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shegatsby · 1 month

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Love Thy Enemy

Summary; Y/N Atreides had always been a stranger to the entire galaxy, her bed wasn’t her bed, her home wasn’t her home due to the fact that she was sent to accompany and be sisters with Irulan. She had limited access to her actual family and over the years they grew distant. She thought she would be like Reverend Mother, alone, yet powerful, and soon she would realize that there was no need of being alone when a wild creature had his eyes on her for a long time.

A/N; HI!!! Its been a long time since I wrote a series but i cannot resist Feyd. English isn''t my first language so go easy on me. There will be smut in the future chapters. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉)

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 1.520K

Chapter 2

Chapter One – ‘’Meeting in flesh and blood’’

‘’Right behind you!’’ Irulan screamed as she was riding her horse to match Y/N’s. Y/N was a skilled rider, the wind in her long hair, she laughed at Irulan’s attempt of winning the race and focused on the finish line. Planet Kaitian which was the second Capital of the Corrino Empire had so many opportunities for Padishah Emperor Shaddam’s daughter Irulan and his beloved Y/N. The planet had forests, lakes and rivers so Y/N didn’t miss much of her home planet Caladan, she sometimes tossed and turned in her bed thinking of her family members but she was taken to Kaitain years ago. Irulan and Y/N were the same age and when Shaddam couldn’t have more children he asked Duke Leto Atreides to bring his first born daughter to be sisters with Irulan. Leto tried to find so many ways to refuse Padishah Emperor yet he was the ultimate power in the entire galaxy and Leto had no choice but to give his daughter Y/N. She was one years old when the arrangements were made. She could see her family at political events or celebrations, she had been in Caladan few times yet she felt stranger to the planet and she felt stranger to Kaitain as well. She has always wondered if, by any chance one day she would feel the sensation of ‘’being at home’’ nowhere and no one was her home. Maybe this was her fate.

When she finished the race her horse calmed down, Irulan followed behind. ‘’I swear you’re cheating and I am going to find out.’’ She was joking of course, Irulan and Y/N had a close relationship yet Y/N never forgot that she was a princess and there for needed to be treated more cautiously than the other lords and ladies of the galaxy. Together they hopped off of their horses, ‘’Walk with me.’’ Irulan’s voice was soft yet direct. Her short blonde hair got messy, hem of her white long dress covered in mud, she was carefree when she was with Y/N.

Y/N had the color of her house Atreides. Green. Her green dress felt so light, they were walking on the grass for few minutes in silence., Y/N knew that Irulan wanted to say something.

Palace’s gardens were evergreen, gardeners achieved perfection. Gardens smelled of flowers at any time of the year. Irulan stopped in her tracks, they turned to soak in the scenery before their eyes, the entire planet was under their feet. Servants’ chatters could be heard, no matter what they were never alone. ‘’Soon my father will throw a ball for me.’’ She looked distant, Padishah Emperor Shaddam never had parties without a solid reason, it must be political. Before Y/N could ask Irulan explained simply, ‘’I will meet the man I have to marry.’’ Y/N knew one day that she had to marry someone in order to protect the power they had over the galaxy but she never thought the date would come this quick. Y/N had already a lover, only Irulan knew because he was from a lower house. She had a childish hope that one day she would marry him.

Irulan laughed in sarcasm, ‘’How I wish to be you, sister!’’ it was obvious that Irulan dreaded the situation.

There were no arrangements for Y/N and she was free for a long time or so she thought.

‘’I trust in Emperor’s decision. He won’t wed you to someone unworthy.’’ She tried to encourage her dear friend but Irulan stood there like a stone. ‘’Let’s head back.’’ Y/N said. A hollow silence followed them to the dining hall. Emperor couldn’t attend because he was dealing with preparations of the ball. The white marble fire place was lit and orange colors danced in the room, the dining hall was adorned with lavish furniture and a long wooden table. The wood came from Giedi Prime, it was called Pilingitam.

Irulan seemed troubled, ‘’What’s on your mind sister?’’ Y/N asked. She was concerned for her, if she knew that she had to be concerned for herself…

She watched Irulan’s palm slithering on the Pilingitam table,’’ Majority of the houses will be at the ball,’’ she looked up to meet Y/N’s curious eyes, ‘’The Harkonnens will be too.’’ Y/N’s blood ran cold, she remembered the times where Emperor used to take them to Giedi Prime for political reasons. They had to sit and watch the games in the black and white arena. Gladiators killing each other…

She remembered a boy with pure blue eyes and full lips, ‘’I will fight there too when I’m old enogh.’’ He was sitting next to Y/N in his black outfit. He closed the tiny gap between him and Y/N, and he spoke quietly, ‘’Will you come and watch me?’’ he was speaking as if killing was a normal act. His knee touching Y/N’s, she remembered distinctly that the boy interlaced his little finger with hers. They were ten and yet Y/N could see Baron Vladimir’s influence on his poor nephew.

Y/N didn’t need to go back in her memories to detest the Harkonnens. Their families were in and out of war for centuries. Thankfully for a long time peace was kept. ‘’I will manage.’’ She insured Irulan with a genuine smile yet it wasn’t enough. Y/N brushed it off, after dinner she had mental training anyways.

Until the day of the ball she corresponded with her lover, Pyramus

He was a tall man with dark curls and jet black eyes. His beard always tickled her face.

She spent her days training and accompanying Irulan. Irulan grew restless as the they approached.

One by one the ships started to arrive, one could look up to the busy blue sky and see. Y/N’s family arrived early to see her and spend time with her. Lady Jessica, her mother, immediately questioned her about Y/N’s Bene Gesserit training, Duke Leto was happy to see her daughter once again. Paul, her one year younger brother gave her a tight hug.

They were united once more, she escorted them to their quarters in the palace and retrieved to get ready for the event. She wore a green dress with emeralds on her chest and waist, her maid braided her hair in Atreides style. She also wore an emerald tiara. Paul Atreides knocked on her door to escort her to the ball room, he looked sharp in his dark green suit. ‘’You seem nervous.’’ He questioned, -Y/N knew that her mother was teaching Bene Gesserit ways to her brother,- yes she was nervous because she was going to be reunited with her lover. ‘’Too many people.’’ She responded. Servants were running with food and wine on the corridors, music could be heard from a distance. Members of houses were having conversations about spice, politics, etc.

The doors of the room were open, inside was lit by the yellow warm lights coming from glowglobes, guests laughing and drinking. Tallest member was Baron Vladimir due to hanging in the air, eating like a mad man but she ignored him.

Her eyes searching for her lover, so blind to an outsider who got her under his radar.

Paul and Y/N walked to the table of their house, ‘’You look lovely my girl.’’ Duke Leto kissed her daughter’s forehead, it didn’t go unnoticed by a certain someone. He was a snake, silently slithering close to his prey.

Padishah Emperor Shaddam and his daughter Princess Irulan were announced and slowly entered the room, everyone bowed. They took their seats and Emperor greeted everyone, thanked them for coming to his feast and he also announced that he would choose the life partner of his daughter among his unmarried male guests. Duke Leto found himself watching his daughter with sad eyes, he wondered if he could see her wedding one day. Would she be happy and fortunate like him? Only time would tell but he prayed quietly.

It was time to dance, couples held each others’ hands and marched to the dance floor, Paul excused himself and went to ask the princess to dance with him. Leto happily asked Jessica to dance with him, Y/N wished that they were officially married but to keep his position as a powerful bachelor, other houses worked for him hoping that one day Duke Leto would marry one of their daughters. It was a well played game of chess on Atreides’s part. Y/N watched Irulan and Paul talking silently and dancing.

Soon Pyramus came with a huge smile. He kissed her hand and winked at her, ‘’My beautiful lady, would you be so kind and accompany me on the dance floor?’’ she tried so hard not to grin, ‘’Of course my lord.’’ He was in his house’s color, yellow. Hand in hand they mingled among the other couples, ‘’I’ve missed you.’’ He whispered. ‘’Not here.’’ She used the voice on him and his mouth closed in a second. Only their eyes talked.

They heard a rough cough and turned to face the intruder, Y/N had no idea that she would meet him in flesh and blood, ‘’Feyd…’’

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bennyden · 3 months

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User hamatoanne's fic plagiarism

Hello, I’m the author of The Android, an AO3 Robot OC x Reader fic that was plagiarized by hamatoanne on Tumblr in her Aemond x Reader story, System Error. You can read my AO3 post for more info about the issue. As you can tell by the timestamps on AO3 and the screenshots of her now-deleted story, mine was posted months before hers. I didn’t want to make this public, but it appears Anne has not learned her lesson and is grasping at straws to keep her readers in the dark. She’s been deleting her stories to hide evidence of her plagiarism. I think you deserve to know who your beloved writer gets her words from.

I don’t know this fandom, but I’ve heard you guys can get pretty crazy. Control yourselves. The only one who needs to take responsibility is Anne. Don’t send hate to her mutuals. Don’t send hate to her followers. Don’t stalk or harass or dox anyone. Read through this post and form your opinion.

First bunch of screenshots: A side-by-side comparison of her story (now deleted) and mine (still up and linked above). I took screenshots in advance in case something like this happened so I’d have proof if I needed it. I decided to compare the first chapter of my fic with the first part of hers. I could do the whole thing, but I’m a busy college student and I think just a quick skim of the pictures below is enough for people to see the extent of her plagiarism.

I have screenshots of her entire post, but I don’t want to make this too long to scroll through and Tumblr posts cap at 30 pictures. I’m assuming some of you have already read her story multiple times, so you’re familiar with the words. If you haven’t, then I should warn you that the fic that she plagiarized is very not SFW. I’ll let you know where the not SFW content starts so you can skip it.

On the left is my story. On the right is what Anne posted (and took down).

Not SFW content starts here.

Not SFW content over.

Finally, I DM’ed her. This was just before I posted to The Android on AO3 about the situation. To summarize, I wrote about how I would go about the situation and how hurt I was about a bigger creator stealing from me. I admit, I was too kind and too much of a pushover. I just wanted things to go quietly. She later replied with this and deleted her fic immediately.

“I was completely stupid for not giving your credit” Why do they always play dumb? You copy that much and can’t even think to put my name there? You credit the artist but not the person who basically wrote your whole story? The story that gave you over 3k notes, so much more clout than any of your other stories has earned you? Total BS.

“I had every intention of giving credit where it was due…But I forgot” Right. Sure. Of course. If she felt guilty about plagiarizing, she would not be so shameless to accept praise like she did. I have examples of where she happily thanked people for complimenting "her work”, but didn’t want to bring other blogs into this, especially since they were none the wiser to her plagiarism. Ironically enough, someone even gifted her a badge for being a good writer the day she replied to my DM. She tagged that post “#a breath of fresh air on a horrible day”. I wonder why her day was horrible. Whoever gifted her that badge deserves their money back.

My thoughts when approaching her DMs were:

If she wants to keep up the story? Fine, just edit the post to say that it was heavily influenced by my story and leave a link to the original. I don’t mind. The readers will see that, click my story, compare the two, and think, “Hey, that’s not just inspiration! She plagiarized!” and her downfall would start from there without me having to do anything.

If she ignored me and didn’t fulfill that request, i would take matters into my own hands and expose her on her own post. Even more damaging.

In the end, she chose to delete the post entirely, getting rid of the evidence and her clout. I actually didn’t expect this outcome since I thought she’d like the clout too much, but I guess she decided this route would be the least damaging to her reputation. Everything was swept under the rug for now.

And like a fool, I said thanks and went on with my life. But I decided to keep track of her. Because while I was too cowardly to do anything, I knew there would always be someone in the crowd who would take action. And it seems like people did.

After reading the supportive comments from readers of my fic, I started to regret how lightly I handled it. I wanted to be mature even though I wanted her entire blog to fall and her reputation taken away. But I didn’t want to be a “bad person”. I wondered if I should keep pursuing the issue. I realized that my overly-people-pleasing behavior might lead her to continue her ways. I decided to speak out because others might’ve had their works taken by her and that my silence wasn’t helping.

Next is her post, now deleted (I wonder why), about how she’s been so sad and how she’s going to be deleting her old stories and starting over. I’m likely not the only one she’s plagiarized from if she’s deleting other stories. At the time, I only saw supportive replies and reblogs on it, but maybe she deleted it after people started calling her out? Idk.

She’s playing the victim game pretty hard. Acting as a kind underdog even though she’s the big creator who stole from a nobody like me. I know I said on my AO3 update that people shouldn’t send hate to her (and even censored her name after she deleted her story) but I guess I’m a little happy that people sought to call her out on her shit. I wish I was as brave.

Later, a nice person (we’ll call her Bob because she asked to remain anonymous) DM’ed me directly with a kind message. After seeing this, I decided I should take action and expose all of this since Anne obviously hasn’t learned and wants to keep it all hidden. Bob confirmed that I’m not the only victim of Anne’s plagiarism either.

Bob asked that I not use screenshots of our DM’s so here is a transcription of the important parts:

“Hey! I just found out that one of your fics had been plagiarized by someone in the HOTD community. First of all, I am tremendously sorry that happened…”

(For Bob’s privacy, I won’t explain her relation to Anne. Just know that Anne has refused to message her back).

“I definitely think you should make a blog post. with side by side comparison. I am still completely gobsmacked that she pilfered your entire story word for word and changed a few things. We found evidence that she had plagiarized multiple stories. Not just yours. We found out her mermaid!aemond fic was entirely stolen as well as a few others. She has quietly deleted them and hasn't spoken on them since.”

“We surmised that she takes ‘underrated’ fics from different fandoms and changes the name and that's it. It's almost like she believed that stealing from other fandoms was going to draw less attention than stealing directly from the HOTD fandom.”

So if you noticed that one of your favorite Aemond fics is gone, now you know why.

‘But benny, she still wrote her own sentences and just changed it around to fit aemond!’

Fanfiction is transformative. You know what the source material is and who created it. You know you’re not reading a copied and pasted text with maybe some words and sentences switched around. This wasn’t fanfic. According to Google, plagiarism is defined as, “the practice of taking someone else's work or ideas and passing them off as one's own.” (See what I did there? I credited Google. Is it so hard to give credit where credit is due?) She copied people's work, didn't give credit to the source material, and claimed it as her own. That's plagiarism.

I wouldn’t have had a problem if she properly credited me and linked the original story. I wouldn’t have had a problem if she didn’t blatantly copy and paste the entire text and premise. I wouldn’t even require getting permission to write a story based on my fic if she had satisfied those conditions.

She’s a 27-year-old grown-ass woman with enough free time to simp over some blond guy with an eyepatch. I’m a 21-year-old college student who only posts fics during the summer and winter because that’s when school’s on break. I’m too busy writing lab reports and essays to be an active writer online. The fact that she can disrespect smaller writers so tremendously should not be acceptable. The fact that she also deceived her devoted readers and friends about her "works" is also unacceptable.

What can you do about this? To be honest, I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had to deal with this before. I want to be a good person and say, “Don’t send any hate to Anne, don’t harass her. Just unfollow her and stop supporting her.” But that obviously hasn’t taught her anything. She’ll just make a half-assed apology, maybe go on hiatus, maybe disappear, and then pop up again under another name to steal from another creator. If you have any ideas on how to deal with this, please tell us.

She can try to block me or delete her posts, but the evidence is out and the damage is done. Anything she does to hide this mess will only make it worse for her. I’d appreciate people bringing more awareness to this issue, especially if it can reach the eyes of others she’s taken from.

Thanks for reading.

#aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #reader fanfiction #prince aemond #plagiarism #android x reader #robot x reader #ao3 #aemond and reader smut

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courtforshort15 · 1 year

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A Matter of Opinion

Pairing: Matt Murdock x femReader

Word Count: 2,800

Summary: A tale of disagreements, egging each other on, and a general disregard of the other’s opinion.

Trigger warning: So much fluff it might as well be cotton candy

Masterlist

“So what you’re saying is…you don’t want to be with me anymore.”

From across the room, Foggy snorts.

The gloating smirk falls from Matt’s face, quickly replaced by a look of confusion. “What? That’s not at all–”

“That’s what you literally just said to my face.”

Matt scoffs, waving his hand in dismissive action. “I definitely didn’t say anything of the sort.”

“You told me you don’t trust my opinion, Matt,” you say with narrowed eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. You stare him down, knowing that while he can’t see it, he can certainly feel it. With a mild look of alarm crossing his face, Matt leans back on his left foot as if the force of your stare actually unsettles his balance.

He clears his throat. “Well, not when it comes to–”

“Ah ah ah,” you cut him off before he finishes his sentence. He rolls his shoulders, standing up straight, files of case notes at his fingertips from where he stands next to the table. Matt tilts his head, still looking incredibly confused. It takes everything in you to not walk out of the room and leave him to sweat it out. “You either trust it or you don’t.”

“Come on, you know that’s not at all how I meant it.”

“How are we jumping from not trusting you to not wanting to be with you?” he asks as his face shifts to one that’s a mix of incredulity and slight anxiety, voice growing steadily louder. He takes a small step forward, frowning when you take a step backwards.

“And if you don’t trust my opinion, then how can you trust me?”

“So you admit that you don’t trust me.”

“I didn’t say-”

“And if you don’t trust me, then why would you want to be with me?”

Matt groans and tosses his head back in a gesture of God help me. “Sweetheart–”

“Foggy,” you call to the other man in the room, not bothering to shift your head in his direction, eyes still locked on Matt’s tense form in front of you as you ignore the pet name. “Did you or did you not just hear Matthew say he doesn’t trust my opinion?”

Foggy snorts again, the sound of rustling paper sliding throughout the office as he picks up his folder. He doesn’t bother looking up as he shakes his head in amusement. “Nope. Not getting in the middle of this.”

“Come on, Foggy,” Matt says, his tone bordering on exasperation. “You gonna let her tear me down this like this?”

“Not getting in the middle of it,” Foggy repeats with a wide grin that suggests he’s enjoying watching Matt be put on the spot. Foggy moves into your field of vision as he noisily slaps a hand on Matt’s shoulder. “I love you, but she scares me. I’m playing Switzerland on this one.”

“I’ll get in the middle of it,” Karen cheerfully chirps from the conference room table as she picks up her own laptop and begins gathering her stuff to take back to her office. “I’m siding with your girlfriend on this one, Matt. You threw yourself under your own damn bus when you told her that you had better taste than her.”

Matt groans loudly as you send a bright smile her way, catching her wink and flashing one of your own. “Thanks, Karen. Your tab is on me tonight.”

“I did not say that,” Matt says as he runs an agitated hand through his dark hair. You bite your bottom lip in amusement, always secretly pleased at the way you’re able to rile him up, well aware that he’ll get you back at some point this evening. “You all know that I–”

You interrupt him with a smirk. “You said, and I quote, “Why would we go to that awful pizza place she likes when I have a much better option for us? You know I have a better sense of taste.””

One masculine and one feminine set of laughter match each other from the other side of the table, further fueled by the pained look on Matt’s face as his words are shot back at him. Karen and Foggy are helpless to stop the giggles at their friend’s misfortune. He flounders for a second as he flushes, and you briefly consider taking it easy on him.

“I didn’t mean it to sound that way,” Matt tells you, his tongue sliding out as he ran it over his lips, the telltale sign of anxiety. “I just thought that we should go to the restaurant off of 37th. I’ve walked by it quite a bit since it opened and it smells amazing. So much better than–”

All sympathy for the devil leeches out of you with a snap. “I dare you to finish that statement.”

“I’ve been to where she’s talking about, Matt,” Karen pipes back in. She finishes picking her stuff up from the table, curled blond hair sliding over her shoulders as she flashes a smile your way. “It’s pretty good.”

“No offense, Karen,” Matt says with a shake of his head, red lenses glinting from the office light, “but you’re not from New York, so you don’t know what good pizza is.”

Karen raises a perfectly arched eyebrow and you can’t help the cackle of glee that escapes your lips as Matt digs himself further into a hole. “You really want to go there, Matt? I think you’re sadly lacking in allies right now.”

“You chose her side, Karen. We’re not allies right now anyway.”

“Maybe not,” she says with a happy shrug of her shoulders, lips splitting her pretty face open in laughter. Her blue eyes glint in a sense of amusement that barely hides her sharp ability to tear a man down a few pegs. It’s one of your favorite things about her. She crosses the room with her laptop tucked in one arm, folders in the other hand. “But it doesn’t mean we’re enemies. Just take back what you said about her opinion on pizza places sucking.”

“She’s from Chicago!” Matt growls in frustration. “Of course it does.”

You throw your head back with a loud laugh, enjoying the look of your flustered boyfriend, finding the conversation too funny to even be offended. “New York doesn’t own the market on good pizza, Matthew. Why can’t you just–”

“There’s just something about Chicago pizza that isn’t right,” he cuts you off with a look that suggests aggravation. He shakes his head emphatically, hands on his hips. “The ingredients are wrong, the spices and sauces just don’t match together all that well. It’s a travesty.”

“You act like you know all there is to know about food and what things go together and what don’t.”

“I do!” Matt cries out as he suddenly throws his hands in the air. “I literally do. And even without my senses I’d know that nothing beats New York pizza.”

“So arrogant,” Karen quips. “Can’t bring yourself to admit that others simply have different tastes than you.”

“Karen, you eat your pizza with ranch. You really have no room to talk.”

“Pizza with ranch isn’t bad,” you throw in, sending Karen a wink as you shrug your shoulders in a display of casual nonchalance. “I’ve been known to enjoy it a time or two.”

Matt turns to the other man in the room, one hand gesturing towards his friend in frustration of being all but ganged up on. You can’t help but snort at the motion that seems entirely too desperate for the situation. “Foggy, back me up here.”

Foggy laughs loudly. It’s the kind of laugh that offers no pity or effort to console, just a laugh that tells the room that Matt is on his own. “No can do, my dear friend. I am an equal opportunist when it comes to pizza. A pizza connoisseur, if you will.”

“You all are crazy.”

“Says the man who only eats ice cream if it’s plain vanilla,” you say as you raise your eyebrows, watching the man. His mouth drops in a sharp sense of betrayal, as if you were giving away a private secret that no one else in the room is privy to, though you know both Foggy and Karen are completely aware of his extremely picky eating.

“I eat sorbets, too,” he says defensively, hands back on his hips. From behind red lenses, you see his eyes narrow.

“Sorbet is not ice cream.”

Matt tilts his chin up. “It is a sweet and tasty treat that you put in a freezer and later eat with a spoon. It counts.”

“Ice cream is dairy based. Sorbet is fruit based. Big difference.”

“I’d hardly–”

“You’re so lucky you’re pretty, Matt,” you coo suddenly, taking a few steps in his direction and reaching up to touch his heated cheeks with the back of your fingers. “You had a late night last night, didn’t come to bed until three. I can tell you’re tired and not thinking straight. Maybe we should go home instead of going to dinner so my beautiful Matty can take a nap.”

