#ever since I moved back home I genuinely feel like I’ve been dying slowly and idk what to do

[itsapeterthing]

Milestone || Bucky Barnes

pairing: bucky barnes x avenger!reader

summary: a journey through some of the biggest milestones in yours and bucky’s relationship from the day you first met to sharing a home of your own

a/n: in this we’re gonna pretend that bucky didn’t get dusted! also reader has powers similar to those of wanda’s. reblogs and replies are super appreciated!!

word count: 3.4k

warnings: none, fluff

masterlist || request || taglist

The First Time You Met

Running down the hallway of the airport, you watched as Peter was swept off of his feet and into the air by none other than Falcon, leaving the man you recognized as the Winter Soldier in your midst. Your shoes squeaking against the floor as you stopped short, you threw your arms into the air, stopping the man from moving.

Snapping his attention towards you, he furrowed his eyebrows and you could feel him fighting against your magic. Squeezing your eyes shut you tried your hardest to keep him contained but with only so much experience, he broke through it in a minute, coming for you straight after.

“Shit.” You cursed to yourself, watching as he strode over to you.

Clasping your hands together before pulling them apart, you created a baton of sorts in just enough time to hold it in front of yourself as Bucky cornered you into a wall. Pushing him back with the beam, you grunted, trying your hardest to keep the magic from dying out.

“You’re not very good at this.” He commented, attempting to pull the magical beam from your hands.

“I’m...” You grunted. “.... new.”

Using all of your force, you shoved him back. Taking the first opportunity you saw, you began shooting blasts of magic at him while he stumbled backwards. Attempting to dodge the blasts, he moved forward, putting his hands in the air.

“Look,” He said. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Watching as he stumbled backwards, closer to a ledge, you halted the blasts, tilting your head sideways.

“Lucky me.”

As soon as the words fell from your mouth, you used the rest of your force, swinging your arms backwards and then pushing forward to shove him through the railing and over the edge, his eyes wide as he fell backwards. When he fell, he took the Falcon with him. 

Glancing up above, you saw Peter, shooting a web to hold the two men to the ground. Feeling the energy in your palms, you floated down to the floor they were held to, standing above them.

“Look guys, I would love to keep this up but I’ve only got one job here today and I’ve gotta impress Mr. Stark, so I’m really sorry-” You watched as the drone took Peter’s web and pulled him through the window cutting him short, Peter screaming as it did.

Turning back to the men, you pulled the hood of your cloak over your head.

“Don’t worry about the drone thing,” You said. “I know when to see myself out.”

Turning to make your way towards the exit of the airport, you heard Bucky call from behind you.

“Hey!” He shouted. “Who are you?”

Bucky didn’t know why he was asking. He could barely even remember facts about himself, never mind keep track of every super human person he came across, but there was something nagging in his mind, begging him to learn more.

Glancing over your shoulder, looking at the Winter Soldier one last time, you smirked.

“Y/n.”

And with that you left the airport.

First Touch

The hatch to the ship opening, you stumbled down the steps, gripping Nebula’s arm to keep your balance. As Steve took hold of Tony, Pepper rushing to his side, you looked up to find the familiar face of Rhodey making his way towards you.

“I chose the wrong day to go see who Dr. Strange was.” You chuckled somberly, trying to make light of the situation.

Grabbing your arm to steady you as you slowly walked down the steps, Rhodey shook his head.

“The fight wasn't much better back here.” He said. “At least we had oxygen though. You’re not looking so good, kid.”

Too afraid to have looked at your deteriorating reflection the past three weeks, you knew he was being too kind.

It had been nearly three weeks since Thanos snapped away a half of the universe’s population, leaving you, Tony and Nebula stranded in space. You had run out of fuel weeks ago and had nearly lost hope of ever returning home as the oxygen supply began dwindling until Captain Marvel had found your ship and brought you all safely back to the Avengers Compound.

Despite being back, three weeks in space had left you exhausted, starving and dehydrated- just to name a few.

Biting back the dizziness you felt, you sighed.

“I’m- I’m fine, Rhodes.” You said, beginning to feel lightheaded. “It’s nothing-”

Missing your footing on the step, you tripped, losing your balance from Rhodey, about to hit the ground until you felt an arm wrap around your torso and the cool touch of metal grasp your hand. Looking up, you were met with the familiar face of the man you had fought two years ago at the airport in Germany, his hair cut shorter since the last time you had seen him, but recognizable nonetheless.

“Bucky Barnes?” You asked, standing up straighter with his assistance.

“Y/n.” He replied, shooting you a gentle smile.

Although you had what many would consider super-human abilities with your magic, due to being discovered after the civil war between the Avengers that had effectively split up the group- you weren't used to being recognized. Hearing your name fall from his lips felt somewhat gratifying.

“You remember my name?” You asked in disbelief

“Hard to forget the name of the woman who kicked my ass.” Bucky chuckled, helping you walk towards the doors of the Compound. “Doesn't happen often.”

For the first time in weeks you allowed yourself to smile as you gazed up at the man holding you steady, making sure you didn’t fall. When his blue eyes met yours, you adverted your gaze, turning your attention towards Natasha who wheeled a wheelchair through the doors of the Compound and towards the two of you.

Moving his flesh hand to rest on your lower back, his vibranium one still in yours, he helped you slowly ease into the chair. When you sat back in the chair, resting your feet on the footrests, you looked up at the super soldier and smiled.

“Not looking for a rematch are you?” You asked, slipping your hand out of his and resting it on your abdomen. “‘Cause I think I’m gonna need a raincheck.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he laughed shaking his head.

“No, I think I’m done with fighting.” He said.

Feeling Natasha pulling back on the wheelchair, about to spin your chair around and towards the doors, you threw him one last smile.

“That makes two of us.”

Just when Bucky was about to turn around and walk away as Nat wheeled you through the doors, the chair stopped and he watched as you glanced over your shoulder.

“And Sarge?” You called.

“Yeah?”

“I like the new arm.”

For the first time in decades, Bucky felt heat rise to his cheeks as he watched you tiredly speak to Natasha until you left his line of sight.

First Kiss

It had taken you nearly a month to recover from your time in space since returning back to Earth. Although you understood that there wasn’t much to be done since Thanos had wiped out half of the universe, you still felt guilty taking up space in the Compound when all you would do was lay in bed, attached to an IV. 

The one thing that made your time on bedrest a little more bearable was none other than Bucky Barnes.

Throughout your stay in bed he had consistently visited you. Though at first he was a bit shy, you had proven to be someone he could trust- assuring him that he could never be a bother to you and that you genuinely enjoyed having his company- maybe a bit too much, but you would never tell him that.

Bucky himself was surprised that he had put himself so out there with you after living such a solitary life for nearly the past 80 years, but there was just something about you that drew him to you time and time again. He couldn’t pinpoint it- whether it was your kindness, humor or intelligence- he found both joy and peace in your presence- something he had almost forgotten what it felt like to be in.

So, despite the voice in the back of his head telling him that you didn’t want to see him, he had visited you while you got better in bed, taking care of you in the littlest of ways until he watched the dark circles under your eyes fade away and your ability to walk without his assistance return.

Finally feeling somewhat better, you had insisted to bucky that you were ready to train again and no matter how many times he tried to convince you that you weren’t, he could never say no once you squeezed his hand and pouted up at him.

He was regretting not saying no to you as he now stood across from you in the training room.

“Y/n, I really don’t think this is a good idea.” He said, watching you sway in your spot despite your feet being planted to the mat.

“C’mon Barnes,” You taunted, raising your hands. “You scared?”

Just as he was about to open his mouth again, you shot a blast of magic towards him, Bucky dodging it just as it whooshed past his head.

“I wasn’t even ready!” Bucky exclaimed.

Shrugging your shoulders you formed another beam made of magic, holding either ends of it with your hands as Bucky came towards you.

Trying to plant your feet to the ground, feeling another hit of dizziness wash over you, you pushed him back with the beam, but before you could do anything more, his leg swept under yours, making you lose your balance. 

Before you fell to the ground, however, the magic in your hands diminished as you gripped your hands into Bucky’s shirt bringing him down with you.

Flipping over before you fell, you landed on top of the super soldier, your hands planted firmly on his chest. With his hands above his head that was inches away from yours, you both stared at each other- you finally noticing just how much you liked the scruff that coated his jawline and him admiring the color of your eyes and how he swore he could lose himself in them if only he had the chance.

Opening your mouth, you felt the thumping of Bucky’s heart against your fingertips that were resting on his chest as he gazed up at you.

“Your heart is beating really fast.” You whispered, out of breath despite you barely having trained.

“Yeah, it does that when I see you.”

You could barely believe what you were hearing until you felt Bucky’s hands come up and cup your face, glancing down at your lips before back to your eyes, asking wordlessly for your approval. 

Unable to form a coherent sentence, you eagerly nodded back at him.

Before you could even process it, you felt Bucky’s lips meeting yours as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands moving from cupping your face to wrapping around your body, pulling you tight against him. All you could remember thinking was that despite his tough exterior, his lips were soft and you could lose yourself in the comfort of having his arms around you all day if he let you.

Pulling away first, a beaming smile spread across Bucky’s face as he rubbed circles against your back.

“If you wanted to kiss me so bad,” He teased. “You could’ve just asked.”

First “I Love You”

Sitting on the edge of the rooftop, your legs swinging in the air, you offered the bag of popcorn in your hand to your boyfriend who was sat beside you. Taking his eyes off of the view in front of him, he grabbed a fistful of the salty treat from the bag, popping it in his mouth.

“Did you have stuff like this back in the olden times?” You asked, laying your head on his shoulder.

“What?” He asked despite his mouth being full. “You mean fireworks? How old do you think I am?”

Laughing at how he mocked offense over your question, you sat up straight, pecking his cheek.

“One hundred doesn’t sound much better, babe.”

Rolling his eyes, knowing that you loved him anyway, he brushed off the remaining salt from his fingertips, wrapping his vibranium arm around your shoulders to pull you closer to him.

Just as he pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, he jumped in his spot as he heard the loud sound of the first firework shooting up into the air over the water before “popping” and bursting into an array of color.

“Look!” You exclaimed, pointing towards the display. “It’s starting!”

Although he took a quick glance at the firework display, his attention was purely focused on you. He couldn’t help but admire the way the colorful lights reflected on your skin or how you had a hint of an open smile on your face watching as the fireworks burst midair. No show could compare to looking at you.

He couldn't help but feel his heart race in his chest, breath caught in his throat as he admired your beauty- even when you were still in your suit from watching over the parade with him earlier that evening. He was convinced there wasn’t a single thing about you that he wasn’t completely enamored with and you only gave him more reasons to love you every single day.

Before he even realized what he was saying, admiring you in complete bliss and utter awe, the words slipped out of his mouth.

“I love you.”

He thought you wouldn’t be able to hear, the sound of another firework popping ringing in his ear, but when you turned towards him, your eyes wide and mouth agape, he knew you had.

“Did you just say that you love me?” You asked, fireworks continuing to burst behind you.

Not one to lie- especially not to you- he nodded his head.

“Yeah.”

A smile beginning to form on your face, you grabbed the strap on his jacket, pulling him closer to you.

“I love you too.”

Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his, the sound of the finale of the display ringing behind you as the fireworks burst one after another in air, every color imaginable washing over your joined figures sitting on the edge of the rooftop on that cool summer night, almost as if it were taking the feeling shared between the two of you and bringing it to life for the world to see.

First Home

“Okay!” You nodded, pointing to the corner of your living room. “That one can go over there. Thank you so much for your help, Steve.”

“I helped Buck move into his first apartment, Y/n.” Steve said wiping his hands on his pants. “I wouldn’t miss stuff like this for anything.”

Smiling at Steve’s comment, you felt Bucky’s vibranium hand land on your lower back, pulling you closer. Leaning into his touch, you wrapped your arm around him in return, staring up at your boyfriend.

“Yeah and the first time he was about a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter.” Bucky chuckled. “This is easy for him.”

Watching Natasha set down the last box on top of a pile of the others in the kitchen, you excused yourself from your boyfriend and his best friend, making your way into the other room.

