them to go to the council room.

...if they don't, they're free to run away from 7 angered demons.

He drops them and went to your side before picking you up carefully.

If you thought he was gentle then, he was even more gentle now.

"Dad..." you mutter.

He looked at you but he looked back to where he was going, taking you to Lucifer and the others.

He didn't know how to respond to that, so he kept quiet.

It looks like you missed your father.

Belphegor

He was hoping to bring you to the planetarium to relax, and... catch up a bit.

But didn't expect you to be shamelessly attacked by two lower demons when they knew, who was taking care of you.

He may be the least strongest of his brothers, but that doesn't mean they can have their way with you.

He growled in annoyance and changed into his demon form, walking to them in menace.

He grabbed one's neck with his tail while the other was also grabbed on the neck by his hand.

His other free hand had come to check on your pulse.

Luckily enough, he felt a faint beat. He sighs in relief, before slamming the two demons face flat onto the floor, hearing their skulls crush disgustingly from the attack.

He let's go once he made sure they were dead.

Taking you away with him, he heard you call him 'dad' with a barely audible voice.

He frowns and makes you rest more comfortably in his arms, taking you to get treated.

#request #obey me shall we date #om!#obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me fic #obey me headcanons #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #levi obey me #satan obey me #asmo obey me #beel obey me #belphie obey me

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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

Text

Honey dripping

Yandere! Jumin Han x reader

tw: nsfw, murder, non-con, dub-con, mentions of cheating, mentions of blood, slight sugar daddy vibe, dirty talk, degradation, mention of threats

Summary: Your boyfriend provides everything for you and the only thing he expects in return is your love and loyalty. So of course when you fail to give him that, he gets a little angry.

It was useless - all your struggling and pained little pants. Nothing could stop the brutality unfolding before your eyes, glossy with tears. They were red and sore from the crying, but your despair wasn’t enough to melt his cold black heart. You knew that it was your fault and now someone had to pay the price. You couldn’t deny it, not when it was obvious to the outside gaze exactly what had happened while your loving caretaker was away, working hard to support you and give you anything your heart desired. The bed was messy with the white sheets all crumbled and the smell of adultery in the air still heavy and thick. No pretty words and sweet talking could get you out of the sticky situation this time around.

“Please, tell them to stop!” You whispered, looking at Jumin with the big doe eyes you used when you wanted something to go your way. You even gently touched his hand, trying to wrap your fingers around his to calm him down, only to be met with a cold empty stare of disgust in return. It pierced through your heart like a thousand sharp arrows and your throat tightened in fear as you watched the bussinessman’s bodyguards beat your lover into a sweaty mess of flesh, snot and blood, weeping on the floor. The poor unfortunate soul was two punches away from the afterlife and there was no one to blame, but yourself. Shivers ran through your body from the cold and you realized you were still half - naked, the only thing protecting your most intimate parts being the oversized shirt of the dying man. Jumin glared at you for a long moment, studying the soft features of your delicate face before making an important decision.

“Kill him.” He finally ordered, voice monotone and unbothered by the inhuman whim. With a quick snap of his slender fingers the CEO-in-line had your paramour lifeless, dead on the ground. It happened so fast you found it hard to process down the murder, despite seeing clearly the unmoving figure and all the red sticky liquid he was drowned in. A hard lump stuck at the back of your throat, making it hard to swallow or even breathe, but the panic rising in your chest went unnoticed by Jumin, who was ready to turn his full attention to you, pining you with his cruel gray eyes. “I thought you were different.” He started off slowly, moving closer to you. “You were always so sweet and innocent I almost fell for your little tricks.” The man smiled bitterly, the sadness reflecting in his pupils as he took another step towards you. Now you could feel his big hands grabbing at your hips, drawing you in, and his hot breath on your neck - but he didn’t bite just yet. “I should have known better, that’s on me. After all you are just like those women who use my father for his money and status.” He whispered into your ear as he dig his nails deep into you bare thighs, squizing the naked flesh roughly. “You may be a cheap lying whore, but I still love you.” The bussinessman scratched at the vulnerable skin on your lower body before placing a small wet kiss on your collarbone. “I have invested so much in you, darling, but you seem to have forgotten that.” Jumin finally raised his head, smashing his lips onto yours, pushing his tongue all the way in, leaving you breathing hard and brushing off the saliva running down your chin. “I will teach you what happens when you forget your place, kitten.”

WIth that the man dragged you towards the unmade bed, a harsh reminder of your betrayal, and despite all your squirming and pulling away, begging him to let you go, soon he had you pinned onto the mattress with your wrists trapped beneath his. The director wasted no time in ripping apart the clothing, soaked with the smell of another man. The swift aggressive move left you fully exposed and bare in front of the hungry lustful monster, the fear and andrenaline in your veins turning everything into a hazy mess of ugly emotions and silent sobs. You tried to close your legs, but the attempts to cover yourself were fruitless as the rich man simply tied your thighs, spreading you all to himself. Jumin couldn’t help running a finger up your slit, circling the small sensitive bud in the center until he felt your walls clench around his forefinger, and eventually it came out wet.

“How interesting.” The director stated, smirking with malice. “I thought you didn’t love me anymore, but your body is pointing otherwise.” You whimpered at his words, but your body gave you away as your hips rocked in the air in hopes of finding more stimulation. “I just killed your lover and your wet little pussy still wants me to fill it up, kitten.” Jumin started undoing his belt, taking out his member, hard at the sight of you so open and flustered, ripe for the taking. With one hand he groped your breast, messaging it gently, pulling slightly at the stiff raspberry tip, while the other kept fingering you in a steady pace.

“J-jumin!” You cried out in pleasure despite your best efforts to stay quiet while he played with your body like it was just another one of his possessions. It was humiliating, infuriating even, but there was nothing you could do except lay there and take it like a good little doll. You couln’t even fight off the moans coming out of your scarlet lips because his touch felt so good in such a wrong way. “Please, I am sorry! D-don’t do this to me.” You sobbed, letting the logical part of your brain speak as your cunt twitched in the upcoming orgasm that soon washed over you in one powerful wave. It was painfully satisfiying and left you panting heavily, trying to catch your breath.

“You want me to stop?” The bussinessman suddenly pushed the head of his throbbing member into your entrance, but stopped to look you straight in the eyes. There was no sight of defiance in them, only guilt and desperation - and to him you were the prettiest when needy, broken down and obedient for him. The tears were streaming down your face leaving a salty red trace on your puffy cheeks, and he licked it, running his tongue slowly and teasingly on your hot skin. “If you hate it so much, then, perhaps, you won’t come all over my cock like a little slut, yeah?” Jumin replied huskily, sucking and biting at your neck until several lovebites in all shades of blue and purple were formed, like a collar. The man then forced his lenght into your responsive hole without giving you the time to get used to it properly. Your expression changed from pleasure to pain and you whimpered in agony while the CEO-in-line shoved himself mercilessly into your heat, hitting the overstimulated nervs over and over again. Despite the initial discomort and shock your body managed to relax under the rough treatment and after a few minutes you started to arch your back to meet the harsh punishing thrusts.

“Look at you.” He spoke out, the coldness in his voice piercing your skin while you watched the sweat cover his pitch black hair. “ You are moaning like a dumb little slut while I fuck you silly even though you should be fighting be off. ” The director squeezed your tits, rocking his hips faster and faster - he was very close. “And now I am going to blow my load into you and mark you as mine.” The bussinessman kept hitting your sweet spot, abusing the sensitive place with his manhood. “We will do it together, I will count. You are not allowed to come before me.” The man commanded sternly without losing speed or strenght, staring at you with an intense gaze filled with lust, obsession and adoration. “One, two...” He lowered himself onto your tight hole as he kissed you passionately, invading your mouth with his wet tongue. “Three.” Jumin thrusted lastly before releasing the white thick liquid into your pussy. “Cum for me, my love.” He whispered softly into your ear while playing with your hard nipples. “Cum while I fill you up with my seed.” The bussinessmen kept stirring you up, teasing you, until he felt your cunt clench down, throbbing with need. You finally orgasmed, throwing your head back during the high of the terribly delightful sensation. You closed your eyes - there was nothing left to do or say after the violation.

“Your punishment has come to its end now.” You heard his cold voice from far above you and it felt awfully distant but at this point you didn’t care. You just wanted to qucikly fall asleep and drift away to a different place. Somewhere warm and cozy where no one could hurt you. Unfortunately, his last sentence caught your attention. “But if you ever betray me again, I won’t be so loving anymore. What goes around comes around. Beware, darling.”

#male yandere x reader #yandere jumin x reader #yandere oneshot #yandere mystic messenger #yandere jumin han #yandere male x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere fanfiction #yandere smut #yancore #yandere one shot #yandere prompt

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amysteriousmessenger · 3 years

Text

‘How the warmth will melt the ice’ - GE Suit Saeran/Reader fic

Title: How the warmth will melt the ice Pairing: Post-canon GE Suit Saeran/Reader (mainly GN with two uses of she/her) Rating: SFW but references to his in-game actions Word Length: 3.4K Summary: post-GE Suit Saeran hasn't seen you in a while, he's been working on stuff in the headspace. One night, he's the only one awake and he's been doing some thinking while you sleep next to him in the bed. Soft, a bit of hurt/comfort. I'm not an expert on DID so please let me know if I've written or phrased something incorrectly!! <3

Saeran had been in the headspace for quite a while. It’s not that he wasn’t allowed out, he just wasn’t sure he trusted himself enough to ever come out, and most definitely not in the company of other people. He had seen how happy the ‘New’ Saeran had made you, how he treated you with such care and tenderness and considered your feelings above all else. Saeran didn’t trust himself not to ruin it for all of them, especially given his previous actions. They all held that behaviour against him and he was well aware of that, he held it against himself too. He was too angry at the world, and he hadn’t entirely processed that despite all of the time that he had been away. There had been many times where he had criticised Ray for being weak, yet Ray had already been out several times and Saeran never felt brave enough for it. It had also taken him a while to address that, yes, he was perhaps the weakest one out of them all. He never felt like he was ready to properly face his actions even after he had apologised. After all, he was reminded of it every time he saw you through their eyes. He was there every time they brought you food, every time they held your hand, or pulled you into their arms. He was there for all of it. So, sometimes saying ‘sorry’ just wasn’t enough.

He had tried to take over as the host on a few separate occasions while you were at work or out shopping, with the intention of just existing around the house for a little while, but it never worked out so well. He’d sit there for a few minutes, staring at his hands and at what they had done to you before beginning to resent himself even more. Saeran had seen how his hands could hold you with such sweetness and affection, and yet, when he was the one that controlled them they only seemed to inflict destruction upon people. He’d remember that and immediately let the ‘New’ Saeran take over the body, retreating back into his own self-enforced solitary confinement. You were never to know that he had appeared, he made sure that the others were aware of that. Even when you’d asked about him, if he was still in there, he had asked them to speak of him scarcely. He’d see you again in his own time, if he wanted to. He’d always try to ignore the sadness in your eyes when the others told you that, but he thought it was for the best; he’d only ruin the stupid happiness that you had stumbled your way into with the better parts of him.

The night he saw you again, Saeran was the only one awake when he felt you shudder. He blinked, staring at the ceiling for the first time in God knows how long. He hadn’t experienced the world in quite a while, so it took him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. His first reaction was to complain that he had been woken up at such a time, but he had been trying to work on not jumping to immediate anger when it wasn’t justified. He tried to process his surroundings one at time. He was in bed, next to you. It was dark, probably still night-time, and he could hear the cat downstairs running throughout the corridors. The room smelled faintly of lavender, and he knew that one of the others picked it regularly to help the both of you sleep. He felt you shift. He hadn’t seen you in so long, but even as you laid on the other side of the bed to him, he dared not tilt his head out of fear of waking you. The room was quiet aside from the sound of your breathing, but Saeran stared ahead, rigid. Why had he been the one to wake up? It was not as though there was anything happening that required him in particular, one of the others could have easily woken up instead of him. Someone who was needed.