“Isn’t this a form of gaslighting?” Foggy whispers to Karen in the background.

Matt gently pushes you away with a growl of annoyance even as his lips twist up in the beginning form of a smirk. “I’m fine. It’s not my fault your pizza sucks.”

“That’s super rude of you, Matthew. I hope you’re prepared to sleep on the couch tonight.”

The smirk falls. “Sweetheart–”

“You two fight like an old married couple,” Foggy interjects from the other side of the room, finally on his way out of the conference space, mouth tilted in a grin that doesn’t bother hiding her extreme amusement. “Just propose already.”

You flush, eyes wide as you give Foggy and Karen a look that’s both panicked and pointed. “We haven’t even talked about marriage yet–”

“Shut up, Foggy,” Matt hisses as you’re talking, a severe frown aimed at his friend. “You know the ring is still being sized, so I’m not–”

Your mouth clamps shut as his words hit you, effectively cutting off the rest of your response to Foggy and Karen, and Matt immediately freezes when he realizes what he’s said. The energy in the room abruptly shifts, silence sharply cutting through the laughter and teasing argument. You don’t turn to him just yet, instead letting your round eyes take in the hand that Karen had slapped over her mouth and the pale face of Foggy who clearly hadn’t expected Matt to respond the way he did. Between Karen’s shocked face and Foggy’s look of guilt, it’s enough to cause you to swallow sharply, goosebumps lighting up and down your skin.

Matt clears his throat softly, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice how tense his form has gone, his white dress shirt straining slightly at his shoulders as he holds himself stiffly. “Can you—can you give us some privacy?”

Foggy and Karen leave with jerky nods of their heads and exit the conference room without a word, though they both take multiple glances back. When they’re gone, you finally manage to turn your face back towards Matt’s, taking in the flushed skin and eyes that have suddenly lost their glasses. He doesn’t speak, though he opens his mouth and closes it a few times as if he has something to say but doesn’t know how to say it.

The silence is almost nerve-wracking, so you put an end to it.

“So…” you trail off, raising your eyebrows as you study him fondly, eyeing the way his hand twitches at his side, glasses held in a tight grip. “There’s a ring?”

Matt nods his head slowly, tongue poking out to run slighty over his bottom lip. His eyes flutter closed for a quick moment before he takes a deep breath and snaps them back open. “Yes. There’s a ring.”

A wide smile blooms across your face, and you’re unable to reign in the joy that pulses through you. “Is there…a specific question that’ll go with that ring?” you ask as your hand reaches out to finger one of the buttons on his collared shirt, your tone teasing. The action is instinctive, one you often use to catch Matt’s attention and encourage to step forward closer, and it receives the same response as always. Matt’s lips shift into a soft smile, the one he so often gives you in these quieter, more intimate moments, and all at once, the nerves fall away.

“Of course there’s a question,” he responds with a brief nod of his head, the apprehension in his eyes shifting to something warm in his blank gaze. “Is there an answer that you might have?”

You tilt your head in consideration and pretend to ponder the question. Matt’s eyes blindly trail over your face, a barely noticeable hitch in his breath betraying a mind that, despite the small grin lighting up his face, is on edge in anticipation. “Yes.”

Matt raises an eyebrow at your one-word answer. “Yes, as in there’s an answer? Or yes, as in…you’re saying yes?”

“What do you think it is?”

He tosses his head back with a groan. “Sweetheart, don’t play with me. What are you–”

“Y–”

“If I might interrupt for just a moment,” Foggy’s voice calls out from his office, completely oblivious to the fact that he had just cut off your answer to Matt’s question, leaving the two of you standing close to each other with Matt growling in annoyance under his breath even as your lips curve into an amused smile. “As best man, I’d like to offer the suggestion that pizza not be served at your wedding. And–”

The conference room door is quickly slammed shut in a brief flash of long blond hair as Karen opens her mouth to yell at the other man. “Shut the hell up, Foggy, before I cut your tongue off and make you mime your opening argument to the jury.”

Foggy makes a startled choking noise of horror before he manages to squeak out, “yes, ma’am.”

When Matt’s satisfied there will be no more interruptions, his head turns back towards yours from where he had been glaring daggers in Foggy’s general direction. A small smile tilts the corner of his mouth up as his body relaxes, no doubt having heard your mouth open with a yes before Foggy rudely had cut off the full word.

“You were saying?” he asks as he steps further into you and presses the heat of his body into yours until all you can feel is warmth.

You send him a teasing grin before it changes abruptly into a false frown. “You know, I actually just lost my train of thought,” you say in mock sadness. “What were we–”

“Holy mother of God,” he mutters under his breath. “Why do you have to make everything so difficult?”

“If you’re referring to our pizza argument, you’ll recall that I never dissed New York pizza the way you dissed Chicago pizza. You’re the one who—”

“Shut up,” he huffs in barely restrained amusement, reaching out to settle his hands on your shoulders in a failed attempt to change the tone of the conversation. Eventually he just gives in, eyes lighting up as he shakes his head. “I’m trying to ask you to marry me.”

“Technically, you haven’t actually asked any–”

“Marry me.”

“Honey, that’s still not a question. That’s a demand.”

Matt’s hands pull your face to his, angling your head up so that he can press his lips to yours as swiftly as possible before pulling away just as quickly. “Will.” Another kiss. “You.” A nip to your bottom lip. “Marry.” An open mouthed kiss as you giggle against his lips. “Me?”

You can’t help the laughter that bubbles out, Matt’s matching grin the prettiest thing you’ve ever seen as he pulls away. It’s a question you don’t even have to consider the answer to, but that doesn’t mean you won’t tease him for it. “Of course I will, but–”

Dark eyes widen drastically. “There’s a but?”

“Hush, Matthew. You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

Matt gives you a frown that is far too exaggerated to be actually offended. “I can’t believe your answer to my marriage proposal was yes, but.”

You roll your eyes fondly as you reach out to tap his cheek in soothing matter that feels more like a teasing gesture. “Yes, I will marry you, but on one condition.”

He openly gapes for a second before he narrows his eyes in suspicion. “Name it.”

“We ditch these losers and have our own naked pizza party at home.”

“I am NOT a loser!”

“Yes you are, Foggy.”

The smile on Matt’s face is nothing short of blinding, even as the other two object in the background. “I happily agree to these terms, but from the place I suggested.”

“You’re prepared to die on that hill, aren’t you?”

He laughs, leaning down to rest his forehead on yours. “You gave your condition, I gave mine.”

“You drive a steep bargain, Counselor, but I accept.”

#daredevil #matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #foggy nelson #karen page #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction #reader fanfiction #matt murdock x fem reader #daredevil x fem reader

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startwelve · 2 months

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🎨The muse

Benedict Bridgerton x fem reader

Synopsis: Benedict asks his maid to be his muse...

Warning: Slight smut and English is not my first language.

The day was rainy, though the sun persisted in the sky. The room echoed with the pitter-patter of rain against the windowpane and the soft brush of the brush against the canvas. Benedict held his breath as his eyes glided between the painting and his model.

"Could you stay still for a moment?" he raised an eyebrow.

"My apologies. It's the first time I've posed for such a purpose," the model responded.

"I understand."

The night before, Benedict ventured into the servants' quarters and requested the youngest and most beautiful, Emily, to be his muse. Though she initially refused, she eventually agreed to the offer of generous remuneration. Now, she sat on an elegant sofa, clad in a dress she could never own… All hidden from the Bridgerton family and society to avoid any scandal.

Benedict's eyes roamed over Emily, from her reddish hair to her pale shoulders, and back again. Her attire, too revealing for his taste; but the canvas would not judge.

Benedict dipped his brush into a jar of paint and began to apply colors to the canvas with swift strokes, a faint smile dancing on his lips as he worked.

He continued painting, his brush moving skillfully to capture the essence of his model. He paused for a moment, furrowing his brow slightly.

-"Miss Emily, could I request a few minutes of your time after our session concludes?" There was a pause, then he continued. "I mean, after I've finished my representation of you?"

She frowned, not understanding the implication.

-"Oh, yes, of course."

-"Thank you, Miss Emily." Benedict's eyes returned to the canvas, his concentration unwavering. After a few more minutes, he finally set down his brush and took a step back to admire his work. "Would you mind observing my progress so far, Emily?" he inquired.

-"Yes, may I move now?"

Benedict smiled.

-"Of course, you may move now." He reclined on a table, waiting for Emily to leave the sofa. He couldn't wait to show her how he had captured her beauty on canvas.

She rose and approached the canvas to gaze upon it. Upon seeing it, she was astonished.

-"Is it me?" she whispered.

Benedict nodded.

-"Yes, it is," he replied, with a slight blush on his cheeks. "I think it looks… lovely," he added. "I've tried to portray you as you are, as you appear before my eyes."

Her cheeks colored, and she thanked him in a whisper, while nervously toying with the fabric of her dress.

Benedict smiled gently but remained silent. He noticed how Emily's dress had caught his attention, and he couldn't deny that it had a similar effect on him.

Clearing his throat, Benedict resumed the conversation: "Miss Emily… you are an extraordinary woman; I truly enjoyed this session… But I also must complete this portrait. Would you be willing to pose for me again?"

She nodded, though some doubts lingered in her mind.

"Let me ask you a question," Emily said.

"Of course," Benedict responded, intrigued to know where her question was leading.

"Why did you choose me, a maid, as your model when there are high society ladies who would be willing to do so?"

A gentle smile appeared on Benedict's face.

"Ah, of course," he replied slowly. "It's because I'm an artist, Emily, and I see you as you are. High society ladies have been pampered all their lives, so their appearances are somewhat artificial, and their minds often lack substance," he explained. "But a maid like you, a simple and hardworking woman, possesses an authenticity in your beauty and personality that I find inspiring."

She didn't know what to respond, and they both fell silent, creating an atmosphere between them until she asked:

"May I ask another question?"

Benedict nodded and encouraged her to continue.

"Of course, ask, Emily," he said, with a slight smile on his lips as he looked at her.

"Where does this beautiful dress come from?"

Benedict chuckled softly as he watched Emily, the picture of innocence and wonder.

"This dress," he said, walking to the dresser behind her. "It belongs to my lovely sister, Daphne…" he said casually.

Emily looked at him in disbelief, unable to believe it.

"If your sister found out I borrowed one of her dresses, she would dismiss me."

Benedict put a finger to his lips, asking Emily to keep the secret.

"No one needs to find out, alright, Emily?" he asked, looking at her as if his life depended on her answer. She nodded, and Benedict let out a deep sigh, releasing the tension that had been building up unnoticed. "Thank you, Emily," he said, with gratitude in his tone. I assure you I won't allow anything to happen to you. Now, shall we continue working on this portrait?" he asked, approaching the easel to resume painting.

She settled on the sofa, and Benedict began painting again, adding shadows and lights to the canvas. He had grown accustomed to seeing Emily on the sofa, in her dress.

After a few minutes of intense concentration, Benedict reclined again on the table and stared fixedly at the canvas, with Emily's figure in front of him.

"Emily," he began, addressing her. "May I ask you a question?"

"Yes."

"Would you be willing to be my muse… not just today, but for… a long time?" he said, shifting his gaze back to Emily's eyes once more.

His words hinted at something more, something that transcended the simple request to be a muse. However, perhaps Emily didn't care about what lay behind this proposal. After all, Emily was quite delighted with the dress she was wearing…

"I… your muse?"

"Yes, Emily," Benedict began, his tone becoming more confident with each word. "I want you to be my muse for all my paintings, as long as you allow me," he said, looking deeply into Emily's eyes. "Your beauty is extraordinary and inspiring, Emily, and I want to capture it in every work I do. And if you permit me, I'll paint you every day," he added, waiting for her response.

"I don't know what to say."

"Just say 'Yes,'" Benedict whispered, taking slow steps towards her.

As the wind howled outside and the rain beat against the windows, Benedict's eyes met Emily's, while he held his breath, awaiting her response.

"Yes…"

When Emily's voice broke the silence that had settled in the room, Benedict's heart beat fast. He took another step towards Emily. He couldn't believe that she had agreed to pose for him day after day. The idea excited him tremendously.

"I'll paint you with all my heart," he promised finally, with his eyes fixed on Emily's.

She smiled softly.

Benedict sat beside her, and a hand rested on her cheek. He leaned in slowly and kissed her lips. Benedict's fingers slid to the buttons of Emily's dress as he moved closer. He unbuttoned one, then another button, before allowing the soft folds of the dress to slide off her body, setting her free.

Benedict's eyes continued to admire Emily's body as he bit his lower

lip. He wouldn't stop exploring until he had seen every inch of that body, and then… he would paint it, over and over again…

Benedict's hand moved to Emily's arm, his fingers tracing lines along her skin. She looked away, her cheeks flushed.

"Look at me," he said, gently stroking her chin.

The heat between them was palpable.

Benedict's finger traced the line of Emily's bare shoulder, smiling as he saw how the light made her skin glow. His eyes traveled every inch of her body.

Benedict's hands returned to Emily's chin, forcing her to look at him.

She couldn't believe what was happening between them, and a feeling of desire took hold of her.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, with his eyes fixed on Emily's lips as he spoke.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Emily…" Benedict whispered. "I want to hear something more than your 'thank yous'…" he said, his eyes fixed on her lips. As he spoke, his fingers moved to the button of her corset and began to unfasten it.

Benedict watched as Emily's cheeks flushed, while her body slowly became exposed to him. As the corset fell, he allowed his hands to gently return to her cheeks, her hair now falling on both sides of her face.

"You're breathing so fast," Benedict whispered, running his fingers gently along her collarbone. "Let me calm your heartbeat, Emily…"

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, he emitted a soft sigh.

Benedict smiled as he used his hands to gently push Emily back onto the sofa. With her bare back against the sofa, Benedict leaned forward and began to kiss her neck softly, before moving his lips to kiss the soft part of her shoulder.

He could feel Emily's heart beating between his fingers. "I believe…" he whispered, taking a second, before speaking again. "I believe I enjoy making you feel this way, Emily."

Emily's breath became heavier the longer they spent together, and a slight blush covered her body, as the heat between them was enough to fill the room.

He continued to trace his fingers along Emily's body, while kissing every part of it. Slowly, but surely, they were heading where both minds were thinking.

As the sound of the rain outside faded away in the midst of the pleasure between them, their breaths became one.

Emily's arms wrapped around Benedict as their lips met once more. And when they finished, Benedict's chest rose and fell at a rapid pace.

Benedict's eyes filled with amazement as he stared at her. He hadn't realized he could desire something more than just her body; he wanted her mind, her soul. Was it possible what the poets wrote? Was it possible to fall in love in a day?

#fanfic #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict x you #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fic #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x you #bridgerton netflix #benedict bridgerton x maid #x reader #fem reader #reader fanfiction #female

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hellsenthero · 3 months

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The Roommate Series | The Christmas Gift

Roommate!Bucky X Reader

This is a drabble series based on my life with my roommate.

MASTERLIST

-----

It was just before Christmas that you got a text from your roommate, Bucky.

'Hey, weird question for NO REASON'.

'What's your ring size?"

You laughed when the text came through, knowing exactly why he was asking. The two of you had been joking that you were practically a married couple living together, eating together, and shopping together. When Bucky first joked about it, you'd asked him,

If we're married, then where's my ring?

Don't worry about it. It's coming. Bucky had answered.

You thought he was full of it before, just going along with the joke. But now, you're not so sure.

You texted him back your ring size, a little smiley emoji next to it.

'Excellent, I'll do absolutely nothing with this info at all.'

You rolled your eyes at the text.

'As expected. Lol.' You texted back, but what you really meant was, sure, like I believe a word you say.

Come Christmas time, you found a bag, much bigger than what a ring would be in under your little tree. The bag was black and gold and you couldn't help but think it matched perfectly with his metal arm.

Bucky walked out of his room, dressed in loose fitted pajamas. He grabbed the bag from under the tree and sat down on the couch, beckoning you over. You happily sat by him, pulling your legs up and under you as you did so.

"For me?" You asked, nodding towards the bag.

"Of course," Bucky answered with a smile. He passed the bag to you, which was surprisingly light for the size of it. "Open it up."

With a large smile, you dug around the bag, grabbing hold of a small, black box. You eyed it for a moment before opening it up.

Inside the box sat a beautiful golden ring. A large oval gem at its center. In the low light of the morning, it glittered like fresh snow. On either side of the gem were small, triangular cut gems that pointed out in all three directions.

"You bastard," you breathed.

"I told you I'd get you a ring." Bucky answered.

"Yeah," you answered as you slipped the ring on your finger. "I guess you did."

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #reader fanfiction #reader fic #bucky drabble #bucky fucking barnes #bucky x reader fic #bucky x reader drabble #roommate!bucky x reader #roommate!bucky barnes #roommates #the roommate series #bucky imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky x reader fanfic #bucky x you

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stirthewaters · 1 year

Text

Twenty Dollars

SUMMARY: Dared to make Wednesday flustered by Enid, you try your best to flirt with her, unaware of the fact that she knows far better how to break you instead.

WARNINGS: None, this is pretty much fluff.

______________________________________________________________

Nevermore in the afternoon is probably the favorite part of your day. Once school is over, you can hang out with your girlfriend and your friends, and typically even though you don't really do anything other than chat, it's pretty fun.

Unfortunately, your girlfriend, the Wednesday Addams, prefers to stay inside and maybe watch a movie or discuss philosophy rather than chat with your friend group.

So instead of hanging out with Enid and your friends in the quad, you're with Wednesday in Ophelia Hall, trying to get her flustered as part of a secret bet.

Earlier, Enid had bet twenty dollars that you couldn't make Wednesday flustered or blushy at all. Confident in your amazing skills as a girlfriend, you accepted, and now you're hanging around the raven haired girl as she types at her novel.

Clearly physical touch isn't her soft spot, since whenever you try to hold her hand, her expression doesn't change in the least. She hasn't blushed once in your relationship, so the bet you've accepted has started to become a personal goal.

"If nothing lasts forever, will you be my nothing?"

"Are you a triangle? Cause you're acute!"

"Excuse me, but I think I dropped something. My JAW!"

The cheesy pickup lines you're currently smothering her with seem to do little to no damage as she frowns.

"If you say another nauseatingly cliche pickup line one more time, I'll tear my ears off as well as yours," Wednesday deadpans, not taking her eyes off of her typewriter.

"Hey, it's not my fault that you're so pretty," you shrug, smirking a bit. "Come over here so I can compliment you to your face."

Wednesday rolls her eyes.

"Your frivolous attempt at flirting is as transparent as the glass I'm considering cutting you with. If you're trying to fluster me, it won't work."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you scoff, wrapping your arms around her neck gently. "Come on, admit it. My flirting skills are actually pretty decent."

"If by finding somewhat nauseatingly overused lines on the internet, then yes, you're somewhat above average," she turns to glare at you, which is clearly an awkward position since you're arms are wrapped around her neck. "Now take your arms away from me or I'll dislocate them."

Somewhat hurt, you pull away.

"Whatever," you sniff, folding your arms. "If you think that my flirting skills are trash then I'd like to see what you've got. From the way you're dismissing mine you must have some pretty nice ones, hmm?"

"Is that so?" she deadpans, eyes still fixed on the typewriter. "Or are you sure you're just not disappointed you can't ruffle my feathers?"

"No, I'm serious," you say, leaning against the desk so you can look her in the eye. "Surely the great Wednesday Addams isn't being a chicken?"

Wednesday pauses to look at you, her gaze challenging with only a hint of murderous intent. "Are you sure you want to go down that road, Y/N? Because if I make half the effort you do in flirting, you'll be wishing that you will physically incapable of blushing ever again."

You shrug. "I'm not seeing any effort, actually."

Wednesday stands, walking over to you. Even though she hasn't been your girlfriend for very long, she knows almost everything that can fluster you, from the slightest bit of physical touch to the right words that will make you blush. The observant Addams has carefully kept count of every single time that your cheeks have gone red or you've fidgeted with your shirt, without fail, and with a smirk, she knows that you'll be a mess after this is over.

"Is that so?" She murmurs, standing opposite you. She wraps a hand around your waist to pull you closer to her, staring you down.

Your breath hitches. It's as if she's been planning this. Realizing that this isn't a battle you're going to win, you curse under your breath, as she begins pressing all the right buttons.

"Because I think that in reality you're weak," she says, takin the other hand to tilt your chin upwards, forcing you to look her in the eye as her powerful gaze holds you captive. "And I know perfectly well how to break you."

Unable to speak, your breathing accelerates as she pulls you even closer, stroking your hair as she begins to smirk.

"And it's clear here that you've picked a fight you can't win." She whispers in your ear. Her hand on your jaw is sending goosebumps down your spine and it feels like you can feel everything there is to feel. You sputter a protest, but she shushes you with that same smirk she continues to wear; fully knowing of how much this is affecting you. Unable to pull away, she closes the small gap as she kisses you, eyes fluttering closed as she kisses you softly but firmly.

Heart pounding, your eyes widen as you hesitantly kiss her back until she pulls away. You're blushing now. Obviously. Your face is one whole shade of red.

"There it is. Now admit that I was right, and maybe I'll kiss you again," Wednesday says, a bit mischievously. Stammering and caught in her arms, you realize that clearly you've lost the bet at this point. With a small sigh of defeat, you lower your head.

"Y-you were right."

"Mhm. And don't ever forget it," she smirks again, cupping your face in her hand as she goes in for another kiss, using the other hand to accept the twenty dollars that Thing sneakily delivers from Enid.

#wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday #reader fanfiction #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega #wednesday addams #wednesday 2022 #netflix wednesday

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leezlelatch · 7 months

Text

Terzo x GN! Reader

A very kind person pointed out that I had a gendered term in here and I apologize if it took anyone out of the story. It has been fixed!

~6,200 words, contains diner shenanigans, dancing, and sad to happy Terzo. You spend your evenings writing at the old diner in town, looking for your next great story idea. And then Terzo Emeritus walks through the door.

The neon diner sign of rocket red and electric blue illuminates the small parking lot and the few cars strung about haphazardly in their spots. Next to the dumpster in the back, a young couple attempts to get a few heated touches in before the back door swings open, sending them running while the whistling cook pours a bucket of grease into the grassy patch nearby. The few patrons inside sit on different ends of a diner that hasn’t changed a wink since it was erected, although the same couldn’t be said for the diehards who have been coming since their kids were kids or since they were kids. The lone waitress on duty pours another cup of coffee for an overworked cop, while a businessman in a booth runs a hand through his well-oiled hair, his eyes vacant while he comes up with another excuse for his wife as to why the paycheck is short again this week.