When you had left the two of them’s earshot, Bucky watching as you left, Steve rested his hand on Bucky's shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“You know,” Steve said. “I’m happy for you, Buck. I think this is gonna be good for you.”

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s comment- despite how cheesy it was- because he knew it was true.

When Bucky’s memory had finally been cleared, a part of him had always feared that even though he had been given a new chance at life, he would never have a normal one. Although he knew “normal” was a strong term for the life you two shared together given that he was a century old super soldier and you had magical abilities- you had given him a chance at a peaceful life full of love and contentment which was all he could ever dream of asking for. 

The idea of finding love and having a family was something that he worried was left eighty years in the past, but you proved to him that life didn’t end for him when he fell from that train- if anything it brought him the beginning he had always hoped for.

“Sure you won’t miss me too bad, pal?” Bucky asked.

Taking his hand back from Bucky’s shoulder, Steve laughed shoving his hand in his pockets.

“No, I think I’m used to it by now.” Steve chuckled. “It’s just like you to be able to find a woman with shared life experience even when half the world disappears.”

Shaking his head at his friend’s joke, he shoved him playfully.

“C’mon, ya’know this is different.” Bucky said. “I think this is the last one for me.”

Without missing a beat, Steve smiled.

“I know.”

Hearing the sound of you and Natasha’s footsteps stepping back into the room, Bucky kept his mouth shut, feeling your hand run over his shoulder as you stood beside him.

“Don’t forget about me now that you have your own place, okay Y/n?” Nat said crossing her arms.

“Don’t worry.” You told her. “I’ll come visit every day.”

“Well, not every day-” Bucky interjected.

“No. I meant what I said. Every day, Nat. You’ll wish you never said anything.”

Once the laughter that had erupted in the room settled, Steve and Nat said their goodbyes to you and your boyfriend, you both waving them off as you shut the door behind them. When the door was shut and you and Bucky were left in your new apartment alone together, you rushed over to your bag by the door, pulling a neatly wrapped gift out of it.

“What’s this?” Bucky asked as you handed him the present.

“Just a little housewarming gift.” You smiled.

Gazing at your smiling face, a smile finding its way onto his, he looked down at the present in his hands, carefully tearing the paper off of the gift to reveal a framed photo of the two of you.

A framed photo of the two of you fighting in an airport three years ago on the day you first met.

“So, Tony had put a camera in Peter’s suit back before we went and fought you guys.” You explained. “And I thought it had to be gone since Peter was... you know... but it turned out that Tony still had the footage so I was able to find some from that day at the airport and in it there was this quick little shot of us fighting and I just had to have it, Buck.”

Flipping the frame around at you, he raised his eyebrows.

“A photo of us fighting?”

“Yes!” You told him. “Do you like it?”

Despite the fact that it was a photo of the two of you fighting- a fight that he had gotten his ass kicked in no less- he loved it more than anything else you could have possibly given him because it was the day he met you. It was the day his life changed and he didn’t even know it in the moment.

Although your story was far from “normal” it was your story and that’s what mattered the most to him.

“I love it, doll.” He said, pulling you into his embrace. “This is a crazy story to tell our kids though, huh?”

“All of them are.” You laughed into his chest. “But I wouldn't have it any other way, Buck. I love you.”

Pressing a kiss to the top of your head, a photograph of the day your story first began in his hand, he smiled.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes blurb #Bucky Barnes drabble #bucky barnes fluff

[lonely-lost-soul]

Under the Floorboards (Pt. VII)

(Technoblade X Reader) Pt. I, Pt. II, Pt. III, Pt. IIII, Pt. V, Pt. VI, Pt. VII

     Your eyes cracked open as soon as the sunlight spilled into the room, your eyebrows furrowed together and a hiss of pain spilled from your lips. You brought your arm in front of your face to block out the sun, Technoblade should've closed the curtains the asshole. As you pulled your hand away from your face you couldn't help but pause, a delicate golden band with a blue diamond sat on your ring finger. You sat up in surprise, immediately buckling in on yourself pain radiating through your abdomen. You licked your cracked lips before uttering a simple,

     "Ah fuck."

Something stirred next to the bedside, you turned your head in the direction of the sound, Technoblade was draped over the side of the bed. His hair was a rat's nest, sticking up at odd angles and ends, frizzing out in all directions. Drool was stuck to the bottom of his chin, his hands gripped the sheets tightly, his eyes screwed shut. He looked upset like he was having a bad dream. Looking around the room briefly, you noticed his robe and crown were hung up in the closet, food was left half-eaten on the vanity. How long had you been out? Trying to make as little noise as possible you slowly peered out the window, outside you saw a little shack built into the mountain. You must've been out a while if Technoblade is letting someone ruin his real estate value like that. Blinking in surprise you saw Ranboo emerge from underneath a hole, a smile spread across your lips as he paused and looked up at the window. You gave a small wave, his mouth appeared and his jaw dropped, he began to wave back enthusiastically before charging through the snow towards your home in a sprint. You knew you only had a few moments before the lanky boy burst up into the room, you carded your fingers softly through Technoblade's hair, you've never seen him in such a dead sleep. Normally, your stirring and movements would've woken him up minutes ago. Maybe Phil give him something to knock him out? That's a very likely answer.

     "Bubba's..." You cooed tenderly kissing his forehead, "Time to wake up." You felt him shift, his face scrunching up uncomfortably as his eyes blinked open. Dark bags were prominent as he grumbled in displeasure until his eyes focused completely on you, he sat up swiftly and grabbed your face. "Ow, gentler please."

    "You're awake." His voice quivered as he began stroking your face and cheeks, "You're actually okay." You tilted your head to the side in concern, his usual stern eyes filling with tears, "I thought you were dead." Technoblade held you close burying his face into your chest, his nails digging into your back. All you did was rub his shoulders and let him hold you like you were porcelain glass. "You were out for a week, Phil helped me tend to your wounds." He said after a few moments of silence, "NEVER do that to me again."

    "I can't make any promises but I don't plan on it." You smiled as he pulled away from you, his eyes still red from reluctant tears. Techno leaned forward to press a passionate kiss to your lips, his hands cupped your cheeks as he kissed you like it was his last moments with you. You saw fireworks erupt in your vision and you visibly melted into it, pressure you didn't know you had was suddenly lifted off your shoulders.

     "Oh my god. I'm-I'm sorry." Ranboo sputtered, throwing open the door and tossing his hands over his eyes frantically. Techno practically threw you across the room, the only thing keeping you from falling over was his tail that had wrapped around your waist during your kissing session. His entire face was bright red,

    "Kid what the heck." He groaned, "Knock please."

     "Sorry I was just excited, I saw she was awake from the window." Ranboo rubbed the back of his neck, as he looked at the two of you.

     "Aw, were you worried about me?" A smile came across your face as the boy blushed furiously under your gaze, one cheek was bright red and the other was a bright green just like his eyes. He hesitantly bobbed his head in a nod and a soft, motherly look spread across your face. Technoblade saw the look you gave the teenager of the corner of his eye and his heart turned to mush in a matter of seconds, these kids were gonna be the death of you. "I'm sorry to have worried you, but look I'm a-ok now!" A smile spread across Ranboo's lips as he walked further into the room,

     "Well, that's a relief." He sat cross-legged on the floor smiling up at both of you, Technoblade sighed and ruffled his hair. His eyes widened looking up at the blade, little stars seemed to dance in his heterochromatic orbs.

    "Thanks for looking out for her. I'm sure Phil told you but you saved her life, I owe you one. I don't take that lightly." Technoblade nodded at him with a serious look on his features as he took his hand off of Ranboo's head. Ranboo looked shell shocked at the genuine honesty of your boyfriend, "Now never mention this to anybody or I'll kill you." The look of awe on his face fell immediately and it turned into a sheepish smile, his shoulders slumping forward.

    "There it is," Ranboo sighed. You couldn't help but let out a joyous laugh at the interaction, both men turned to look at you and grinned at one another, they were both happy to see you laughing.

    "So when did you move in with us?" You asked Ranboo with a hum gently stroking the top of Technoblades head once again. He had to bite his lip to keep from letting out a happy sigh, he hadn't felt your hand in his hair in so long could you really blame him? Ranboo looked thoughtful for a moment his eyebrows furrowing, he rubbed his claws together like he was searching for the answer.

    "Sorry I- oh! The day after you all blew up L'manberg again Phil came to me and asked if I had a place to stay. I obviously didn't have a place to stay anymore." He gave an awkward laugh, "So here I am."

     "Well, we are certainly happy to have you with us. Right Techno?"

    "Ehhh," You glared at him sharply and he held up his hands. "He's gotta prove himself first Princess you can't blame me for being on edge."

    "Eh, that's fair. Still, I'm just happy to be here." Ranboo beamed brightly unfazed by Technoblade's hesitance, something told him that Technoblade really didn't mind him living on his property. "Oh, I'll contact Phil and let him know you're alright! He'll probably want to know about your condition, yeah that's what I'll do."

Reaching out you took Ranboo's hand as he went to stand, he looked a little surprised as he stared at you. "You ever need anything, please don't hesitate to talk to me, I know that what happened was traumatizing. So please, I'm here for you if you need me." His ears seemed to press back against his head, his eyes widened considerably.

     "Thank you." He practically yelled pulling away from you to scurry out the door, he was completely and utterly flustered by your kind words. It reminded you so much of Technoblade when you first met him you couldn't help but smirk at him. He raised an eyebrow at you a frown gracing his features,

    "What?"

     "He acts exactly like you. He's going to fit in great here." Technoblalde looked at you like you had three heads,

     "Ya know, I can't believe I ever missed hearing your voice."

    "Oh fuck you." You gently cupped his chin and kissed the corner of his mouth, "I loved and missed you too you big lug." Technoblade closed his eyes and smiled adoringly at your gentle caresses, "So..." You whispered softly in his ear, "what's with the ring?" He tensed in your hold and you felt his forehead hit your shoulder.

    "An...an engagement ring." He admitted quietly, your eyes lit up and a smile spread across your lips. You hummed in response and began to pet his hair soothingly,

    "I thought a certain pig said that we'd only get married if I didn't get hurt."

     "Yeah well whoever that was sounds super cringe. Imagine basing a marriage on something like that. Men am I right?" It got a giggle out of you and he pulled away to flash you a smile, his large hand cupped your cheek and you snuggled into it.

You nodded your head, "Can't live with them clearly. Since all they do is lie." Technoblade nodded with a straight face, "but in all seriousness this for real? Cause like I'm totally gonna make out with you if it is."

     "Oh, it's super for real then."

    "Stop I'm being serious!" You whacked him lightly in the chest,

     "It's for real," His face lost its teasing smirk as you both locked eyes. "I'm head over heels for you (Y/N). You make me so happy, you're the only one in my life who makes me feel...feel normal," You watched his eyebrows furrow, "I knew I loved you and I knew that you were it for me." Technoblade sighed and leaned back picking up your hand and interlocking it with his own. You couldn't help but notice the golden band on his left hand, it mirrored your feminine ring perfectly. "When you were dying, or when I thought you were dying all I could think about was that we never got married. That we couldn't blow more governments up together or go on adventures. So yes, it's for real, I want to marry you officially if you want a small wedding we can do that if you don't want a wedding at all I don't care. I just wanna be yours forever."

Your heart fluttered in your chest and butterflies flew around in your stomach. As brutally honest as he always was he was more than a little emotionally stunted, you knew this was hard for him. You leaned forward and kissed him, it was long and passionate, you felt his fingers curl around your hair. As you pulled away you felt him try to chase your lips with a frustrated whine,

    "I wanna be yours forever Techno. You're everything I ever wanted in life, I've never been happier than when I'm by your side. All my life I've been a wanderer, going from place to place, never really having a home. You gave me the one thing no one has and it's exactly that, a home. Plus, you're so feral which is so hot." You added just to watch his face scrunch up and you felt him push you down against the pillows.

    "You ruined the moment. I changed my mind, the wedding is off." He huffed with no real feeling behind the words, "you should rest."