Saeran moved his eyes to your sleeping form, his breath catching in his throat as you slowly rolled onto your back. He didn’t want to wake you up, but he could have laughed. You were never a graceful sleeper. You had your arms above your head with one leg sticking out from underneath the blanket. Perhaps that meant that you weren’t scared of a monster grabbing your ankle from underneath the bed during the night, maybe you had too much faith in the monster in the first place. He watched you for a few moments, his eyes following each subtle rise and fall of your sleeping chest and wondering how anyone could trust him enough to sleep next to him, to let their guard down so stupidly like that.

Of course, this wasn’t the first time he’d seen you sleeping, but it felt as though it was a lifetime ago that he was watching you through CCTV; something that he could never believe he was actually doing. Something lurched in his stomach at the intrusive memory and he began to spiral like he had done each time he was in control of the body, or thought he was in control of it, anyway. It hurt him, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you. While it wasn’t him providing it, you were happier now. Healthier. There was no one to take away your food or trap you behind closed doors. No one to scream that your eyes were ugly. It had taken him too long to realise that the only reason he thought your eyes was ugly was because he could see himself reflected back in them. He could see himself screaming the way his mother had screamed at him, screaming the same things.

Saeran didn’t know how the others had managed to process everything so quickly, although he guessed that the fact that he was adamant about doing it in silence, refusing the therapists help, had something to do with it. Part of the reason he had rejected the therapists attempt to speak to him was because that would be admitting that he needed the help, and Saeran had worked so hard to convince himself that he did not need to rely on anyone for so long that he was not ready to let that barrier come down, especially not to someone he did not know. Besides, he had a slight distaste for the fact she had referred to him as ‘the persecutor’, as though he didn’t have a name. He knew that the other alters in the headspace had anger, had a rage for how they had been treated, but it was no longer their priority. They had each chosen to let go of that grudge in order to enjoy the life that lay ahead of them, and beside them. But Saeran was built with so much anger that it felt as though he consisted only of guarded walls lined with barbed wire, so much so that even if someone stupidly attempted to climb those walls, they would not get away unscathed. He had protected himself with that rage and had needed it to retaliate to anyone who had dared hurt them again. He had to be the strongest because he had too frequently been the weakest.

He was breathing a little heavier, probably from all of the thoughts rushing around his already too busy head. But through learned experience, Saeran was very good at staying quiet and tried to keep his breathing steady so he didn’t wake you up and have to explain himself. It wasn’t as though he could just pretend to be one of the others, he wouldn’t do himself a disservice like that. Once he saw that you were still comfortably asleep, he started to relax a little bit, tilting his head in your direction.

He knew the body was used to being in the bed beside you, but it was still his first time experiencing it as himself. It was a weird concept to him. How did the other Saeran do it? Did he sleep right up beside you, holding you? Or maybe he slept on his back too, since Saeran had woken up on his back. What about Ray, did he still cower on the side of the bed, his back pressed up against the wall? Ready to leap out at any sudden noise? Questions he would never ask them, but often wondered the answers to. In the darkness, Saeran felt as though he could be a little more honest with himself; as though it acted as a blanket for his emotions. He had hidden himself in the darkness for so long that there was a certain comfort to it. He couldn’t see what was lurking around the corner, but he also couldn’t be seen by whatever was waiting for him. It was a more equal playing field.

You shifted again, calling his gaze to your hand. You clenched and unclenched and then clenched again, as though something in your dream was requiring your attention. He wanted to reach out and hold your hand in the same way that the others did, but he couldn’t. Primarily, because he didn’t want to wake you, but also because Saeran didn’t think that he deserved to do so. You’d held out your hand to him so many times and each time he’d smacked it away, or worse, used that extended hand against you. His eyes remained focused on it, placed next to your sleeping head, so soft and small in comparison to his own. He sighed at the guilt seeping into his body as he remembered when you had tried to push him away with those hands, pressing them against his chest. At the time, in some sickened sense, it had amused him that you were so easy to physically overpower, and it gave him such a sense of joy that, for the first time, he was the stronger one in a dynamic. Now, he knew it was because your hands were not made to carry such a destructive force. You hadn’t hurt him because you hadn’t wanted to hurt him, you’d pitied him because you could already see the agony that he was writhing in, whereas he was almost blind to it.

Saeran didn’t deserve to, and yet, he wanted to hold your hand. To feel the warmth that was always so denied to him. He was jealous of the others who could do it so freely, who did not have to sit in anguish over it. The guiltless ones, he carried their guilt for them. He guessed that it was the price he had to pay to be allowed to take up the space he called his own, and for the other ones to be able to live so happily. His own hand twitched under the blanket as he slowly freed it from beneath the sheets. He didn’t place it on yours, but gently positioned it on the pillow next to it, just a few inches away. After a moment of consideration, and calculating the risk, Saeran held his breath and slowly moved the side of his finger up against your hand. His own skin was always cold, but yours was so much warmer than he could have imagined. It held so much love, love that he was so undeserving of. He kept his hand frozen against yours, not daring to move it any closer but not wanting to pull it away.

There were so many thoughts and confusing feelings rushing through Saeran’s head, but he was so grounded by your warm touch that he just wanted to fall asleep in it where he knew you could keep him safe and secure. Perhaps it wouldn’t have been so bad if he could have allowed himself a little bit of vulnerability while no one was awake to witness it. They couldn’t prove that he had let his guard down. Saeran’s cool eyes focused on the sight of your hands against one another before he started to close his eyes and drift off; comforted by the lavender and the skin to skin contact. He wanted to sleep knowing that you were right beside him, just within his reach.

That was, at least, until he heard soft whimpers coming from your side of the bed. It sounded as though you were crying. He began to panic, pulling his own hand away in case he had somehow hurt you. Although he couldn’t do it audibly, Saeran began to curse himself for being the one who had woken up, it should have been one of the others, someone who wouldn’t ruin everything. You were going to leave him, he was going to be abandoned once again and it was all his fault and-

‘S…Sae-ran…’ You whispered, snapping him out of his myriad of self-destruction. He’d woken you up and you were going to scream when you saw him, reliving the horror that he had put you through. The horror that the others had worked so hard to fix in his place. He froze, the predator becoming the prey and burning up his fight or flight response. It was difficult for him to see in the dark but he was able to hear you moving around in the sheets, before muttering his name once more. Well, it was his name, but he knew you weren’t calling for him. He squinted, trying to make out what was happening, and it quickly occurred to him that you were having a nightmare. What did you have to fear when you were asleep? What creatures haunted your dreams and chased you through the forest? He wondered, briefly, in that sad moment, if he was the one in your nightmare, taunting you and robbing you of your freedom. What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t wake you up, then you’d know it was him and not your beloved Saeran. It was him in his place, the wrong one. He couldn’t wake you up, freeing you from one monster and then forcing you straight into the company of another.

‘Pull her closer.’ The thought came to him in a whisper, but he wasn’t quite sure if it was his own or one of the others. His hands seemed to move on their own as he scooped you up, pulling you against his chest. Was he trembling? He hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until he sighed. He had had a lot of practice of not making a sound while breathing. This time, when he breathed, all he could smell was you. Your perfume, your shampoo, even the lipbalm you wore for bed. It was like another drug. He’d had you this close to him before, but never like this, never with the tenderness that he managed on that occasion. It was new for him too, allowing someone to get so close. He thought about how many times he had told you that you smelled disgusting, how you made him feel sick to even be around, but it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You smelled like a comfort he had never had.

You sleepily hugged him back, entirely unaware of anything except for the soft embrace of arms around your back: protecting you from whatever ailment plagued you in your sleep. After a minute or so of being pressed against his chest, you stopped shaking. His gaze fell to you, taking in the tired features of your face and carefully watching them melt into a happy peace. The two of you laid there in one another’s embrace in the middle of the bed for a while. Saeran felt such utter confliction at the idea of being the one to hold you. He felt guilty, deciding that you only wanted his touch thinking it was the better Saeran, and that he had somehow deceived you by being the one to hold you in his place. And yet, there was an odd sense of pride pooling in his chest that, this time, he was able to help you instead of hurt you. That was a first for him. It was small, and he was uncertain of it, but he had the hope that perhaps he would able to provide the blanket you needed like the others could. He could be the arms to protect you, instead of the ones you needed protecting from.

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed awake to watch you sleep for, but he wanted to savour the private moment while he still could before you knew it was him. ‘Would it be so bad if she did know?’ That same voice said but he did not have the time it ponder it before he felt the effects of the lavender weighing heavy on the air. He thought that, given how much they enjoyed being outside, that one of the others would have opened the window to let some air in before going to bed. Ironic, really. Maybe it was intentional. After all, you weren’t the only one to get nightmares and needed coaxing to go back to sleep. If there was one thing they had all learned from Rika, it was the effectiveness of plants.

His eyes were getting heavy, and Saeran was no longer someone to pass up on the opportunity of sleep when it was offered to him. He had years of it to make up for. While he could, he placed his chin on top of your head, pulling you a little closer as he did so. His heart was thudding so heavily against his ribcage, to the point he thought maybe that would be what’d wake you up, and that would really be a kick in the teeth for him. However, you squeezed yourself closer to him, causing him to release a shaky sigh. You wanted him closer. It was the feeling of your embrace that Saeran felt before falling back asleep, and he noted the fact that this was the first time he was being held. It was… nice. Safe.

That next morning, you awoke to the smell of breakfast, and heard a couple of cluttering pans in the kitchen. While it was pretty usual for Saeran or Ray to bring you breakfast in bed, he was usually pretty quiet about it, so you thought that maybe he was trying a new recipe and that it had gone wrong. You shuffled out of bed, brushing your teeth and washing your face before heading into the kitchen. Saeran stood with his back to you, fully dressed in his usual white shirt and black trousers, facing the oven. His hair was a little messy, but no one rolled out of bed with perfect hair. It was cute.

‘Good morning, my love.’ You said, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a little kiss into his back before putting the kettle on.

‘Mornin’.’ Saeran replied, casually. You paused for a second, wondering why he didn’t greet you with one of his typical flowery greetings, or at the very least a term of endearment, but brushed it off figuring that he might just be a little bit tired since it was still pretty early.

‘What do you wanna eat?’ He asked as you set two cups down on the breakfast table before pulling your seat out. His tones and mannerisms were a little different than usual, and you thought- No. Both Ray and Saeran assured you that he wasn’t ready yet. Surely, he wouldn’t just turn up one morning without warning.

‘It looks like you tried to make eggs.’ You laughed, his back still towards you as he cracked another egg into the frying pan and discarded the shell to the side of the oven.

‘Yeah, fuckin’ harder than I remember them being.’ He said, which definitely made you do a double take.

‘Who… are you, if you don’t mind me asking?’ You asked tentatively, not wanting to upset whoever the Saeran in front of you was. You knew he didn’t mind your questions since they never came from a place of malice anyway, but you always wanted to be considerate regardless.

He turned around, leaning back up against the kitchen side. He folded his arms but displayed a very distinctive smirk that you had not seen in so long. It was different this time though, his blue eyes were different. They were still tormented and anguished, but it was no longer directed at you. The ice in his eyes had begun to thaw.

‘What? Don’t you recognise me, doll?’

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #saeran choi #saeran choi x reader #mystic messenger fanfiction #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger self insert #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger hc #mystic messenger headcanon #mysme

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nastybuckybarnes · 3 years

Text

Of Kings and Beasts - Five

Pairing: King!Bucky X Princess!Reader X King!Steve

Summary: Born a bastard of the King of Orlen, you’re thrust to the West to marry the Kings. However, the greeting you get is anything but warm, and your life with the King is far from enjoyable. He knows it isn’t your fault his husband is gone, but that fact alone won’t prevent him from taking it out on you.