You make eye contact with a young boy sitting at a table with his sister and parents. He smiles at you, and your lips curve in a genuine one yourself. There’s a diversity here. That’s the reason you keep coming back, although the cheeseburgers certainly make their own argument. You make a silly face at the boy and wink, his smile broadening as he giggles before turning back to the chicken nuggets his mother is trying very hard to get him to eat. You take a breath and rub your fingers against your palms before turning back to your laptop, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you regard the blank document.

Writing is so damn difficult, and honestly, you wonder how James Patterson gets away with publishing a hundred books a year. At this point, we all know it isn’t him writing. No, the real writers are out here, plugging away in old diners and trying not to go insane. At this point, you don’t even know where the plot is going, and you regret not making an outline. But you need ideas for outlines and you’re fresh out of them.

“I should just go back to writing fanfiction,” you mumble, resting your chin on your hand while sighing in frustration.

The dainty ring of the old bell above the door draws your attention to the front, and you watch with interest as the newest addition to this motley crew enters. You’ve never seen him before. In the weeks that you’ve made this place your writing home, you’ve gotten to know most of its patrons. They’re typical small town people with problems, just like you have problems, but they’re the type of people who always have a good morning on the tip of their tongue and call you honey. But this guy. Boy, did he break the mold.

He’s older, maybe above 50, close to 60. The wrinkles around his eyes and forehead are cut deep, and it draws your writer’s curiosity to wonder if they’re from laughter or pain. His face is set in a neutral expression as his eyes scan the diner, and you feel yourself inching forward in your seat, squinting a little.

Am I seeing right? you think, watching as the man moves toward the counter. His left eye looks strange, milky from where you’re sitting, and you immediately conclude that he must be blind in one eye.

You quickly look away and down at your table, your eyes a little wide. Judging much? you scold yourself. Jesus, get a grip. You’re not that damn bored.

Despite your internal reproach, your eyes flicker back up to watch the man as he takes off his jacket and lays it over one arm, politely waiting for the waitress to turn around as she refills the coffee pot. He’s wearing a dark purple button-up, sleeves rolled up to expose dainty wrists and forearms covered in dark hair. He’s that dark and debonair type, his hair that kind of black that’s almost unnatural, probably dyed. His bangs fall into his face, a long-fingered hand coming up to brush it away from his eyes. Your eyebrows raise as the errant lock of hair settles in a perfect wave with its brethren, unmoving. So the handsome older stranger has perfect hair, entirely unsurprising and very much appreciated.

You quickly glance down at your laptop when his eyes sweep across the room, likely looking for a place to sit, and you’re faced with your blinking cursor once more. Ignore the most interesting person you’ve seen walk in here in weeks, and write your damn story.

“Hello, how are you doing?” His accented voice floats across the diner.

Fuck it.

You watch him greet the waitress with a smile, his arm not holding the jacket coming up to rest on the counter as he casually leans, crossing one foot over the other. Penny, the poor woman caught in the clutches of that peculiar stare, flounders like a fish for several seconds before asking what she could get him. You try to peg his accent as he asks for black coffee with a squeeze of lemon, but all you can think about is how lovely the words sound coming out of those full lips. At this point, you begin to wonder if you’re in heat.

“You sure you don’t want cream, honey?” Penny asks him, pouring his coffee in one of those chipped porcelain mugs.

“No, thank you. I am lactose intolerant,” the man chuckles lightly and presses a hand to his stomach. “It will come back like a ghost.”

“A ghost?” Penny frowns.

“Eh, to haunt me. Stomach troubles. This is what I get for trying English phrases, no?”

“Oh. Right,” Penny laughs a little uncomfortably and slides his coffee across the counter. “That’ll be a dollar fifty.”

The man slides a twenty across the counter and smiles pleasantly at her with a quiet, lilted, “Keep the change, per favore.”

He turns and makes his way to a table about two away from yours, and reaches into the pocket of his jacket. He pulls out a small notebook, moleskin, and leaves the jacket draped over the empty chair beside him before taking a seat. Your eyes peer over the top of your laptop, watching as he warms his hands on his cup for a moment, just staring into the mug with an unreadable expression. There is something sad about him, something you can’t quite put your finger on. Honestly, you shouldn’t be trying. It’s rude. You’re rude. And the poor man probably just wants to enjoy a cup of joe before going home for the night.

As he lifts the mug to his lips, his eyes catch yours. His left eye isn’t milky, the iris is entirely white, pupil like a pinprick. God, you just wanna fling your laptop across the room. You are so goddamn nosy, and look what happened. Embarrassed, and thoroughly blushing, you look away for a moment before compelled, you return his odd gaze. He smiles at you and tips his mug in greeting before taking that first sip which prompts a satisfied sigh to escape that perfect mouth and you want to die.

You start to type on your keyboard, nonsensical stuff to make it look like you’re working and not obsessing, but all you can manage to write is, “I am as thirsty for this old man as he is for his cup of coffee.” Oh my god, delete that now. What is wrong with you?

I’m never leaving my apartment again, you think. I’m not doing it. He’s been in here for 10 minutes and I am acting like a looney toon.

Taking a deep cleansing breath, you take a big bite of your nearly cold cheeseburger like a feral animal before cracking your knuckles, determined to get back to your story. You begin to write a descriptive opening for the scene, and as the story progresses, seemingly slipping from your brain to your fingers to the document on the screen, you decide that it’s going to be a romance. Perhaps entirely inspired by the man a few tables away from you, but hey! That’s the reason you come here. It’s paying off.

Your eyes unwittingly fall on the man once more, and he’s hunched over the little notebook, a pencil in his hand as he writes. His lips move, silently reading along with each stroke of his pencil, and he more than once has to brush that bang away from his forehead, causing a smile to light your face. Not so perfect hair after all. Ah well, who are you kidding? Even the messy bang is its own perfection.

His fingers rise to his face and he pauses for a moment as if he’s remembering something before shaking his head a little with a barely perceptible smile and scratching his nose. He heaves a sigh and looks about the diner again, his eyes falling on the sign that claims the diner sells Pepsi fresh. You watch his eyebrows turn in, deepening the wrinkles which pucker above the bridge of his nose, giving him an angry look which coupled with his white eye could make anyone shiver in intimidation.

The family sitting nearby finish their meal and stand up, the kids talking exuberantly as they put their jackets on. The little boy runs ahead of his parents and nearly trips, the man on instinct half-standing, his chair scraping across the linoleum as he makes a small lunge toward the boy in order to prevent his falling. The kid rights himself without help, and looks at the stranger with a nervous, wide-eyed stare.

“It is alright, little one. I fall very often,” the man says with a soft smile, making a show of nearly tripping and falling back into his seat with an “oof!” The little boy starts to giggle, and you feel your own cheeks heat as you watch them interact. It’s so incredibly sweet, and the way the man’s eyes shine as he nods the family out the door makes you wonder if he has his own children at home. Likely grown. But the lack of a ring on his finger says otherwise, although…that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.

Your stranger turns back to his notebook and picks up his pencil, taking another sip of his coffee with his free hand. When he presses the lead to the page, it snaps. He stares down at the broken piece for several seconds before his hand curls into a fist, and it looks as if he may throw the pencil across the room in the very same way you considered throwing your laptop. His expression changes, no longer soft and sweet as it was with the boy, or politely curious. It crumbles as if he was just given bad news, his mouth cutting a severe line. That bang falls into his face, and he doesn’t bother to push it away, letting it hang limp in front of his eyes that are hollow, vacant.

And then he looks up. And it’s gone. He looks only minorly inconvenienced, his gaze once more falling on you. He leans across the table slightly, an arm reaching across the expanse as he attempts to catch your eyes which are hyper focused on your laptop. You are the master of being inconspicuous, for sure.

“Excuse me? May I bother you for a moment?” Such a basic question, and yet his accent caresses each word with a musical quality.

“Hi, yes?” You inquire, finally meeting his gaze. If there ever was a moment to ‘audibly swallow’ as so many fanfictions describe, it would be now.

“Well, I must have a very strong grip because my pencil broke before I could get a single line on paper,” he says, holding up his broken pencil. “And as my brother would say, I do not have a brain, and forgot to bring another.”

He pauses for a moment to admire your amused smile at his words which bolsters his own. He gives a little shrug, “He also says to get out of my room and write, but I cannot do so without a pencil, sì? I end up bothering a lovely young person like yourself who have better things to do than entertain such an old chatterbox.”

“Is there a question in there?” You tease, arching a brow. You tilt your laptop screen down to better see him, and you don’t miss the way his eyes scan your face.

He puts his hands up and you take note of a signet ring on his right hand, but from this angle, you are unable to see the symbol adorning it. “What did I say, huh? I talk too much. My question is, do you have a pencil? Or a pen, if it is not too much trouble.”

“Are you a writer?” You ask, picking up your bag to rummage through for the pen you know is hiding at the bottom.

“Perhaps it is one of many things I do.”

“Perhaps?” You find the pen, and pull it out, scooting back from your chair.

“No, no, please don’t get up,” he says, slipping from his chair to approach you. You feel a rush in your chest as he comes to stand beside you, your head tilting up to meet his eyes, immediately entranced by the lovely shade of green in his right one.

“One would have to write to be a writer, no?” He continues, lightly taking the pen from your hand. His ring has the sigil of Lucifer carved into the face.

“Which is what you were doing, until your pencil broke,” you point out.

“It is more of a hobby than a profession.”

“A writer is a writer no matter if you do it day, night, or in between time spent staring into the void,” you say, your eyes returning to your half-closed laptop.

“Ah, I am familiar with the void,” the man chuckles softly.

“Hell?” You question, your gaze once more falling to his ring.

His handsome features turn confused for a moment, following your gaze before stretching out his fingers and making a small noise of acknowledgement. “Ah, my ring! Sì, sì,” he laughs again, turning his hand this way and that to admire the gold. “Do you believe Hell is a void?” He asks you then.

“I don’t believe Hell is particularly anything,” you return, watching as he pulls out the chair next to you, pausing for a moment to give you a questioning look before you nod, and he settles himself in.

“What if I told you Hell is a beautiful place?” The man asks.

“Are you preaching?”

“Preaching is one of the things that I do,” he shrugs.

“Usually one introduces themself before trying to convert another to their religion…or cult?” You smirk.

His eyebrows fly up into his hairline and his full bottom lip drops open. There’s a beat of a second before those fingers are once more running through his dark hair as he leans back in the chair, crossing one leg over the other. “I am being not very nice,” he shakes his head. “You can call me…Terzo. And no, I am not trying to convert you. And no, it is not a cult.” He slaps his lips, waving his hand around like a conductor. “Okay, maybe it is a cult, but it is a good one!” He pauses. “Sometimes.” He pauses again. “It is trying to be.”

“Interesting,” you say slowly.

“I am bothering you,” Terzo mumbles, placing his hands on his thighs as he moves to stand. “Mi dispiace. Sorry. Sorry.”

“Hey!” You reach out a hand to touch his arm. As your fingers wrap around his wrist, the both of you freeze - you in your seat floundering like a fish and Terzo half-standing, the oddest expression on his face. You quickly let go with a small apology before saying, “I meant interesting as in actually interesting. I’m interested.” The last part comes out almost like a quiet plea.

Terzo nods slowly and sits back down, his knees cracking as he does. He gives you a weak smile as he reaches a hand down to rub at one absently. “Do not get old.”

“Are you Italian?” You question.

“What gave it away?” He teases, arching a bushy brow.

“Accent and interwoven Italian words aside, it was your name. Terzo means third, right?”

“Do you know Italiano, uh…okay, now you are the rude one not giving me your name, huh?” He smiles.

You laugh and hold up your hands, “You got me.” You provide your name, and Terzo lights up, tilting your pen still clutched in his hand toward his chin. “What’s that sneaky expression for?” You add.

“Names have power, don’t you know? You have given me a gift.” He wiggles his foot, tapping the pen against his chin.

“Are you going to take my name back with you to your non-cult cult?” You reach out to close your laptop the rest of the way, wholly invested in this conversation.

“Only if the owner comes with it.” He leans forward, a glint in his white eye.

“Ha! Knew it. You are trying to convert me.”

The both of you break into easy laughter, and you notice that Terzo’s smile has finally reached his eyes, so unlike the half-smile built into a blank face he provided Penny earlier, or the melancholy which overshadowed his playfulness with the little boy. His smile is crooked, wide, and his eyes wrinkle deeply at the corners. It’s sweet, and so very beautiful.

“You did not answer my question,” Terzo continues, tilting his head to the side slightly. “Do you know Italian?”

“Ah, no,” you laugh shyly. “I just know primo, secondo, and terzo mean first, second, and third. Among other random vocabulary.”

“Well, you just named three men of the Emeritus family.”

“Emeritus? Is that your last nam-…wait,” you arch a brow. “I named them?”

“Eh sì, my eldest brother Primo, then Secondo, and myself. My fratellino is Copia, he was spared the numerics,” Terzo shrugs amusedly.

You start to speak and then stop, looking down at the table, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth as you fight a smile.

“I realize it sounds ridiculous. Our father, as Copia likes to say, is a dickhead,” Terzo supplies.

“Okay, it’s funny,” you concede, grinning. “But it’s not…it’s not bad. Terzo is a very lovely name. I like it. After all, three is considered the perfect number. Full of magic.”

“I have been known to carry a few tricks up my sleeve,” Terzo says with a charming smile. “Do you believe in magic? In the alteration of space and time? Conjuration, for example.”

“I believe that there are things in this world that we don’t fully understand.”

“Ah! And Hell is so hard to believe?”

“I don’t know. I guess if I had to believe in something, it would be what you said. That Hell is beautiful. I’d want it to be accepting of flaws. And mistakes. Lucifer was the original rebel, right? I don’t want to believe in a place of pain,” you say, unable to believe that you’re discussing the afterlife with this man, virtually a stranger. Really, you can’t believe you’re talking to him at all. Your night at the diner is certainly not the quiet, uneventful one you expected it to be.

Perhaps a new story began the moment Terzo Emeritus walked through that door.

“That is a Christian concept. And excuse me, fucking wrong. I know this, I am Papa,” Terzo delivers this line as if he’s done it a hundred times and believes it to be one hundred percent true.

“Papa?” The word comes out of your mouth as if he just announced himself as “big daddy” to the entire diner.

Terzo’s expression drops in an instant. The confidence he exuded moments before melts away, his fingers twitching and tapping against the table with a nervous air. He tries to smile, but it wobbles, becoming a strange half-frown. “Forget I said that,” he says. “Per favore, eh…please.”

“What are you trying to write?” You ask, gesturing toward his little notebook which still sits at his table, closed. Terzo gives you a small smile of thanks before getting up and collecting his things, returning to your table to sit and open his notebook to the page he was working at.

He wags a finger at you. “Big mistake inviting me to sit, now I won’t fuck off. Dispiace. I say fuck a lot. And shit.”

“Every writer needs a colorful vocabulary.”

“Ah, sì. And you are so intent on hiding yours, huh?” He makes a playful grab at your laptop. You almost shout in alarm, pulling it back, before looking apologetically around the diner. Penny squints at the both of you suspiciously. Terzo snickers beside you, his hand to his mouth.

“It’s not done,” you hiss quietly.

“You expect me to show you mine then, tch tch tch!,” Terzo shakes his head. “Have you ever heard of a little tit for tat, darling?” Terzo’s smile widens and he ducks his head to try and peer under your half-closed screen which you swiftly close with a click. He tilts his head, gazing at you from beneath long lashes. “Is it erotic?”

You give him a withering look, your cheeks flushing a pink that makes his eyebrows raise with a gentle smile that replaces his teasing smirk. He appears fascinated, his eyes scanning your features for several seconds. You have no words for the sudden change in his demeanor, and you look at him with equal quiet reverence. Something unknown passing between the two of you.

“I should not tease you,” he says then, his voice a few octaves lower. “I never show my writing to anyone, well…that is going to change soon.”

“Why’s that?” You ask, your gaze falling to his notebook where his messy cursive loops across the page, rendering you unable to read it from your position at the table.

“If you must know, curious thing, I am writing a song. I am a musician. A singer,” he says, bending his hand at the wrist which he flings to the side with a grandiose flair.

“Really?” The incredulity in your voice makes him frown at you, a bushy eyebrow arching.

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“No! No, it’s not that. I just would think as a songwriter, you would sing or…like someone would have heard your work at some point. Why keep it a secret?”

“You are full of questions, volpino,” he says with a little smirk, tilting his head to regard you with amused eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you answer immediately, shying away from his gaze. “I guess I’m prying pretty hard. Tit for tat, right?”

“I never said your curiosity was unwelcome. Believe it or not, but I like to talk about myself,” he winks, and it makes you laugh. Terzo closes his eyes and hums a little.

“I’m writing romance. Which, I know. Not exactly original.”

“Che cosa?” His eyes open and he shakes his head. “Not original, pah! Some of the greatest works in the literary canon are romances, yeah?”

“I can hardly write like Jane Austen,” you scoff.

“Sì, but perhaps you are more like a Brontë. Ah no,” he snaps his fingers. “Mary Shelley.”

“Frankenstein isn’t a romance,” you say, laughing softly as he holds up both of his fingers, leaning forward in his chair.

“Then you are not reading it correctly,” he says, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth for a moment which momentarily distracts you. “Who do you believe is the true monster? Victor or the Creature?”

“Victor,” you answer immediately.

Terzo smiles and nods, gesturing at you with his hand. “Then it is a romance. Albeit, a tragic one.”

“The Creature wanted to be loved,” you say quietly, looking into Terzo’s eyes, and unintentionally focusing on the white one. “They saw him at face-value, not the soul who celebrated nature, who yearned for purpose, and was cast out by the man who was supposed to be his father.”

“Exactly,” Terzo whispers, nodding slightly. That heavy melancholy was back, settling over the lines of his face like a shadow which he hid behind a mask of easy smiles and witty banter. His Creature.

“Are you okay?” You finally ask, unable to hold yourself back when this mysterious and beautiful man looks so incredibly sad. If you were being honest with yourself, there is something about his melancholy that feels familiar to you, like a beast you are too afraid to poke.

Terzo merely smiles, and leans his head back to laugh a little, rubbing his hands together before picking up his notebook. “Sì! I am always okay. Always good. You asked me about my song, correct?” He enunciates the word, landing hard on the ‘T’. “It is called Zenith. I am not usually the songwriter of my eh…little group. This is a first. And I expect it will not go over well.”

“Go over well with whom?”

“Now you are asking the right questions, volpino. There are…individuals, hmm…authority figures in my organization. Let me rephrase that - there are individuals in my organization who think they have authority. They have to approve the song.”

“And you think they won’t?” You ask, suddenly feeling like you are hearing things that perhaps you shouldn’t be privy to. Secrets unraveling, another chapter of this mystery opening the more the man talks.

“Perhaps they do not like me very much,” Terzo says wryly, a dry smile on his lovely features.

“I don’t see how anyone could dislike you,” you say, that pink touching your cheeks again. Your words make Terzo chuckle quietly, and he rests his elbow on the table as he brings a thumb to his mouth, wrapping his lips around the tip of it as he looks at you with nearly hooded eyes.

“Do you like me?” He asks softly.

The old jukebox in the corner, its light flickering faintly, comes to life with a squeaking click as one of the worn tracks slides into place. It takes a moment for the speaker to push out the song, crackling before settling into a low static hum behind the vocals of none other than Frank Sinatra.

“I love this song,” Terzo says, looking pleasantly surprised as he stands and strides closer to the jukebox, placing his hands on the glass to peer closer at the inner workings of the old thing. You breathe a small sigh of relief, or is it disappointment, as you dodge his question.

“That thing turns on by itself all the time. Something inside must be busted,” you say, standing up to move beside him.

“Ah, not broken. Simply yearning to sing, sì?” He says, glancing over at you with an amused smile. “You know this song?”

“Frank Sinatra?”

“Molto bene, mio volpino.” Terzo takes a step back from the jukebox, a hand pressing against his chest as he tilts his head up and closes his eyes. “Over and over I keep going over the world we knew,” his voice floats effortlessly, soft and persuasive, in the space between you. “Days when you used to love me.”

You watch him sing with parted lips, your brow furrowing as you’re filled with awe, but also an ache deep in your chest. A yearning for the strange man you fear will disappear from your memory forever when you leave this diner. He opens his eyes and pins you with a stare, his smile very soft, but quirks in a way which whispers mischief. Terzo holds his hands out to you, fingers curled slightly as he tilts his head to the side. “Dance with me?” He says, his tone gently demanding. “With Papa now, sì?”

“That’s the second time you said that,” you note with a small grin, reaching out to place your hands in his. His fingers are chilled as he pulls you in, a hand naturally falling to your waist. Your breath catches, and he smiles.

“Ah, slip of the tongue,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning the blush on your features.

“Something you do often?” Your voice is a little breathless as he turns the both of you, and you look down at your feet, chewing on your bottom lip as you beg whatever deity out there to not step on his.

Terzo lets go of your hand for a moment to gently tap your chin. “Eyes up, tesoro. And as for your question…,” a wide smile crosses his face, a tiny chip in his front tooth. “I use my tongue very often.” His pink tongue wets his bottom lip, drawing it into his mouth for a moment before slowly and sensually letting go.

Your eyes widen and you giggle nervously, “You are…something.”

“Something good?” His eyes flicker with amusement before his mouth pops open in a little ‘O’ shape. “Ah, yes! You never answered my question.” He pulls back to spin you around, laughing again when you do an awkward little turn on your heel. He draws you even closer then, his hand flexing against the small of your back. “Do you like me?”

“We just met.” Your voice is small, and your eyes focus intently on the dark chest hair peeking out from his purple button-up.

“Sometimes meeting is all it takes,” he murmurs.

Your eyes find his again, and you don’t think you’re dancing anymore, but you’re still swaying - your heart, your mind. Swept up in the softness of his eyes as they look back at you with…hope. Glaring desperately from green and white depths. The vestiges of a younger, happier man. And there’s a part of you that wants to cry.

“I like you very much, Terzo Emeritus.”

His response isn’t what you expect. His head raises slightly and he peers at you with curiosity, his brow furrowing as he searches your eyes for some kind of answer to a question you aren’t privy to. You get the sense that he doesn’t believe you, that he’s waiting for the punchline to some cosmic joke. “Well!” He says finally, his face dropping back into that easy smile. He waves a hand. “I am an old man. Do you see? I moisturize but,” he clicks his tongue. “The lines, they grow. I appreciate you entertaining me, eh?”

Your brow furrows and your mouth presses into a thin line as you gaze past him with the intent to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “You think I can’t like you because…you have wrinkles?” The word comes out slightly high pitched and confused. “Make it make sense, Mr. Emeritus.”