    "I've been resting. Help me get up I wanna go outside." You scoffed with an eye roll swinging your legs over the side of the bed. You noticed your ankle was wrapped in a tight bandage, you frowned wincing as you tried to put pressure on it. "Fuck, how long am I going to have to wear this?"

     "At least a month is what Phil said, we need to make sure there is no lingering damage. Can't have my anarchist wife not be able to cause trouble with me."

     "Oh? I'm still allowed to cause trouble with you?"

     "Obviously. Especially since I'm getting you a totem of undying just to cover all my bases." Technoblade stood up helping you to your feet, "you're doing great Princess, let's see if we can make it out front." You gave him a tentative smile as the both of you slowly made your way down the ladders and outside. You never thought you'd miss the cold winter weather stinging your cheeks but here you were. "Cold?"

    "Only a little." You smiled up at him and felt his cloak drape around your shoulders, he must've grabbed it before you left the room. You buried your face into the pure white fluff at the top and closed your eyes, it smelled like Technoblade and that brought you comfort. He usually smelled like gunpowder, shampoo, and cedarwood, it was by far your favorite smell. Technoblade's hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you flush against him. The both of you just stood there enjoying the flurries of snow as they fell down around you, his thumb gently brushing against your hip bone.

After a while of peaceful silence, Technoblade seemed to grow restless his gentle brushing turned into inconsistent taping, eventually, he pulled you in front of him only to begin to sway with you in your arms. "You getting bored?" You looked up at him and reached to cup his cheek in your hand, he hummed pleasantly at the contact.

     "A little."

     "Aw, my poor baby," You cooed and he grumbled under his breath at the sarcastic tone your voice took. "Kidding, don't get pouty I'm messing with you, if you want I can read to you? Or do your hair cause it's...a mess."

     "You mean you aren't head over heels in love with this unwashed rat's nest?"

     "Unwashed." Your nose scrunched you and he smirked wickedly, "I know that look. Don't you fucking dare-" You let out a shriek as Technoblade began to rub his head against your cheek, making his hair fall over your shoulders. "TECHNO! TECHNOBLADE YOU ASSHOLE STOP IT RIGHT NOW!"

     "What? I'm being loveable and soft. Is this not what you want?" He purred holding you tighter against him as you wiggled in his arms trying to break free of his vice-like grip.

You growled at him, "NO! You dick!" Technoblade could only snicker at your dismay but pulled away from you per your request.

    "I'll go shower," He pulled away to scratch at his head "want me to set you up by the fireplace? I'll meet you there when you're done?"

    "As long as you shower I'll do whatever," You huffed and he snickered picking you up to carry you inside the house. "Stinky pigman," His face shifted into the said creature and he poked you with his nose. You rolled your eyes as he sat you down on a chair, reaching up you scratched his snout, he made a dulcet sound before pecking the side of your head. The fire popped and crackled as the heat warmed your frozen cheeks. Snowflakes melted in your hair making you shiver from the brief chill they let off, closing your eyes you took in a deep breath of air.

Married, you couldn't believe you were actually getting married...to the man of your dreams no less. You held up your hand in front of you and traced the delicate details on the band, you felt at peace, this wedding needed to happen as soon as possible. You barely wanted to waste any more time, god knows what could happen in the next coming months, who was going to come and try to kill the both of you again. You'd have to mention it to Technoblade when he came back to see if he was okay with basically eloping. You stretched like a cat snuggling into the cushions, you'd have to get a dress though because you're not showing up to your own wedding in Netherite armor. Floorboards creaked above your head signaling Technoblade was out of the shower and getting ready to come to greet you downstairs.

You turned away from the sound, your lips pressing into a thin line as you let out a shaky breath. Tommy had been discovered under the floorboards of this very house after the rough start you had bonded with the rambunctious teen and wanted to keep him safe. Obviously, everyone knew how that ended, a part of you hoped you weren't projecting that lost care onto Ranboo. It wouldn't be fair to Ranboo if you treated him like another Tommy, the child you wish you could've helped.

Twirling your fingers around your (h/c) hair you only delve deeper into those thoughts. You wanted to help Ranboo, you wanted to help all the kids, the trauma they all have gone through had to be tremendous. Ranboo living on the property was a start, away from the crater of a failed country and anyone who would want to hurt him. You were going to protect him, this wasn't going to end up like Tommy's betrayal, you'd make sure of it.

TINK

Technoblade would probably call you insane if you mentioned this plan to him, but then again he was never one to feel pity or sympathy for those he didn't consider family. Even so, you hoped this boy would open up to you and consider you a parental figure in his life. Hopefully, Technobalde would warm up to him as well, you both all could be a little family.

TINK

Okay...maybe that was jumping the gun. You barely know him, for all you know he could secretly be helping Dream as a double agent or something. Okay, (Y/N) now you ARE being insane that's absurd.

TINK, TINK

What the FUCK was that sound. You turned to the window and could only make out a little smiley face in the corner of the glass, for some reason unease settled in your stomach. Where did that come from?

    "Princess?" His sonorous voice filled the room crashing over you like a wave of clarity amongst the ever-growing fog of your mind.

You jolted in your seat before turning towards your fiance, "Hi bubbas."

    "Hallo," Technoblade was shirtless his scars on full display as well as his muscles. One was way more important than the other to you, you can guess which one. His pajama pants sat loosely on his hips as he wandered over to sit in front of you, his head resting between your thighs. You had to hold back a giggle at the pleased look on his features, his hands came up, giving them a soft squeeze.

     "You having fun?"

Yes. OBVIOUSLY. You could crush our head with those thighs, so yes. So soft. We need to stay here forever.

     "They're okay," He replied casually as your fingers carded through his pink hair. "I definitely don't want you to try crushing a watermelon."

     "Oh my god." Your shoulders began to shake and you placed your forehead on top of his own, he only smiled softly. Your laughter was sweet and made him think of a small little bell chiming in the air.

     "You're gonna braid my hair now right?"

     "Obviously."

    "Thank you, Princess."

You were a little taken aback by his genuine tone, there was no hint of sarcasm or his usual teasing voice.

You love him more than all the stars in the sky.

He looked up at you with his big red eyes, as you began massaging his scalp. He let out a throaty moan, his eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of your blunt nails on his scalp. "Jesus Princess, you're a goddess."

     "As long as you never say I rival Aphrodite you can call me a goddess all you want." He laughed and nodded his head,

     "You have yourself a deal."

     "I can't wait to marry you as soon as possible."

     "You're really obsessed with me huh? You a fangirl? That's a little creepy not gonna lie."

     "Oh, I'm your BIGGEST fan. I live in your house and sleep in your bed."

    "Cringe," You rolled your eyes dramatically but pecked his lips stroking his cheek with your thumb.

    "Seriously though, can it happen as soon as we can."

    "How do three days from now sound? Just so we can plan properly and gather some things we need- if you want a like actually wedding." You nodded eagerly,

     "Yes, please. That's all I need."

    "Then it's settled."

The smile on your face was all he needed to know he made the right decision not only in marrying you but rushing the wedding,...three days. Oh shit, he was gonna be a husband in three days. The voices in his head collective said one phrase,