Warnings: Language, Kinda Slow Burn, Fluff, Injuries, Kinda Angst

Word Count: 2.7K

A/n: Happy New Year to all you beautiful people. I’m writing this and I’m feeling pretty happy right now but I’m also feeling very drained because I’m working so much and there's shit going on, BUT I wanted to post this because it’s been long awaited. It’s shorter because it’s a rare (Kinda) fluffy chapter and It ends off on a good place to have me starting the next part openly. My brain is mush rn so Idk if this is even making sense.

THIS SERIES CONTAINS SMUT AND DARK THEMES THAT MAY BE TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES!!! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Part Four

~*~

“I need to know exactly what you did to her. She is in there, in pain and agony and you stand here acting as though you are the one who had to endure the hardships.”

James grinds his teeth together, wishing his reunion with his beloved was going better.

“I... I was harsh with her. I told her she would never replace you... that her only purpose was to give me an heir and that she could be easily replaced. She... she angered me and I struck her... I have forced myself upon her in my anger and my haste to consummate the marriage. I know I am wrong for all I have done but I am doing everything in my power to right my wrongs.”

He doesn’t see it coming, only realizes it when his nose crunches beneath Steve's fist.

“You are a coward! A King would not behave like that even if he had lost his entire kingdom! You have treated our wife as though she is a prisoner! And I say our wife because in title that is what she is. However, she is my wife in my heart as well. But anyone can see that she is not your wife in yours. The way you have treated her... you should not be allowed near her.”

He strikes his husband again, his knuckles knocking the side of his cheek as the brunet dodges swiftly.

“I know. I understand that what I have done is wrong but-” “No, James, I don’t think you do! She is terrified of you! She’d sooner seek comfort in me, a stranger, than in you. You are the first face of our kingdom that she met and you...” The blond trails off, beyond furious with his husband.

“You have broken that woman. What can you even say for yourself?”

The brunet backs up a step, his hands raised in surrender as Steve steps closer to him, his hands clenching into fists.

“Nothing will excuse my actions and I realize that. But I will not stop trying to fix the damage I have caused.”

Steve scoffs, shaking his head at the other man.

“I’m not sure if you will be able to fix it.” They’re both quiet for a long moment before Steve speaks again, walking past his husband and towards the door.

“I think it would be best if you gave both (Y/n) and myself some space. Do not come to either of us unless we have directly summoned you.” The brunet nods, shoulders slumping in defeat.

Steve has to focus on his breathing as he walks back to your chambers, wanting to be there when you wake up and wanting to be in a better space as to not scare you.

When the door opens you’re awake, seated on your bed nursing a small cup of tea.

“How are you feeling?” He asks softly, dismissing Wanda with a nod. You take a deep breath and smile weakly at him.

“Better than yesterday, Your Majesty.”

A shake of his head at the use of his title.

“Please, (Y/n). You’re my wife. You may address me by my name,” he says while stepping further into the room.

“Steve,” you test the name, surprised at yourself for liking the way it feels rolling off your tongue.

He smiles warmly at you, sitting at the edge of your bed when you motion to it. You take a moment to really take him in as he sits in front of you.

The second King of Acadia is as gorgeous as his husband. He’s got endless blue eyes that shine with kindness, a kindness that has been shown to you only by Natalia and Wanda since you entered the Kingdom.

His frame is large and muscular, and you find yourself entranced and intimidated by him. Your brows furrow, however, when you see his split knuckles.

“You are hurt?” You ask, looking pointedly at his right hand. He instinctively clenches it into a fist then sighs, shaking his head.

“I’m afraid I let my emotions get the better of me when I learned of what His Majesty did to you.” You frown, looking down at the porcelain cup in your grasp.

Fragile and delicate, just like you.

“My very presence drives a wedge between the two of you. For that, I am sorry.” He shakes his head, fingers coming under your chin and lifting it until you look at him. The way you flinch when he raises his hand has his heart aching.

“It is not you who has created a wedge, nor is it you who drives it between us. James is well aware of his actions and he must face the consequences. He does not get special treatment because he is King. He’s lucky I only struck him for what he’s done to you. He deserves far worse.” You shake your head, grabbing the King’s hand tightly in yours.

“Please do not punish him. I fear he may think his fears are coming true. I do not wish to replace you nor do I wish to replace him. And by punishing him more I fear he may think that that is what is happening.”

Steve’s brows pull together in confusion.

“Do you not wish for him to feel what it is you’ve felt?” You shake your head, a shaky breath leaving you as you choose your words wisely.

“I... I would not wish my treatment upon anyone. But he has made efforts to repair our relationship. I do not wish to anger him with a relationship with you. I fear that us being close may be enough to bring his anger back to the surface.”

Steve is quiet, pondering your words for a long moment before lifting your entwined hands and pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“If he makes one hostile move towards you I will have him thrown in the dungeon. He will not bring you any more pain. I give you my word.” You nod slowly, not used to someone being so protective of you.

“Now I’m sure you need your rest, so I will not deprive you of it any longer.” He goes to stand up but you tug on his hand, not wanting him to leave just yet. His presence is refreshing. Something unlike anything you’ve experienced in years. And you do not want him to leave anytime soon.

“C-could you perhaps stay with me for a while longer? I... I value your presence. I know that I have only just met you, but you... you are a comfort in a kingdom that has brought only pain.” You don’t mean for your words to hurt him, and the sadness on his face nearly makes you regret speaking.

Until he settles back on the bed, a smile on his face as he squeezes your hand gently in both of his.

“I will stay with you until you no longer want me. This place should be a home to you, not a place of pain, and I will do all I can to ensure you feel safe and comfortable in your own Kingdom.”

The new approach has hope sparking in your belly, and you’re cautiously optimistic about your relationship with Steve. You only hope that you’ll be able to repair the one you have with James before he gets angry again.

~*~

“Is she eating?” Wanda nods, smiling at the blond king from her spot in the kitchen.

“Good. She looks ill. I want her to be healthy again. It is my goal to have her happy in her new home. Undo the damage that James caused.” Wanda sighs, shaking her head.

“They were rebuilding their relationship. Slowly but I’m sure they will have grown to love each other,” she says softly, and then it’s Steve’s turn to shake his head at her.

“It would be nothing more than love built on lies and fear. She deserves more than that.” Wanda nods, her heart heavy. She knows you haven’t been treated fairly, but she had hoped you and James would be able to build your relationship.

“Will you forgive His Majesty?” Steve sighs, not truly knowing the answer.

“I want to, but with what he did... it feels wrong to forgive him.” Wanda nods knowingly, gathering things for your lunch.

“Well, I know that the Queen is well on her way to forgiving him. I think it would do you well to forgive him. However, I have already overstepped. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go tend to my lady.”

She pauses at the doorway, looking over at the King and speaking freely for a moment.

“I think you would do well to speak to the King with a cool head. Consider all that has happened and all that you had planned for your marriage.” She bows her head then leaves the kitchen, having given Steve many things to consider.

He stays in the room for a while longer, gathering his thoughts and trying to figure out what to do.

As he’s leaving, he nearly bumps straight into his husband.

James averts his eyes, although it pains him to do so. He wants nothing more than to devour every inch of the man before him.

He says nothing, instead, bows his head and waits for Steve to do something.

“James.” His eyes snap up, meeting the endless blues of his lover.

“Steve. H-How is she?” Steve grinds his teeth for a moment, Wanda’s words echoing in his mind before he huffs out a deep breath.

“If you would like, I will take you to see her. However, if she requests you leave, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?” James nods, his shoulders lifting slightly.

As they walk towards your chambers Steve takes a moment to take in the appearance of the brunet.

He’s got deep bags under his eyes and a heeling bruise on his cheek branching out across the bridge of his nose.

His skin is pale and almost lifeless, and Steve feels and for a moment. Until he remembers what his husband did to you.

By then they’re already at your door, far too late to turn back, and Steve knocks softly.

“My darling? May I come in?”

Your voice calls out eagerly, allowing him entrance.

In the few days since his return, he’s spent every waking moment with you, and you find yourself missing him in the few moment’s that he is not by your bedside.

He smiles at the sight of you. You’re far livelier than before, a smile on your face as he walks in.

“Good afternoon,” you say softly, your smile fading slightly as you see the man behind him.

“Your Majesty,” you greet him, bowing your head slightly.

“He is your husband, (Y/n). You may address him by his name. We would prefer it if you did.” You look between the two before nodding slowly, scooting back on your bed to make room for the two of them.

Wanda smiles warmly at you, handing you a fresh cup of tea before excusing herself.

“May we sit?” James asks softly, motioning to your bed. You nod, taking a slow sip of tea while not taking your eyes off of the two men.

“You look well. You are eating more?” You nod, smiling at James softly.

“The same cannot be said for you,” You whisper, frowning at the bruises on his face.

“It is nothing that I do not deserve. I deserve far worse for all I have done. It is only my hope that we can grow together.” You’ve got a sad smile on your face as you look between the two of them, the tension rolling off of them in waves.

“What is it, darling?” Steve asks softly, reaching out to take your hand. You squeeze his warm hand then sigh, struggling for a moment to find the words.

“I have created a wedge between you. That is not something I ever wanted. I never wanted to come between you, nor have I ever wanted to replace either of you. I... I apologize for all that my presence here has caused.”

They both shake their heads, eyes meeting momentarily, Steve's filled with accusation while James’ are filled with guilt.

“You have done nothing wrong. That is something I want you to fully grasp.” You look at James as he speaks, heart thumping in your chest.

It’s been a while since you’ve had him so close to you and you’re not sure how you feel about it.

“Everything that has happened... it is all my doing. You have not done anything wrong. I am the one who has created a wedge between us... the one who has caused such distance. And I will spend every day trying to make up for that. I know you may not trust me or what I say, but I mean every word that I have spoken today.” You look between him and Steve, bottom lip tucked between your teeth for a moment.

“I want to trust you. I want us to be happy and I want us to have a good marriage, however, I will need time. But I do not want the two of you to be at ends with each other because of me. I fear it will cause far more conflict than it is worth.” Steve looks at you for an impossibly long moment before nodding, looking over his shoulder at where his husband is.

“I do not know how you have forgiven him, but I suppose I will try as well. We will forgive, but we will not forget.”

James nods, wanting to feel relieved but something is gnawing at his stomach.

“Your forgiveness is far more than I deserve. I will not, for as long as I live, be able to ever forgive myself for what I have done to you. The pain I have caused.” His eyes flitter down to your stomach, now devoid of the life that was growing. Devoid of the child that would’ve been his. A child that would’ve been the product of pain and of torment.

“How are you feeling, truly? I can only imagine the pain.”

You follow his gaze down to your stomach then swallow hard.

“If I may be honest with you... a small part of me is sad... but a larger part is relieved. I know it is wrong and horrid of me to think, but I am grateful to not be carrying a child that was forced upon me. It is my duty as Queen to give you heirs, and I shall. But not like that. It is too bold of me and I apologize, but if we are to make this marriage work then it is something that you must know.”

He nods easily, understanding what you mean.

“This marriage... we chose you, (Y/n). Specifically you,” Steve says softly, waiting for you to look up at him before speaking.

“We could’ve chosen any woman.”

Upon seeing the frown on your face, James jumps in. “When he says that, he means that we had been offered wives before but none of them stood out to us. And then we were presented with you...” You look at him, confusion bringing your brows together.

“The princess of Orlen. A woman with kindness and beauty. From the way your father spoke of you, we chose you. If only to save you from a fate that he promised.”

You’re not sure how you feel about this.

“We spoke of you for weeks on end. We spoke of how we would love you, how we would treat you. How we would bed you...” A shiver races down your spine and you glance down, shaking your head.

“I-I do not think I will be ready for that for quite a while. I am sorry, but I just... I cannot. I can hardly walk without being in pain and Doctor Banner thinks that it may take weeks before I can do anything such as that.” Steve’s hand is on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“We will wait. Your body has gone through something that neither one of us could ever imagine. We will not be angry with your healing process and we will not rush it. It is as I said before, your health and happiness mean everything to me.”