Terzo’s bushy eyebrows fly into his hairline and he looks vaguely disturbed. “I am not called that often…it is weird.”

“Oh, right. You’re Papa,” you wiggle your brows, and the man groans. His fingers dig into the small of your back and he pulls you closer, dipping his chin to regard you with a heated stare that sends a shiver down your spine.

“You should be careful with that, amore,” he murmurs, his voice low like the crackling of firewood, flames licking over the endearment. “I could have you saying ‘Papa’ in a more…breathless manner, hmm?”

His words alone are enough to knock the wind out of you, and he knows it, a twinkle in the man’s eyes that tells you this isn’t his first passion play. The song is long over, the jukebox having gone back to its eerie nostalgic silence, yet he turns you again, his shoes sliding along the faded linoleum floor like butter. You are, perhaps, less graceful.

“I thought you were too old?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes. Terzo looks briefly affronted, and the nearly outraged expression on his face makes you burst into giggles. He wags his finger in front of your face before placing both of his hands around your back, lacing his fingers together and drawing you forward until your hips are flush. That shuts you up very quickly.

“I know what you are doing,” he purrs. “But I can play, too.” He smiles and sighs, looking up at the cracking ceiling before returning your gaze. “And yet I see your point. But it is true, volpino. I am much, much older than you.”

“I think whether or not I’m bothered by that is my decision, don’t you?” You ask.

Terzo concedes, tilting his head a little. “In my faith, it is encouraged to follow your desires.”

“Oh, right. Your non-cult cult. How could I forget,” you tap your finger to your temple and Terzo chuckles. You smile back, wrapping your arms around his neck. A million possibilities, a million ways the night could have gone, and you got the one with Terzo. Your smile softens, your eyes taking on a tender reverence, and you can see pink dance at the edges of his cheeks. His wrinkles smooth as his face falls into almost boyish wonder while the two of you sway to nothing. No, that’s not right. You’re swaying to a music all your own.

“You have a really nice face,” you murmur, your voice coming out in a soft hush.

“You aren’t lying.” It’s said as a statement. Confusion lining his words, his eyes widen just a fraction. This isn’t the first time in the night where you wanted to just…ask him if he’s okay? Hug him. Your words appear to confound him, and a hand lets go of your waist to touch his cheek, his fingers following one of the deeper lines. “You know, in my line of work, I usually wear a full face of makeup.”

“Is this where you tell me you go by…Paprika Smear or something?” You tease, eyebrows raised.

Terzo laughs so hard, everyone in the diner, who isn’t already watching you like you’re the first interesting thing to happen in decades, are gaping now. Penny hasn’t turned the page in her National Enquirer in the last ten minutes. “No, no, no. Ah, my naughty volpino. What I am trying to say,” he clears his throat. “I do not show my face often. What you said…grazie mille. I am often not kind to myself.”

“I have no reason to lie. We just met, Terzo. This is my perception of you. My honesty. I feel like you’re looking for a different answer or…looking for deception.”

“I am looking for something real,” he says, with vulnerability in his eyes. “It has been a very long time since I have had something real.” Terzo releases your waist and removes your arms from around his neck, but he holds your hands in his. His thumbs rub circles into your skin, admiring the contrast of your hands together, and he brings them closer, cradling them near his chest.

“I can be real,” you say, turning your hands to lace your fingers through his despite his tight grip. Terzo takes a deep breath, his lower lip quivering slightly as he thinks.

“And if I told you to know me is to know Satan? If there are dangers in my life, amorino? Things your beautiful, sweet mind could perhaps not comprehend?” His voice has turned nearly desperate in his speech, pained. And yet despite his warnings, you don’t feel afraid, or concerned. There are no red flags waving over Terzo’s head. You just see someone very alone.

The shrill ring of a cell phone slices through the tension like a heated blade, and the two of you freeze for a moment before Terzo sighs, heavily, his shoulders falling like rocks have been placed on his shoulders. He gently pulls away from you, his hands lowering yours back to your sides before he’s digging into his pocket. “Sì?” He snaps into the phone, listening to the voice on the other end. “Perhaps I am not ready to come back…because I am Papa and I say so…of course I understand!” Terzo runs a hand through his hair, the strands sticking up in a few places. “You tell that stronzo he can wait…ah-but…dai!...alright, alright. I will see you soon.”

Terzo puts his phone back in his pocket, and looks at you with an apologetic smile. “It seems our dance comes to an end, eh?” You stand facing each other, and panic seizes your heart in a fist. If Terzo walks out that door, you may never see him again. It almost strikes you as odd, the way he managed to wrestle his way into your very being in your short evening here at the diner. There was no feasible way you could sit back down and go back to writing, surrounded by the same monotony while this man is somewhere in the world.

“You know,” you begin, taking a step toward him. “I’ve been really into theistic Satanism lately. Gosh, if only there was a place, or someone, that could guide me.”

Terzo stares at you with an unreadable expression, and then he takes a step forward, and places his lips against your forehead. He chuckles softly, “My evil plans worked, volpino. I am converting you.” He pulls back to wink. “You like me.”

“I already told you that-”

“Sì, sì, I am only teasing,” his smile broadens and he smooths back a strand of hair from your forehead. “This is a big thing for Papa, no? Something real.”

“You’re going to have to tell me why you keep calling yourself that,” you giggle, shaking your head. Terzo’s fingers cradle your jaw and tilt your head to meet his gaze.

“Come and find out.”

Another look is shared between the diner writer and the mysterious stranger. But this one? It’s a look of yearning. Yearning for a future that changes the both of you. That a man can learn to love himself again. That the walls of this diner will let you go. Terzo grabs his jacket and his little notebook, and you slip your hand into his pocket to grab his phone.

“Already, amore?” He says, his grin wide, and you laugh and swat him with a hand. You type your number into his phone and slip it back, but Terzo grabs your wrist. He brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses the soft skin. “I will see you soon,” he promises.

“Arrivederci, Terzo,” you sigh dreamily.

“Eh, we will work on your Italian,” the man rolls his eyes playfully.

Terzo walks toward the door of the diner, and you sit in your seat. Is it possible to change in a single evening? You don’t feel like the same person who watched this man walk in with the perfect hair and pretty accent. And you get the feeling that he isn’t the same person now either. Terzo stands in the doorway, looking back at you, and he smiles. A smile that lights up his whole face, and is really, truly…happy.

When he’s gone, you open your laptop and stare at the pages you had written earlier. With a wry smile, you shut your laptop off and gather your things. Walking to the front, you toss a few bucks on the counter.

“Gettin’ cozy with that eye-talian man, huh, honey?” Penny asks, chewing her bubble gum as she looks you up and down with the eyes of a seasoned gossip. “Be back tomorrow?”

Your phone buzzes and you glance down, grinning before taking a breath and looking back at Penny, the diner, and its forever patrons.

“No, I don’t think I will.”

#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii fanfiction #terzo fanfiction #terzo emeritus #terzo x reader #papa emeritus iii x reader #reader fanfiction #terzo headcanons #the band ghost headcanons

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cleo-fox · 3 months

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The Definitive List of Acceptable Abbreviations in Reader Fan Fic

Official Notice: In order to standardize and streamline the reading experience, fanfic authors are now required to use the following list of abbreviations. Going forward, all reader fanfic must use the abbreviations as stated below. Additionally, all reader fics are required to use all of the abbreviations named below.* No exceptions. Violators will be barred from the reader community.

Approved abbreviations are as follows:

YN = Your name

YLN = Your last name

YMN = Your middle name

YHC = Your hair color

YEC = Your eye color

YBT = Your blood type

YBFN = Your best friend’s name

YMPT = Your most problematic take

YBRN = Your bank’s routing number

YBDOTJCFTGS = Your birthday on the Julian calendar, fuck this Gregorian shit

YNP = Your Netflix password

YEAAWYNA = Your email address associated with your Netflix account

YLOSTTAOTPITTSYNA = Your level of suspicion that the author of this post is trying to steal your Netflix account

YLOUTSCFOSS = Your likelihood of using the same credentials for other streaming services

YDEGFCN = Your dad’s ex-girlfriend from college’s name

YWIIWACTIWTWB = your weirdest injury if we aren’t counting the incident with the whiffle bat

YCSWYPSWYDYPTYRDNTKTI = Your conception story which your parent shared with you despite your protestations that you really don’t need to know this information

YCMHIARLAACLOMACIFYHCP = Your current medical history, including all relevant labs and a current list of medications and contact information for your healthcare providers

YFC = Your favorite color

YBGAATLO = Your best guess at Alex Trebek’s lunch order

Please incorporate these changes into your writing immediately. As previously stated, these abbreviations are now required in all Reader fanfic. Failure to comply will result in expulsion* from the community and other unspecified penalties.

Sincerely,

The Powers That Be

————

(* I debated whether to add this because saying it’s a joke kind of ruins the joke, but I’ve also been on tumblr dot com for more than 5 minutes and I want to mitigate the risk of some outraged person with dodgy reading comprehension taking this seriously and accusing me of crimes against fandom. My actual opinion: write what you want how you want, there are no rules, just tag your shit).

#fanfic #reader fanfiction #reader fan fic #fan fic #fanfiction #shitposting

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 5 months

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Everything Stays

Pairing: Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: this made me feel things 🥲, canon character death, war, trauma, grief, siblingxsibling, regret, guilt/shame, Rhysand's family have names in this fic, fingering, blame, sorry no happy ending 🙃, goes downhill very fast, so yeah be prepared for that, had a deep hunger for a big bowl of sadness

Words: 4857

Summary: You should have been there with your mother and sister. You should be dead

"What are you doing here?!" Your mother's hiss would put a stop to any fun you and your brother were having. Really, it was rather dangerous for a young fae child like you to follow close behind your mother and brother as they traveled to the Illyrians mountains. The war camps weren't meant for little girls. If someone else had found you, they would have immediately clipped your wings before your father could get ahold of you.

Elowen usually had a gentle personality but when of her children dared to act stupidly, she wasn't afraid to show a bit of tough love. Especially toward her stubborn daughter. Little Isolde didn't mind being left back at father's court.

"Run!" Rhysand shrieks at you with a wild grin while Cassian hoots and hollers in support.

With a squeal, your wings start to flap; preparing your body to pick up wind. Only you're not fast enough for take off. Elowen grabs you by your ankle before you could really put distance between you and ground. Not like that would help you much. Your mother was a fast flyer.

"I tell you to stay home for a reason! You could've been killed following us!" Then she turns her attention to the two boys who were attempting to sneak away. "And you two! Both of you knew and let her? You're supposed to look after her."

"But I wasn't hurt!" You argue, trying to twist yourself out of your mother's grip. "I kept up with all of you without even being spotted!"

She's exasperated by you, you could see that on her face as she pinches at the bridge of her nose. "You willful girl."

You think she's upset or even worse, disappointed, until you watch her shoulders move as she chuckles softly. You may exhaust her, but you're constantly surprising her.

"As punishment, you have to stay by my side at all times when we're in the war camp. Understand?" Elowen chides but it was a fairly light sentence for you.

Smiling over at your brothers, they share your sentiment with their own large grins.

It was hard enough separating you from Rhysand to begin with, but since Cassian joined the family it was now near impossible to separate you from the two of them.

The three of you would not have carefree childhoods. Elowen knew this as she watches the three kids run around in the tall grass before Rhys and Cass were forced to go down to the base and train with the other young bloods.

Her eyes are glued particularly to you and Rhys who is fixing a weed that took the shape of a common flower into your hair. He's proven to be the sweetest brother through the years. First with you then with Isolde, but you had a special place in Rhys' heart. There was a depth to the relationship between the two of you that your mother couldn't quite place. If it were any other children, she would say that they might have had a crush on each other. That they were in love. Which to Elowen, looking at you and your brother, seemed obvious. Of course there's love between the two of you. You're siblings and strikingly close in age. However, sibling love wasn't it either.

"Mama!" your hands grasp at her arm, jerking to get her attention. Owlishly blinking, she gazes down at the roundness of your face. "Rhys and Cass says it's time for them to head to training. And you said I can't be away from you at the camps, so. . ." To make a point, you tug her toward where said boys were already heading down the mountain to where the Illyrian camp was.

Elowen breathes out a laugh and nods. She lets you continue to pull her along the path, her wings unfurling. You marvel at them. They were living testament to the grace and strength of your mother. You hope to one day have wings as beautiful as her's.

The dress your mother made you for your coming of age ceremony was by far her best work yet. Isolde oo's and ah's at the glittering jewels that look like stars and the shining of the silver thread meticulously stitched into it. She's gentle with the way she touches the dress, as if it were a sacred garment.

You kneel down with her on the ground. "Mother really outdid herself this time, didn't she?"

Isolde nods enthusiastically. "I don't know how she does it. She's so fast with needle and thread." You saw the admiration in her eyes. Much like you did, Isolde adored your amazing mother. She'd been learning how to sew slowly, even embroidery similar to the fine details on your dress.

Lovingly, you play with one thick strand of her dark hair. Play with it and catch the undershades of it from the sunlight. Isolde had the darkest hair that it looked the darkest shade of blue. "Are you excited for tonight?"

Your younger sister snorts a laugh, something she'd picked up from you much to your father's dismay. "This party is for you. And you're asking me if I'm excited? Are you excited?"

Indifferent, you shrug. This would just be like the many other parties and balls put on through Prythian. Only difference was that it was dedicated to you. Honestly, you had more fun watching your siblings enjoy themselves. Especially when Rhysand would dance with Isolde and Elowen. Even cuter was Cassian stepping in to take her hand for his own dance.

"I guess I'm a little excited." You hum and stand back up to stretch your legs. "It's fun to watch all of the different courts mingle together. Looks weird how different each fae is from their respective court."

Isolde purses her lips, hands retracting from the gown as she gazes up at you with doleful eyes. "This party also means that father intends to find you a husband."

Yes, it was something both you and your siblings dreaded. The day your father would give you away to another important lord who would take you away from your family. Something Rhysand had brought up late last night when you'd snuck into his room. He knew it made grim pillow talk, but it was on both of your minds as your coming out ceremony. There would be nothing he could do to keep you in his arms. Not when your father was still the High Lord.

"Yeah. . . lets hope it'll take him a while to pick one out for me." You were still safe, at least for tonight. Tomorrow would be a different battle for you. "For now though, I'm free."

You don't like how your sister's expression is now heavy with sadness. For being younger than you, Isolde was already an inch taller than you were and easily wraps her arms around your neck to bring you into a hug. Your cheek brushes against the softness of her hair, inhaling the sweet jasmine that scented her tresses. Elowen once joked that the real parents to Isolde might as well have been you and Rhysand. Since your sister's birth, you and your brother did treat her like your baby. To the high faes, babies were more precious than any gold or gemstone and you and Rhysand treated her as such.

"I don't want you to ever get married." She whispers and you can't help the giggle that bubbles in your chest and past your lips. A sentiment she'd shared with you plenty times before. It was everyone's one major fear. Well, except for your father. He thought it was long past for you to be engaged. You'd heard him mention something about clipping your wings once. So that you wouldn't be able to fly away from your chosen spouse. Thankfully Elowen had quickly shut that down vehemently. No daughter of her's would have their wings clipped for as long as she lived.

"I know. I don't every want to get married either."

"Except for Rhysand?"

Sharply inhaling, you pull away from her to give her a stern look. "Isolde, we all know that's impossible. You shouldn't say those things out loud. What if someone else heard?"

"He'd be a good husband for you though! And that would mean you wouldn't have to ever leave us." she argues back.

She doesn't mean anything bad by it, but you couldn't risk anyone hearing your conversation. You lower your voice to a whisper. "He's my brother. No one in Prythian would allow it. Because. . . because siblings can't be mates. Can't marry each other."

Still not quite understanding, her lips fumble with more questions but you merely shake your head and pat her cheek.

"No more of this, Isolde. Please."

Hating to upset you, she closes her mouth and stiffly nods. Isolde murmurs out an apology but you dismiss it. There was nothing for her to apologize for.

You sigh and instruct her to start getting ready for the night's festivities. Ducking her head, she leaves you alone in your room to ruminate on your own dreary thoughts.

This truly was the beginning of the end for you.

Pleading with your own tears not to fall, you lean against a bedpost as it was the only source of support in that moment.

If only you were able to be with Rhys. To live out the rest of your days with him, happily ruling the Night Court together. If anyone knew of these thoughts you had, they would immediately condemn you. Marrying cousins was all fine and dandy, but immediate blood like siblings was another thing that was completely looked down upon both by the fae and human society. Rhysand would never be allowed to take over as High Lord and you would never be seen as a queen. Any children you had together. . . there'd be many cruel words slung at any children. In the courts, the lords regard you and your siblings as halflings due to your mother's Illyrian lineage.

Cassian was the only one worthy to know your secret, and apparently Isolde too to some extent, that you and Rhysand were actual mates. That rare connection which not many faes experience in their lifetime. Five years ago it finally snapped in place, confirming to your joy (and horror) that you and Rhysand were destined to be together in a intimate way. Rhysand was over the moon but understood the trouble that would come from this.

This was a secret difficult to keep hidden since you were official mates. Rhys would display the typical protectiveness of males when they're around their mate.

With stiff fingers, you lift up your hairbrush. You had to get ready too.

Through the whispers of your bond, you feel Rhysand's own trepidation.

Deep breaths, my love. Your mind attempts to soothe him, a hand to a cat's arching back. Rhysand's tendrils caress against that calming thought. You wish nothing more than to nuzzle against his conscious. Let Rhys sweep you up and take you back to the mountains. Back to the cabin that was filled with both wonderful memories and those splattered with blood. The only place where the both of you could be yourselves without discriminating stares.

You give yourself a once over when you finish putting on the last details of your outfit. A bundle of red poppies mixed with the dainty white dots of baby's breath are strewn in your hair. One who was savvy with the language of flowers would understand: poppies for 'I am not free' and baby's breath for 'everlasting love'. Your only flag of rebellion against the High Lord of the Night Court.

Outside in the hall, you already hear the faint sound of revelry vibrating from the main audience hall where drinks were freely flowing. A few sconces fixed to the corridor's walls cast a warm, orange glow that gave you a false sense of security. Instead of heading for the rest of the party, you turn the other way to where Rhys' rooms were. He probably wasn't ready yet. Your brother liked to be fashionably late to everything.

When you get to his door, you hear other voices from his side. The low, gravely chuckle of Cassian and Azriel's calming tenor. Being the typical snooping sister, you take a mini step forward, hold your breath and press your ear to his door.

"You have us. Tonight will be fine." Cass reassures his brother and you can practically image his broad grin that made his rugged features soften. "We won't let you do anything stupid."

That only causes your brother to groan. "You're the one who always encourages me to do stupid things!"

Az's laugh sounds incredibly close, in fact he probably already knew you were there on the other side eavesdropping thanks to his tattling shadows. "I'll be the one to make sure neither of you do anything stupid."

All three share another laugh. Your own smile curling on your lips made your cheeks hurt. How you loved your three idiots. Why couldn't the Cauldron have fated you to fall in love with Cassian or Azriel? It would make things easier for everyone.

I would not have it any other way. Rhys' voice rings in your head right before his bedroom door swings open.

You squeal and stumble backward but Rhys snags your waist and lifts you off of your feet to be unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder. "Put me down!!" The other two males playfully jeer at the little door mouse that was caught.

"Naughty girl!" He merely laughs and throws me onto his plush bed.

"You could have ruined my hair!" You glower at him once you finally manage to sit up. The three of them are giggling like school girls. You swat Rhysand's hand away when he tries to tuck a stray strand behind your ear.

"Ah don't worry. You still look drop dead gorgeous." Cassian grins. "Unfortunately for the males out there tonight. We fear Rhysand might claw out a few eyes."

"And it would serve them right for looking at his mate like that." You nod, supporting any and all eye gauging. That makes Cassian hoot a laugh.

Azriel chuckles as he goes to Cassian and throws an arm around the other's shoulder. "We'll wait for you two downstairs. Don't keep us waiting."

Their laughter was still audible, even with Rhys' bedroom door closed. Finally alone, Rhysand sinks beside you onto the bed. His fingers are soft as a brush against your cheek.

"You do look beautiful tonight." Rhysand murmurs in that sultry way that was an instantaneous knee shaker. "And I really fear I might attack any male that gazes at you with interest." The darkening tone of his voice tells you of what he wishes to do with you. His hand going to the back of your neck to press you closer to him was enough of a tipoff.

If you let him though. . . the other males at the party would be able to smell him all over you.

Choosing to be the responsible one, you pull away. "Rhys. You promised to be on your best behavior."

He just chuckles and pulls you toward him again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am behaving, sweetling." His cheek brushes against your's as he goes in to graze your neck with his sharp teeth. The roaming hands on you said otherwise. Rhysand cupped your ass, nearly lifting you off the floor with his strength. "You, however, are not behaving. I can smell your needy pussy."

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns you around and bends you over his bed. You want to fight him off, really you do, but the moment he pushes the skirts of your dress up you knew you were a goner. You'd let him do whatever he wanted.

"Just a taste, sweet girl." Rhysand separates your thighs to reveal your glistening lower lips. He dips two fingers in you. Your fingers grip at the bed sheets while you smother your face to keep all moans inaudible. Hips betray you when you find yourself grinding against his fingers. The obscene squelching noise from Rhys pumping his fingers in and out of you has your whole body shivering.

Rhysand knew your body better than anyone else. Knew how to make you come undone with just a few strokes and rolling of your clit. Your pussy walls clench around his fingers, restricting their movements or trying to. Rhys was relentless, grinning at your pitiful cries, muffled by the blankets you smother your face with.

Pulling his fingers out as you finish riding out your orgasm, Rhysand licks away the milky cream that coated his fingers. You wonder how he plans on hiding his erection. It was obvious as it strained against the dark fabric of his trousers making a visible tent.

Nonchalantly, Rhysand helps you to stand after cleaning you up a little with a discarded shirt of his. "Alright. Now we're ready."

You gawk at him, your cheeks still flushed. "You're not ready! Look at your dick! Poor thing is straining in your pants."

He loudly laughs and reaches down into his pants to readjust his cock. Settling it against the band of his pants. "There. Better?"

"Not really since the others are going to-" Your brother cuts you off with a heated kiss.

"Stop fretting, sweetling. This evening is supposed to be fun right?" Rhys smiles, tucking a few strands of your hair back into place. He appraises your face by tilting it ever so gently to make sure nothing else was out of place. With a satisfied smile, Rhysand's hand falls to hold your's. "Lets go show everyone my beautiful girl."

Perhaps Rhysand did too well of a job in showing off his goddess-like sister because now all male eyes were glued to you. Hungry eyes that were starting to tick off your brother the longer he was by your side.