We're fucked.

~~~

Hi guys! Thanks for all the love for my story! Have fun with this chapter, a Karlnapity x reader might be in the works next. Not that this story is over, after all there’s still a wedding to attend. 

ALSO please go read my friend quackity-love-bot’s new fic! Here’s the link: https://quackity-love-bot.tumblr.com/post/642241693382557696/skyfall

Enjoy ;)

#Blood for the Blood God #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt #technoblade x reader #technoblade x you #dream smp #dreamsmp x reader #dreamsmp x you #minecraft fanfiction #minecraft x you #rp #x reader #x you #fanfiction #fanfic #technoblade #techno #techno x reader #techno x you #technoblade drabble #technoblade imagine #technoblade imagines #writing #imagine

[ficsnroses]

𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 - 𝐉𝐨𝐡𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐜

Johnny Silverhand x female! V. 

summary : johnny holds V when she feels overwhelmed, leading to a realization. 

warnings : all fluff, some angst. very minor anxiety, nothing big! 1.7k words.

notes : felt like writing some soft johnny content after the smut fest from last week, hope you enjoy! comments and feedback appreciated. 

       Morning will come, they say; It has to.

It’s all wrong.

She’d sensed it in the air, tasted it on her tongue; known it through the uneven beat of her weary heart.

She wasn’t supposed to wind up here. It wasn’t supposed to get this fucked. A tightness stills in her chest, a dark loom, frayed grey clouds thud inside. Fear gnawed at her heart, boiled in each vein; gnawed and gnawed and gnawed. Within the deep folds of her apartment, she stands at the kitchen counter; an untouched pour of crystal water cold at her fingertip.

As if a drink would subdue, sate the tremble inside.

A grey cloud persists as she tries to blink, little by little, desperately trying to rid the blades that cut, the ones that sink into her skin with each breath.

“You know,” He begins, voice buttery, cynical. “Standing isn’t gonna do anything.” He appears often, this holographic parasite chained to her wrist. The ruins of a man who once ruled the world, now, just a speech in her ear. Someone to assure her she was still real. Still alive; or so she’d hoped-

that dagger cut the most; she wasn’t even sure she really existed. If he even did, if anything after the black really unfolded.

She wonders how she got here. How things got this way; how she let them snowball this way. Above all, above most, an epiphany rung true, a realization simmers in her veins.  

Somewhere along the way, his voice had begun to feel warm.

Began to feel like home. Somewhere through blurred lines and sour regrets, a companion he’d become. Someone to feel un-alone.

“People who want something go out and grab it.” The tone of his voice holds a deep ring, something hoarse, thick. “Get it done”. The words, syllables, vowels merely reach her fraught ears, the sounds dying as they brew in her head.

     A deep breath in, she exhales.

     A tense of hands, they fall to her sides.

     A gulp, heavy swallow in her sore throat, fingers nipping over the tense lump.

She crumbles. A mountain of a woman crumbles, feared for what would be to come.

Something churns inside her stomach, and he notices. He can feel it too, her dread, the heft in her lungs. Just the same, he hadn’t planned on being bound. Her memories blend with his, her vulnerabilities mirror. Somewhere along the way, he’d forgotten which feelings were his own. Two damned souls, filled with anger. Somewhere within the muddle, he felt it too. There was hatred, part of him thought she’d hate him forever. She’d want him gone, out of her head.

First impressions are always hard to undo. Memories don’t come and go so easily.

Yet within the muddle, he felt it too.

Companionship. The world forgot him, but she remembers. She hears, she sees. She feels the shell of a man that once was, hears him through all his rage, his hurt, his fury.

There’s good in her, he knows. He feels it in his bones.

And maybe in another lifetime, this could be something more. They could be, something more.

       Maybe in another lifetime, they’ll fit together.

His silver gaze glints, monochrome eyes shone as he takes a step forward, a noticeable ease in his gait as he moves to her leisurely, hesitantly. “V?” Slow, cautious, he watches her from a distance. He’d never seen her this way before, devastated. “Hey,” Closer and closer, his footsteps thud. They near, yet she doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. A weight sears inside, a burn in each inhale. A deep baritone flows softer as he nears, vigilant. His stare falls threaded, scanning each inch of her worn limbs. Blankly, her eyes fix the floor, empty, stoic. “V.” He offers again, this time, a statement more. Guarded, he gazes the irregularity of her breath, the way a gentle chest flows uneven with shallow, fortified inhales.

The ground beneath her is fading away, he knows. He feels her in his bones. “V?” An inquire again, dust eyes seem almost opal through the dew, she finds it difficult to move. Move, whispers her head. Move. Move. Move. “V!” There had been an almost forceful shift beside her, Johnny growing increasingly alarmed; and she’d felt an primitive fear spear her heart, squeezing her lungs for a moment too long.

It had been the type of fear that couldn’t be stopped. An irrational purge of something a worn mind couldn’t explain, couldn’t comprehend.

The rich of his voice halts in her ears, the call of her name a seemingly helpless plea and consolation, all at once. “V, listen to my voice.” He speaks, assured, calmed. The vibrations flow steady through her body, the wave of his tone a special solace she’d never thought she’d find. Her eyes find his at last, lip quivering ever so slight. The gaze settles, piercing into his in plea, and the look haunts him.

Haunts him, before it’s had time to sink into his fretful realization.

She was breaking before him. “Hey, kid,” he allows, voice softer than ever before; a beautiful velvet of concern rich on his tongue. “You’ll be okay.” His cocoa kissed hair falters in hues under warm apartment lights, and he inches closer, heavy hand reaching, for her. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t flinch.

She holds back a frown; she clenches her heart inside her chest. She bids to feel numb. The pain had become achingly familiar.

Slow, gentle; his hand finds her back, supporting a fragile frame; his spare moving to hold hers. For the first time, his larger fingers thread with hers, they lace. He holds her fragile hand in his, he holds it with care. Pained eyes stare at her, expression unfolding, and she still seems lost. Lost within the jumble around.

He hadn’t been used to this; this phenomenon of touch. Affection.

But maybe, just maybe, surely, he gave a fuck about her. His eyes soften, a faint smile curling his lips just for her. A hope to offer relief. To show her someone; even if merely an apparition, was there.

Someone has her. Gently, cautiously, he grips her tight, secure, leading her drained frame to a hoary couch. He holds her hand with sincerity, he leads her with regard. He could get used to this; touch.

Smoothly, he guides her, urging to sit, finding place adjacent right beside her; and in the tenderness of the moment, his arm finds itself traveling, finding refuge wrapped to her back, his other finding form around. Within the softness of the moment, he cautiously, carefully, envelopes her, and she crumbles into him.

She nestles into his chest, eyes closing as she slowly leans heavily into him for support, her own tattered arms wrapping tightly around him in return. Wet cheeks press to his bare collarbone, and his ghastly heart aches. Beats painfully, for her.

Fingers soft, gentle, he runs them against her skin, breathing deeply at the way she curls into him further, a mellow weep escaping the depths of her throat. “I…” She begins, breath uneven still. “I had this feeling, so peculiar…” The firmness of his jaw tightens as he holds her, offering gentle strokes to her skin. “I know.” He speaks quietly, guarded. “I know, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The first wave of contentment simmers in her veins.

His hold on her body seemed to fill the void.

The moments pass, punctuated by soft sighs, the rise and fall of his broad chest under her form. Warm, his skin feels right against hers; his heart quietly fumbles in his chest. It had been far too long since he’d held someone this way, since he’d been held in return.

To be held; something so simple, yet so direly powerful. Heavy arms wrap around her waist like irons, strong, unbending, drawing her secure back against a warm chest.

She hadn’t known Johnny was warm.

She hadn’t known something kind resides within him.

Gazing up, she meets his stare; his eye gleam with something that makes her sigh softly. Something that makes that ache inside her chest feel, that maybe, just maybe,

       in his arms right now, there was no place she’d rather be.

       no other blues in the world would do.

The hand that holds her waist loosens, opting to swiftly, gently caress hers in his, fingers intertwining as he lays it to his gear glad chest. “You’ll be okay, kid.” He breathes against the shell of her ear, a shiver, a shudder vying down her spine at the low baritone. “I’ve got you.” he holds her small, brittle fingers. The same brittle fingers that reached, reached feebly for him. They reach, they reach, they reach all at once, nestling closer, his skin pulling her in further than she’d already been.

and to a hum softly off her colour stained lips, the twitch of her mouth quivers apparent as she rests her cheek against his chest, feeling him plant a small, lingering, genuine kiss to the crown of her distraught head; lost in the sea of her hair.

A kiss to her hair. An ode to what could have been.

Perhaps, he’d been imprudently hoping to mend the cracks in her soul. Perhaps, his heart remembers what they took from him once.

    Perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps with her, he can simply…be. The firmness of his jaw loosens, and his arms only hold her tighter.

In this moment, she seems surreal. This smaller, vulnerable, force of a women curled into him seems surreal. The words he feels bubble inside, the delicateness of his realization feels far too heavy; and her shoulders seem far too frail.

       he loves her, he knows. He battles, coils, toils within, but he knows.

And to her, in his arms;

yellow, the world seemed.

golden, yellow.

Sleep comes slowly, slowly, all then all at once.

She’d fallen asleep in his arms, somewhere along the reveries passed.

His realization had come; all at once. With her in his arms, his realization had come; an ode to sleep he whispers.

He felt himself smile faintly into her hair. In his arms tonight, she hurts, withers, wilts. And he feels himself bleed,

    for her.

yellow,

yellow,

red,

black. He feels them all, 

he bleeds them all.

   But morning will come; it has to.

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

hope ya liked it! I have a permanent taglist I use for all stories, which are mainly for John Wick. if you would like to be tagged in just future Silverhand fics, lemme know and I can add you to that! 

#johnny silverhand #johnny silverhand x v #johnny silverhand x reader #Johnny silverhand x you #Johnny silverhand imagine #Johnny silverhand fanfic

[marvelfansince08love]

hi laurennnn. how about soft platonic!wandanat (like wanda and nat are in a relationship, reader isn't) taking care of the reader (who they've kinda taken under their wing) after she did something really stupid on a mission? i hope that makes sense

Happy WandaNat Wednesday!!! 

Title: Breathing Again

Word count: 3k 

Pairing: WandaNat x Platonic!Reader 

Warning: a little sad, some fluff 

A/N: Minimal editing so I do apologise! Mysh (mouse) Myshka (little mouse) 

Gif owner @diegclila <3

For Alexis x @canarypoint

Breathing Again 

The first thing you noticed was the pain, that sore aching pain that reached all over your body as you tried to adjust to the bright light as you awake, groaning at the sensitivity of your eyes that stare back at the white light. Your gaze flickers around the dark room trying to gather your senses, blurry outlines begin to focus as you notice a familiar figure curled up on the chair beside the bed you’re lying on. You swallow and lick at your dried lips. 

“Wanda,” your voice rasped and croaked as you gained the tired witch’s attention watching her rouse to the sound of your voice. She moves quickly from her position once she notices you awake, her hands tentatively brushing your hair from your face as green eyes take in the almost healed bruises and scrapes that scatter across your skin. 

“Shh sweetheart, here drink some water.” she instructs softly, her voice hushed as she moves to grab you a glass of water from the side table. She tilts the glass to your lips slowly allowing you to take in the cold liquid sighing in relief as you quench your dying thirst. Turning your head you watch her frantically move towards the door calling for someone as you frown still unsure of your whereabouts, she rushes back over to you and smiles reassuringly. 

“What happened to me?” you ask, the events still a blur as you try to remember pieces of the mission. It was supposed to be a simple rescue job until an old rival of Tony’s decided to show up and stir up trouble causing the mission to go sideways, a second explosion had gone off close to where you were helping civilians escape out of the wreckage from the first hit unaware of the possibility of a second wave of explosions.

Wanda sits on the edge of the bed, her hand rubbing soothing strokes across your bicep. Watery eyes lock onto your own as you see her struggle to gather her words, before her gaze drops to her lap. 

“You were almost out of the building when the second explosion went off, Nat tried to get to you she was screaming for you to retreat but you were too stubborn for your own good,” she pauses, as she raises a scolding eyebrow at you but her eyes remain soft and full of relief at seeing you awake and breathing; living. “There was a cry for help just south of the building and as you got them out the explosion hit and you- you tried to use your powers to deflect the force but you weren’t prepared for it and-” a sob escapes from her throat as you struggle to sit upright tilting your head to gain her attention again. 

“I’m okay Wanda,” your words make her look up almost instantly, a small sad smile gracing her lips. 

“Barely, we were told that your chances of coming around-” “Y/N!” Tony’s voice cuts off Wanda’s as he races in with a woman dressed in a white lab coat, her badge indicating her profession. She moves swiftly towards you shining a bright light in both of your eyes making you squint at the harshness, your body still coming around from what feels like a million years of slumber. 

“Nice to see that you’ve come around, Y/N. I’m Doctor Jones, I’ve been looking after you while you’ve been here. Do you know where you are?” she asks, as if routine. “I uh- yeah. The hospital right?” you mumble, not overly confident with your answer. She smiles kindly at you as she nods in confirmation. 

“That’s right and while we have been able to keep you stable, you’ve been through some major trauma alright so I need you to take it easy for me while we go through some routine check ups okay? Do you remember what happened to you?” she continues to ask questions as she checks over your vitals, moving with such ease and experience as Tony remains quiet next to her but still hovers close to the good doctor who seems to be irritated by his lack of personal space. From the expression on her face this isn’t the first time Tony’s been pestering her while you’ve been out, you frown at that thought. 