James nods his agreement but can’t help feeling left out of the tender moment being shared. As much as he may try, he knows he will not be welcomed with open arms. And he doesn’t expect to be. However, it doesn’t lessen the pain. If anything, it amplifies it.

Jealousy and anger simmer deep in his core, and he has to take careful breaths to make sure he doesn’t let them show. The last thing he needs is to scare you further. And although he truly does wish to be on good terms with you, seeing you with his husband the way you are... it brings something monstrous to the front of his mind.

Something he’s only ever taken out on the battlefield.

The good part if him is afraid for your safety if he cannot reel in the beast. But the beast roars beneath the surface, ready to claw its way out and reclaim what is his.

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unwritten-ravenclaw · 3 years

Text

Falling - Fred Weasley

(gif credit to owner)

Summary: George accidentally injures Fred’s significant other during a quidditch match

Trigger warning: falling from a height, injury, descriptions of pain

A/N: So this didn’t turn out the way I had planned. Fred was supposed to get properly angry at George, but when it came to writing that part I couldn’t think of any points he could make because he could’ve easily done the same thing? I thought about sending the idea to a better writer but wanted to have a go at it myself.

Fred couldn’t remember a time he was this angry at his brother. He was torn between the ache in his heart for seeing you in pain and rage toward George for being the one to cause it.

The quidditch match had been off to a great start. You and Fred were on rivalling teams and were determined to thrash each other. Being on opposite teams made it all the more fun for the both of you as you were both very competitive, and it was even more serious as this game was the final match of the season. Which was also the reason George was playing more aggressively than usual.

George knew that despite your dating his brother, during quidditch matches you were the enemy, so it was fair game to smack a couple of bludgers your way. But, unfortunately for you, he was a little over-excited. When one of your team’s beaters knocked a bludger his way, George’s first reflex was to whack it at you, as you happened to be hovering nearby - too nearby. George had underestimated the distance between the two of you and had hit hard and fast. The bludger hurtled towards you with a dangerous amount of force and collided with your kneecap. You cried out as the red-hot heat of pain spread through you. With one leg suddenly incapacitated, you lost your seating on your broom and tipped sideways off it towards the ground.

The scene kept replaying in Fred’s head like a broken record as he hurried alongside your stretcher on the way to the hospital wing despite McGonagall’s repeated instructions to do otherwise. You had fallen before anyone in the crowd - teacher or student - could mutter a spell to prevent it. Your body hit the ground with an awful thump.

Fred had put the game from his mind the moment he heard you cry out in agony as the bones in your knee were smashed. Hearing that cry was like a punch in the stomach. He was the first to reach you, landing roughly and sprinting over, his own broom discarded in his haste. But when he reached you there was nothing he could do - or if there was, he couldn’t think of it. Your face was pale and tears rolled down your cheeks faster than he had ever seen. He wanted to comfort you but he was reluctant to touch you in case you had been hurt further in the fall. He was helpless, just crouching beside you and watching you half-writing in the sand, making gut-wrenching noises.

“I’m here, love,” he’d heard himself say pathetically, but he’d had no room in his mind for any self criticism in that moment. He looked frantically around to see some of the professors rushing over, and he felt a vice-like grip suddenly grab his hand. He glanced down to see your wet, scared eyes looking up at him, your body trembling with pain. “They’re coming.” He began to reach out for you nut stopped himself. He could already feel his arm going numb from how hard you were squeezing his hand but he didn’t care. “It’ll all be over soon, I promise.”

George landed nearby and rushed over too, spewing apologies toward you as he approached. Fred grit his teeth and held out his free hand toward his brother without so much of a glance over his shoulder - the gesture was a warning; stay back, I’ll deal with you later.

The teachers crowded around you, asking questions and preparing to move you. You wouldn’t let go of Fred’s hand even when they told him to be elsewhere, not that he would have left you anyway. Your knee still felt like it was on fire and the pain spread outwards through your body, making you feel as though you were simultaneously freezing and burning up. Breathing heavily you felt you might never catch your breath.

The stands had been almost emptied and the Gryffindor team had tugged George away. The staff were ready to move you and they had a hard time of it due to the fact that you wouldn’t let go of Fred, who was glad he had two hands because he’d had to swap them several times or risk his circulation being cut.

When you reached the hospital wing you were unconscious, and Madam Pomfrey made Fred wait outside the door. He stood there impatiently twisted his fingers. He hadn’t felt so stressed in a long time. George appeared down the passage, some of the team straggling behind him, and Fred remembered he was going to rip him one. However, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. In truth, he could’ve made the same mistake. The whole team had been eager to win, and everybody knew that quidditch was a dangerous sport. Besides, he knew you wouldn’t want him to be angry with his brother over something like this. George began to apologise again, but Fred pat him on the back and shook his head gently.

Once you were awake and had finished being tended to, Madam Pomfrey decreed that you could have one visitor. You insisted that you were fine again and again, but you deduced that it was George’s sad expression that caused her to surrender. When she was preoccupied, Fred drew the curtains around your bed so he could climb in next to you and pull you carefully into his side. Your knee was all strapped up over your quidditch uniform and your leg was propped up on a pillow. Leaning into Fred’s shoulder you gave him a weak smile.

George, meanwhile, had gotten to his knees alongside your bed. He had gotten out of his own quidditch gear and was now wearing a jumper and jeans. He took your hand from the bed and clasped it in both of his own, trapping it.

“I’m so terribly sorry.” You’d been about to say something, but he gushed on. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll give you all my sweets from Honeydukes. I’ll get Dumbledore to give you 300 house points. I’ll carry you to all your classes!”

“Oi,” Fred protested.

“George,” you said finally. “It’s alright, seriously. I’ll take it as payback for all the times I beat the pants off you.” Which reminded you of something. You looked up at your boyfriend, a little too fast; he went blurry for a few seconds. “The match?”

Fred shrugged. “I didn’t ask.” You quirked an eyebrow. “Honestly, the quidditch cup was the last thing I was worried about.”

“Aww,” cooed George. His gaze fell to your wounded knee. “How is it?”

“Definitely not as painful now. Madam Pomfrey gave me a potion to dull it.” Both boys looked sombre and were now quiet. It was unsettling to see them this way, as you’d rarely ever seen them so. “Hm, might be nice to have a loyal servant.” You looked down at George and narrowed your eyes.

Fred looked astounded at this, throwing up his free hand that wasn’t holding you. “Excuse me, what am I?”

You and George laughed. “Two, then.”

“I thought your boyfriend was going to knock my block off back there,” George told you. “I knew your relationship was hazardous.”

Madam Pomfrey returned once more to shoo the boys off and give you another potion, but somehow you convinced her to let Fred stay a little longer, that it would aid in your recovery. She allowed it, but walked away tutting.

“Gave me a real fright, you did,” he said quietly as you tipped the potion back and swallowed it with a grimace. This one felt like ants crawling down your throat and tasted faintly like pickled eggs. “Falling out of the sky like that. And the noise you made... I felt like I’d come face to face with a dementor; my whole body went ice cold. I never want to see you in pain like that again.”

Your chest tightened at his words, imagining how it would feel if it had been him and you had been helpless to stop his agony. Bringing your hand up to cup his face you kissed his lips, and when you tried to pull away he chased them for more.

“I love you,” you whispered against his lips when he finally parted from you. The words had never been more true than now.

“I love you too,” he returned with a soft smile, bumping your nose with his own.

You sank deeper against him as he interlaced his fingers with yours. Beginning to realise just how drowsy you were from the potion your eyes started to droop as his fingers twirled a strand of your hair. You hoped Madam Pomfrey wouldn’t come back for a while yet.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

Pleaseeee do 43 or 46. I love your work btw

(insert months late panicked noises about how I thought 45 was 'falling in love with best friend's partner' and so wrote hold me fast for it, but actually 43 is 'falling in love with best friend's partner' very whoops very my b)

so i did 43 again anyway, but in a modern au and where the couple is actually in love (but it is an obikin happy ending because kit did write it)

(wife is unnamed the entire time so no character bashing it could literally be anyone ive been calling her rebecca in my head lmao)

43. Falling In Love With Best Friend's Partner (2.7k.......)

Obi-Wan’s kettle goes off with a whistle right as there’s a fierce banging on the door. He almost drops his favorite mug in surprise, which puts him in a bad mood from the get-go. But for the love of Christ, who would come call at his house at nine at night? It’s more than rude; it’s downright indecent.

He stalks through the house until he can unlock the door to give the person on his porch a piece of his mind, but then he sees who it is.

It’s Anakin, and he’s crying.

If there’s anything that can make Obi-Wan quiet his temper on a normal day, it’s Anakin Skywalker. A distressed Anakin Skywalker brings out every ounce of his compassion.

“Anakin?” He asks immediately, stepping forward to touch the man on his arm gently and guide him inside. He doesn’t even have to suppress a sigh when Anakin doesn’t remember to toe off his shoes in the entry way--that’s how worried he is at Anakin’s tears and the way they only increase in frequency and sound when Obi-Wan moves his hand to his back and pushes him further into his house, all the way to the dining table where he urges him to sit down.

Anakin still hasn’t said anything resembling actual words yet, so Obi-Wan goes to the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. It’s either that or give into the temptation to thumb the tear tracks off of his cheeks and that’s a little more revealing than Obi-Wan likes.

He’s not that brave, for one.

For another, Anakin is a married man. A man married to one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends, a previous grad student turned co-author of at least seven publications, with more on the way. He can’t risk tenderly wiping away her husband’s tears because Obi-Wan Kenobi has been at least a little in love with him since they were introduced four years ago, when he’d swanned up to him holding two champagne glasses in one hand and stuck out the other to shake. “My wife talks about you nonstop, Professor,” he’d said. “I used to be so jealous until I sat in on one of your lectures when I was still in school. Made sense then.”

Obi-Wan had not known what to do with that, but had taken the proffered champagne glass and assured this strange man he had nothing to worry about.

After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t the sort of man to chase after former students or people in marriages.

Over the next few years, however, it became quite clear to him that there was a big addendum needed in his moral code: people in marriages to former students drew his eyes apparently the way no one else has ever managed to in his life.

Or perhaps it was just Anakin. Perhaps it’s always been just Anakin.

Coming to terms with the shameful, quiet love he carried for a man who flirts like it’s second nature and always has a warm touch or word to bestow on Obi-Wan had been difficult, to say the least.

Anakin’s wife had been one of Obi-Wan’s closest friends. His inconvenient and persistent feelings for Anakin had turned her into one thing only: his wife. They could not be friends when Obi-Wan spends half his nights wondering what it would be like to sleep with his arms around her husband. They could not be friends when the last dozen times the married couple had invited him over for dinner, he had paid more attention to her husband than to the food or to the other topics of conversation or to her.

And she has to know. She has to know why their latest paper has taken eight months to write. She has to have seen the way Obi-Wan perks up so obviously when Anakin brings his wife her lunch, the way he has to turn away from their chaste kisses, the way he listens keenly to any information she gives him on her husband, the way he had excused himself from the room when he heard her tell another colleague that they were trying for children.

In academia, you learn fairly quickly that it is useless to resent someone for having what you do not. It seems that Obi-Wan has to learn this lesson all over again when it comes to people. It’s hard. It’s selfish. He hates that he loves Anakin. He hates that he loves Anakin the way he does, that it’s been four years and he still loves him, that not even his happy marriage, his love for his wife, the fact that his wife is Obi-Wan’s friend, can change it.

Anakin considers them friends now, which is so much worse and yet still more than a pathetic old man like Obi-Wan deserves. Worse, because when Obi-Wan had started rejecting dinners at the Skywalker household, Anakin had pushed back with worry. When he’d noticed that Obi-Wan’s lunch most often consisted of whatever cold cut sandwich was on sale at the gas station next to campus, he’d started bringing Obi-Wan a lunch along with his wife. When Obi-Wan had stopped responding to his texts, he showed up to drag him to a night out.