Eventually Azriel and Cassian pull him away, saying that they should get some drinks while you mingled.

You weren't alone for too long though. The High Lord of the Night Court takes Rhysand's place. He steers you toward his influential friends and fellow High Lords. Particularly the gold haired members of the Spring Court.

Cordially smiling, you play along. All the while you can feel Rhysand's eyes watching your every movement. His thoughts flowing freely to you. His jealous snarls when Tamlin dares to ask you for a dance has you giggling.

He was a good dancer, you'd give him that. Excellent on his feet. Easy on the eyes too (that musing had Rhys fuming).

As Tamlin twirls you around, you happen to catch your father and Tamlin's speaking to one another while casting glances over at the two of you.

You didn't like the way they conspiringly whisper to one another.

And neither did Rhysand as he and his brothers linger closely to eavesdrop. There was a slim chance that your father would betroth you to Tamlin, the youngest of the Spring Lord's sons. Ideally your father would want the eldest son, Pryr.

When the dance ends, you pull from Tamlin with a smile though he seems reluctant to release your waist. "Thank you for the wonderful dance, Tamlin."

"If you're up to it, I'd be more than happy to be your partner for the next." Tamlin proposes.

Not likely, Tam. You hear Rhysand hiss through your bond.

And on perfect cue, Isolde bounces between you and Tamlin. She beams up at you with those pretty amethyst eyes and gives you a quick wink. "Wow Tamlin! You were amazing! Can I be your partner for the next dance?"

You see he's prepared to say no but was struggling to phrase it as nicely as he could. "That's a wonderful idea, Isolde! A talent like Tamlin's should be shared." You turn expectantly to Tamlin. "You'll take care of her, right?"

"But-"

"Of course he will!" Isolde snatches Tamlin's hand and pulls him back to the dance floor.

You definitely had the best sister ever.

You flee to where your three Bat Boys were standing before Tamlin could realize what had just happened. Cassian is trying to hide his laugh.

"I don't think you could've gotten out of there faster than you did. Thought I saw your wings carrying you." Cass chuckles and hands you a glass filled with rose flavored alcohol. You lean along the wall with them, between Rhysand and Azriel, as you watch the rest of the partygoers. Tamlin's older brothers were stuck to their father as usual. The perfect sons. Observing as the High Lord of Spring murmurs to his oldest son. Pryr's eyes suddenly lock onto your's.

Quickly you avert your gaze and go to drinking from your glass.

Rhys doesn't miss it either.

Sweet days with your siblings were over and any thoughts of your engagement were set aside. War was battering the world at all angles that didn't leave you and your family exempt. A battering of wings against slings of arrows and offensive magic alike. You saw bodies fall from the sky. The dry dirt soaking up the still warm blood of comrades. You'll never get that smell out of your head for as long as you live. Nor the fear that seized you when you cared for a wounded Rhysand, Cassian or Azriel. Your fingers ached from the long hours you were forced to brandish your blade against oncoming enemies of Hybern.

You saw your mother and sister less and less. Your father raged that you should also be left behind with them. Being a female and all. There was no way that you were leaving Rhys' side. The High Lord of the Night Court really should have clipped your wings when he could. Constantly disobeying him thanks to the ability to fly, you followed the war camps much to his displeasure. He couldn't keep you away.

Rhysand himself tried a few times to talk you out of fighting alongside him. The hardening of your eyes was enough to shut Rhysand up and accept the fact that there was no getting rid of you. If it meant you could potentially die next to him, so be it. A death with Rhysand didn't sound so bad to you.

The four of you persevered though. Hybern was all but defeated. There were still a few lingering troops left in Prythian but nothing your army couldn't handle. It was the end of the road for them.

"Mother and Isolde will be in the southern Illyrian camp." You grip the small note in your hand, smiling. You hadn't seen them in months.

Rhysand pats his lap and you flutter over to him, perching yourself on his strong thighs. His elegant hand takes the note from you and examines it. "I don't think we'll be able to get there until tomorrow. There's still so much to be done here."

The tip of your cold nose finds warmth against Rhysand's neck. He puffs out a laugh from the contact and wraps his arm around you to offer you extra heat. "I'll have someone take over our own missive to let them know." Your fingers toy with the deep dip of Rhysand's collarbone. His eyes flicker as he uses his to reach out to someone through his daemati skill to have them pass it along to his mother and sister.

He's practically purring at your merest touch, his needy hands softly groping you.

You giggle and shake your hand. "Rhys. You said so yourself. We're quite busy." You were never one to deny your brother anything, but there were more important tasks to attend to than letting him rail you in his tent.

Dramatically, Rhysand throws his head back and sighs; hands reluctantly release you but not before he gave your ass a little smack. "As always you're right. Do you know how annoying that is?"

Chuckling you hold your hand out to him. "Come on. I want to finish up so we can see mom and Izzy bright and early."

The following morning you make your sleepy way to the river to refill your canteen.

Bobbing in the gentle waters were odd boxes.

Quizzically, you flick your hand to send your magic to fish them out. Once placed in front of your feet, you kneel to the ground and examine it. Doesn't look like anything out of the ordinary. But it's presence here in the mountains made you grab a knife to flip open one of the lids with the blade. Cautious.

Large, void amethyst eyes stare up at you.

The horrific sound of your screaming shattered the once quiet mountain. Earth shaking under you as you hold up Isolde's severed head, both hands clutching at her cold and stiff cheeks.

You just couldn't stop wailing.

Couldn't bring yourself to open the other box.

Even when tears cloud your vision, you can still make out the blurry features that had once been flush with life and love. Your screams were of utter pain, pure and guttural that were ripped so viciously from you.

You didn't notice the others crowding around you.

Didn't recognize your brother's hands or Azriel's scarred ones that hurriedly fly over your eyes. Someone removes Isolde's head from your grip.

You understand your body was moving. That someone was trying to quiet you with soft, tender words. Anything that would beckon you from your hysteria.

"We need to do something!" Cass' voice is so far away.

There's more screaming but you don't know if the voice voice still belonged to you. Didn't have the chance to find out before you black out.

Even when you come to, you're still in shock; unable to comprehend the savagery.

You'd been out for only a short amount of time but it was enough for you to have been moved to a bed. Did Rhys winnow you to the cabin?

The last person you were expecting to be in the room with you was the furious High Lord, your father, Rhain. When he registers that your eyes are open, awake, his stride is fast and soon he grabs the front of your shirt despite shouting coming from the healers.

"YOU."

Your lips dumbly part, words fail you as you attempt to weakly lift your arms to push him off of you.

But Lord Rhain gives you a good shake that rattles your brain in your skull. "You should have been with them." He kept shaking you. His words were hard to decipher as his speech became more growling than vocabulary.

"Let go of her!"

"She should be dead too!" You'd never seen such an expression on anyone's face. Not when you were killing others in the war. Rhain's features were twisted between the features of fae and monster.

Cassian and Azriel struggle to hold back the Night Court's High Lord. Especially in the state that he was in right now.

Rhysand trusts the two at his back to handle Rhain while he tends to you. "It's okay- Did he hurt you? Look at me, please."

Your eyes rapidly flutter, no dam was strong enough to stop the large tears that build over your eyelashes and drip down your cheeks. "I- What happened was real then. . ." You can't look at him. His eyes painfully remind you. . .

A sob is caught in your throat as your chest heaves. You turn your face to the side.

"The Spring Court did it." Rhysand hisses and grips your hands tightly in his. His warmth felt painful, like they would leave blisters to your ice cold hands. He repeats your name when your gaze wanders to Rhain still putting up a fight against the burly arms of your adoptive brothers. "Please look at me. My love, my heart, please look at me."

Lips quivering, you shake your head. "I can't. I can't. Your eyes-" You gulp down air as grief reaches high up into you and squeezes your heart. "Isolde- Isolde-"

"That's right! If you had been with them-" Your father's words were cut off by Rhysand's commandeering voice.

"Get him out of here!"

The bobbing heads of others gather at the door to assist the general and spy master.

Could. . . could you have prevented their deaths?

"Don't listen to him." Rhysand immediately reads that echoing voice. "None of this is your fault."

You'd just wanted so desperately to remain by Rhysand's side. Being away from him, well, you'd never accomplished being away from him except for when he went through the Blood Rite. You hadn't slept the entire time he and the others were fighting for their lives.

W-was this retribution for your abnormal relationship with your brother?

A ragged sob has you curling into yourself.

There was truth to Rhain's words.

"(y/n)." Rhys near pleading in tone. Through the telepathic bonds mates were graced with, you hear his actual begging.

Please look at me.

Don't believe our father.

(y/n).

Please.

I love you.

All Rhysand saw rolling in your mind was the image of Isolde's head in your trembling hands.

109 notes · View notes

lady-djarin · 1 year

Text

need you now

agent whiskey x f!reader (one shot)

warnings: feels, sweet jack, teasing, yearning, age gap, drinking, reader is a 'cool girl' who drinks whiskey and beer, retired!jack, oral (f receiving), drunk sex, cliff hanger...maybe, sorry!

word count: 3,228

inspired by: need you now by lady a

“Come on! It will be fun, there's cute cowboys there!”

You sighed. You liked quiet bars, not ones like this loud and rowdy one that your friends wanted to explore. You lived in a small town in Georgia and were used to the quiet life of it all. “I just don't know if that's my scene, guys.”

“It's my birthday, please? For me?” Your friend gave you her fake puppy dog eyes that always seemed to get her what she wanted.

“Fine… but I'm not dancing!”

“Yay! At least you're going, that's all I can ask for!”

—---

You walked into the bar with your best friend and her friend from high school, your small group making your way to a high top table. The bar was one of the bigger ones of your town but it was still quite small of a building. The dance floor, tables and bar were all pushed fairly close together and every single part was crowded with people. It was a Friday night so that would explain the crowd as you secure your table and get settled.

“I'm gonna grab us a drink!” you yelled slightly over the music and the other girls were already spying on a group of men nearby. You weaved your way through the mass of bodies, mostly smelling of sweat or alcohol. You reached the bar and flagged down a bartender. “Hey, can I get a Corona and two margaritas please?”

The bartender nodded and turned to grab your beer out of the fridge and gave it to you before going to make the margaritas. You leaned on the bar and looked around while waiting on the drinks and turned to your left to find a pair of brown eyes already looking your way. The brown eyes were accompanied by soft looking lips and a black Stetson. The subtle lines on the corner of his eyes told you he was not your age but attractive nonetheless. He had that classic southern handsome face that just made butterflies erupt in your gut. Looking at him felt like looking at the sun. He cracked a charming crooked smile at you and couldn't stop the same from happening to you.

“Well, hello pretty lady,” the slight drawl in his voice made your heart stop. You could immediately tell he was a classic womanizer, he knew how to get into a woman's pants faster than you could blink. You wouldn't be so easy.

“In your dreams,” you turned back toward the bar, watching the bartender make the drinks.

“Oh believe me, you are sugar.”

This fucking guy.

“Be a little original, then we can talk,” the bartender set your drinks on the counter and you handed him cash. You walked away before the cowboy could say another word.

Of course your friends had seen the man hitting on you and begged for you to go back there. You refused, telling them how you knew his type.

—--

“He’s the type to fuck you and never talk to you again.”

“Maybe you need that! Maybe you need a good fuck.”

She kind of had a point, you hadn't had almost any intimate human contact in a while and he was hot. You weren't really the hookup type but maybe you wanted to be but at this point you were four– no, five beers in and not really caring. You looked around and found the man leaning against the bar talking to a small very annoying looking blonde girl. With a new found courage, you marched your way over to the tall man, was he this tall before?, his attention quickly turning to you.

“We’re dancing.”

You weren't asking, you were telling him. His attention was long gone from the other girl and she was clearly annoyed as he followed you out on the dance floor. As you wove your way through the crowd, he grabbed your wrist, not in a possessive way but enough to make you turn and he spun you into a gentle hold. The two of you spun and laughed as the song continued, hands roaming bodies and cheeks pressed together.

“What's the name of the woman who will haunt my dreams?” You almost wanted to keep up the charade, make him work a little harder. “What name should I moan while I touch myself tonight?”

You nearly collapsed right then and there. Your eyes snapped up to look at him, meeting his that were already darker than before. You practically lunged forward, your face crashing into his, lips melting into each other, tongues fighting for dominance. His hands never stopped in their exploration of your form, one holding the back of your head, never letting you come up for air.

His lips were next to your ear now, his breath warm on your skin. “Wanna get out of here?”

Normally you would never go home with a stranger but there was something about him, and the many beers in your system, that told you to go for it. You found your friends and asked them if they were ok with you going with him, which of course they encouraged. You walked outside the bar to find the mysterious man leaning against his passenger side door of his old Bronco. You haven't felt this way in a long time, you were almost giddy. He made you feel giddy.

“Ready sugar?”

“Hell yea,” he opened the door as you hopped into the convertible and he started the engine. It was a warm summer night in Georgia and the breeze made you feel like you were flying. The radio was playing some sweet country song as you drove through the empty streets late that night.

Every so often he would look over and see your face scrunched up in joy, throwing our head back on the seat singing along to the song playing. He had not intended to find someone so special tonight but here he was, feeling his heart stop when he saw you smile. You were beautiful of course, but there was something else there under the surface that he wanted to explore.

You looked up to find that he had parked on a small cliff overlooking the city, the stars on full display. You gasped as you saw the bright stars above you, expecting to end up at his place or yours.

“Jack. My name is Jack.”

You smiled and tested his name for yourself. “Jack…” your drunkenness made it hard to form words. You told him your name and watched his eyes dance on your face. You were both leaning into each other now, the bench seat preventing any barrier from separating you two. His hand caressed your cheek, his large thumb stroking your skin. You couldn't help your eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, your skin felt like it was on fire. Besides the buzz from the alcohol, you felt light and content and you knew it was because of him. His lips were on yours again, everything fitting just right between you as you slid closer and felt the whole length of his body against yours.

You were starting to feel dizzy, and not from the beer. His presence was overwhelming, like the feeling in the air right before lightning struck. You breathed in his scent, a heady mix of burnt wood and whiskey. As your mouths finally separated, you saw the reflection of the low moonlight in his deep auburn eyes and you knew that he was going to mean more than just a one night stand. You just didn't know how yet.

—--

You smiled down at your phone seeing the name flash on the screen.

“Jack Daniels”

You couldn't believe it when he said that was his real name. The two of you had been texting all day every day for days now, since spending the night with him. You didn't sleep together but you did spend all night talking about everything under the stars.

2:08pm - Jack: Oh you better believe it sugar, I’m the best pizza maker there is.

2:11pm - You: Well, you'll just have to show me in person then.

2:11pm - You: Maybe tonight?

That was earlier that afternoon and you hadn’t heard anything since. It was hard not to be disappointed, you were having good conversation non-stop and to suddenly be cut off was weird. You tried to continue with your days without thinking of him but your mind kept wandering back to that charming man.

—--

It was almost midnight and you were restless beyond belief, not able to get comfortable or let your mind calm itself. You tossed and turned for hours until this point, finally deciding to go into the kitchen and find anything to help you sleep. You rummage through the cabinets and fridge and finally decide to pour yourself a drink, a strong one. The golden liquid swirled in the glass as you poured it, the scent hitting your nose immediately.

Perched on your kitchen counter, you emptied and refilled your class countless times until you were past tired and officially moved on to drunk. Scrolling mindlessly through social media was making your head hurt when you finally made it to your text messages. The name at the top of the screen made your heart sink.

1:14am - Jack: Hi sweetheart.

Fuck.

Nothing for almost a week and then this. What is he thinking? This isn't fair but at the same time you are just excited he texted. Your pulse was through the roof as your fingers ghosted on the keys, trying to find something to say back. Pacing back and forth in the kitchen proved difficult in your state. In a very spontaneous decision you dialed Jack’s number before your mind could catch up. It only rang once before you heard his beautiful voice come through the speaker.

“Darlin’?”

“J-Jack, hi.”

“What are you doing up?” He sounded so groggy and sexy over the phone.

“I-I don't really know,” you couldn't help the giggle that slipped out. “Couldn't sleep I guess.”

You both sat in silence for a while, wanting to say what you truly felt but afraid to disturb the peace.

“Ja–”

“Hon-,” you both spoke at once.

“Jack, I’m a little drunk… and, I need you…now,” you couldn't help the words coming out of your mouth. “You don’t have to… I ju– uhg. I’m sorry...”

“Stay right there and text me your address.”

You didn't really trust your drunk brain at the moment, but did as you were told and sent him your address. Anticipation was eating away at you in the time it took him to drive over. It felt too long and not long enough, you rushed to try and become presentable. You tore into your bathroom and fixed your hair and face as best as you could but you knew he wouldn't believe you wore makeup in the middle of the night so you steered away from the mascara. Your nerves were on fire as you prepared for Jack’s visit. You tried to tidy up your apartment as best as possible, throwing dirty clothes in the closet and hiding embarrassing things. Just as it dawned on you that this man is a perfect stranger, you heard a soft knock at the door. You swallowed the lump in your throat and tiptoed across the floor to the door. Suddenly the small shorts and large T-shirt you wore felt like not enough and too much all at once, but there was no time now. You paused in front of the door and took a breath to try and clear the fog in your head but you knew it was futile. The door creaked open to reveal a slightly disheveled but still very handsome cowboy, minus the hat.

You both stared at each other in disbelief for a moment, then he was on you. Pulling your face into a heated kiss, locking his lips onto yours. He could taste the whiskey on your lips and added that to the list of things he already adored about you. His body pushed against yours until you both hit the wall opposite the door, kicking it closed with his boot. The initial introduction stunned you, putting you in the mercy of this man's will, but now that you had your senses back, you could do what you had always wanted.

You ran your fingers through his hair, scratching at his scalp and drawing moans from his chest. Your hands pulled at the cotton of his shirt and the jeans on his hips, trying to get his body closer. It was almost frustrating that you both still had clothes on and you pulled away to tell him that when he locked his arms around your thighs and wrapped them around his torso. You ended up on the couch, straddling his hips while never breaking contact with his lips. The alcohol in your veins was spurring you on, forcing your hips to grind into his. Every movement of your hips was drawing small groans from his chest and caused his hands to roam further on your skin.

“Oh God sugar… I- I have been thinking about y-you for days,” his voice was just above a breath.

“Jack…”

Before you realized, Jack’s sturdy arms flipped your body and your back hit the couch with a soft thud. You giggled as he kissed your face and neck, stopping to suck a mark into the spot right near your collarbone. The feeling of his lips was making your head spin and your toes curl, the arousal licking up your spine like a fever. You could almost feel your very soul surrender to this man, begging to be claimed by him. The slight scratch of his stubble somehow made his lips feel even softer as they danced across your skin. His tongue poked out to lick from the bottom of your neck up to your ear, your breath hitched as you felt his on your skin.

“Tell me… tell me you want this doll, or I can leave… please.”

You wanted nothing more in the world. “Yes God, Jack please.”

The sound of you begging for him made his cock jump. All he could think about since that night at the bar was how you would feel under him, what you taste like and how you could scream for him. He made quick work of pulling your shirt over your head to reveal your soft chest. His lips attacked the peaks of your breasts, causing the warmth to pool low in your pelvis.

He felt like a man possessed, he couldn't get enough of you. He wanted more, he wanted everything. He kissed his way down your body until he came to your thin cotton shorts, that you most definitely were not wearing with underwear. Your breathing skipped as he peeled the fabric off your legs and kissed you the entire way down. His lips were like fire on your already heated skin, blazing the trail to where he wanted you most. His hands and tongue found their way to your dripping center.

You were trying to calm your breathing as he slowly spread your legs and settled between them. You had never had a man take so much care in how you were feeling and how your experience was. It made your heart swell. The sight of his large body that was fully clothed between your legs made you want to cover yourself on instinct but his strong arms were holding your legs apart. His tongue made its way to your delicate center ever so slowly like he was trying to drive you mad. He finally circled around your sensitive clit, making you cry out in ecstasy. He worked his lips and tongue over you like you were his last meal. There was no denying this man knew what he was doing and wasn't afraid to show it.

You bucked your hips into him, trying to gain more friction, needing more than he was giving you. He was only using his mouth and you knew if he used his fingers you would be done for. As you ground yourself into his face, he sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth and used his tongue to make you see stars.

“Jack, oh god please…” you whined as you anchored your fingers in his hair. “M-more.”

Suddenly you felt his mouth move away from you and you whined at the loss. You looked down to see his face covered in your slick, shining in the dim light. You blushed at the obscene sight. Just when you thought he was about to stand up and move up your body, he brought his hand up to his face and stuck his two middle fingers between his lips. Your mouth gaped open at the sight and a breathy moan followed when he circled those fingers over your center. He slowly pushed his digits into your wet core and you both groaned at the feeling.

“Mhmm, you're gonna feel so good baby girl,” his eyes roamed over your body, watching as you reacted to his movements. “But I want you to come for me first.”

Jack brought his mouth back down to your clit as his fingers started to curl into the spot inside you that made you see stars. He worked his mouth and fingers together, creating a rhythm that made you dizzy with lust. Men never did this, never put your desire first, no matter what they wanted. Jack was another story, he was clearly there for you and you alone. His fingers and tongue were moving in tandem, drawing pure pleasure from you. The pressure in your lower stomach was growing by the second, almost to the point of pain but you never wanted him to stop. He kept up his movements and knew you were close when your breaths came quicker and you tightened around his fingers. Jack was nothing if not a gentleman and he proved that tonight, making sure your pleasure came first. You rocked your hips into his face, grinding against him with your hands pulling his slightly curly hair. You climbed closer to your peak sooner than ever before, it was like this man had a spell over you, something that forced the pleasure from you.

“Fu-fuck, baby– I..I’m so…” you were officially mad with lust.

“I know honey, let go for me.” Jack’s voice was like honey, somehow drawing you closer to the edge.

He settled into a steady but harsh rhythm, almost moving the couch below you. You knew you were right there, right on the edge of the cliff about to fall off. The blood in your veins burned with pure passion.

Without much warning, your body ignited. Your orgasm ripped through you like wildfire, fast and sudden. Your lungs screamed for air and your vision went white. You dug your nails into his hair, locking him in place and he rode you through your high. The muscles in your core constricted around his fingers and your back arched to compensate for the intense feelings.

You had never cum like that in your life, ever. This man was like no one you had ever met.

“Fuck… what– what was that?,” your voice didn't sound like your own.

“Oh sugar… we're just getting started.”