“How long have I been out for?” your question makes them freeze, as Doctor Jones for the first time pauses as she writes on your chart, eyes flicker from one another. Wanda licks her lips as she looks away seeming to struggle with answering your question making you turn your attention to Tony. His shoulders slack as he stands a few inches away biting at his thumb nail.

“Two months and three days,” his words make your eyes widen as the machine next to you begins to bleep loud and fast.

“Two months!” you exclaim, your breathing becoming more erratic as you feel your chest tighten. Wanda seems to finally snap out of her tortured daydream as she focuses on your anxious form, her lips shushing you, her hands cupping your jaw as her thumbs brush across your cheekbones. 

“Y/N. Listen to me, I need you to calm down okay?” she instructs, taking a deep breath in silently asking you to mimic her actions. A familiar routine that you’ve both done ever since your first anxiety attack after your first mission with the team. Her soothing efforts seem to work as Doctor Jones informs you that all your vitals seem to be all stable and that once you have been medically reviewed, you can be discharged home back to Avengers Tower. 

Once the Doctor had left, Tony finally joined you and Wanda by the bedside sitting at the foot of the hospital bed. The pair caught you up on the past two months reassuring you that not a lot had changed, the lack of Natasha’s name didn’t go unnoticed by yourself though. 

“Wait, what happened to Natasha?” the two share a look at the mention of the redhead assassin. Tony pats your leg and smiles softly. 

“She’s fine, Kid.” he reassures, but Wanda’s distant look does nothing to calm your worries.

Since joining the Avengers you have become close to the assassin and the witch that sits beside you. The two had been dating for a while before you joined the team and became somewhat like mother’s to you, your mentors. Peter has Tony and you, well you had the two most badass women on your side. Moving away from your parents to live with the Avenger’s had been difficult at first, still trying to control your powers as well finding a way to fit into an already established team was hard but Natasha had been nice and warm towards you, teaching you the basics in hand to hand combat as well as weapons training while Wanda had taken you under her wing in the power’s department, having some power over certain elements yourself made you bond instantly with the witch. You had never been close to your parents, your abilities instantly labelling you as an outsider to them and the rest of your family but since being with the Avengers and having Natasha and Wanda look out for you, you finally felt a sense of belonging. 

Biting your lip, you nod trying to convince yourself of his words.

***

Walking slowly into the shared common room, you allow Wanda to guide you gently into the living room space where some of the team wait impatiently for you. Peter spots you first, smiling brightly as he takes in your tired form. Jogging over to you, he gently takes you into his arms and squeezes lightly.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers, you squeeze your eyes shut to hold back on the tears. The realisation of just how close you were to losing your life becoming more prominent as you squeeze him back ignoring the pain that creeps up around your body at the tight pressure. 

“Me too,” you whisper back, before pulling away and greeting the others. Your heart tightens as the emotions from the last two days start to surface as Thor is last to greet you, his gentleness surprising you at the usually strong and mighty God who doesn’t realise his own strength at times. As they step away to give you some room to settle down on the sofa, you can’t help but look around for the certain redhead. Wanda notices your search as she comes to sit next to you, the guys moving towards the kitchen to help prepare for dinner which only heightens your suspicions knowing that Steve is the only one allowed to cook in the kitchen after the last incident that involved the microwave, pop-tarts and Thor. 

“Wanda, is Nat okay with me? Doesn’t she want to see me?” your voice leaving her no room to dodge your questions. She brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear as she searches for the right words. 

“Nat is fine, Mysh. Of course she wants to see you, she just- after the doctor told us that you might not make it through, Nat kinda retreated into herself. She would sit for hours at your bedside, I was the only one besides Clint who could get her to eat and sleep. I only managed to convince her to come back here a few days before you woke to get some proper rest,” she pauses, as tears build in her eyes. “Y/N, you have to understand one thing about Natasha. She has always been taught that love is for children, that in itself closed her off to any kind of personal relationships with others even after leaving the red room. Since meeting Clint and then being here with us, she’s been able to let go of that old notion and genuinely open up to the possible idea of love and friendship, to me, to the team, including you, Little Mouse.” she grins as she calls you the familiar nickname that Nat gave you after you started training with her. 

“Is she here? I’d like to talk to her,” you murmur, suddenly feeling the need to apologize to her for not listening to her during that mission but most of all needing to reassure her and see her for yourself. Wanda nods as she leans forward pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“She’ll be in your room,” she informs you, a knowing look passes through her green eyes as you nod. You stand and head for the elevator that leads to the private quarters before pausing and quickly moving back to Wanda briefly wrapping your arms around her chest from behind leaning your head against hers for a moment. 

“Thank you for looking after me,” you mumble, she pats your arms and smiles. 

“Go and see Nat,” are her only words, making you salute her mockingly as she laughs. 

***

Taking a deep breath in you allow yourself a moment as you take in the familiar hallway to your bedroom, observing the picture frames on the wall. Frames showing yourself with the couple on your birthday, cooking with Wanda and Peter in the kitchen and one from your latest sleepover with the two, face masks in place as you pull silly faces. You notice your bedroom door ajar as you peek through the gap noticing Natasha’s figure curled up on your bed as her shoulders remain rigid and stiff as she faces away from you.

“Wan, I’m not in the mood-” 

“It’s me,” you cut in, watching her become tense at the sound of your voice. She quickly sits up from your bed and faces you, her face stoic as her blue eyes take in your form. Moving further into the room you decide to crouch in front of her placing your hands onto her knees. 

“It’s me Nat, I’m home.” you whisper, fidgeting in place as your nervousness begins to take over. Her hands tentatively reach your cheeks cupping your jaw as her eyes assess the fading bruises. 

“I am so angry with you,” she murmurs, her voice betraying her words as fear remains evident in her voice. Your lips twitch as tears begin to build in your eyes. 

“I know and I’m so sorry I should have listened to you-” 

“Damn straight you should have. Do you know how scared I was when I finally got to you? You were so pale and you wouldn’t wake-,” she trails off, as she continues to take in your face. 

“Natasha I know I scared you-” 

“Scared me?! I have never been so terrified in my life Y/N, do you understand how important you are to this team, to Wanda.. To me! I know how frightened your parents were when we told them, they threatened to have you transferred to the hospital back at home and for us to never see you again.” you try to interrupt to explain that you understood but she continues, the emotions from the last two months finally surfacing. 

“You may not realise this, but we care about you... so much, Y/N. At first I was so angry with you for being so darn stubborn and not listening to me,” she confesses, standing to her feet as she begins to pace. You stand as well stepping back to allow her room to let out her frustrations folding your arms across your stomach. 

“Nat, I understand how reckless I was okay? I’m sorry I don't know what else to say right now,” you murmur, suddenly regretting the decision to do this now as you begin to feel lightheaded. The day’s events slowly creep up on top of you as you close your eyes for a second trying to steady yourself. Natasha seems to notice your swaying state and reaches forward wrapping a protective arm around your waist, guiding you towards the bed.

“Are you okay, Myshka?” she asks, worry evident in her voice. “Lie down,” she instructs softly, making sure the pillows are plumped behind your head. You look up shyly at her feeling the dizzy spell surpass slightly. 

“Will you stay with me? Since I pretty much slept for two months I’m scared that when I close my eyes I’ll-” 

“I know, Kid. Scoot over then,” she bumps her elbow against your shoulder as she comes to lie next to you. Facing each other, you can see the conflict pass through her blue eyes as she brushes a thumb across your cheek, capturing an escaped tear. 

“If you need to sleep, you can. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” she promises, watching as your eyes slowly start to close on command. Natasha continues to watch as your lashes flutter, a small smile spreading across her lips. 

“How is she?” Wanda’s voice whispers from the doorway, Nat turns her head towards her girlfriend, her eyes softening. 

“She was feeling a little woozy but I think she just needed some rest,” she explains, Wanda moves forwards and kisses Natasha briefly keeping her head close to the redhead for a moment. 

“And how are you, my darling?” Natasha shrugs, turning to face you again as Wanda moves to lie on your other side smiling warmly as you seek her out even in your sleep, cuddling into her side. 

“I’m doing okay, just knowing she’s here and safe it’s like I can suddenly breath again you know.” Wanda nods understanding her brief sense of loss and grief for you, the uncertainty of whether you would wake again still lingering. Natasha’s eyes rest upon your sleeping form as she continues to open up to the witch. 

“I may not have the privilege of carrying a child but she gives me hope, that I can be that mother figure and not screw it up with my own past traumas,” Wanda smiles, as she glances down at you. 

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

“Just so you know she is grounded for the next three years,” Natasha’s vows, although the teasing glint in her eyes shows she only half means it, making Wanda chuckle. 

“I think you’ll have to get in line because her parents are on their way here,” Wanda informs, squealing as you suddenly sit upright, eyes wide at the mention of your parents.

“Shit! My parents!” you exclaims, groaning as you hold the side of your head feeling a sudden headache coming on, Wanda pats your back in sympathy.

 “Don’t worry, Mysh. We’ve got your back,” 

“Speak for yourself,” Nat mutters, grumpily. You turn your head to face her, a pout in place knowing it’s never a good sign when Natasha sides with your parents. 

“Have already told you how sorry I am?” you ask, innocently making Nat grin mischievously. 

Two weeks later

“One large pizza for the still grounded teenager,” Wanda teases, as she enters her shared living room with Natasha holding two boxes of pizza.

You turn your head from your sitting position on the floor as the smell hits your nose, wiggling your fingers towards them as you reach out for the top box. Sticking your tongue out at the avenger for her comment, you open up the lid and take a big sniff humming in delight at the greasy goodness. 

“I’m going to forgive you for that comment. The pizza saved you this time, Maximoff,” you warn jokingly at the brunette as Natasha comes to sit next to you on the floor, her back leaning against the sofa. Wanda places a few slices onto her plate before curling up onto the single seat, her eyes full of fondness as she takes you both in, watching as you slap Nat’s hand away from your pizza slices. 

“You guys know we have a couch you can sit on, right?” she teases, as you and Nat shrug stuffing the slice into your mouths eyes focused on the television. 

“Come on, babe. Don’t be boring and join us,” Natasha entices, her eyes full of mischief as Wanda scoffs shaking her head. 

“You both eat like animals. I’ll stay over here with my half of the pizza thank you very much,” she huffs but the glint in her eyes shows her amusement. 

You all continue to munch happily on the cheesy slices as you and Natasha make ridiculous comments about the reality TV show that plays on the flat screen making you both laugh. Wanda smiles fondly enjoying the peace and the very normal atmosphere;  being a well known superhero with many enemies makes moments like this rare so she remains quiet, that small smile playing on her lips as she observes her two favourite people in this rare domestic bliss knowing there’s no other place she’d rather be. 

Tags: @waitingfortheendtocome @natasha-danvers @natasharomanoffswife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#natasha romanoff x wanda #Wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #wandanat #wandanat x reader #platonic!reader #marvel #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff

[fallen-gravity]

the good kind of scared

Luz takes Amity out on their first date as an official couple.

Amity can’t stop thinking about certain circumstances of a certain night.

Notes: 

WARNING: This fic contains major spoilers for Season 2, Episode 8 (Knock, Knock, Knockin’ on Hooty’s Door) of the Owl House. Read at your own risk.

Here’s my first shot at an owl house fic! I love Luz and Amity so much, they remind me so much of myself and my journey as a young wlw, and I wish them nothing but the best on their relationship journey.

AO3 

Luz regrets telling Eda she wanted to ask Amity out.

It’s not that she’s being mean or judgmental about the whole ordeal, and it’s not even that she’s being overprotective and going full Owlbeast on Amity for getting too close, or threatening to break something of hers if she breaks Luz’s heart.

Oh no. Luz would absolutely prefer Eda threatening to drop Amity off in the middle of the wilderness for hurting her to what she’s actually doing.

Every time Luz even mentions Amity, even if she’s just talking about her day at school, Eda’s on her back with a nudge of her shoulders, a hip check, and a wink. It’s always “How’s your girlfriend doing, Luz?” this and “When are you bringing your girlfriend home, Luz?” that. 

If Luz’s face could burn any hotter she’s sure it would catch on fire.

(She shudders at the thought of how much more embarrassing her mother back home is going to be about it).

Honestly, it’s a miracle she was even able to plan their first date without Eda butting in at all.

“Bring her home by midnight!” Eda singsongs, tossing her staff to Amity as the two of them are heading out the door. “Now go have fun, you crazy kids!” 

Luz scrubs her hands down her face and groans into them. Beside her, Amity giggles nervously. 

“I’ll try,” she murmurs under her breath, and it only makes Luz’s blush even worse.

“I’m so sorry about her” Luz groans once they’re outside and Eda is out of earshot. “I begged her not to be embarrassing about this whole thing, but she just laughed at me and told me that was her job”

Amity laughs, bashfully covering her mouth with a hand. She’s so cute. “It’s fine. You wouldn’t believe how Edric and Emira acted when I told them where I was going. I thought I was going to be stuck at home with all of their squealing for hours before they finally let me go”