Worse, because being Anakin’s friend is nothing like being his husband, and the differences make him ache as much as the acts of kindness make him want to weep.

It’s still more than Obi-Wan deserves. He knows that intimately, the way he knows that nothing can ever happen between the two of them because Anakin loves his wife. And his wife--

“She cheated on me,” Anakin gets out between uneven breaths.

Obi-Wan promptly drops his favorite mug and watches it shatter on the floor.

“Oh!” Anakin exclaims at the loud noise, peeking around the corner, and looking like he’s about to offer to help. Obi-Wan shoos him out of the kitchen, and grabs the remaining mug of tea to follow him. The mess can wait for a later time.

“What did you say?” he asks carefully, nudging the mug over to Anakin, who wraps his hands around it.

Anakin blinks up at him wetly. “Don’t make me say it again.”

Obi-Wan drags his chair closer and dares to lay a hand over Anakin’s arm, watching his face for any negative reaction. Anakin just looks at it though, as if he can’t even comprehend it.

“Please, tell me what happened,” he entreats softly.

Anakin blinks and takes a sip of the tea. It’s chamomile, which is the only tea blend Obi-Wan knows Anakin likes.

“I, um.” Anakin clears his throat and reaches up to wipe at his eyes. Obi-Wan thinks his breath leaves his body for a second when he sees the slighter lighter ring of skin around Anakin’s fourth finger. He never thought he’d see what that sliver of skin looks like.

“I came back early from a work trip, cause. Um. Cause we’ve been having problems,” he starts with a quick side glance at Obi-Wan. “Just some fighting. Going to bed angry. I guess stuff you’re never supposed to do.”

Obi-Wan tries to arrange his face in an expression meant to convey that he definitely knows what stuff one is supposed to do in a marriage.

“So I thought I could, you know. Surprise her. But when I got in, there was someone else in the house. In our bed, Obi-Wan, she fucked someone else in our bed. I--” Anakin starts crying dropping his head into his hands and dislodging Obi-Wan’s arm completely.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan murmurs, at a loss for what to say. He settles for kneeling down next to Anakin and rubbing his knee. This is platonic.This is fine. This isn’t taking advantage of Anakin in this state.

Obi-Wan has absolutely no desire to take advantage of Anakin in this state, not when he’s so hurt and sad and in need of comfort. Obi-Wan just wants to provide him with comfort, but it feels like a grievous violation to touch Anakin like this willingly. It breaks one of his most cardinal rules.

But it turns out he’d break a lot of rules for Anakin, apparently.

Especially when Anakin responds so well to his touch, practically throwing himself out of his own chair and into Obi-Wan’s arms, tea forgotten on the table.

“How am I supposed to go back there?” He sobs into Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I thought...we were supposed to raise kids in that house and she...she’s been...she’s been cheating on me in our bed--”

Obi-Wan tentatively strokes through his hair, adding pressure when Anakin reacts positively. He hates seeing him like this, so torn up and aching. He’d loved his wife, it’s so clear to see.

But Anakin has always struck Obi-Wan as the sort of person to put loyalty over everything else. For his wife to break his trust so suddenly and quickly must spell the death of his love for her. That must be what Obi-Wan is witnessing now, with Anakin, sans wedding ring, sobbing into his arms like this. This must be how Anakin’s love dies.

“I’m so sorry, Anakin,” he murmurs into the man’s temple, pressing his nose there at his hairline and inhaling as softly as he can. He’s disgusted with himself. He can’t help himself. He--

“She said she loved him,” Anakin sniffles, seemingly unaware of anything but his own pain. Obi-Wan gathers him closer at these words and rubs at his back, offering silent comfort. To have Anakin close like this is agony, but to be an appropriate distance away from him as he fell apart would also be agony of a different sort.

And if the last four years have proven anything, Obi-Wan will choose the agony that causes Anakin any modicum of happiness he can give him.

“She said--” here Anakin pauses and takes several deep breaths against the cotton of Obi-Wan’s now damp sleepshirt. “She said she didn’t when they started, but then I--I didn’t notice and it--she said it just happened, but--”

He breaks off and freezes in Obi-Wan’s arms quite suddenly. Obi-Wan stills his own hands in response. “But?” he asks, barely more than an exhale.

“But she said she couldn’t feel sorry about it,” Anakin whispers back, pulling away so that he can look at Obi-Wan’s face.

Obi-Wan stares at him, uncomprehending. Anakin’s wife is the unapologetic sort of woman, yes, but to be caught cheating on her husband and then refuse to apologize for the betrayal? That’s something else entirely. “What?” he stutters out in a completely unflattering way.

Anakin’s eyes glisten, but he purses his lips and flexes his jaw before he speaks again. “She said she couldn’t feel sorry about falling in love with someone else because it’s quite clear I’ve done the same thing. And--and she may have physically cheated on me first, but I’ve...I’ve been emotionally unfaithful to her for years now.”

Obi-Wan blinks quite a bit and very fast, tightening his hold on Anakin before pulling away just as quickly. “That’s absurd,” he spits out, trying to calm his rushing heartbeat. “Anakin, you’re the most loyal person I know. You would never--”

“She was right,” Anakin cuts him off, breaking eye contact with him to look over his shoulder and then down at...at his lips. “I didn’t even realize she was right until she said it, but. But I’ve been in love with someone else for three years of my five year marriage. I--I’m not who we thought I was.”

And his eyes well up with tears again and Obi-Wan isn’t strong enough this time from stopping himself from reaching out and brushing one of his tears away with the pad of his thumb.

“Anakin, you’re not…” thinking straight, serious, in your right mind, in love with anyone but your wife. “You’re hurting, Anakin,” he settles on saying. “You need to...sleep. To rest.”

You need to stop saying things that will break my heart in a few days when you realize you don’t actually mean them.

But Anakin has always been stubborn, especially when it comes to Obi-Wan’s demands. “Obi-Wan,” he insists, shoving his face forward so that their heads connect with a thump. “Obi-Wan, it’s you. It’s been you. For. For longer than I knew. For three years at least. Maybe longer. It should have been you from the beginning. When--”

“Anakin, please,” he finds himself begging, scrambling up and off the floor and away from this troublesome man. “Do not say anything you cannot take back. You are in distress, you’re not thinking clearly.”

Anakin follows him to his feet. “I need to say this,” he says, voice breaking. “Please, Obi-Wan. Let me say this.”

Obi-Wan has never known how to say no to Anakin. He closes his mouth instead.

“Before we even started dating, that’s when I sat in on your lecture. When we were seniors. I just wanted to see. Wanted to know why she liked you so much, measure up my competition. But then I liked you, more than I’ve ever liked a guy before. And it only got worse after I met you again, at that party, I don’t know if you remember, but. The days after, I drove my wife insane asking questions about you and your work and your interests and your hobbies, and I didn’t even realize I was doing it.

“You were just...you were so amazing. But I loved her so much I didn’t even notice I had any love left in my heart to give to anyone else, but then there you were. There you were and every time I saw you it was like...coming up for air. Like I was living someone else’s life and then sometimes I just got to be myself and it was only ever when you were around and--I didn’t know it was love until my wife told me tonight that she fucked another man because she couldn’t stand that I fell in love with one first, and I knew immediately who she was talking about. It was you. It’s...Obi-Wan, it’s always been you.”

Anakin closes the distance between them slowly, as if he’s giving Obi-Wan a chance to run. Obi-Wan does consider it, he won’t lie, but he stands stock still as if frozen to the ground. Anakin reaches up gently and wipes at one of his tears. Obi-Wan hadn’t even realized he started crying.

“Please don’t cry,” Anakin whispers through his tears. “I understand if you--if you don’t feel the same way, but I couldn’t be quiet about it once I realized. I don’t know how to love quietly.”

Obi-Wan does. Obi-Wan’s spent four years loving Anakin quietly, and now he doesn’t have any words left in him to love him out loud.

Anakin’s hand falls away from his face at his continued silence and he looks, if possible, more heartbroken. “I...I understand,” he murmurs. “You don’t feel the way I do. I--yes. I get it. I...deserve it.”

At this, Obi-Wan has to say something because it’s been one of the tenets of his world for years now that Anakin Skywalker deserves all the love there is in the entire universe. “No,” he says roughly, dragging the words kicking and screaming from the pit of his stomach. “It’s not that. It’s--”

Anakin looks at him with wide, wet, blue eyes.

“It’s that if you...if I say it and then...tomorrow you decide you don’t mean it...darling you have to know there would be no recovering from that, for me. I’ve been so obvious.”

Anakin blinks as the words register in his brain, and Obi-Wan can tell the exact moment they do because he inches closer and clutches tightly onto his shirt. “You’ve not been obvious at all,” he murmurs, eyes still shining, even as he directs his entire attention to his lips.

“What would I need to do?” Obi-Wan breathes, aching to wrap his arms around his waist and terrified that doing so will startle Anakin away from him. “What would I need to do for you to understand how much I...how much I’ve loved you for all these years?”

“Kiss me,” Anakin whispers, leaning down as if drawn by some magnetic pull.

Obi-Wan knows he will hate himself in the morning for giving in when Anakin is so obviously grief-stricken and looking for no-strings-attached physical comfort. And yet, he meets him halfway anyway.

#asks #prompt fill #lets be real these havent been ficlets for months let alone snippets #these are just. fics lmao #anyway i couldnt choose who to hurt/comfort with this prompt so ii actually went with both haha #very on brand #anakin's pov would of course contain the famous 'oh. OH.' of realization #obikin #obi-wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #i have so many amazing asks to respond to and im going to do it tonight #i just wanted to post this and then spend like a solid eight hours on my paintings because they have a really real and fast approaching #deadline #cw: cheating #married with a twist au

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hwajin · 3 years

Text

𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 — !# : lyb

genre: angst, fluff

pairing: felix x gn!reader

for krissy // @moonlit-lixie

not my pics, credits to owner

You opened your eyes, faint rays of the rising sun breaking through the slightly opened creaks of your window. You blinked one time, two times, before sighing heavily, turning around in your warm, comfortable bed, in hope to get more sleep. You haven't even been awake a minute, but the burdens of life sat too heavily on your shoulders already, suffocating you to the point where your only wish was to simply sleep. Not having to function, not having to socialize, not having to worry about tasks over tasks, about people, friends, family. About yourself.

Being asleep was easier than living lately, simply easier than existing. And yet, ironically and much to your dismay, it wasn't possible for you to do as you wished, to only sleep throughout the day, to shut your mind off. You did have a life you needed to take care of, a job to go to, people to care for, a house to clean. You weren't an exception, you, just like any other living human on this planet, needed to complete all those little human tasks there were to life. But for some unexplainable reason those little human tasks felt too much for you to handle, too exhausting to do properly, too insignificant in your eyes.

Maybe, after all, you did not need to do all those things. Would it make any difference if you did stay in bed the whole day, if you simply did stop contacting friends, family, your boss, anyone you talked to? No one would be there to miss you, would there? No one would be there to reach out for you if you disappeared just like that, without a word, from one day to the other. You could as well vanish, completely from sight, and it would simply not make a difference.

You sighed once again, leaving your eyes closed, feeling this familiar, unpleasant feeling in your chest, the tingling that would come bubbling outside any moment if you weren't careful enough, if you didn't shut your mind off in the right moment. This shutting off, this mental distance you chose to keep towards anything in life, towards both negative and positive events, duties, any kind of purpose, perhaps was the only option for you to not turn crazy, feral. It surely made you lose the opportunity to feel anything at all, to be happy and excited about good things, but you figured that it was worth it, better than to deal with the actual problems facing you daily, better than to hurt. Yes, feeling nothing at all, numb and empty, was, once again, easier than existing eventually.