------

MASTERLIST

#agent whiskey smut #din dijarin x reader #fanfic #reader fanfiction #jack daniels x reader #jack daniels smut #jack daniels #pedro pascal #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #star wars smut #star wars

677 notes · View notes

shegatsby · 30 days

Text

Love Thy Enemy

A/N; Couldn't wait, I had to post it lol. I hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. TAG LIST IS OPEN!!!!!! (Reader has a lover and Feyd's going to find out lol 😉😉😉) Don't forget to leave a comment.

Warnings; None. Female Bene Gesserit Reader x Feyd-Rautha, enemies to lovers! reader is reffered to as she/her.

Words; 2.417K

Chapter 3

Chapter Two ‘’Forcibles’’

The boy with pure eyes had grown into a tall muscular man with menace in his orbits. ‘’May I?’’ he asked not leaving his gaze from Pyramus, it wasn’t a request, it was an order and Pyramus who was coming from a small house couldn’t say no. Without a word he let go of Y/N, she felt empty. She was about to object, maybe excuse herself to rest but Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen acted quickly, like a snake he placed his hand on the small of her back and held her hand, she had no choice but to place her hand on his tense shoulder. His eyes so blue, ‘’How long has it been?’’ he asked, his boy voice was gone and classical Harkonnen tone made its home. Manly. ‘’I truly don’t remember.’’ She replied with a flat tone, couldn’t do anything but let him lead the dance. It had been only a minute and Y/N had every information she needed;

Predator

Dominant

Show off

His grip was strong, maybe he was sending a clear message to other houses. Y/N didn’t want to care but her Bene Gesserit training made it impossible not to care. ‘’You wound me.’’ He mocked. He was much taller than Pyramus. She had to look up to meet his icy blue gaze. Y/N noticed the looks they got, a Harkonnen is dancing with an Atreides…. Outrageous.

‘’I see you become a witch like your mother.’’ His tongue was a whip, was he trying to get a reaction out of her?

‘’I’ve heard you become a beast.’’ She was quick to answer, she felt the grip on her back tightened. Did she stroke a nerve? Good.

‘’If we were in Giedi Prime I would have your tongue.’’ He was amused and it made her more angry, ‘’Proves my point.’’

She noticed Irulan and Paul’s questioning look, they seemed shocked and concerned for Y/N. She gave them a small smile.

She felt like a black cobra snake swallowing her whole, Feyd-Rautha made sure to press her close to him, he wasn’t gentle like Pyramus, she looked but couldn’t see him, ‘’Looking for someone?’’ he sounded annoyed, Y/N heard how his mood changes quickly and she didn’t have time for an ugly scene. ‘’My friends. I assume you’re not familiar with the concept.’’ She thought maybe detesting Harkonnens were genetic. Feyd laughed hard which attracted stares around them, they were mostly concerned for Y/N Atreides. Up close, for a split second she saw that innocent boy but he disappeared.

The music ended and she excused herself, before she left Na-Baron grabbed her wrist, she turned in shock, what was he doing? He leaned and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, the kiss felt so soft she couldn’t believe it was coming from Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. She bowed in courtesy and got away from his grip, she could feel his icy blue orbits on her back, stabbing her.

Irulan came to chat with her, ‘’What was that about?’’ Irulan didn’t want to attract any unwanted attention but she wasn’t the only one who witnessed that. ‘’What do you mean?’’ Y/N asked drinking her champagne, cold liquid made her more relaxed, ‘’Feyd-Rautha ate you with his eyes.’’ Irulan signed with her hands, didn’t want pointy ears to hear. ‘’He is an intense man. That’s all.’’ She signed back.

The night was too long for Y/N’s liking. Since she was a lady she had to sand by her family and talk to other houses about spice, politics, etc. She needed some air.

Y/N chose a balcony at the back, front ones were occupied, she inhaled deeply, her hands on the stone railings, ‘’Here you are.’’ Pyramus’s soft voice made her calm. They hugged, he immediately tried to kiss her but Y/N had to be careful, she moved her head and Pyramus’s thin lips landed on her cheek. He huffed in annoyance, ‘’How long we have to hide in the shadows?’’ he loved to whine. ‘’Soon I shall tell my family.’’ Y/N kept mustering up her courage and loosing it the last minute. It wasn’t going to be easy. Pyramus held her hands, ‘’Be mine, they can’t say anything then.’’

‘’I’m already yours.’’ She was confused,

‘’Be mine… fully.’’ His dark eyes looking for answers. ‘’Oh,’’ Y/N understood. ‘’I don’t know. We should head back.’’ She changed the topic. Before she could leave Pyramus didn’t let go of her hands, ‘’Think about it, please.’’

Y/N Atreides could hear the whispers; ‘’Did you see?’’

‘’Poor girl.’’

‘’They seemed a perfect match, how odd.’’

‘’Na-Baron seems interested…’’

She only held her head high, pretended like she was deaf. Long night came to an end, she felt so tired running from unwanted company, the Harkonnen boy. Her father had to talk to them, Y/N managed to ignore them.

Tossing and turning in her bed with questions in her busy mind she bolted to her feet. The palace was quiet, guests were fast asleep. Y/N wanted to talk to someone, someone who would understand.. she wore her white satin robe and left her bed chamber. Her family were staying at the guest wing, she knew Paul would be awake. Her footsteps echoed in the empty halls, glowglobes were on the walls, giving a dim light to the corridors, her Bene Gesserit training made her stop, someone was following her, she calmed her mind.

‘’Why so hasty?’’ a rough voice echoed behind her back. She turned to face the owner of the voice. Feyd-Rautha.

‘’I could ask you the same thing, my Na-Baron.’’ Her heart beat got faster as he approached hands in his back. His manner was predatory, observing his prey. His tunic was thin and loose, ‘’Why are you wandering so late at night, little dove?’’ pet name made her blood rise but she had to keep her calm. ‘’I don’t see why it is-‘’ he was circling her now, ‘’your business.’’ Feyd came to stop in front of her which made her look up to meet his eyes. He liked having the height advantage, he could sense her fear, so delicious. ‘’Witches and their secrets…’’ he leaned and whispered to her face, his breath hot. Y/N wanted to run away and hide from him but something in her told her that no matter what he would find her.

‘’I’m good at revealing secrets.’’ His left hand rose, his forefinger tracing her arm covered in satin, both of them felt the electricity. His eyes travelled on her chest and find their place on her eyes again. ‘’How is Pyramus?’’

Y/N had to be extremely careful, or her house’s honor could be at stake. ‘’I don’t know what you’re talking about Na-baron.’’ Her tone flat yet Feyd noticed her posture change. As if she was going into a trial by combat. Deep down he wondered how would it feel to be loved like this, he could feel the rise of jealousy… a member of an insignificant house could achieve her love so easily? No. he would not allow it. A sinister plan ran in his dark mind.

She wanted to wipe that arrogant smile on his face, ‘’I shall bid you good night.’’ With that she headed back to her room. Whenever she wanted to open up about Pyramus something would stop her…

When the morning came with its shiny sun and fresh smell of flowers she was having breakfast with her family. Padishah Emperor Shaddam made majority of the house leave and announced that after breakfast he would announce his decision.

‘’You seem upset my love, is everything all right?’’ Duke Leto asked gently, she hadn’t touched the food on her golden plate, she looked around, no one but her family. ‘’I’m in love with someone.’’ She unraveled, feeling the years of burden leaving her delicate shoulders. Leto and Paul were smiling but her mother’s face didn’t move a muscle. ‘’Who is the lucky gentleman?’’ Leto asked, ‘’Pyramus, from house-‘’

Jessica cut her short, ‘’That house?! Have you lost your mind?’’ Jessica knew that Reverend Mother had something else planned for Y/N. Bene Gesserit has been working for this union for years. ‘’Let’s not lose our temper.’’ Leto warned Jessica with a calm tone. ‘’They are a small house, it is true. If he is good enough for my daughter he is good enough for us.’’ He finished. ‘’Excuse me.’’ Everyone thought Jessica was leaving in anger but she was about to send a message to Reverend Mother an change the whole course of Y/N’s future.

Harkonnens were having breakfast together, Feyd-Rautha was so fed up with his obese uncle’s eating that he lost his appetite. Rabban was in his normal self, quiet and tense. ‘’I wonder who will be the princess’s husband.’’ Rabban said curiously, was he hoping? Feyd-Rautha was seated away from them, watching them like a hawk. He knew well that Shaddam would never take that risk, to send his one and only daughter to the hellhole called Giedi Prime? Not in a million years. ‘’One way or another he has to satisfy us.’’ Their uncle spoke with full mouth, Feyd had to look away, he could feel his bile coming up to his throat. He drank his wine to suppress. ‘’What do you think uncle?’’ Rabban asked, he kept trying to impress their uncle and failed miserably. Baron’s fat fingers were shiny with the bacon’s juice he was eating, ‘’I believe we won’t leave until we get something.’’

Their Mentat Piter de Vrives knocked on the door and walked in, ‘’My Baron, Emperor is expecting you and your nephews to the throne room.’’

Baron laughed, ‘’We shall be there.’’

The throne room was packed with lords and ladies that remained, including Reverend Mother Helen. Y/N didn’t remember seeing her last night’s ball. Strange. Y/N Atreides and her family arrived early, Padishah Emperor Shaddam spoke with her father Duke Leto in private. Behind the golden throne there was a door which opened to a small room where Shaddam’s office took place. When Duke Leto came back his face held grim, he refused to look at anyone but the Emperor, was that resentment? Emperor was seated on his golden throne which had colorful ornaments, on his right much smaller and silver throne was placed and Irulan was sitting on it. Looking like a statue, she was a strong woman. Reverend Mother was at Shaddam’s left, whispering into his ear. She was covered in black, just like Harkonnens.

Y/N noticed how old Shaddam got, every child at one point in their lives come to the realization of their parents’ old age. Emperor was a second father to her, a sudden whip to her heart she focused her eyes on the floor to prevent herself from crying. In order to keep her racing mind busy she looked around to see the remained houses. Pyramus was right there, she waved at her and Y/N waved back. He had a colorful suit, just like his personality. Pyramus and other low class houses were on the left side of the room, other old and powerful houses were on the right. Everyone watched the way Harkonnens entered, they were the last one to arrive. Baron Vladimir was a man of show off, he loved to show his power given any chance. Baron was at the front, Rabban and Feyd following behind, when Y/N saw Feyd-Rautha, her mind immediately went to last night’s events.

‘’Does he know me and Pyramus?’’ to be the first one to reveal the secret she had to tell it to her family this morning but she wasn’t sure anymore. All day Pyramus was after her asking how they reacted, she felt overwhelmed.

She wanted to be brave so Y/N watched them stand close to Atreides, Feyd-Rautha wasn’t shy of eye contact, as usual he was wearing his black suit, with his boots he looked much taller. Y/N watched him eye her up and down, she was wearing a dark blue dress, her arms and neck covered in dark blue laces, her head was tightly rounded like a ball on her head, a thin silver tiara was placed. She kept her posture high, she wasn’t going to shrink because of a Harkonnen, even though Feyd looked as if he could disintegrate her with his shiny blue eyes.

Shaddam rose to his feet, his regal robe sweeping the floor, ‘’Thank you for waiting so patiently,’’ everyone were focused, eager to hear his decision. ‘’I have decided that it was due time to choose a life partner for my one and only daughter. After last night I have consulted my daughter Irulan and the young gentleman that I choose is,’’ Y/N could feel the tension in the room, she slightly observed the room and Shaddam’s subjects were focused on him but one person. Feyd-Rautha, his snake eyes kept finding Y/N. Why did he look like he knew something that Y/N didn’t?

‘’Paul Atreides, from house Atreides.’’ Applauses could be heard, Y/N got positive energy from them last night so she wasn’t wrong. Irulan was her sister and Paul her brother, she knew that they would make each other happy. Paul walked to princes Irulan to kiss her hand. ‘’The wedding shall happen tomorrow.’’ The applauses died down, ‘’If you have no objections or requests you may be dismissed.’’ Shaddam announced, Y/N couldn’t wait to be left alone with Irulan and listen every detail.

‘’Emperor!’’ a man’s strong voice echoed in the throne room, ‘’I have a request.’’ Y/N turned to see Feyd-Rautha leaving his spot and slowly approaching to stand in the middle of the room, ‘’Come forth young Harkonnen.’’

Y/N had a bad feeling, this whole thing look staged, she turned to see her family’s reaction. Duke Leto, again, trying so hard to avoid her, Lady Jessica smiled at her. Y/N was puzzled, ‘’This is for the best.’’ She signed to her daughter.

Feyd-Rautha did what Shaddam said, before he knelt in front of the Emperor he gave a last look to her.

‘’What is it that you request?’’ Shaddam’s calmness irritated Y/N.

‘’Since you raised her as one of your own it is best to ask your permission,’’ Feyd paused to get more reaction from his spectators, his head was down but after that pause he tilted his head and look into Shaddam’s eyes. Shaddam had never seen such power in a young boy before. Baron did great job.

‘’I demand Lady Y/N Atreides’s hand in marriage.’’

TAG LIST;

@superchatnoir07

@mamawiggers1980

@landlockedmermaid77

@moonsoulk

@crystalskiesandcherrywine

Thank you for reading. :)

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disfiguredlovewrites · 8 days

Text

— #Miss Korea

Rodrik Nacht x Fem reader, Sienna Nacht x fem reader (platonic), Aciel Nacht x male reader (mentioned)

Manhwa: The world without my sister who everyone loved.

CW: OCC actions and behaviour

Word count: 1530 words

Unedited

“We’re here.” Rodrik calmly stated as he gently poked his wife’s shoulder. “Hm…?” Y/n voiced out as she groaned and stretched. Stayed sitting for a bit before yawning and finally standing up. Her husband left the carriage before her, that way he can help her get down.

Aciel watched his parents, an unamused expression on his face. “Gentle now.” Rodrik said as he helped his wife get out of the carriage. Y/n gently hopped out, dusting out her dress as she started walking towards the orphanage, slightly excited.

Aciel decided to just stay outside while his parents went in, the romantic gestures they showed made him sick. “I hope we pick a girl, it’s tough being the only woman in this family.” Said gently as she hugged her husband’s arm.

He gently patted her arms as assurance.

Sienna prayed that the grand duke won’t choose her, she simply didn’t want to go with him, not with how she was treated in her past life.

As the duke walked by, she held her breath in, staring down at the floor. She watched as the duke’s shadow loomed over her, she prayed that it was just a coincidence. But to her shock (and horror) the duke got on one knee infront of her. Everyone in the orphanage gasped in surprise.

“Won’t you come to Nacht with me?” He asked gently, waiting for her answer. “Ah…” That was the girl said, she didn’t want to respond, until someone gently tapped her on her shoulder. “Ah…my name is sienna, pleasure to meet you…” She said gently as she bowed.

From the corner of sienna’s eyes, she saw another figure near the grand duke. As the duke asked the question again, he felt a light hit on his head. The man rubbed his head, his wife frowning slightly. “You’re scaring the girl.” Y/n said gently, her fist clenched. She then also squatted down and gently smiled at the girl.

“Sienna is a beautiful name, my name is Y/n! Would you like to come with us?” She asked as gently as she could as to not scare the girl. Sienna stared in shock, she didn’t remember a grand duchess, nor someone like y/n. It deeply confused Sienna as she stared at the lady.

“…Is there something on my face, dear?” Y/n called out gently to Sienna, worried about the child. Sienna realised something had changed, it made her head hurt a lot, before she could process it, she fell to her knees. The worried duchess called out to Sienna, so did the grand duke, trying to hold onto her incase she fell.

“No! I-” Sienna tried to distance herself away from the couple before collapsing. The kids yelled out in shock and horror. Screaming that she fell. Y/n immediately held the girl her arms, worried she may have gotten hurt. Sienna felt the warmness and she didn’t want to let go. ‘I don’t want to leave.’ She thought as she felt calm before fainting.

Y/n got worried as she cradled the child in her arms. The teacher immediately went to the grand duchess’ side. “Does..does this happen often?” She asked worriedly, Rodrik watched his wife from the sidelines as she calmly and gently rocked back and forth as she patted Sienna’s back. The teacher answered her as well as she could, mentioning anything she remembered about the kid. Y/n looked at the child in her arms and felt pity, she felt sad for Sienna.

Rodrik felt rage as he started telling his guards to takeaway the orphanage headmaster, he saw how the kids were clearly mistreated her, seeing how small all the kids were. Especially sienna, she was too small for her age.

Sienna opened her eyes gently to see the scene before her, she then heard the worried voice of Y/n. “Sienna! Are you alright dear?” She asked gently, brushing the girl’s hair gently. Sienna looked at the woman stunned but she didn’t want to leave her arms. It felt warm..and loving.

Rodrik then worriedly looked at the girl in his wife’s arm. Sienna thought that it was a good time for her to act like she didn’t want to leave. She started fake crying into the duchess’ arm, yelling she was scared as she fake sobbed.

“Can I not come?” She asked the duchess, who worriedly looked at her, patting the girl’s head. She then looked at her teacher and asked, telling Lisa (teacher) that she will be a good child. Rodrik watched, stunned as his wife tried to calm the kid down. The teacher explained to the couple that she must be scared to leave a place she was attached to, but she regardless said that Sienna was a good child.

Y/n felt sadness as she watched the kid, she knew what it felt like. She used gentle words and tried to calm the girl down. Sienna then started crying again, but for real this time. She sobbed saying she didn’t want to leave.

“Fine, sienna please don’t cry, we won’t take you, okay?” Y/n said gently before handing the girl over to her teacher. Sienna clinged to her teacher as she sniffled. Rodrik helped his wife up gently, affirming that he’ll come another day. Y/n dusted her dress, and bowed slightly, as they started heading away.

As they got outside, Y/n sighed gently, she gripped her dress as she thought about Sienna. She was worried to say the least. “Y/n, calm down.” She heard her husband gently say, holding her hands from further creasing her dress.

Aciel walked over to his parents in confusion and asked what happened. Y/n calmly explained everything, the best she could. Aciel listened quietly. Both the duke and Aciel felt as though as something bad was happening. So they both decided to head back in, telling y/n to wait in the carriage.

Y/n nodded, confused. She got back into the carriage with the help of Rodrik. He kissed the back of her hand and gently told her to wait. Y/n smiled while blushing gently, nodding. She quietly waited in the car for her husband and son to come back. Eventually falling asleep again as she waiting for them.

After a while, she heard a tap on the carriage window, which woke her up, her husband and Aciel was back, but this time with Sienna. She saw the teacher and sienna talked after she help put the child into the carriage.

She gently greeted the kid who only shyly nodded in response. She patted Sienna’s head, gently talking to her and asking if she’s fine. Sienna only nodded in response, even though she shouldn’t trust them, she couldn’t help but break her walls down when it came to the duchess.

Sienna eventually ended up falling asleep, leaning against the duchess as they rode to the Nacht dukedom. Rodrik watched his wife and sienna sleeping with a gentle smile whereas Aciel opted to look outside the carriage window, thinking about a certain someone who was probably waiting for him back home.

As they finally reached the mansion, the duke again woke his wife up gently, letting her know they had reached their home. Y/n yawned quietly and she woke up. Aciel was already outside, so was Rodrik. He gently picked up Sienna and held her in his arms as he waited for wife to get out of the carriage.

Y/n gently hopped out of the carriage, dusting off her dress. They all headed into the mansion. Y/n stretched as quietly as she could so she didn’t wake up the kid.

The servants tried to greet the three but Y/n gently asked them to quiet down as Sienna was sleeping. The servants nodded quietly. Rodrik again felt a small smile move onto his face. Their youngest Micheal called out to his parents.

He hurriedly ran down the stairs, Y/N told him to be careful and to not run. He then stopped near his parents and asked who sienna was. Y/n moved closer to her youngest son and explained she’ll him after they put sienna to bed. Micheal nodded as his mother gently kissed his forehead, patting his head and giving him a gentle smile.

“Ah right, Aciel, M/n should be waiting for you.” She whispered into his ears, Aciel slightly blushed as he nodded, letting his father know he’s going to his room. Rodrik simply nodded as he and wife headed towards the moon cradle.

Rodrik gently put Sienna into the bed, making sure she was comfortable, y/n helped as well, whereas Micheal watched his parents. “I’ll stay here, you guys get out, the baby’s sleeping.” She said gently as she shooed her husband and her child. Micheal nodded as he gave his mother a quick hug and walked away.

“I’ll have to leave soon again, dear.” Rodrik said as he kissed his wife’s palm before placing it on his cheek. Y/n smiled softly as she kissed her husband’s other cheek. “Alright, I love you Rodrik.” She said calmly with a smile. He smiled back, gently bumping heads with Y/n before leaving the room and closing the door.

Y/n watched as the door finally closed shut fully, she fell into the seat next to the bed as she watched the sleeping sienna. She gently held the unconscious child’s hand in hers. “This time, I promise sienna, I’ll definitely protect you.”

All of the published posts on this account/blog belongs to @disfiguredlov3. I do not consent to my works being: translated, stolen, published or reposted on this and other sites without my permission. Likes, reblog are highly appreaciated. Thank you.

#female reader #the world without my sister who everyone loved #manhwa x reader #manhwa #male reader mentioned #Rodrik Nacht #historical manhwa #manhwa x you #fem reader #afab reader #fanfic #reader fanfiction

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courtforshort15 · 2 years

Text

Choice and Chance and Promise

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem Reader

Word count: 7,300

Summary: You can't help the way you feel about one Matthew Murdock, though you've spent years wishing you could. It would probably have made things a little easier.

Trigger warnings: none. Slight angst (but not really) with a happy ending.

Masterlist

"I don’t think this is working out for me anymore.”

The words echo in your head as you say them, getting louder and louder each time it finds a wall, ledge or corner to bounce off of. The man across the table stiffens, and there’s a sharp intake of breath that causes his nostrils to flare.

“What?” His tone is one of utter disbelief, and honestly, you can’t blame him. It had seemingly come out of nowhere, though lunch had been awkward as all hell, at least from your perspective. Apparently he hadn’t felt the same.

You wince, shifting your eyes away from him, hating to see the pain that’s beginning to bloom across his face. You hate this part. “I said–”

“I know what you said,” he snaps, the red tint in his cheeks deepening. You don’t take the tone to heart, knowing he’s only reacting the way he is because he’s hurt. “I’m just confused.”

Taking a deep breath, you continue to steel yourself, feeling the way your spine has straightened as you force yourself to say what you need to say. It’s not that you don’t want to break up with him, it’s just that you’re awful at confrontation. “I just…don’t think this is working. I don’t know what else to say.”

“You could start by telling me why,” he says, and you watch as the pain slowly shifts into something that’s a little frustrated, a little angry. “I thought things were going well.”

“They were–”

“Then what’s going on?”

“--until they weren’t.”