Luz can’t help but laugh. “Are you ready to go? I kind of want to get out of here before Hooty catches wind at what’s going on” she gestures with her thumb towards the door behind them. Hooty is, thankfully, too asleep to have heard any of that conversation. 

For the briefest of seconds, Amity’s eyes go wide. “Right,” she says, and offers Eda’s staff back to Luz. Her eyes dart to the ground as her entire face begins to flush pink. “Well, where did you want to take me? You said no asking until I got here”

That’s right. Luz can feel her own blush burning into her cheeks. She’d completely forgotten it was supposed to be a surprise, and that this date was the date to determine all of their future dates going forward.

Luz clears her throat to clear her thoughts, and sits down on the staff to wake up Owlbert. 

“Hop on!” she tells Amity beside her, her voice cracking into oblivion. “You’ll know when we get there”

Amity giggles, but she complies, sitting behind Luz and wrapping her arms around her waist to keep herself steady.

...This is the end of her, Luz thinks, her face turning redder than apple blood. She’s dead. She’s dying. She’s no more.

But before Amity has the time to ask her what’s wrong or pull away, Luz takes off into the sky, perhaps a bit faster than she intended to. It takes a moment for their flight to steady, since she’d accidentally startled Owlbert from taking off too quickly, but once he’s calmed down it’s smooth sailing to their destination.

And even now that everything is all smooth and balanced, Amity still has her arms around Luz’s waist, which means that it has nothing to do with keeping herself steady at all, that Amity just genuinely wanted to sit that close to her and hold her throughout the entire duration of their flight, and hooo, boy, Luz isn’t quite sure her fragile little hopeless romantic heart can handle that information.

Focus, she tells herself. You’ve only got one shot at a first date, and everyone knows the first date is the most important.

She takes a deep breath in and slowly exhales to dispel her spiking nerves. 

“Look, Amity…” She starts, and though Amity does not move her arms from around her waist, Luz can feel Amity’s hair brush against her cheek as she sits up to meet her eyes. “I know that you’ve lived here your entire life, and I’ve only been here for a few months, and there’s probably not much here that I could show you that you haven’t already seen hundreds of times. And I know I keep talking about going home, and everything I like about living there, but...I think it’s only fair that I show you the reason I fell in love with this place, too”  she coughs, her blush returning to her cheeks again. “B-besides you, I mean” 

Amity’s entire face goes pink, and she buries it into Luz’s shoulder. “Luz…” she whimpers, so unlike the cool and collected Amity that walks the halls of Hexside, and somehow it has Luz’s heart flipping in her chest even more.

“I know it’s not much, but….” Luz gestures outward with an arm, and Amity finally finds the strength to pull away from her shoulder. Upon following Luz’s gestured arm with her gaze, a small gasp escapes her.

It’s the same view of the Boiling Isles that Eda had shown her on her first day on the Isles. It’s the entire view of the Titan’s skeleton, yes, and the lit homes of all the residents of Bonesborough, but most importantly it’s the sky. When Luz had been up here with Eda the sun was setting and Luz was sure that it was the most beautiful thing that she had ever seen, but tonight’s sky takes the cake (...again, besides Amity). Tonight the sky is clear as can be, twinkling with thousands of shining stars. There’s a distant galaxy streaking across the sky; not quite the Milky Way, but equally as beautiful, and, if Luz looks long enough, a few scattered shooting stars.

“Woah,” Amity gasps behind her, and tightens her grip around Luz’s waist ever so slightly. “It’s all so…” she pauses, her gaze shifting from the night sky to Luz, “...beautiful”

Luz squeaks. “You’re beautiful” she murmurs, burying her face into her hands once again.

Amity laughs at that, but if Luz unburies her face from her hands she’d see the blush permanently branded into her girlfriend’s face at the compliment.

For a few moments after, the two of them fall into a comfortable silence. Amity’s arms remain where they are around Luz’s waist, and Luz does her best to lean backwards into her touch. They don’t move, and don’t focus on anything but the night sky and the quiet, gentle flapping of Owlbert’s tiny wings if they listen hard enough. 

It’s...peaceful. A dramatic shift in pace compared to the past week for sure, but it's a change that Luz is welcoming with open arms.

She’s about to close her eyes and let herself soak everything in when Amity speaks up again, nearly startling her out of her skin.

“Hey, actually…now that we’re alone, can I…ask you a question?”

Luz swallows. It must be crucial relationship business if whatever this is had to wait until they were on their date, as far away from other prying ears as they could possibly get. Trying her hardest not to let her nerves show, Luz carefully shifts on the staff so she’s sitting beside Amity rather than in front of her.

“Y-yeah! What’s up?”

Amity’s face goes pink and she starts nervously playing with her hair, like it’s killing her just to even think about asking whatever this crucial question is. Just as quickly as the blush appeared, though, she’s clearing her throat and patting her hair back into place, steeling herself for whatever Luz’s answer could be.

“Was...was the tunnel of love really Hooty’s idea, or were you just saying that because you were…” her blush appears, twice as red as it had been a moment ago. “...anxious about telling me how you felt?”

Luz is, once again, feeling like her face is on fire. “Ugh, I’m so sorry about all of that” she scrubs a hand down her face. “Hooty had this whole thing going on about insisting he needed to help people, and he must’ve gotten it in his head that he needed to help me with-”

She’s cut off by the sensation of Amity gently taking her free hand in her own, rubbing gentle circles into the back of her hand with her thumb. “Sorry?” she giggles. “Why are you sorry?” 

Luz finally finds the strength to meet Amity’s eyes despite the blush burned into her cheeks. 

Her eyes are shining, which is just about the prettiest, most adorable thing Luz has ever seen, hands down.

“I mean, Hooty kidnapping me was…” she trails off, shuddering, “but...everything else? It was so cute, Luz. It was so much like you to make this grand old gesture for me. I was terrified just kissing you on the cheek the other night, and there you were, being so extravagantly...you” 

...She liked all of that? She didn’t think it was dumb, or embarrassing, or completely and utterly laughable??? She thought it was sweet?

It’s decided, Luz Noceda is officially the luckiest girl in the world. Nobody else in the entire Boiling Isles has better luck than her.

Luz sighs, and returns Amity’s gesture by taking her other hand in her own. “I guess...it’s because everyone back home thinks I’m too schmaltzy. Every time I talk about this new romance book I’d read, or this new fic I finished writing, or the proposal I was working on for this guy I wanted to ask to homecoming, they’d just...laugh at me, like there goes Luz again, doing too much for things that don’t matter that much. I’m so used to being shot down for being too much that I felt...scared” 

Amity snorts. “We waltzed together to defeat Grom, Luz. I don’t think you can get much schmaltzier than that. Besides…” she inches ever closer, planting a kiss on Luz’s cheek. “There’s no such thing as too much of you, Luz. If nobody back home saw that, then they didn’t deserve you”

A smile tugs at Luz’s lips. “More like I don’t deserve you, you big sap” she gives Amity’s cheek a kiss in return, and she beams at the sensation, adorably scrunching up her nose. The beam stays plastered on her face when Luz pulls away, and Amity gently touches the spot on her cheek where Luz had just kissed her. 

“Well, what about right now?” Amity asks, the shine returning to her eyes. “You’re not still feeling scared, are you?” 

The phrasing of her second question suddenly makes Luz very aware of how close they’re sitting to each other. Her heart starts pounding in her chest at the very real possibility that they are close enough to kiss, actually kiss, on the lips, if they so wanted to. 

“Yeah,” she answers honestly, but leans her head in closer to Amity to test the waters. Amity realizes what she’s doing pretty quickly, but shows no hesitation in meeting her halfway.

Luz can’t help the beam spreading across her own face as they pull away from their first kiss. “...but I think it’s the good kind of scared.”

#my writing #lumity #toh #the owl house #knock knock knocking on hooty's door

[darkmindsotome]

On the Riverbank

Title: On the Riverbank

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing:  Kei Soejima x MC

 Word count:3,963

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Summary: After suffering from cabin fever a date is in order. Only this simple date plan is going to get spicy.

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #15: Free Prompt (Picnic on the River)

---

 I was willing to blame uncontrollable events on the fact that we hadn’t managed to go on a date in a while. Between work and recovering from work, it had been impossible to plan anything. However, it had become the new norm for us to remain living together at Kei’s rooms in Raven.

At some point, I began to feel like I had cabin fever. I was happy to be with Kei and a secret part of me loved being at home with him 24/7. To think there was a time when I thought this was a prison sentence. I couldn’t deny the fact I wanted to go out and do something now things had settled down though.

After looking out of the large windows in the suite over the streets of London, sighing for what must have been the sixth or seventh time, into my nighttime cup of tea. Kei put down his book and announced we would be going on a date. Later that night I curled up happily in bed wrapped in his arms and fell fast asleep.

The next day I woke up alone. My mysterious man had vanished before I could say so much as a good morning or ask about our date plans. Patting down the sheet on his side of the bed resulted in me finding them stone cold. He was always an early riser but this was ridiculous. I then noticed a note left on his pillow.

“Good morning, forgive me I had some things to tend to. I have arranged a car to bring you to our date. K”

I rubbed my fingers over his beautiful cursive writing just as a courier arrived at the door and delivered a beautifully wrapped box. The duck egg blue container was almost pearlescent with a thick cream coloured satin ribbon all perfectly tied around it.

The timing was so perfect I really had to marvel at the man organising this and wonder if I was always this predictable or if I would discover a hidden camera somewhere in the room. Opening the box up revealed a single white rose with a card resting on top of a black dress that fitted Kei’s tastes perfectly.

“I can’t wait to see you. K”

The message had me smiling long before I took the dress out of the box. It was a vintage style tea dress with little cap sleeves made from some of the most delicate lace I’d ever seen. It looked almost like patterned smoke.  

There was something different about getting ready for a mission and getting ready for a date. The feeling I got from both was similar but I found I was much more nervous about a date than a life-threatening mission. I rushed through my prep stage of shower, hair and make-up.  

Slipping into the dress I instantly fell in love with it. Kei knew my measurements off by heart and I was pretty sure he had them on file with his usual tailor so he could get the outfits he gifted me perfect right down to the last stitch.

Walking into the closet to find a pair of suitable shoes I discovered some already sitting out. They were naturally also black with the addition of ribbons that wrapped around my ankles. Securing the bows, I couldn’t help but make the comparison between them and cuffs. I felt heat climbing up from them at the thought. I imagined Kei and what was probably going through his head as he picked them out for me. How his fingers would have traced the shoes and the ribbon. The idea of tying me up was never far from his mind and with these shoes, it felt like he had already started.

Shaking my head, I looked at my watch and doubled checked my reflection in the mirror before leaving to go get in the car. I watched from the back seat absentmindedly playing with my choker as the car took me away from the centre of the metropolis. 

The modern landscape changed slowly into something that felt more historic. The buildings looked older; the concrete jungle had passed into something more like a tv drama set. In fact, if I hadn’t known how far I had travelled I might have thought I was somewhere else entirely.

My eyes caught a familiar figure standing near the roadside. He was dressed in more casual clothes. The white trousers, cream coloured cricket jumper with a blue stripe around the collar and the light blue shirt under it all made him look like a student. The car slowed until the backdoors aligned perfectly with him. I had seconds to smooth down my dress and mentally brush off some of the nervous excitement before the door was opened.

“M’lady.” I smiled at the Princely Kei as he offered me his hand. It was all too easy to forget what he truly was like even for me. Yes, I loved his sweet and angelic side, but I also loved that tricky Devil he hid behind his mask too.

“Thank you.”

Kei guided me to his side, away from the car, and sent it on its way. Now completely alone he used our still joined hands to make me twirl for him as he looking me over from head to toe.

“You look even better than I imagined.” Kei smiled and brought me closer to him. Sweeping some of my hair away from my neck so he could brush his fingers along the neckline of the dress and the choker around my neck.

I once more felt the difference in attire. I was all dressed up and felt far more formal than he did. The idea of him being a student once more flitted through my mind conjuring up kinky scenarios of a socialite sneaking off for a romantic rendezvous with a hidden student lover. It was silly, Kei was older than me even if there were times it was hard to tell that from appearance alone.  

“Careful now or you might start sounding like Kazuomi.” I joked attempting to forget the thoughts going through my mind.

My eyes naturally fluttered shut. His cold elegant fingers ghosting over my skin was enough to remind me of the many nights we spent together. Where he had dyed me in his own colours and shown me the abyss behind the door to depravity. Joining me as we fell through purgatory to our own private Eden.

“Perish the thought.” He let go of me. A sensation that left me feeling the need to chase him.

Opening my eyes, I saw that impish look on his face. He was slowly becoming more and more adjusted to life outside of his own nightmares and past. It was still obvious he was a little lost and confused at times but when he was like this, I could almost imagine him as a little boy. It made my heart sing to think we could stand here now together and I could enjoy such a candid fragment of my elusive boyfriend.

“Come now we should get this date started.” Kei laced our fingers and matched his pace to mine.

We walked through some trees and right up to the side of a riverbank. There in front of us was a beautiful craft floating on the water. Inside were some large cushions a few blankets and a basket.

“I thought I would show you a little hospitality and tradition.” Kei let go of my hand briefly to climb onto the small craft and then held out his hand again to help me get on board as well.