Just as you were about to reach the feeling of sleeping safe and sound again, the feeling of nothingness, ignoring the brighter turning sun, the soft wind playing with green leaves, the birds chirping their morning songs outisde, you sensed something unusual, sounds and smells that were not typical for a quiet morning like that, that disturbed the chaotic carelessness within you. Your eyes squinted, trying to distinguish the different types of rumbling and shuffling coming from what seemed like your front door. You were about to get angry at whatever, whoever had the nerve to disturb you like that, to disturb your quiet agony, your mourning.

Until he made his appearance. Felix's brown, messy hair was in your eyesight without any warning, the locks bouncing up and down on his pretty head. You noticed how sad and worried he looked, the eye bags visible, the paleness undenieable. Though he wanted to hide it, you could tell by the way he laughed at you, flashing you his brightest smile, squinting his eyes as his cheeks got higher up his face, and your heart softened at the slight blush across his freckly skin. You knew he was worried about, the reason he didn't sleep well was you. And you hated nothing more than being the source of his unhappiness, of not being able to be there for him the past weeks, despite him reassuring you that it was fine. It was fine, because in his opinion, you had the right to feel however you were feeling now, it was fine because he said that trust and unconditional love and support was the base of a good, working relationship like the both of you had it. And he was successful in showing you every aspect of his love for you, in his support and trust in you. With him, in him, you had no doubt, no second thoughts, neither about yourself nor about anything else. In him you found home, a place you never had to force yourself to find or reach out to, a place that, somehow, was always right there when you needed it, without you asking. It would always stay a secret to you, as to how Felix could bring up the patience and the energy to love you like this, every day, anew, without a break. But you didn't want to question it, ever, didn't want to lose him to the feeling of insecurities or self doubt. Him, you wanted to keep, close to you, and never let go. For him you'd be ready to get your life back together, if you couldn't do it for yourself after all.

"Hey, baby, how are you?"

His dark voice was a contrast to the light tone in it, causing a small smile to appear around your lips. You watched him walking over to your window, opening the curtains, letting the intense sunshine flood your bedroom. Your eyes shut close, a whine escaping your lips while you buried your face into the safeness of your blanket, hugging your whole body with it, escaping from the daylight. You were able to extract the sound of Felix's chuckle before feeling the mattress beside you dipping, his hand on your blanket before you were met with his sight once again. The soft smile of his infected you, made you smile as well.

The effect this boy had on you was truly fascinating. With him it didn't feel as hopeless, with him you didn't feel as unloved, as unwanted as your mind tried to convince you to be. With him you knew that there were people caring for you, that there was a purpose to go back to, even if a little one.

Felix leaned down to you, slowly, carefully even, before placing a kiss onto your slightly dry lips, holding his body like that for a while. He let you kiss him back, gave you the chance to move your lips against his, to lay your hand on his thigh, to huff out through your nose, feeling like you haven't proplery breathed in ages. Felix was able to tell all the pain you were in from just that kiss, and he was determined to take it all away, even if he had to move mountains for the sake of your happiness. He'd risk it all for you.

"Here, I made you this."

Felix pulled away, looking at you while showing you a medium large box, tupperware, with his infamous brownies in it. You chuckled, looking up at him with tired eyes, how he was sitting there on your bed with his bakeries for you, a warm smile around his lips. A smile that had the full ability to make you go soft inside, to set off butterflies in your stomach.

"What, are you not gonna say anything?", Felix said pouty, his lips plump, kissable. You chuckled again, reaching your hand to his face, placing it on the back his neck and pulling him down, closer to you.

"Thank you."

Those words left your lips before they connected with his, and you were sure that he knew how much more meaning they held than only for his brownies. You were sure he knew how sincere those two, simple words sounded, how deep they were, how important for him to know. You were sure he knew even without you mentioning it, without you being able to talk about it or word it any other way. And you were determined, were convinced that at some point, hopefully in the near future, you'd give him back everything you received from him, that you'd give him everything he deserved.

#that's exactly what i meant with my angst is too personal lmao #anyways have this #my emotions on a plate for you #felix fluff #felix angst #felix x reader #felix scenarios #lee felix imagines #felix oneshot #skz fluff #skz angst #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids angst #stray kids imagines

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guqin-and-flute · 3 years

Text

In Your Hands--Ch. 5 [Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[Chapter 1][Chapter 2][Chapter 3][Chapter 4]

[This whole fic is the second chronological installment of the Peony to Lotus!Verse]

[First Installment] [Ao3 Series]

[CW: Vague mention of abortion, discussions of not-actually-happening spousal abuse, canon typical classism and anti-sex worker rhetoric, very mild emetophobia warning (nothing actually happens)]

She has a single moment for her sleep-slow brain to think; Madam Jin? Why on earth is she here without sending word? Is there an emergency? Has something happened to Jin Zixuan? before He Si’s voice comes again, more frantic, saying, “Oh--Ah, furen, I don’t think--!”

The door flies open with a bang and Yanli jumps, clutching the makeup removing cloth to her chest. All at once, Madam Jin is here, in her room, ashen and wind scattered, sweeping over in a flood of gold and a thick perfume, “Oh Gods, look at you,” she moans despairingly, gathering up Yanli’s free hand in an iron grip. “How far along are you? No, it doesn’t matter--these things can be dealt with when we return to Koi Tower. You,” she snaps, turning to He Si who is hovering anxiously in the doorway, hands at her mouth. “Begin packing her things.”

What? ...What?

He Si shoots her a furtive look before scurrying to her wardrobe. But her voice is held hostage by her fog-slow mind and she can only blink, stunned. It’s being bowled over by an unstoppable wave; Yanli is towed, bewildered and spinning in its undertow, still scrambling to understand. Madam Jin, however, is rolling right along, petting the back of her hand with her soft, sky-frozen fingers. “Oh, you look awful. I’ll have him gutted, I’ll have them all gutted, how could they do this to you? Men,” she spits the word like a curse, her features twisted into a snarl that reminds Yanli so much of her own mother in a temper. “I came as soon as I heard what my brute of a husband had done, but I nearly qi deviated first. You don’t have to worry, A-Li, I’m going to fix this; he is never going to touch you again. Look at me, child, let me see you.” Every line in her face is etched like agony, like fury as she presses her hand to Yanli’s cheek. “Has he hurt you?”

He? Sect Leader Jin? She hasn’t seen him since the wedding.

In fact, she hasn’t seen or heard from Madam Jin herself since before that, during Yanli’s stay at Koi Tower during the beginning of the Sunshot Campaign. She hadn’t attended her wedding.

That had hurt her, for she had always been a dear friend of her mother’s and an auntie to Yanli, always taking an interest in her--though she had always assumed some of that had been as a future mother-in-law. She had wondered if Madam Jin was upset with her for how the engagement had gone and if her absence was her showing disapproval. (Yanli had had to shake herself free of that gnawing guilt whenever she thought about this, reminding herself that it was Jin Zixuan who had rejected the engagement and that even if she could somehow be in trouble for marrying A-Yao, she would never regret it.) When she had diffidently asked after Madam Jin’s absence, Sect Leader Jin had merely smiled widely and waved a dismissive hand. “Ah, she’s out traveling, visiting distant relatives and old friends. Socializing. You know how women are.”

Yanli had thought that she had a much better idea of how women were than Sect Leader Jin might, but had smiled politely, bowed, and accepted this.

Now, she watches helplessly as He Si drags a trunk out from a corner and begins layering her robes into it, sneaking frightened looks back at her mistress. “I don’t....” Yanli manages, voice cracked and thin. “Jin-furen, I’m not--I don’t--”

Madam Jin nods, her smile wobbly and proud, as if Yanli is being very brave. “It’s alright, dear. I’m here now. I’m here to take you with me, A-Li, you don’t have to stay here another minute.”

What? As she opens her mouth to protest, to ask what on earth is going on, all that Madam Jin had said finally manages to squeeze itself into her sluggish brain. Cold rushes over her like ice water.

Madam Jin hadn’t known about the marriage. Sect Leader Jin hadn’t told her, he had done it behind her back. She thinks Yanli was forced into this. She thinks A-Yao is hurting her. She thinks she’s rescuing her. The frantic speeding of her heart spins her head, as if the room is revolving around her, her thoughts a jumble. “No, Jin-furen, you don’t--you don’t understand--”

“Shhh, A-Li, I understand more than you know. The way the world uses women is not new to me. You’re not alone in this.”

“No, I--I know that I’m not--”

Madam Jin nods gently, encouragingly, sending the beautiful golden pendant from her hair stick swinging as she strokes Yanli’s cheek with the backs of her fingers. “Yes, exactly, you’re not. I’m here for you. I will make this right.”

It’s making her head throb, this feeling closing in around her; being surrounded by her familiar floral perfume, being talked to as if she were young and foolish, as if she has no idea what is good for her. She feels herself getting smaller and smaller until she's barely there at all, her voice barely heard. Pitiful. They never say as much, but that's what they must think of her. Pitiful and silly. A child again.

She hadn't even realized how real she has been feeling these days until she finds herself back in this sad little grey box where all she can do is sit and be rescued and planned for. Planned around. She feels the scattered beginnings of her own indignation wilting like unwatered flowers, greying, quieting. The words cowering in her throat. She can feel herself folding as she always has, as she's been taught, to stern women who know better.

She mustn't. Curling her fingers, she grasps Madam Jin’s hand back, willing her to hear and believe her because the story she seems to have written inside her own head sounds too awful to bear. “No...no, Jin-furen, you must understand--I chose him, I agreed, I’m--I’m--”

“Oh, child, I’m not blaming you, there is no way you could have known.”

How many times can she say no and have it fall like insignificant little drops onto a blazing inferno? How many times can it not matter before it’s no use to even speak at all? Trapped between her traitorous, cowardly tongue and the force of nature that is Madam Jin. She tries again anyway. “No, he’s wonderful, he takes care of me--”

But Madam Jin’s eyes have fallen to her wrist and a swell of rage-filled-power rises from her like simmering heat. “Is that what this is?” she hisses, and for all that she looks about to spit sparks, her hands are careful when she cradles Yanli’s hand and pushing her sleeve back to bare the faint bloom of muddy purple that rings the thin skin of her wrist.

The wrist that A-Yao had caught when she had lost her balance during their dance.

She hadn’t even noticed it bruising--it hadn’t hurt, it hadn’t. Her skin has just always been easily bruised, ever since she was a child. The panic is climbing her throat at the way this all seems to be hurtling down a cliffside with the trajectory of a bag of rocks, squeezing it almost as tight as her chest and she has to fight the urge to snatch her wrist back. “Furen, no, he didn’t hurt me--I tripped.”

He Si is frozen, one of Yanli’s gauzy over robes squeezed in shaking hands. Her eyes are darting between them, the ends of her pink ribbons quivering.

Madam Jin is bristling, the ozone tang of her rage on Yanli’s tongue, vibrating her skull like the tongue of a bell. “This is a handprint! A-Li, look at yourself! Look at what he’s done to you! You look like you’re on the verge of death!”

“I’m not, I’m--it’s my own fault, I drank too much yesterday, I pushed myself too hard!” she cries because she knows how she looks when she’s sick and hungover, but it is not her husband’s fault. “He would never--”

But no. Madam Jin’s eyes have darkened to thunderous “Absolutely none of this is your fault, A-Li, do you hear me? None of it.”

“It was an accident! He didn’t mean to--”

“You think no woman has ever thought that of a husband? That she has never blamed herself? There is no such thing as a decent man, A-Li--no less one that’s a bastard whoreson.”

It rings in her ears. Stealing the breath from her parted lips, winding her more utterly than her rage had. A knife in the ribs, clenched in her insides. If these words hurt A-Yao half as badly as this hurts now, Yanli has no idea how he is still living after all these years. They are horrid. As if he is not human. She should have felt angry; instead, she’s just betrayed.

I didn’t know you were like this.