His face hardens. “But why? I don’t get it.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and your thumb, briefly closing your eyes. You look back up at him, noting the way his knuckles have turned white around the plastic cup of soda he’s holding. “I’m just not into it anymore, I guess? I don’t know.”

He gives you an incredulous look. “Not into it anymore?”

“Yeah. I don’t think this is right for me.”

“You don’t think I’m right for you, is what you’re saying.” The look on his face is accusatory, but what he’s said is 100% correct.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying,” your voice is quiet as you respond, shrugging your shoulders. You look at the wall over his shoulder, reluctant to look at his face directly and see the pain that’s radiating off of him.

The man barks out a sarcastic laugh, and the sound echoes throughout the quiet restaurant. A few other patrons look up in curiosity before continuing on with their lunch. “This is great. Fantastic.”

You grimace, fingers playing with the hair tie that's wrapped around your wrist. You’re a fidgeter, you can’t help it, and this is something that’s turning your stomach. You hate being the bad guy, even though it’s completely unintentional and you’re only trying to do what’s best for you. You’re allowed to be selfish in that regard, right?

“I’m really sorry,” you mumble just loud enough for him to hear. The apology doesn’t help, but you don’t really expect it to.

“Did I do something? Say something wrong?”

“No, it’s not that,” you say as you shift in your seat awkwardly.

“Then what?”

Groaning, you toss your head back to stare at the ceiling. Breakups suck, and it doesn’t matter what side of the equation you’re on. “It just doesn’t feel right. I don’t know how to describe it.”

He’s not satisfied with the answers you’re giving him, if the look he’s giving you is anything to go by. “You’re not making any sense at all. Can’t we just talk about this?”

“We are talking about this.”

The man gives a frustrated sigh as he runs his fingers through his hair. “No, you’re breaking up with me. That’s not talking about it. You’re telling me we’re done without giving me the chance to change your mind, or see what’s fixable.”

“There’s nothing wrong, and there’s nothing that needs fixing. You’re a great guy, I just–”

“Are you seriously giving me the “it’s not you, it’s me” line?”

You cringe, cheeks flushing. “That’s not…Look, I’m really sorry, but this isn’t what I want anymore. You didn't do anything wrong, so please don’t think any of this is on you. Some people just aren’t good matches, you know?”

“I can’t believe this,” he seethes. A waitress comes up to presumably ask a question, but you shake your head before she can say anything, trying to indicate it’s best she stays away. With a nod, she walks over to another table instead. You turn to look back at the man across from you, watching as he just about glares at you.

“I’m sor–”

“Stop apologizing,” he bares his teeth as he hisses the words. “Just tell me why my girlfriend is up and leaving without a conversation about it.”

Your mouth drops in surprise. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes, girlfriend. We’ve been dating for three months, what else did you think you were?”

“Three months isn’t a lot of time,” you say weakly, faltering just slightly. “I guess I didn’t see myself as your…girlfriend.”

A brief look of hope crosses over his face suddenly and a bad feeling settles over you. “Is that…is that why you’re breaking up with me? Because you wanted to be serious and you thought I didn’t?”

Fucking hell. “No–”

“Because I promise you, I want to be serious. I’m serious about you.”

“That’s not–”

“I’m really sorry if you thought I didn’t want more, and if that made you feel like you needed to cut yourself off before you got too attached. I can totally understand that.”

You’ve reached your breaking point. “Enough. No. That’s not why. I didn’t think this was serious, and I don’t think I wanted it to be serious. I don’t want to be with you. Why can’t you just accept that?”

His face darkens again as his eyes narrow drastically. “You’re fucking someone else, aren’t you?”

You jerk back, surprised at the accusation. “What?”

“That’s it, right? You’re fucking someone else, and you don’t want me anymore.”

“That’s a hateful accusation,” you glare at him as your voice lowers. “We may not have been serious, but I wasn’t…sleeping around.”

“Right,” he scoffs. “Maybe you were or maybe you weren’t sleeping with someone else, who knows. Maybe you just have feelings for someone else.” The words are spat out at you as if having feelings for someone else is worse than fucking someone.

But this accusation coming from him is…not wrong.

Flashes of a man, a devastatingly beautiful man, flip through your mind, and it’s easy to allow the images flood your consciousness. His dark hair and the way it has a reddish tone when it catches the light just right. A wide smile, framed by dimples and laugh lines, full lips open to give you a dry comment or a quiet compliment. Calloused hands that still feel smooth wrapped around your elbow, broad shoulders that carry the weight of Hell’s Kitchen on them.

Him. It’s always been him.

And it’s taken way too long to figure it out, way too long to give it a chance, way too long to admit how you feel.

The man across from you utterly sneers as he correctly reads the emotions flitting across your face. “That’s bullshit. You’re breaking up with me for someone else.”

You hang your head in an act of shame. You really do feel awful about this, even if he’s currently being an asshole. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for things to end this way. I can’t…help how I feel about him.”

His lips curl in something that’s bordering on loathing. “And if you could? Would you want to change how you feel about him?”

For the first time since you’d sat down with him to end things, you look him straight in the eyes, with absolutely no hesitation in your mind. “No. I wouldn’t.”

A bitter laugh escapes him. “Right. Great. Guess I’ll be leaving then.” He stands up, his chair screeching across the tile of the restaurant floor. He angrily tosses a twenty down on the table to cover his meal.

You look up at him with wide eyes, still hating the way you’ve hurt him. He was a good guy, just…not the one for you. “It was…uh. It was nice knowing you, David. I hope you find what you’re–”

The man storms away and exits the restaurant door in a fit of fury before you even finish speaking.

—---

Hours later, you’re standing outside his run-down green door, take-out in one hand and a pack of disgusting German beer in the other, anxiously shifting from foot to foot.

It’s ridiculous, you know it is. You told him you were coming over, so you know he’s home. And you also know he’s likely tracked your movement from two blocks away minimum and is fully aware you’re standing outside his door.

Sure enough, before you can even knock, it’s being opened from the inside. Matt stands in his doorway in casual clothes, his favorite ratty t-shirt and gray sweatpants (yes, fucking gray sweatpants, holy hell), with a smile on his lips as he immediately beckons you inside.

“Hey,” he greets you as you cross the threshold into his apartment. He reaches out and wordlessly grabs the beer and take-out from you so that you can remove your jacket and scarf and place them on his coat rack. “You know, it’s usually customary to knock on one’s door when you’re ready to come inside.”

You smile at the simple way he teases you as the pair of you walk into his living room. Things have just always been easy, always been effortless between you two. “I think the key word is ready in this situation.”

“Oh?” He asks curiously while he immediately begins unpacking the food and placing it on his coffee table. He’s already set out plates and napkins to eat dinner with, and there’s a glass of water waiting for you, knowing you prefer it to the beer you’ve brought over for him. “What were you waiting on?”

Oh, just trying to figure out how not to fuck this up.

“Nothing, I was just thinking,” you say instead as you toe off your shoes and move to sit on the ground in front of the coffee table. Matt thinks it’s amusing when you sit on the ground instead of the couch to eat, but he’s always quick to join you anyway. It's therefore no surprise that once the food is properly laid out, he’s sitting across from you on the other side of the table, legs stretched out underneath.

His feet, like usual, are covered in fluffy socks that roll up over the bottom of his sweats, much to your ever-lasting amusement. It’s adorable, and the fact that he has no idea what it does to you is ridiculous.

God, this man.

“Thinking? What about?”

You. Always you.

“Things,” you shrug nonchalantly.

“Things,” he says dryly. He places a large serving of your favorite dish onto a plate before he hands it to you. You’ve known each other long enough, been friends long enough, that he knows what you’re going to eat before you even say anything, always correctly anticipating what you’re hungry for. You take it from him with a grateful smile.

“Yes, things.”

He raises his eyebrows, but doesn’t say anything. It’s generally not like you to be vague, but he’s never been one to push. He knows you’ll tell him when or if you’re ready, because you always do. He’s the one person you tell everything to.

“Well, let me know if you need to talk about anything, okay?”

You smile, and the expression is genuinely open and happy. It’s an expression that is on your face more often than not when you’re around him.

Matt tilts his head towards yours, beautiful brown eyes that sometimes look hazel in the light aimed in your general direction, as if he can see the way you’re looking at him. Your heart is pounding in your ears, but in a way that you hope suggests excitement for your favorite take-out place rather than anxiety. He smiles softly, and you know he’s listening in.

You suppose people could find it intrusive, the way he’s able to know more about their bodies than they do. But to you, Matt’s only ever used his abilities to seek the truth and hold people accountable for their actions, regardless of the setting.

With a dorky grin still on your face, you find yourself digging into dinner, suddenly starving, realizing you hadn’t been able to eat much at today, both because David had taken you to a place he knew you hated for lunch, and because your stomach had been twisted into knots as you paced back and forth in your living room, trying to find the right words to say to the man in front of you.

“How’s that case coming?” you ask him, eyeing the sheets of paper spread gathered in a pile and his laptop on his kitchen table. It must have been one of the days he chose to work from home, if the mess is anything to go by.

Matt lifts a shoulder in response as he shoves another bite into his mouth and swallows. You eye the way his cherry, bow-strung lips wrap themselves around his fork. “It’s a bit of a beast, to be honest. No concrete alibi, a witness that places our client at the location of the crime within a few hours of it happening. But Foggy thinks he’s got a lead, so we’re hoping something comes through.”

“But you don’t necessarily have to have great leads, right? As long as you can discredit the prosecution’s?”

Matt looks so downright happy that your heart flutters in your chest. He sends you a teasing smile. “Yeah, that’s right. Look at you, it seems you do occasionally listen when I’m talking.”

“I guess I just like the sound of your voice,” you tell him sarcastically. Matt throws back his head and laughs as you chuck back the line you know he’s used on women before, yourself included.

“I’m blind,” he says when he’s done laughing. He takes another bite, and again you find yourself distracted by the movement. “It is fully within my right to use that line.”

“If you used it as a genuine compliment rather than a line to seduce women, I might be able to excuse it.”

He drops his mouth in mock upset. “Why can’t it be both?”

You snicker before taking another bite. “I’ve known you for years, Matt. If it was a genuine compliment, you’d say it to women you weren’t trying to hook up with.”

“That’s…fair.”

You laugh again. “I’ve known you for too long, Matt. I’ve figured out most of your secrets.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says with a grin, blank eyes aimed over your shoulder. “We wouldn’t be friends if you did.”

Your eyebrows raise as you consider him. “Is that so?”

His laugh is almost self deprecating, and it causes your lips to twist into a small frown. “No one wants to be inside my head. I don’t even want to be inside it.”

“And if I did?”

His expression is curious, his head tilted as he observes you in the way that is uniquely him. “Why would you want to do that?”

“Maybe I just want to know more about you,” you shrug your shoulders. You take a large sip of your water, lips curling briefly in disgust as he does the same with his beer. His beer of choice is revolting, and you’ve never been able to tell if he actually likes it, or if it’s because he thinks he deserves the worst in all things, even his alcohol. “We’ve been friends for a while, haven’t we? Sometimes I can tell you want to let things slip, but you always hold back.”

“It’s been a rough road,” he says in response, letting out a sigh as he shakes his head. You grimace, knowing just how rough the road has been, having met him at a low point in his life. But even at his worst, he managed to draw you in like a moth to the flame. “It wasn’t pretty. Not sure that’s something you want to hear about, sweetheart.”

His name for you rolls off his tongue easily, which is no surprise since he’s been calling you that ever since it randomly slipped out at a drunken night at Josie’s. You’ve worked hard over the years to not react to it in a way that wasn’t strictly friendly, but tonight you…can’t help it. The word runs through your veins before it settles in your heart, and you find yourself flushing.

Matt pauses, his next bite of food sitting on his fork halfway to his mouth. The tilt of his head indicates he’s picked up on the way your heart has briefly stuttered. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you say, attempting to brush it off and not give yourself away so soon. You’ve planned out what you want to say tonight, and you’re…not quite ready to go there. You need to ease into it, prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not feel the same way, because there is still a very real chance that this will all blow up in your face.

“You sure?”

You smile softly, his quiet concern washing over you like a gentle breeze on a warm spring day. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

There’s a quiet lull in the conversation as you focus on the food in front of you, and the silence is a comfortable one. You watch as he takes another bite, eyeing the way he never spills a single piece of his food with a small sense of envy. You, on the other hand, cause a mess all over your own t-shirt with every meal, and tonight is no exception. You wet a napkin with your water and try to get rid of the stain that’s forming, though you know it’s not going to do much.

“What were you up to today?” His voice snaps you out of your head, the question popping up out of the blue after he takes another swig of his god awful beer. “Didn’t you take the day off? Karen said she called you earlier to ask if you wanted to grab coffee, but that you said you were out of the office today.”

“Uh, yeah,” you say as you push your plate away from you, having finished with dinner. Matt does the same after funneling in one last bite. Over the years, your work has sometimes overlapped with the practice of Nelson, Murdock & Page, so it’s not unusual for Karen to call you up for coffee breaks or lunch dates.“I took some time just to decompress for a bit.”

“Just for fun?”

You shift in your seat awkwardly before you choose to stand up to grab your dishes from his coffee table, intending to help clean up. Matt stands up quickly and waves your hand away, picking them up instead, along with the extra food neither one of you had eaten. He walks them over to the kitchen and places them into his sink with a clank.

“No, not really,” you tell him honestly after a moment. Your mind quickly shuffles through the best way to broach the topic. “I uh…I had lunch with David earlier.”

The entire line of Matt’s body goes stiff, and you watch as every inch of him stops moving in front of you from where he’s standing in front of the facet. He’s quiet for a moment, and it looks like a war is taking place inside his head as he frowns. He lets out a loud breath, and it strikes you that he looks like he’s trying to shake himself out of it, but failing.

“That’s…nice,” he says, and the words sound incredibly tense and forced. “I hope he’s doing well.”

You grimace at the reminder of David’s angry face, twiddling your thumbs as you stand awkwardly in his living room. “I don’t think he’s doing especially well right now.”

Matt grabs a few tupperware containers from under his kitchen sink and begins shoveling leftovers into them, his face carefully blank. “That’s a shame. Is everything okay?”

“Okay with me? Or okay with him?”

Matt’s head tilts at the question. “Both? Mostly you, though. Are you okay?”

“I mean…yeah,” you say, realizing it’s the absolute truth as a small smile appears across your face. Matt nods to himself, snapping the lid of a container shut, and if he uses a little more force than usual, neither one of you acknowledges it.

“That’s good,” he mumbles just loudly enough for you to hear from across the room. You watch as he walks over and places the leftovers in his fridge. “Good. I’m glad everything is good.”

“It is good,” you repeat, and your smile widens hesitantly, despite your nerves. “We went to that Mexican restaurant on 51st.”

Matt pauses and tilts his head towards you, looking confused. “You hate that place.”

You let out a laugh. “I absolutely detest it, actually. It’s not authentic at all, and the rice and beans are awful.”

“Why would you go there then?” The look on his face tells you that he thinks the concept is absolutely ridiculous.

You shrug your shoulders lightly as you make your way closer to his dining table, fingers running over the paper he has piled up, tracing lightly over the bumps. “David wanted to go there.”

Matt’s face returns to a look that is forcibly blank as he turns on the water and begins washing the dishes. “Does he know you don’t like it?”

“He was hoping I’d change my mind. He uh…didn’t always care too much about the places I liked going to.”

“Right,” he mutters, almost too quiet for you to hear as he begins scrubbing furiously. You find yourself almost feeling bad for the poor sponge. “That’s kind of him, always taking you to places he knows you don’t like.”

Your eyebrows raise at the borderline hostility towards a man who’s not even in the room. “It’s okay, Matt,” you say, watching the way his face has screwed up slightly in frustration. “It’s not a big deal.”

“You’d think your boyfriend would at least try to find places to go to that you both like, instead of just choosing what works for him.”

You don’t disagree with him, mostly because it was something you’d picked up early on with David anyway, but the sentence still makes you frown. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You’ve been dating for a few months though, right?”

You open your mouth to respond.“Well yes–”

“Then even if you haven’t made things official, he still should make more of an effort to keep you in mind when making plans.”

“Matt–”

His voice has grown louder, and it’s almost alarming, the way he’s reacting right now. “It’s kind of inconsiderate, actually. He should–”

“I broke up with him.”

Matt freezes, every inch of him momentarily coming to a screeching halt, the dish towel still in his hands. He frowns, appearing extremely bewildered, and you don’t necessarily blame him, not with the words you let slip past your lips in an effort to stop his tangent. He looks briefly like the wind has been knocked out of his sails before he recovers. “Why would you do that?”

You shrug, observing him as he slowly places the dish towel on the counter. “It didn’t feel right with him.”

“It didn’t feel right with him?” He repeats almost flatly. You nod, biting your bottom lip. He takes a deep breath and leans back against the counter, fully facing you now. “Well, it’s…good you figured that out, right? No one deserves to be led on.”

“That’s right,” you whisper, and you’re almost taken aback by the sadness that flashes across his face.

Does he not–

He’s still frowning, his lips tugged down on the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure you’re okay? Shouldn’t you–”

“Matt,” you sigh as you take another few steps forward into the kitchen, effectively cutting him off. Matt looks like he can’t tell if he should stay still or bolt at the sudden movement. “I broke up with the guy I was seeing, and the only thing I’ve wanted to do was come here.”

He licks his lips nervously, and the motion draws your eyes to his mouth, a mouth you’ve thought about more times than you want to admit. “I’m…I’m not sure what to say to that.”

You smile sadly, quickly coming to the realization this isn’t the way you pictured this conversation going. “You don’t really need to say anything. I just…thought you should know.”

“But why did you think I should know?”

You shuffle your feet, and you know you’re quickly losing your nerve as your heart settles in your stomach, a heavy wrecking ball ready to destroy whatever you had come over here to say. “Because we’re friends. Right?”

Matt almost flinches, his body practically deflating in front of you. “Right. Friends. This is totally something you talk about with friends.” The man shudders in front of you and closes his eyes, head turning away from you. He’s silent, and the longer he doesn’t say anything, the more uneasy you get.

Had you…read this wrong?

Years of warm, flirty comments. Years of late night take out. Years of bright smiles and impromptu sleepovers when he’s too tired to leave your couch after you’ve patched him up. Years of random coffee meet-ups and hugs that lasted longer than they did with Karen and Foggy. Years of Saturday morning walks through Central Park and dry, sarcastic comments thrown at each other like confetti.

Years of feeling like something was always lurking beneath the surface, but never quite knowing, never quite believing what it was or could be.

You honestly don’t know why it’s taken you so long to get to this point in your life. Matt was a man you once upon a time had a crush on, before his apparent lack of interest forced you to shove those feelings aside. It was more than enough, you’ve told yourself over the years, to just be his friend, and so eventually, you dropped it.

Until one day…a side comment from Karen caught your ear and everything simply slid into place.

A side comment that suggested that just perhaps…he felt the same way, too.

But maybe, thinking back on it, Karen had been wrong. She was drunk when she slurred it to you three weeks ago at happy hour, so perhaps listening to her wasn’t the best idea. Maybe she saw something that wasn’t there. Maybe she simply hoped for her best friends to be happy, and made up a story in her head and nonchalantly passed it along to you.

You shift on your feet in mild distress, and take a small step back, unconsciously trying to separate yourself from the pain and panic that is suddenly rippling through you. You haven’t even really said anything to him about your feelings yet, and things are already crashing and burning around you. “I’m sorry that this kinda…came out of nowhere, I guess,” you laugh humorlessly.

His face snaps back to yours. “What came out of nowhere?”

“Just…nothing.” The words come out as a quiet sigh and your eyes drift over to the billboard that flashes outside his living room window, unable to look at him anymore. The display shifts through multiple colors on repeat, and while you’ve always been comforted by the light it offers Matt’s often dark apartment, today you feel like the cheery image on the screen is mocking you.

“No, tell me,” you hear him insist. His voice is laced with something you can’t quite put a finger on, but you shove it aside.

Running your hand through your hair, a bitter laugh makes its way out of your mouth. “Me, coming over here to tell you I’d broken things off with David. I thought…well I don’t know what I thought, actually.”

“You’re lying,” he accuses, and out of the corner of your eye, you watch him cross his arms across his chest. You know it’s a habit he has when he feels flustered or when he’s unconsciously trying to shut someone out, a barrier between someone else and whatever he’s feeling. The motion causes you to flinch.

You shrug your shoulders in an attempt to make your voice sound as blank as possible. “I’m really not.”

The man doesn’t let up, his voice growing louder with each word that comes out of his mouth. “You came over here to say something specific, didn’t you?”

Your eyes shift back to him. “No, I just–”

“Did you forget that I can tell when you’re lying?” Matt’s beginning to look borderline frustrated, and you wince at the way his voice has shifted. It’s rare that he uses that tone on you, usually reserving it for when he’s upset about a case he’s working on, or someone who’s stirring up trouble on the streets.

You shake your head, and you feel a traitorous flash of heat on your cheeks. This is embarrassing. Why did you think a man like this could possibly feel the same? “I’m not trying to lie, I just realized that maybe I was wrong about something and that I should probably just go home.”

You move to turn on your heel and leave the kitchen, but hands wrap themselves around your upper arms before you can move more than a few inches. He pulls you in further until you can almost feel the heat of him against you, and you shift your eyes back away from him, struggling to think with him so close.

“Don’t leave. I’m…I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on with you. You’re acting strange,” he says as he continues to hold your arms, though his hands are exceedingly gentle like always. You try to wiggle away, but he doesn’t let go.

“I’m fine, I think I’m just tired.”

He shakes his head, his face still a mix of upset and concern, his voice lowering to almost a growl. “Am I really going to have to pry it out of you?”

“Matt–”

“Just tell me.”

You blurt it out before you can stop yourself, the words tearing themselves out of your lips. “I came over here to tell you that I have feelings for you.”

He stills against you, his sightless eyes going wide, his mouth opening in shock. You hear his breath catch, no doubt surprised beyond belief. “What?”

You bow your head in something neighboring shame.

“Yeah,” you mumble under your breath. He’s silent, his face still a combination of frustration and surprise, and you decide his processing of the new information isn’t something you want to be around for. “I think I should go home.”

He seems to snap out of a haze, and his hands tighten around your arms when you try to pull away again. “You can’t just say something like that and then leave. I can tell there’s more that you want to say, so just say it.”

You’re suddenly exhausted, energy leaching from your pores. “You’re really not going to let this go, are you?”

“No,” is all he says, jaw tight, locked and ready to latch on to anything that might pour out of your mouth.

“Right,” you mutter under your breath. Your eyes drift away from him again, suddenly desperate to separate yourself from him as much as possible. “I think I’ve always felt this way. I, uh…it’s stupid really, but I–”

“Then why now?” He demands, though the tone isn’t as harsh as you would have suspected of someone who had just had their whole world rocked. “Why are you saying this now?”