“We are going boating?” I giggled as the whole thing rocked under my feet. The idea of mixing something traditional from his own country and a date was so him it made me happy.  

“Punting. It is quite different but I trust you will enjoy yourself.” Kei’s correction came with all the patience I had come to expect from someone who knew so much and was used to sharing it in the course of his work.

“I think I’ve seen it before. It looked like the river had turned into Venice or something.” I sat down carefully feeling rather small when I looked back up at Kei.

“I can understand your comparison and whilst you can use a pole on both vessels a Punt is different to a Gondola.” He smiled and retrieved the long pole from the riverbank using it to cast off.

I watched him standing near my feet moving the pole through his hands with little effort. If you were really quiet you could hear the smooth wood, polished with years of use, slipping through the water and his palms.

“It doesn’t feel as safe as I thought it would.” I commented as the pole in his hand seemed to get stuck on something under the water and give a little tug that made the punt slightly rock.

“I assure you that I am an excellent Punter.” Kei’s expression was so deadpan and relaxed as he declared this I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“I get the feeling your friends would be doubling over in laughter right about now hearing you say that.”

“Yes, they probably would. Thankfully they aren’t or I would have tipped them both into the Thames and made them swim.” He looked down at me. The shadows from the trees we were moving through were casting shadows on his pale skin. I didn’t miss how his playful eyes shone through the shade.

“You wouldn’t…”

“Just sit back and enjoy the ride. I did consider placing the seat facing forward but selfishness prevented me from doing so. I wanted to see your face, forgive me.” The Devil faded in the light once more replaced by the charming Prince.

“You know I never once pictured you doing this?” I sunk back into the cushions, finding them much more comfortable than I thought they would be. The blankets as well were a mixture of textures but each one was thick and luxurious.

“Oh? Punting has been a traditional pastime in England since the 1860’s it really caught on by the 1880s and 1900s though. Before they became used for recreation these little crafts were used as part of the transporting of traders.” He spoke as he manoeuvred the pole and pushed us forward in the water. “Are you familiar with Alice in Wonderland?”

“Yes of course it’s a children’s classic.” I happily nodded. I know it is kind of a strange thing to enjoy but I did genuinely love how knowledgeable he was and how he explained things. It was like having my own personal tour guide and professor.

“Quite so. Well, the author Lewis Carroll used to punt along the Thames and during one of his outings where he was with a friend’s children he started to tell the story of a curious little girl who followed a rabbit. He later put pen to paper and created the beloved tale as a gift.” He lowered his voice as if he had just shared a piece of information vital to national security.

“I didn’t know that.” I don’t know what face I was showing him when he looked down at me. His face seemed to soften, although it could also have been my imagination.

“Literature aside I thought I would show you some more of England than the inside of Raven or shopping in the capital.” I looked around at the countryside slowly passing. I knew there was more to London than concrete and cars but I didn’t think there was this much greenery.

“I thought the Thames was larger than this.” I mused and put my hand over the side dipping it in the cool water playing with the ripples made by the punt as it moved.

“It is. We are currently on one of its many streams. Still part of the river but not as heavy with the tourist trade. You will also know of the boating traditions between Oxford and Cambridge, yes?” Kei always seemed to become a little more animated when talking like this. It was like he suddenly had an outlet for all the bottled-up information and facts he had in that well-read brain of his.

“The boat race?” I titled my head against the sun and saw him nodding happily.

“Yes, it is covered by the media extensively at the time. Well, the competition between the two on these waters doesn’t stop with rowing. There is a traditional Oxford way to Punt and then there is the traditional Cambridge version.” Kei grimaced theatrically as he explained.

“Haha, you don’t sound like you approve of the Cambridge way.”

“I am an Oxford man.” He almost seemed to stand up straighter as he said that. “The flat raised planking behind you is called the Till. A Cambridge man would stand on the Till and punt like so.” He stepped over me and demonstrated what he meant. It caused the punt to lurch which had me clinging to the sides of it thinking it might tip us both in the water. “Whereas an Oxford man, He will stand in the punt and work from here.” Kei stepped back into the punt and resumed moving us from inside. The vessel settled back down and I ended up breathing a sigh of relief. “Also a notable difference is the till. Following Oxford tradition, it is always facing front in the direction one is moving."

"I had no idea there were so many traditions.”

“There are more but I fear any more information will bore you under this hot sun. Here should be suitable.” He pushed the punt so it brushed up against the bank again this time next to what looked like a very secluded spot. The grass was short and looked to be recently cut. Surrounding it were high hedges and some trees.

“What is this place?” I asked as we left the punt for more stable ground.

“You will find them all around. They are locations people usually used for picnics.” Kei spoke as he stuck the pole into the bank and tied the punt to it.

“Are they all this well maintained?” I was still looking around. I don’t think I have ever been to a part of London that has ever made me feel so totally alone. It was pleasantly unusual.

“The ones that are owned are yes. This is one of my family’s spots.” He leant over and scooped up the basket and grabbed a blanket. With them in hand, he then walked into the centre of the grass and quickly set up.

“What do you have hidden away in your basket of tricks?” I sat down on the blanket and waited for him to reveal his secrets.

“We have tea, the very seasonal and traditional strawberries and cream.” He placed a flask down next to the punnet of fresh fruit and a pot of thick white cream. “We also have peanut butter sandwiches…”

“You made this picnic, didn’t you?” I couldn’t help but giggle. When he said he had things to do in his note I thought it would have been work-related. Now I had visions of him shopping and preparing this picnic instead.

“What is wrong with it?” He asked. His golden hair shining like a halo under the sun.

“Nothing just it's very you. If you had brought the basket from somewhere or had someone else make it, I doubt peanut butter would have made it on the menu.” It was true he could have ordered it from room service or had it made up somewhere in town and just brought it along. The fact that he actually made anything himself was endearing.

“Did you want something different?” His expression shifted and he looked like a child that was waiting to be scolded.

“No this is perfect.” I reached over and took one of the sandwiches from the plate in his hands.

“I did think of bringing some Pimms but I reconsidered.” Kei recovered fast, the cracks in his mask reformed.

“Why?”

“The time of day for one thing. I mean as Kazuomi would argue it's five o’clock somewhere but I would hate for you to be so drunk you fell overboard.”  He poured some tea from the flask and handed it to me. Our fingers touching for a second, more than long enough for me to realise his body temperature was still as cold as normal.

“We both know I have a better tolerance to alcohol than that.” How can he do that? It was so hot the world could be melting and Kei would still be sitting there in a pullover surrounded by his own internal climate control. “You said this was one of the quieter parts of the River. Why come here? Oops!”

I had been so concerned with not spilling the tea he had given me I had completely misjudged the integrity of the sandwich in my hand. Part of it failed to make it to my mouth and vanish down the neckline of the dress. Embarrassment threatened to bloom inside me and I really hoped Kei had missed what I had just done.

“Is it a crime to want to spend some time alone with my girlfriend?” His voice was so close and I hadn’t felt the blanket move or even seen him shift. Yet he was right next to me his face so close to mine I could feel his breath in my ear. “Honestly I did think of following one of the other paths of the river. There are more pubs and places to go along them but I wanted to enjoy something more scenic with you.” He trailed his fingers along my choker and then slipped them down the front of my dress. “Now I’m glad I made this choice.”

“Something about how you just said that makes me think you weren’t referring to a quiet picnic together.” I acted cooler than I felt. I knew he could feel my heart beating and see the pulse running wild in my neck. All the time I faked being calm as his fingers extradited the rogue peanut butter sandwich from my body.

“You always were very observant.” I followed his hand as it carried the salvaged food to his own mouth. Those eyes of his locked on me looking like pools of golden lust.

They drew me to him like a spell and held me there as he locked me up in his arms, his hands roamed freely over me. Tumbling back together onto the blanket the picnic was threatening to be forgotten.

“Mmm Kei.” My breathy cry came out as he nibbled on my collarbone and began moving a hand up my leg under the fabric of the dress.

“Careful now. It might be a secluded spot but there is no telling who you might summon with a voice like that.” He teased as his fingers did some teasing of their own. Rubbing the outline of my sex through the sheer fabric of his favourite lace panties.

“As long as one of the people I summon is you I don’t care.” I was done with coy. Coy and demure didn’t get you anywhere fast with this man. There was a time and place for all that and when we were alone and things were heating up was not one of those times.

“Mmm, have I ever told you how stunning you are when you are honest with your desires?” He slipped his fingers past the lace pressing his thumb onto my clit before pumping a couple of digits inside me. I wanted to moan louder but his warning from before made me stop.

I looked up and found him smirking. He knew I was holding back. He knew I was trying to be a good girl but damn him if he wasn’t trying to break me.

“I don’t think I can remember.” Two could play that game and I tried to make it look like I was still in control. With every stroke from his hand, I was losing my sanity, but I kept up a strong front and played the game.

“Then I’ll have to take my time and remind you.” He moved on top of me his hand still driving a fever through my core as he spread my legs wide with his own.

“What about the picnic?”

“There is time enough for both. I don’t intend to let anything here on this blanket go to waste.”

His voice purred erotically as he slid the zip on the dress down my back and dragged the bodice low enough to expose my breasts. The cap sleeves I had thought were a nice addition were now part of the binding of fabric that was preventing my arms from freely moving.

Kei brushed his fingers over the lace of the bra and once more slid his hand inside. Treating each nipple to a firm pinch as he ravished my mouth with his tongue. I squirmed under him trying to wrap my legs around his and return the restraint in kind.

“Hehe, you really are the only one that has ever tried to dominate me.” His laugh was like a clear bell whilst the things he was doing to me had my head crashing like a drum.

“Kei… please stop teasing me already.” I moved some more only to find his weight was gone. He had stopped touching me completely and was sitting back on his heels looking at me.

“As My Lady commands.”

I watched as he licked his hand clean and used the other to undo his belt and trousers. It wasn’t unusual for him to remain clothed but it rarely happened where it was so bright.  I bit my lip as he rolled my dress higher exposing all of me. He said nothing as he undid the strings on the panties and placed them into his pocket. The silence was deafening given how aroused I was. He leaned over and dipped a strawberry into the thick cream holding it just out of reach of my mouth.

“Eat it.” His command seemed absolute even if it was given in a sugary-sweet tone.  I tried to stretch for it but couldn’t. His eyes twinkled and his smile became more wicked. “I guess if you can’t be a good girl then I’ll just have to treat you like a bad one instead.”

I felt my core tighten as he brought his palm down with a crack against my bare thigh. He pressed down on me again. His mouth connecting with mine. Fruit and cream filled my senses as he used his own mouth to feed me. The escaped juices were lapped up by his tongue as he arranged himself to take this to the next level.

“Ah!” A slight sharpness ripped through my body and was quickly numbed as the pleasure of us finally connecting took over. With each rock of his body, it moved my body against the ground far more than the swaying of any boat.

Our mouths connected again and again at different angles to the point where I was sure I had forgotten to breathe. His fingers ran through my hair sometimes pulling grabbing at it but each time it only emphasised his desire for me and made my whole body tingle.

I never did find out if anyone else was around as Kei had said or if it was all just another layer to his devilish lies to set the mood. I did discover that I would never be able to eat a picnic again without the addition of a peanut sandwich.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut content creation challenge

[bokutosworld]

perfect match | miya osamu

a/n: i am so thrilled that haikyuu is back!!! can’t wait to see more of inarizaki and (excuse my bias) osamu!!!! <3 so here’s a very self-indulgent piece in celebration of their comeback haha 

pairing: miya osamu x f!reader

wc: 2.6k words of fluff and bit of angst if you squint lmfao.  

summary: in which you and osamu go in circles, walking the fine line between keeping the friendship or taking the leap in your relationship. inspired by the prompts: “It’s you, it’s always been you.”  + “Are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

--

'for the last time, i am telling you oyakodon cannot be better than katsudon. nothing beats a good crisp, deep-fried pork or chicken over a steaming bowl of rice,' you said, putting your lunch tray on the table with a thud and settling on the bench.

'yeah, sure. but they're basically the same thing,' he slips in the space next to you, placing his food and getting his chopsticks ready. 'they're both donburi meals, only difference is how they're prepared. what matters is they're both delicious.'

taking a spoonful of your meal, you chew fast before deciding to answer back, 'i know that.' you pause to catch your breath, earning a worried glance from osamu as if he telling you to eat slowly. 'but katsudon just ranks superior. end of discussion.'

the both of you, cooped up in your own conversation, were oblivious to the stares and smirks of your friends in the table. atsumu, deciding to be the braver among the peers, cuts through the silence. 'you know, we could hear you bickering from the queue all the way here,' a hint of tease evident in his voice and osamu smacks his twin.