She stares at the contempt for her husband coloring her auntie’s familiar and beloved face, unable to find the words she needs. Madam Jin softens, the press of her power abating as she strokes her hair. It raises ugly goosebumps down the back of her neck, this touch. She hates the way she is crowded close, stroking and coaxing and soothing--hates it in a way she never has before.

“You've always been so filial but there is no way your mother would have allowed this to happen if she were still alive. She would have never wanted this for you, A-Li, you know that.”

More pain. Swimming, nauseating pain because, yes, she knows--her mother would have said such terrible things about her A-Yao. Out of concern and propriety and love but they would have been vicious, just like when she had talked about A-Xian. Worse, even. She’s hearing their echoes now, through time, from Madam Jin, of one mind and memory.

If her mother was still alive, A-Yao would not be her husband. She knows this for a fact.

Madam Jin seems to take her struggling silence as encouragement and continues with new insistence, like she thinks she’s getting through to her.

“And this is not what I would ever want for you either, child, whether you decide to marry my idiot of a son or not. I love you like my own daughter, and you deserve so much more than gutter trash. You don’t have to force yourself to suffer through--”

Sudden, molten rage spurts up from Yanli’s stomach up her spine and to her head until she feels incandescent with it. “He is not trash,” escapes her, low and trembling. Her hands are balled into fists in her lap, despite Madam Jin’s gentle hand around her wrist.

Pity floods Madam Jin’s face. Yanli could scream. “Shh, shhh, shhh, A-Li, it’s alright. Oh, you never could say a cross word about anyone. He can’t hear you. Neither can your brother or that awful Wei Ying. It’s just us. You don’t have to be brave anymore.”

Her pulse is throbbing in her head, her chest, the tips of her fingers, the soles of her feet. “I’m not. A-Yao is kind, he is good, he is--”

“Oh, A-Li, please, don’t you see what Guangshan was doing? It was an insult, him being sent here. He sent you this--this beast instead of taking you in and giving you the protection you deserve and that idiot of a brother of yours accepted and I will never forgive them for it. You were supposed to be--”

A-Yao, Xianxian, and now A-Cheng. No. No more. She will take no more. “Jin-furen,” she says, slowly, staring at the white hills of her clenched knuckles. “Please don’t talk about my husband that way.”

Madam Jin insists, “You don’t want someone like this in your line--he’s probably diseased! Think of your Clan! Think of the children! Your mother tolerated Wei Ying because of his parentage, but she would draw the line at--”

“Jin-furen,” she says, her voice ringing now, raising up her gaze to stare into the woman’s startled eyes. “Please do not ever talk about my husband that way. Or my family.”

Finally, Madam Jin falls into intent silence, watching her from dark circled eyes. As if she’s trying to find a way around her words. Find out how she’s lying or hiding or being bullied into this.

And it makes Yanli burn.

“I love him,” she says with a conviction that sings down through her chest like the Jiang clarity bell that is laid out carefully on the edge of her makeup table, waiting to be worn. Shining.

Because she had been wondering before and is certain now. Because there is no fear or doubt when she says it, because it is as easy as breathing and feels just as true--she loves him, not just because he needs it and deserves it but because he is hers and she is his. And she’s so angry that it’s Madam Jin and not A-Yao who is the first to hear it.

Madam Jin lets out a disbelieving sound through her nose, eyes pitying again. “Oh, A-Li, this isn’t love. Not with someone like him.”

He has never made me feel as small as you are now. And I don’t need to convince you.

Yanli stands, though her head swims and her knees buckle, vision sparkling at the edges with fury and vertigo. Madam Jin also stands, grasping Yanli’s elbows with worry crowding her face when she sways. “Child--”

“Jin-furen, I think you have misunderstood what is going on here. I’m not leaving.” She looks to He Si, who is still by the trunk, watching with huge eyes. “Please put those back.” The maid slowly opens the wardrobe back up without looking away.

“A-Li, be reasonable.” Madam Jin sounds alarmed. “Is it because you are with child? Is that why you’re being so--?”

“I am not.” It is none of her business whether or not they have indulged in their marriage bed or if they ever will. It is absolutely no one’s business at all. This current is coursing through her like a clear river--higher than rage, higher than panic, brighter than the sun. It is fast and her ears ring and she feels flushed and close to collapse but she is finished with this entire conversation. She is the Lady of the Jiang. She is one of Lotus Pier’s hosts. This is her room. She turns her gaze back to Madam Jin, sees her distress and can’t find it in herself to feel guilt. “I thank you for your concern, Jin-furen. But this is a Clan matter.” She keeps her voice chill and polite.

“A-Li, you’re being too kind for your own good.”

“Thank you, furen. I’m not.”

“I’m not going to let you do this to yourself!”

Yanli straightens her spine, lifts her chin, and says with the most arctic voice she can manage without being blatantly rude, “On the contrary, Jin-furen, it is already done. And I have never been so happy.” Before Madam Jin can respond, she continues. “You must be tired from your trip. We will find you a room so that you can recover for your departure tomorrow.”

Madam Jin is standing stiff, staring at her with ill concealed frustration and concern. Then, she announces to the room, “It has been years since I’ve visited Lotus Pier. I will stay a while and make certain that Ziyuan-jie’s home and family are being cared for properly.” Her gaze never leaves Yanli’s face. She looks as though she is planning a kidnapping behind her eyes.

Yanli cannot make her leave; this fury would only go so far when her body is already about to fail and when being obedient and filial were the quenchants of her forging. Madam Jin is her elder and the wife of an allied Sect Leader. And so she merely gives a jerky curtsy and glances aside at He Si. The girl nods and bows, gesturing past herself to the door with a nervous smile. “This way, furen?”

Madam Jin sweeps out and down the hall with stung dignity, head held high. Yanli manages to totter over to the doors on shaky legs to close them, but ends up leaning on one to catch her speeding breath. Her entire face is buzzing, sweat beading at her hairline. There are 2 lotus petals still stirring in the eddies from Madam Jin’s wake in the corridor, their delicate little curves swirling like boats in a breeze. The little things her own auntie had said kept washing over her; the way she had assumed Yanli’s hypothetical pregnancy would have been a problem she had the right to ‘take care of’; the immediate and easy dismissal of Yanli’s truth; insulting her brothers. She feels like throwing up.

The only person she had spoken highly of was who she thinks Yanli is. And within those confines, Yanli finds herself twisting. She has always wanted to be good, to be loved. But not like this, some poor doll in need of a rescue. Not as some prize that had been gifted to the 'wrong man' when all that made her good and whole were her people.

Her people. Madam Jin has just shown herself to no longer be trustworthy enough to be one of them. The severing leaves her watery kneed, but fierce in her conviction. She has lost nearly everything, before. She will never allow herself to even come close again. It is a small price.

“Shijie?”

At Xianxian’s voice, she looks up, finds him striding down the hall, face creased in worry. She manages a weak smile and reaches out when he comes near enough, letting herself lean heavily into his arms with a gust of breath. “Xianxian. I’m alright, I’m just...need to sit down.” Things are wavering, as if they’re underwater, her head pulsing with pain.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Are you sure?” he asks, alarmed as he dabs at her face with his sleeve, bearing her weight as she shuffles back toward her chair. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Here, over here, sit. Was it dinner last night? You don’t usually drink.”

She does sit, more heavily than she would have liked, and closes her eyes as he takes one of her fans from her drawer and crouches before her, wafting cooler air over her face. After a moment to catch her breath, she looks at him and gives a small smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be out with A-Yao?”

He reaches up with his other sleeve to gently blot her forehead again. “We got back a while ago. Yao-ge told me to find you because you were upset. Did I just pass the reason in the hall? Shall I go chase her out for you?” He gave her his impish smirk, the one that makes her laugh. But she hears the weight of the offer behind the joking.

As gratifying as that might be to her right at this moment, with this indignant anger still gushing through her, she knows better than to let herself get swept up in petty revenge. And she knows A-Xian’s temper. Better not tell him at all how much Madam Jin had upset her. She shakes her head and takes his free hand, holding it in her lap like an anchor as her heart slowly calms. “No...no, I’ll take care of it.” She simply breathes for a moment as she settles back, then pets his cheek when she sees him eyeing her doubtfully.

“Shijieeee,” he whines. “How can I help if you don’t tell me what’s wrong? How can you leave Xianxian in the dark?”

There is no need for anyone else to know the vile things Madam Jin had said. She will get better at this, hammering herself into a shield for them--for all of them. “It’s nothing worth repeating, nosy Xianxian.” As she speaks, she pokes his nose gently and he scrunches it up.

“Was it about Yao-gege?”

He knows her too well. She sighs. “It was.”

It’s beginning to dawn on her how blind she has been to A-Yao’s plight. The way no one from the Jin had so much as written to him in the month or so that they have been married, as far as she knew. The way Jin Guangshan had talked around him during the arrangement of their engagement, as if barely worth mentioning. And now Madam Jin had surely never shown him any kindness, if they had ever met. No mother, and his father’s family disdainful, shoving him out as soon as they gained him.

And so who in the world has A-Yao had to stand with him? No one? No one at all? Where are his sworn brothers, Chifeng-zun and Zewu-jun? Where is Nie Huaisang, if they had been so close, as A-Cheng had claimed? The very thought has her stomach rolling. This is unacceptable. She is going to fix this.

“A-Xian, we’re a family,” she says, fiercely, leaning forward to take his face in her hands. “You, A-Cheng, A-Yao, and I. We are never going to be parted from each other. We’re all we have left in the world. We have to be there for each other.”

He blinks, fan freezing. Then he nods, slowly. “Sure, Shijie. Of course. Always.”

“I’m not ever going to let anyone hurt you.”

His smile flicks on. “Wow, whatever Jin-furen said really got you upset--you sure you don’t want me to kick her out for you? I’ll do it, you know, no problem. You know how I feel about upstart Jin’s annoying you.”

His familiar teasing eases her stinging soul until she smiles again, brushing back one of the wisps of hair that frames his face. “I know. But no. Just...just be kind to A-Yao around her. Be respectful.”

“I’m always respectful!”

Tugging his hair, she says, “Of course, of course, that’s why he was afraid you were going to try to push him in the lake.” When he ducks his head with a sneaking grin, she plucks the fan from his fingers and bops his head with it. “I need you to get my letter writing set for me, can you do that?”

He rises, rubbing the spot as if it had hurt--but he eyes her dubiously. “Shouldn’t you sleep, Shijie? Get some food? I can make you soup!”

Her head was indeed still swirling and pounding, and at the mention of food, it twinges--though she’s not certain if it is with hunger or further nausea. So she shakes her head mournfully, sweeping the fan slowly beneath her chin. “I don’t think my stomach could take the spice of your cooking right now, Xianxian. But I would love it if you brought me some tea when you come back.”

And because he is wonderful he does, a pot of chrysanthemum tea that has clearly been chilled by one of his talismans, because it still tastes fresh, fully steeped, and delightfully cool. He also has added a bowl of lotuses floating in water on the tray he sets before her, presumably from his adventure.

“Did you have fun ‘playing’ with A-Yao?” she asks as she unloads the tray onto her desk.

“Oh that,” he rolls his eyes performatively, collapsing on his back onto her bed. “Yeah, we talked a bit, picked those. But he wouldn’t get in the water, even though it was ridiculously hot. Really, Shijie, your husband has no idea how to play!”

“Well,” she smooths the paper out before her with the slim bars of boxwood, carved in relief with cranes and bamboo--another present from A-Yao. “Then you will just have to be patient and teach him how.”

And she begins to write. Xianxian doesn’t last longer than halfway through her first letter before becoming bored and wandering back out with a cursory, “Call me if you need me, Shijie!” Condensation slowly beads on the teapot and cup beside her, and the water of the lotus bowl sparks amber in the sinking sun through her windows. Even though she has only been conscious a scant few hours of the day, she feels exhaustion through every ounce of her body and brain, sleep calling her back to her bed. But she fights it, lights the lantern on her desk, and keeps writing.