Your eyes well at the question, and it takes every inch of you to not let a single tear fall, devastation beginning to settle in like an unwanted freeze in the middle of spring, unknowingly killing all the plants and flowers that have already been so lovingly attended to.

“Karen said something a few weeks ago, something about you maybe feeling the same way, and I knew I needed to at least try to say something. And I also knew that I couldn’t have anything going on with David if there was any chance that you had feelings for me, too.”

Head hung in misery, you try again to pull away as he still doesn’t say anything. “I hope…I hope that this hasn’t ruined anything between us. We can still be friends, right? This doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to. It’s seriously okay that you don’t feel the same–”

“I do.”

Every cell freezes in your body and your heart stutters to a stop. Your eyes lift to look at him, taking in the way he seems as equally as terrified as you felt when your own words ripped out of your head and into an actual confession. “What did you–”

He licks his lips again, but his face suddenly morphs into something more focused, something more sharp and heated and purposeful. “You heard me.”

“You feel–”

“Yes.” The way he’s still holding you suggests that he’s reluctant to pull away from you more than a centimeter. It’s shifted from something that merely kept you close to him because he didn’t want you to leave, to something that seems more intentional, more determined to keep you near for the sole sake of just holding you. “I feel the same way.”

“For how lo–”

His eyes land somewhere on your cheek. “A while. Years.”

Your heart thunders in your chest, the sound of it in your ears almost as deafening as standing next to a waterfall. “Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?” You ask quietly once you’ve caught your breath, your eyes flitting across his face as he suddenly reaches up to brush your hair behind your ear.

“I was not in a good place when we met,” he whispers, and you wince, because he was right. He hadn’t been. “It took me a while to put myself together, after everything that happened with Midland Circle and Elektra. And by the time I realized how I felt, by the time I felt like I could maybe be a person at least somewhat deserving of you, you had met Brad.”

Brad. An ex-boyfriend you had dated for about a year. Nice guy. Boring, but nice. He treated you well, at least, and you hadn’t necessarily been unhappy with him.

It’s just that…you had used him as a distraction from your feelings for Matt, if you were being honest with yourself. Not exactly a kind thing to do to someone you knew had genuine feelings towards you, but it worked enough that you were able to shove things aside and convince yourself you were over Matt.

As if I could ever be fully over Matt Murdock.

“I told myself you deserved to be with someone who was whole. Someone who could spend every evening with you. Someone who could invite you to dinner with his family, someone who could give you a stable, simple life. Things I knew I couldn’t give you.”

You frown at the words pouring out of his mouth. “But I…that was a few years ago, Matt. You could have said—”

He interrupts you gently with a calloused finger over your lips. “You’re right, I could have. But just because you weren’t seeing Brad anymore, didn’t mean I didn’t want those things for you. Even if you were single, I couldn’t bring myself to take those things away from you.”

“And…and if I didn’t care about all of those things, as long as I had you?”

He takes a deep breath and shakes his head. “There are still some things I’m not sure that I can give you. Some things that–”

You open your mouth to object before he even finishes his sentence. “Those things don’t matter to me.”

He looks extremely pained as he finally releases your arms, and you mourn the loss of contact. He takes a small step back, and this time it’s you who chases him, your feet bringing you right in front of him again, unwilling to allow for any sort of distance. “You say that now, but–”

“We’ve been friends for years, Matt,” you tell him, denying him the chance to argue his way out of this. “If I didn’t want to be in your life, I would have left a long time ago.”

His smile is wry. “Friendships are different from relationships.”

“I know that,” you tell him honestly and without hesitation, because you do know that. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a wonderful man who deserves happiness just as much as everyone else.”

His laugh is almost bitter. “I’m not so sure–”

“You don’t have to be, because I am.”

“You can’t possibly–”

You cut him off again. “You deserve all things that are good and wonderful and gentle. You deserve someone who is there for you, no matter what. You deserve love.”

He finally pauses, taking a breath that rapidly expands his chest before he lets it out, the air shuddering as it leaves his lips. His hand is shaking lightly, when it slowly reaches out to settle itself on your cheek. His eyes flutter shut, and he looks like he’s so hesitant, so afraid of whatever you’ll say in response to his next question. “And you…you want to be that person?”

Your answer is simple, and it requires no thought. It’s as if the words have spent the last few years laying dormant underneath your tongue. “I do, if you want me to be.”

He still looks extremely doubtful as he speaks, as if he’s nervous you’ll be scared off, or take the words back. You’ve come too far to ever let anything this man throws at you to chase you away.

“You understand that I can’t promise you all the things you might want?” He begins, eyes shutting again as he all but tears himself apart in front of you, exposing all the muscle and blood underneath his scarred flesh, and you watch as the dark of his eyelashes settle against his fair skin. “I can’t promise I’ll be home every night to fall asleep with you, I can’t promise I won’t try to push you away sometimes, I can’t promise that I’ll ever want kids, given the life I lead.”

You grab the hand that’s not resting on your cheek and place it directly over your heart, the muscle pounding underneath the flesh and bone that’s keeping you together despite your nerves. “I don’t care what our life looks like, as long as it's you next to me, every step of the way.”

He’s quiet for a moment, before his eyelids flutter open, letting his brown eyes fall where they may. “Are you sure, sweetheart?”

“Was I lying, Matt?”

You watch as he takes a deep breath, his head jerking side to side. “If this…” he trails off, head still tilted towards yours as he licks his lips. “If you’re…there’s still tons of things going through my mind right now, most of them not good, and I need to hear you say it. I won’t believe it until I hear you say it.”

You already know what he’s asking before he finishes speaking, and the words come to your lips without thought, without hesitation. “I love you.”

Despite all the fear and pain and panic that you’ve felt at the thought of him not feeling the same way for you, the three-word sentence is the easiest thing you’ve ever said to him in the years that you’ve been friends. It feels like the words were always meant to come out of your mouth, always meant to wrap him up in you until there’s no space left between your skin and his.

He sighs, and this time it sounds content, happy almost. He takes a small step towards you, eliminating most of the remaining distance between you, and lowers his forehead to yours.

The hand on your cheek lowers slightly so that he can run a calloused finger over your bottom lip. “Can I…can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

He uses both of his hands to cradle your face gently, keeping you locked into place as he presses his lips against yours, at first almost shyly, and then with more pressure. There’s not a single question or thought in your head as you respond, mouth opening under his, parting to allow him to pour all of his unspoken words into your body. Soft lips. Heated cheeks. Stubble rubbing your face. Firm body pressed against yours. Your own hands slide against his waist as you anchor yourself against him, and he takes the opportunity to press more fully against you.

The kiss, even while it remains soft, is as heated as the flush that is spreading through your skin like wildfire, your blood burning as it pushes through your veins.

Matt pulls away reluctantly, panting against you. “I love you, too,” he says quietly, reverently. “In case I didn’t make that clear.” It’s the first time you’ve ever believed a man when those words have been said to you, but maybe it’s because you’ve always been waiting for him to say them.

With a small smile, you bring his mouth back down to yours, eager to feel his lips pressed against yours again. His hands move from your face, one sliding into your hair, the other to your hip as if to steady him. He steps forward, pushing you into the counter behind you, before lifting you and placing you on top of it.

He spreads your legs immediately and steps in between them, still appearing desperate to press every inch of your body into his, as if he’s nervous you’ll slip through his fingers if he’s not holding you to him tightly enough. His entire torso is burning against you through his shirt and your own, and you can’t help but wonder if you’ll catch on fire the second his skin is on yours.

You feel him smile against your lips, and it doesn’t drop as he leans back and places another light kiss on your forehead. “It really took Karen saying something for you to realize that this could be…more?”

You snort, because of all things that could come out of his mouth after kissing you breathless, mentioning another woman was the last thing you could have imagined. “That woman could run the world with her hands tied behind her back if she wanted to.”

“I’m not going to disagree with you there,” he says with a laugh, gentle hand running through your hair again. “But was that seriously the tipping point?”

You blush and divert your eyes from his face. “I thought there was no way someone like you could ever feel that way about me, so I buried it,” you admit, hands fiddling with the fabric of his shirt. “And I guess it took Karen saying something offhandedly for me to realize I had never actually moved on. It took her pointing out that I just might have a chance. So…I’m sorry. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

He shakes his head silently before pressing a brief kiss on your mouth. You lean in, but he pulls away with a small smile. “Don’t be sorry. Not for this. Maybe…maybe things had to go this way, you know? And we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Your voice is shaking when you reply. “We’re here now.”

“And I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers as he lowers his mouth back down to yours. You watch as his dark eyes land somewhere on your cheek, the gaze heated. “Things won’t be easy for us, but I promise that loving you will be the most important thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Promise?”

“Yes, sweetheart. I promise.”

#matt murdock #human disaster matt murdock #marvel #reader fanfiction #matt murdock fem!reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fanfiction

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guinea-pig16 · 2 months

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recently watched hazbin hotel and mayybbeee immediately searched for fanfiction lol…

i found this AMAZING alastor x reader fic on ao3 called Method to Madness (linked here) by @plapperlapapp !!!!

its INCREDIBLE genuinely one of the best hazbin fics ive ever read (and i was reading it fresh off the press when the pilot came out in 2019!) it has such a unique story and plot and suuuuch a good slow burn !! EEEEEEE!!

if everything ive said hasnt convinced you to read it then ive failed. if you have the SLIGHTEST interest in in hazbin and or alastor PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE READ IT !!!!!!

anyways!! i drew some fanart for it!!! i drew how i think the reader looks when i insert myself :3

i did add some of my own interpretations ofc

ANYWAYS my rant is over please go read it it is incredible and the author deserves all the recognition ♥️♥️♥️

#hazbin art #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 recs #hazbin fanart #fanfic fanart #reader fanfiction #fanart #fanfic rec #recommended

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toboldlygohome · 3 months

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"I'm not giving up on you!"

Leonard McCoy X Reader

Summary: Following a terrible attack on the Enterprise, Dr. McCoy does everything he can to save the heavily-injured reader.

Character(s): Leonard "Bones" McCoy

Warning(s): Wounds, Death, Implied violence, Ends in fluff

Dr. McCoy carefully navigated the sea of bodies, careful not to step on any one of them. The Enterprise had been boarded little more than thirty minutes ago. Bones followed the path of destruction, hoping to find some survivors. No such luck.

McCoy scanned every body for signs of life, but yielded no results. He grimaced and trudged onward. He hated this feeling of powerlessness. So many good people were dead and there was nothing he could do about it. If only he had gotten down here sooner, maybe there wouldn't be so many casualties.

Leonard rounded a corner and was disappointed to find even more bodies strewn all over the floor. But amidst the flashing red lights, he saw you. You were leaned against the wall, blood staining your blue uniform. His tricorder picked up your heartbeat and he immediately hurried to your side.

"Hey, can you hear me?" He asked, snapping his fingers near your ear. Much to his surprise, you slowly opened your eyes.

He couldn't believe you were alive, let alone conscious. Your arm was a mangled mess of burns, you had a massive laceration in your lower abdomen, you were sitting in a pool of your own blood, and you had a terrible concussion. Your groan came out as more of a choked gurgle.

Leonard wasted no time in prepping a hypo to ease your pain. "Can you speak?"

"Yeah," You managed weakly.

"That's good. That's really good. Can you tell me where it hurts?" He asked.

"It hurts everywhere," you murmured.

"Perfect."

"Perfect?" You asked.

"It means you still have feeling in your limbs. That's a really good sign," Bones jabbed the hypo into your arm and started digging into his bag. He had to get you stable if you were going to have any hope of surviving this. "I'm Dr. Leonard McCoy. Can you tell me your name darlin'?" He asked, trying to ease you into a sense of calm.

"Ensign Y/N Y/L/N. Biology department."

"On, I know about you, you're the one who wrote that dissertation on the possible medical uses of Aldebaran Serpent venom. You graduated top of your class in the starfleet academy. I heard you've got a promotion coming up." Leonard said, hoping to keep your mind alert. He didn't want you passing out with that concussion, not until he was sure there wasn't some internal bleeding going on that his scanners weren't picking up.

"Yeah, if I make it that far..."

"You're gonna make it, trust me." He swallowed. You could see it in his face. The chances of you living weren't very high.

"You're a terrible liar doctor McCoy...I'm gonna die here, aren't I?" You whispered.

"I brought the captain back from the dead using the blood of a homicidal maniac. I've performed greater miracles than this. You ain't gonna die, not if I have anything to say about it." He said, already working to disinfect the gaping wound in your stomach. "Just keep talking to me, can you do that?"

"I'll try..." You struggled to keep your eyes open. "I-I... I smell something burning..."

"Don't worry about that." Leonard said firmly. "Just...tell me about..." He grasped for a topic that wasn't your maimed body or the smell of burning hair. "Tell me about home. What's your family like?" Leonard started to autosuture the laceration.

You ignored his question and tilted your head down to look down at the damage. Bones grabbed your face and forced your eyes up to his. "Don't look at it. Just look at me, okay?"

"Mkay...nice face at least." You smiled weakly.

"Oh?" he got back to his work, but kept talking. "I've always been told I got a face only a mother could love. What's so nice about it?" He asked.

"You have pretty eyes... and..." You lost your train of thought.

"And what darlin'?"

"Huh?"

"I got pretty eyes and what?" he asked, fighting against the knot appearing in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know you, but he'd like to. You were a tough cookie and he respected the hell out of it. He could see it in your eyes. You still had so much to offer the world... the universe. He couldn't let you die like this. He wouldn't let you die like this.

"Oh...I like your...your forehead wrinkles...makes you look distinguished," you attempted another smile.

"Gotta say sweetheart, that might just be the nicest compliment I've ever received." Leonard met your gaze for just a moment before returning to his task.

"Well, I've got more where that came from..." You leaned your head against the wall and looked at the ceiling. "...Might throw up..."

"If you feel like you are, just tell me. Okay darlin'?"

"Mkay..."

You both fell into silence and Leonard labored to think of some way to get you talking again. The autosuture wasn't working fast enough for his liking. He still had about two and a half inches to go. If he didn't work fast enough, you were gonna die.

"...Everything's all fuzzy. Cold." You murmured. A low rumble echoed through the halls as if punctuating your dark statement.

"I bet. You lost a lot of blood, but you'll be okay." Leonard clenched his jaw.

"There are others...gotta help the others McCoy. I'm a lost cause."

"You are no such thing. I'm saving you dammit." He didn't have the heart to tell you the other people in the hallway were already dead. A sudden, sharp jolt shook the ship. Leonard grunted as he tried not to fall into you.

"I'm gonna die... I never even got to ask out that doctor. Never had the guts..." You mumbled, eyes struggling to focus on anything.

"What doctor?" Leonard asked as he continued closing you up.

"Y'know. The grumpy one." You said.

Leonard's expression darkened. He was trying dammit, but not nearly hard enough. You were growing delirious. You didn't even realize what you were admitting to him. Your eyes fluttered closed, but you kept talking.

"I don't really know him, but he saved a friend of mine once... He's uh..." You gathered your thoughts. "He's real smart. So dedicated to his patients. I really admire that... Also got this dry sense of humor, and a really handsome voice. I wouldn't have minded taking him out sometime. Buying him flowers." You hummed.

"He's the kind of guy you bring home to mama, I think...Well...My mama at least." You looked at Leonard, eyes swimming with grief. "I'm not scared. You have to tell her for me. That I wasn't scared...I have people back at home. Can you tell them I love them?" You whispered, just as Leonard finished closing your abdominal wound.

Leonard breathed a sigh of relief as he started wrapping you with a bandage. "You're gonna tell them yourself darlin'. You're gonna make it, you know why? Because you're strong. Resilient as a rubber band." He tied off the bandage and started going to work on your arm. "I'm gonna get you stable and we'll get down to the medbay, then you'll make a swift and miraculous recovery, just in time for you to earn the rank of Lieutenant. How does that sound?"

"..." You didn't respond.

"Y/N?" He asked. Your eyes were closed. Your heartbeat was growing fainter by the second. "No No. Dammit, come on! I'm not giving up on you!" He emptied hypos into your arms and legs. A cocktail of medicines were brewing inside of you, fighting to keep your heart beating. He waited with baited breath for your readings to change on his tricorder.

Eventually, your heartbeat grew stronger and your breathing deeper. Then, to his astonishment, you opened your eyes again.

"Welcome back, you gave me a start there." Leonard flashed a relieved smile.

"Sorry...didn't mean to fall asleep," You smiled back.

Suddenly, the red lights turned off and the hallway lit up in its usual bright white light.

"I know darlin'. You're awake now, that's what matters." He pulled out his communicator. "Nurse Chapel, do they have the bastards detained?... Good. I need a stretcher on deck 15, as well as a recovery team. Prep the protoplaser and the burn chamber for the arrival of ensign Y/L/N." After her confirmation, he hung up and pointed his scanner down the hallway to see if there were any more heartbeats. Nothing.

Bones sighed and hung his head. The bastards were thorough, he had to give them that. He found only one survivor out of how many hallways? He was curious about how the security team managed to take them down, but that would be a conversation for a different time.

"Goddamned bloodthirsty space beasts..." He hissed.

"Tell me about it," you chuckled. "Certainly did a number on me, huh?"

"How are you feeling?" Leonard leaned against the wall beside you.

"Numb all over... I suspect you had something to do with that?" You turned your head to look at him.

"I injected you with a hypo for pain relief right when I found you." He met your eyes.

"Funny. I don't think I remember that."

"You're definitely on the loopy side. Can't tell if it's from the blood loss or an adverse reaction to the medicine, but we'll figure all that out soon."

"You can go now. Someone's coming to get me right?"

"You ain't getting rid of me that easily. I'm staying with you until your stretcher arrives." He crossed his arms.

"But there's got to be others that need help too, right?" You closed your eyes. "I'm fine, you should help them."

"It's against protocol to leave a critical patient alone. I'm not leaving until your ride arrives." Just then, he heard the sound of the hover-stretcher. "Speak of the devil, it's about goddamned time." He stood and addressed the two nurses. He spoke to them in hushed medical lingo. You had no idea what he was talking about, but it didn't sound good.

Leonard helped load you onto the stretcher. "I'm passing you off to Nurse Bell and Nurse Valinsky. They're going to take great care of you."

"As opposed to you taking bad care of me?" You smiled tiredly.

"Very funny," He smirked. "I'll catch up with you soon. Don't miss my face too much, you hear?"

"You're asking for the impossible, Dr. McCoy," You joked. The nurses guided you down the hall and around the corner. Leonard stared out at the crowded hallway, hoping his recovery team would arrive soon. Until then, he would just have to look for living patients on his own.

A doctor's work is never done.

~~~

When you awoke, you felt heavy. It was dim in the medbay and all was quiet, save for the occasional beeping of the biobed. You attempted to sit up, but winced the moment you put pressure on your arm. From the shoulder down, your limb was covered in bandages. You felt a deep ache all the way through your body and decided it was best to lay back down.

You tried to remember how you ended up here, but everything after the initial attack was a blur. You remembered the grumpy doctor, you remembered him mentioning your dissertation, he said something about pretty eyes, and you remember being so tired, but trying so hard to focus on him.

You looked around the room, hoping there might be a nurse nearby. Instead you found a room full of people sleeping in biobeds. There was a light on in the office at the end of the room, but you had no way of knowing if there was actually someone inside.

You scanned the controls to your left until you found a call button. Once you pressed it, you heard shuffling in the office. Much to your surprise, Dr. McCoy came shambling out.

"It's about time you woke up," Leonard took a look on your screen to check all your vitals. As you watched him, the events of your last encounter came flooding back. Distinguished forehead wrinkles? Seriously?

"Your heart-rate is kicking up," Bones smirked "Is that because of me?" He joked.

You rolled your eyes, "how long was I out?"

"About forty-eight hours."

"Two days?!"

"Better keep it down darlin'. Don't want to wake the neighbors." He slowly raised the bed into a sitting position and handed you some water.

"Thanks," you said hoarsely, "I didn't even realize I was thirsty."

"That's what I'm here for." He grunted as he copied some data from your biobed to his PADD.

"Bringing me water?"

"Keeping you from dying of dehydration," Bones corrected.

"Aw, and here I thought I had my own personal butler," you smiled and sipped your water. 'He really does have pretty eyes,' you thought while watching him work. Who were you kidding? It wasn't just his eyes that were pretty, it was all of him. You cleared your throat and took another sip. "Anyway, what are you doing here so late? I didn't think you worked gamma shift."

"I normally don't, but there are a lot of reports to file and not a lot of time to do it."

"That bad huh?...How many dead?" You asked softly.

"Fifty-six," Leonard sniffed pulled out his kit.

"Damn... and what about the pirates?"

"In custody back at Yorktown." Leonard administered a hypo into your arm. The soreness melted away almost immediately, but the ache in your chest didn't.

"I would have been one of them if it weren't for you..." You whispered. "You didn't give up... even when you should have."

"Any doctor worth his salt wouldn't give up on the likes of you, not when you were so keen on living. Ain't seen nothing like it in a long time. Your body just kept going long after it should have shut down." Bones explained, "And you kept telling me it was hopeless, but I could tell you were hoping for a miracle."

"So you gave me one," You smiled up at him.

"I told you I would. They don't say I have legendary hands for nothin'," McCoy smirked.

"Still, thank you for not giving up on me," you laughed. "I definitely owe you one."

"Ask out that doctor of yours and we'll call it even," Leonard spoke so casually, you nearly didn't register what it was he just said.

"I-I- my what?" You asked, dumbfounded. Your heart-rate picked up again and Leonard couldn't mask his amusement.

"You should get some rest, Nurse Chapel will be by in a few hours with some food for you. We're putting you on a soft food diet until your internal wounds heal some more. If you need anything before then, you know where the call button is." Bones started back to his office, but stopped just short.

"Oh, and Y/N?"

"Y-Yeah?"

Leonard sent you a smug look. "I like daisies," He said before disappearing behind the door.

You laughed and rested your head on your pillow. 'Daisies huh?' You thought to yourself. You weren't sure how you were gonna pull that off this far from Earth, but if Dr. McCoy could perform miracles, why couldn't you? Of course, the flowers would have to wait until you were released from medical care. You didn't mind too much though, Dr. McCoy was going to be there to take care of you.

And he wasn't giving up on you anytime soon.

....................

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#bones #bones x reader #leonard mccoy #leonard mccoy x reader #star trek #star trek fanfiction #star trek x reader #x reader #bones mccoy #mccoy/reader #leonard mccoy star trek #leonard mccoy x injured reader #reader fanfiction #reader insert

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