Just as she’s finishing the last letter, the door opens. She brightens and turns, mouth open to greet A-Yao--but it’s He Si, slinking in the door, looking shamefaced. “Furen.”

“Oh, A-Si. How did it go?”

Strangely, the girl's eyes well with tears and she falls to her knees. “Furen, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do, I panicked, I just--!”

The edge to her voice is sending spikes of pain through the backs of Yanli’s eyes and she winces, putting a hand to her temple. He Si sees and claps a hand over her mouth, eyes huge. “A-Si, it’s fine, truly. I felt badly having left you with her when she was bound to be upset. Are you alright?”

Giving a watery nod, she clambers back up to her feet, wiping at her eyes. “Yes, furen. She just wanted me gone, so I went and organized the reception of her luggage and maids that came later. I meant to be back sooner,” she adds miserably as she begins to unload the abandoned trunk. “Everything the Jin do is so complicated. Is there anything you need? Something I can get you? Medicine?”

“I’m going back to sleep soon, so maybe something for pain, please. When you’re done, you can take these letters to be delivered and...well….” She adds, shyly. “Maybe my husband? I thought you were him, coming in. I thought...he would have returned by now.”

The maid pauses in her hanging of a lavender robe and thinks. “I believe I saw him in his office working as I was coming back. Should I go get him?”

“Oh, no, if he’s busy, I can wait. I was just...I miss him.”

Timidly, He Si offers her a smile. “If I may...you were so brave today, furen. I never would have been able to talk back to Jin-furen like that. Defending your husband’s name….” She sighs, eyes dreamy. “It was so romantic.”

Yanli hides a smile behind her sleeve. “Ah, well....thank you, A-Si. I don’t think you need to be told that what was said in here is not to be spread to anyone else.”

In response, He Si pretends to close a padlock at the corner of her lips and mimes throwing the key over her shoulder. “Not a word, furen.”

The girl had proved herself to be discrete in her service so far. And so a corner of her heart feels placated. But something is starting to tug from the back of her mind, like she has forgotten something or overlooked it. It niggles there, like a fretful worm, even as He Si finishes returning all her displaced clothing and spirits the letters off. It starts to seep in when she strokes down the smooth lotus petals idly with her finger. A-Xian had said that A-Yao had sent him because she was upset. How had he known? And shouldn’t he have visited her before now, since he had been so worried?

Lotus petals...there had been lotus petals just like these on the floor outside of her room. It was not unheard of, on some windy days, but these had been fresh, as fresh as these very flowers on her desk....Oh. Oh no. Worry clutches her stomach in its sick claws and she hides her face in her hands with a low groan. Her stupid, slow mind. She had just said she would fix A-Yao’s loneliness but then had left him to it without knowing. How much had he heard? Or how little? He Si hadn’t mentioned seeing him in the hall when she left with Madam Jin--had he gone before her declaration? Had he only heard her half hearted attempts of defending before she got her proverbial feet underneath her? Just her horrible, stunned silence?

No wonder he isn’t here with his poor, tender heart. It might just be crushed in his chest with how poorly she had managed to defend him. She hastily tucks her feet into slippers and totters out.

The walk to his office is thankfully fairly short, if dizzying. Two passing servants hurry to support her elbows when they see her hesitating at the courtyard entrance, where there are no more walls to support her. She releases them just outside his door, where she can peer around the crack. At this, she scolds herself for being so childish and cowardly--but she needs to know how to approach. A-Yao is slippery when he’s hurting and she wants him to actually hear what she has to say.

In the warm lantern light of his office, he is stoic and straight backed, reading something on the desk while he himself is unreadable. His eyes are dark, his mouth a straight line. Hidden tension. He doesn’t look shattered and betrayed. But then, he never does. If he has truly heard all that she thinks he has, she would have almost (almost) preferred to find him bereft, to fully see the depth of what sort of devastation had been brought to her love so she can soothe it all. She knocks uncertainly, sees him raise his head, face unchanging. “Come in.”

When she opens the door, he smiles--and for a moment, hope pokes its little head up. Maybe he hadn’t been there at all, maybe she’s mistaken and he had been protected from Madam Jin’s vitriol.

But no. That smile is empty, just like his eyes. There is no warmth, no blooming before her as there has been. He is hiding. He opens his mouth to say something, but she blurts out first, “I’m so sorry, A-Yao.”

He blinks, closes his mouth and settles back, as if curious. “Whatever for?”

“For what you heard.”

That smile twitches at the corner, briefly and she can almost see him weighing the option of pretending, of asking what she means. Instead, the smile widens into dimples and he shakes his head, as if rueful. “I’m the one who should apologize. I never meant to eavesdrop, I was returning after my outing with Wei Wuxian and I happened to have abysmal timing. I promise that I don’t make a habit of listening outside of doors, I would hate for you to think that of me--”

Her heart aches. “A-Yao--”

Doggedly, he continues, smile unwavering. “How are you feeling? I’m surprised to see you up, you said you would sleep most of the day.”

“I did, I just...I had to come and see you.”

“Do you need anything? I can send someone to stand watch by your door all night in case you do. You would only have to call them in.”

That made it sound like he wasn’t planning to come to bed at all. This morning he had to be pushed to leave her side. Is he mistrusting her? Does he think he is unwanted? Is he isolating himself? “No, A-Si is bringing me something that will help me sleep. A-Yao, I need to know, are you alright?”

“Perfectly. Do we know how long we will be accommodating Jin-furen?”

“I...no, hopefully it’s not very long.”

“I shall have to tell the kitchens to make some Lanling delicacies, then.”

“A-Yao…” Her declaration is laying on her tongue, heavy, wanting to be given to him like a treasure. But she sees his shiny eyes and his shiny smile and the way he is doing his deft little flicks of conversation away from himself. Knows that he would probably take it as pity or placation and not truth. He will not believe that she loves him if she tells him now. “How much did you hear?”

“I feel terrible even mentioning it, Jiang-furen, it was a lapse in judgement.”

A pang in her chest, right where the knowledge of love had tolled earlier and even though it is still almost stiflingly warm, even after sun down, she suddenly feels very cold and alone. “Don’t,” she says, softly. She manages to kneel before his desk (he had tensed to rise, to help her, she had seen it) and takes one of his hands where they are placed just so on the desk before him. “Don’t leave.”

He blinks, some of that shell shifting in surprise. “I would never.”

“Don’t pull back like that. Please. I’m A-Li.” She lifts his hand, puts his palm to her cheek. “I’m not Jiang-furen. You know that.”

He is quiet, face...held. Held on, held together. Considering. “A-Li,” he repeats her, not quite a question, not quite a confirmation. His fingertips shift, flexing slightly against her cheek, his thumb gentle at the corner of her eye.

“Yes. A-Li. I want...I want to know how much you heard so I can know how much to explain, I….”

Something flickers in his eyes. “You don’t have to explain,” he says, voice low. “I shouldn’t have listened. It was a private conversation.”

“That’s not at all what I’m worried about.”

“...Then what are you worried about?”

“I...that you have been hurt. That you feel like you somehow need to stay away from me. Because you don’t and--and I don’t want you to.”

He is silent, dark eyes completely opaque in the glow of the lantern light. But his mouth has thinned. Has she struck something? Yanli grasps at this like someone drowning. “A-Yao, what she said was horrible and she is wrong. I don’t agree with a single word. You’re not...I can’t even repeat what she said, but you’re not any of those things. And I never--I never meant to be silent, I just….I’m not good with words and when I’m tired like this...I get...foggy.” Her tongue feels slippery and out of control, like she’s trying to shove the words out as quickly as she can, to get them into this sliver that has opened in him before it closes again. “I don’t know when you left. Did you hear me say that I’ve never been so happy? Did you hear that--” It’s sliding around her mouth, bumping her teeth because she wants him to have it, to be able to hold it. “I said I love you. I love you, A-Yao.” It spills.

And he freezes.

And she knows it’s a mistake.

He smiles with dimples. Closes. Whatever part of him had been listening and believing her was gone, retreating entirely. He turns his hand from her cheek, drawing hers down to the table to squeeze and release. “It’s alright, A-Li. I’m not upset. You don’t have to do that.”

Lie, lie, and lie. “A-Yao, I mean it,” she whispers desperately around the lump in her throat, her fingers in an artless tangle across whatever missives he was reading. “I do.”

His smile widens and his eyes do not join it, over bright and frozen. He swallows and says nothing. Tears crowd her eyes, hot, blurring. She swipes uselessly at them with her sleeve. It’s not that she’s hurt by his reaction. She doesn’t blame him at all. It’s not that she thinks he doesn’t care for her. It’s not rejection, they have both come too far and shared too much for her to believe that, even if she might feel its blade.

It’s just that it’s so much at once; having a horrible pain day and Madam Jin and A-Yao hurt and she can’t take it back and give it to him at the right time and she’s so tired. She had first said it in anger, and now desperation. This isn’t at all what she had wanted.

She’s doing it again. Never enough at the right time to protect those she loves. Never able to voice what was needed. She should have been able to prevent this. His hands are fists in his lap and his lips have whitened, smile now a sick thing that isn’t even trying to be convincing as he stares at the table. “A-Li--” he says in a croak and she has to save him, he has been hurt too much for today.

So she talks over him, trying to school her breath not to catch. “D-do you think you’ll be coming to bed tonight?”

“I have...work.”

Nodding, she begins to push herself up to her feet with great difficulty, now that her legs are pins and water. He’s up in an instant beside her, looking concerned, but the way that he hesitates before touching her breaks her heart--so she reaches out and takes his hand. It’s a moment before she steadies, leaning against his chest and it strikes her again just how nice and warm he smells. She wishes he would come and let her snuggle up to him to sleep. She wishes he had never heard such horrible things.

Does she beg him to stay? Or does she let him come in his own time?

“Will you walk me back?” Yanli asks in a small voice. “I don’t think I can make it on my own...my knees….”

“...Of course.”

The walk back to her room is just as slow as the walk from it. Yanli wishes that it was anything like the lovely drunken stroll they had had the night before--when she had laughed at the stars and basked in his affection. He’s closed up tight, now, and she doesn’t know if she will ever be able to pry him out of his shell again. She has to believe that she can. That his fragile trust wasn’t irreparably broken. All she can do is stand with open arms and hope he knows it’s safe to return to them.

He supports her to their bed and helps her sit. And he pauses, gaze flicking from her eyes to her lips, and for a breathless, hopeful moment, she waits. And then he bows--not a full salute, but an inclining of his head, his hands fisted in his robes. “Goodnight, A-Li.”

Her heart drops down into mush. “Goodnight, A-Yao.”

She will not push him before he’s ready. She can wait until he trusts her words again and she will tell him as many times as he needs. They have time.

They have time.

“A-Yao?”

He pauses at the door, head turning until she can see a sliver of his profile, still and closed.

“Don’t push yourself too hard. I’ll miss you.”

His fingers scrunch up in his dark blue sleeve, the corners of his lip pulling down. But he ducks his head wordlessly and disappears around the doorframe.

Luckily, He Si returns with her pain medicine only minutes after A-Yao has left, because her legs and head are throbbing. Luckier still that the girl seems to have the good sense to not ask why she’s desperately and unsuccessfully stifling tears.

#IT IS COMPLETE #Trauma trauma everywhere and not a healthy coping mechanism in sight #Things were rolling along so smoothly up until now too #peony to lotus #my stuff #my fic #yaoli #Yanli: oh no this person's actions are as good as my fault because I didn't know how to stop them and they hurt my loved ones :(((#JGY: :) [mouth closed screaming]#Also this fic WILL go back to fluffier pastures with some emotional h/c pretty soon--I'm not about wallowing in misunderstanding #They each have trauma and unhealthy tendencies to work out but it's not going to be an agonizingly long time promise

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