suna perks up, joining the conversation, 'that's like the third discourse they had today, man. and it's only lunchtime.' the rest of the group laughs and shakes their head, as atsumu adds, 'will there ever be a day where we enjoy some peace and the two of you just quietly get along?'

you share a look with osamu who simply shrugs and continues to chomp down (albeit rather cutely) his food. your friends weren't wrong but it's not like you and the boy hated each other's guts. your close friendship with him was comfortable, so much so that the two of you would talk and argue literally about anything. but as always, there were no hard feelings in those moments of disagreements.

it's just the way it has been since the day you met the twins in middle school. they were both kind and took care of you like their little sister. but somehow, you found yourself growing more attached with the quieter twin. there was something about conversing with osamu that made you feel like you can open up to him about anything. he was smart, a good listener, a natural conversationalist that he always had something ready to answer to your quips. he would always indulge whatever topic you brought up and challenge your ideas and beliefs - the latest one being the katsudon versus oyakodon dispute.

you notice the piece of rice stuck in the corner of osamu's mouth, and you were just about to wipe it off when hikari calls out your name. your hand falls limp on your side and you turn to her, 'what's up?'

'are you free this weekend? i was supposed to set up my cousin on a blind date with my co-worker but she just informed me that she can't go. they have exams this week. so,' she purposely dragged on her words, weighing if would consider being the substitute. raising an eyebrow at her, you completed the sentence for her, 'so, you want me to go on the blind date?'

she beamed, clasping her hands together as if she was reciting a prayer. 'please! i will owe you my life, this is a one time thing, i swear! i made him a promise. you know how i hate breaking promises.'

osamu took note of the way you sighed and how your shoulders slumped at your friend's request. you were never one to say no, you always found it difficult with your kind-hearted nature. so it wasn't a surprise to him when you turned and asked, 'we don't have anything planned for this weekend, right?'

truthfully, osamu wanted to say that you did have some sort of hangout planned. he didn't know why he was finding it hard to say no right now, so he was relieved when his brother spoke. 'you should be free, y/n,' swinging his arm around his twin's shoulders, atsumu looked at him and smirked. 'besides, we have a practice match this weekend. we wouldn't be able to do the usual hangout 'til after 6pm.'

this made you exclaim, 'great! you can give that guy my number then!' hikari proceeded to tell you the details - it was happening on saturday. she already arranged for the meetup time and place to be 10 am at the subway station near the park.

as hikari continued to talk to you about your date, osamu couldn't help but listen in on the conversation and take note of the details. he didn't miss the way your eyes lit up at the mention of your date's name - taichi - to which you remarked that it was 'a handsome name.' osamu rolled his eyes at that. lost in his own thoughts and conflicted feelings about your blind date, he wasn't able to control his facial reactions anymore - a slight look of envy and disappointment ghosting over his features and atsumu was enjoying every bit of it.

weekend arrived and to say that you were excited for the blind date was an understatement. you were looking forward to it, the evidence seen in the way you have prepared your outfit (with the help of osamu who you video called last night). as your closest friend, osamu tried his best to be thrilled and happy for you. he knew you have been wanting to experience a first date for a while now. but a feeling was gnawing at him, a feeling that wishes it was him who was taking you out on that weekend. nonetheless, he gave you a pep talk and reminded you to just have fun and be yourself.

so here you are now, standing in the middle of the station and waiting for your date. it wasn't as crowded as you thought it would be so you kept an eye out for taichi. he texted you just before you left, informing that he would be wearing a denim jeans and black jacket. keeping your eyes peeled for a person who fit that description, you see a shadow of a person jogging across the station and a voice calls out your name.

'y/n!!!!' you spot taichi running over to you, he crouches to try to catch his breath when he reaches you. when he's calmed down, he immediately apologizes, 'i am so sorry. have you been waiting long?' you assure him that it's fine and after a few minutes of back-and-forths of apologies and assurances, you two go on your way to your first stop: brunch.

taichi was indeed as handsome as his name initially suggests. he's got a boyish charm to him, and it would be a lie to say he wasn't drawing you in. all throughout the brunch, he proved to be someone who can keep a conversation with you. it was one of your worries that your date would find you boring, but osamu told you would do fine. thankfully, taichi could hold his ground with you, very much like your best friend who can immediately answer your witty quips with his own humorous comebacks. in your mind, the two boys were very much like and you couldn't wait to tell this to osamu.

after eating, he brought you to an aquarium. your genuine excitement made taichi smile as he shared that it was worth an effort asking hikari what you wanted if he could see you exude so much happiness. you made a face and hit him, 'i didn't know you were cheesy. thank you.' he then led you two inside and spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the huge aquarium, in awe of the different fishes and feeling if you were lost in the underwater.

but all good things come to an end. by the time your date ended, it was already 6:33 pm. though it was still early, you had a curfew of 8 pm and taichi offered to accompany you home.

dropping you off at the front gate, he looked at you, hopeful, 'i had a really fun time today. hikari did great by setting me and you up together.' you laughed at this, admitting you've almost forgotten that this was a blind date, 'it's like i've known you forever!' despite the surroundings being dark already, you didn't miss the movement of a shadow just a few blocks away. you had a hunch as to what or who it was, and you couldn't wait to expose them.

'well, i don't want to keep you out any longer,' taichi began saying his goodbye. 'i'll text you when i get home. we should do this again.' your attention was brought back to the boy in front of you and you chuckled, 'don't be a stranger! just text or call me anytime, okay?' taichi began walking back to the main street, and he waved as you shouted your last farewell, 'be careful on the way home.'

when he finally turned to the street, you cleared your throat and called, 'you can come out of your hiding spot now, dumbass.' the person you were referring to sheepishly moved where the light can cast over him, revealing, 'osamu.' he could see the way your eyes glinted with a hint of mischief and he knew he wouldn't be able to escape your interrogation.

you ran up to him and tackled him, poking his sides which made him fall into a fit of laughter. he took your hands to make you stop, 'stop that.'

'how long have you been hiding out there,' you ask osamu. it wasn't impossible to miss the tinge of blush on his cheeks, your question obviously caught him off guard. 'well, osamu? are you gonna answer me or are you just going to keep staring into space?' you wave your hands in front of him, but he quickly gets hold of them and laces his fingers with yours. it was a usual gesture between the two of you, but right now, why did it feel so intimate?

after moments of silence, he speaks up, 'did you have fun on your date?' his eyes boring right into your soul and you swore your heart started beating faster. for some reason, you couldn't answer right away, your voice somehow betraying you at that moment. 'it.. it was nice.'

osamu continued to stare intently, waiting for you to finish. so you went on, 'they're a good person. he's very funny, you'd like him too, you know! he surprised me by taking me to the aquarium,' at this point, you were rambling just to avoid the awkward silence. 'it was so big, osamu! you'd like it there too. and then -'

'will you take me there with you?' now your heart was threatening to beat out of the chest. osamu was rarely serious with you, and right now, you could feel that he wants to say more but he's restraining himself.

you already had an idea of what he was trying to say. the butterflies in your stomach was starting to go wild at the thought. but you wanted to hear it from your best friend himself, so you feigned ignorance, 'what do you mean, osamu?'

the grip on your hands tightens and he pulls you a little closer to him. osamu wants to say that he wishes it was him who saw your smile in the aquarium, who you talked with nonstop in the cafe, who you exchanged stories and laughter with throughout the day. he wants to say that it should have been him who took you out on your first date. all these emotions and words were too much for him, so he takes a deep breath and rests his head on your shoulders instead. perplexed at his actions, you immediately wrap your arms around his waist. 'osamu? are you okay?'

'yeah, let me just stay like this for few minutes.' he buries himself deeper in the crook of your neck, getting lost in your familiar, comforting scent. he knows why he was acting like this and he was screwed. he loves you, but he doesn't want to risk ruining the friendship you have built. after a while, he stands up straight, shooting you his signature smile and ruffles your hair.

'thanks, i was just really tired from the practice match. i guess i missed our number one cheerleader.' he steps away and begins to walk home, but he doesn't get too far when you shout, 'are you really gonna leave without asking me the question you've been dying to ask me?'

he stops in his tracks. this time, you close the distance and he feels your presence behind him. 'come on, osamu. no secrets, right?' at this, his resolve breaks and a dam opens, his unrequited feelings for you finally flowing out in the open. osamu turns around and engulfs you in a warm embrace, and you just know.

'if you wanted to ask me out, you could have just asked me you know,' you tease him. flustered at you what just said, he looks at quizzically, 'how...'

'you're not very subtle, osamu. and the stunt you just pulled tonight basically confirmed you like me too,' you hope he caught your words at the end. because honestly, while being best friends with him has been the best thing to happen in your life. you've always wondered what it feels like to take the next step in your relationship with him.

it takes him a while to register your remarks and when the realization sets, he finally asks, 'since when?' the question was vague, but you knew what he was referring to if the hopeful look in his eyes was anything to go by. so you take a courageous leap, finally crossing that bridge to move to something more. you caress his cheeks, osamu leaning close to the warmth of your hands, 'it's you, osamu. it's always been you.'

he finally closes the gap, bringing your body to his in a tight hug, as if he was afraid to let you go. you stay like that for a few minutes, the passersby cooing at the 'lovely couple' on the street. he pulls away for a quick second, then all of a sudden, he was leaning in. your eyes instinctively shut, waiting for that sensation on your lips, but instead you feel him press a tender kiss on your forehead. he was always a man of few words and through his actions, you know that everything will never be the same again, but it was the kind of change that you have always hoped for.

so when you two go to school the following week, holding hands and finally not bickering in the morning, everyone in your friend group was dumbfounded. again, his twin was the only one brave enough to point out the difference, 'took you guys long enough. congrats, osamu! i knew you had it in you!'

hikari wanted to ask you about taichi, but after the date, the boy has already his expressed gratitude and shared how he felt that your thoughts were occupied by someone. and certainly, looking at you and osamu now - sitting by each other's side in peace and in your own love bubble - it seemed that you have already found your perfect match.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuucreations #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #haikyuu fics #haikyuu x you #osamu fluff #osamu scenarios #osamu drabbles #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu miya osamu #I AM LAUGHING AT MYSELF ONCE AGAIN #THIS PIECE GOT SO LONG I PLANNED THIS TO BE JUST AROUND 1.5K

[duskandstarlight]

Embers & Light (Chapter 27, Nessian multi-chapter)

Notes: Hello lovely readers! I am so sorry for the day's delay in posting this chapter. I was really poorly last week (and I'm still recovering) so I wasn't able to keep on top of my writing in order to bring you a chapter yesterday. That is not only because I found this very difficult to write, but because this is a LONG chapter. 14k words. There was so much to pack in, and as you all know, I am not one to gloss over certain elements, especially not Nessian goodness. Thank you to everyone who has sent me will-wishes this week and last. You are all lovely people and it's very much appreciated. Let me know what you think, as always. And apologies for any typos and inconsistencies—as I said, I've not been well so my brain has not been functioning like it usually does!

Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

Chapter Twenty-Seven Cassian

Frawley and Lorrian were all ready to go when Nesta came downstairs. Those ever-perceptive eyes—ice blue and brown—fell immediately to Nesta’s chest as she stepped into the hallway. But to Cassian’s relief, the witch remained relatively silent, mounting Caerleon and casting into the sky with her husband close behind her in a glow of emerald without more than a few crisp, comments.

Nesta flew on Sala. Despite knowing that she had trained on Caerleon enough the previous week to know what to expect, Cassian could not help the fear that wound its way into his mouth as beast and Fae left the ground. He needn’t have worried. Sala’s gait seemed as natural to Nesta as breathing; her legs tucked into the manticore’s flank just before the beast’s wings with a confident, determined grip and her fingers were secure in Sala’s ruff. Cassian had launched himself into the skies straight after her, watching Nesta as if he were a hawk. He knew the magic binding Nesta and Sala would keep Nesta seated despite the battering winds and any notion of gravity, but that didn’t stop him from flying a few feet below her for the first couple of miles, ready to throw himself into a nose dive should she fall. 

But later, when he realised that Nesta was perfectly at home on top of her manticore, Cassian had risen to fly beside her. And when he had winked at her, his broad wings flapping to match her furious pace, the smile she had sent back had been genuine enough for Cassian to know that if he died that day, he would die happy. That he had seen Nesta offer him a true smile without any thought of stifling it, and it was beautiful.

A few miles from the camp, the four of them landed to leave the manticores in a thicket of pine trees. Cassian watched Nesta bury her face into the manticore’s neck and whisper in the beast’s ear before she wordlessly strode over to him.

They had decided the night prior that Frawley and Nesta would leave their manticores behind. It was an idea that had been met with great protest by Frawley, but in the end, Cassian and Lorrian had talked her round. They were both of the same opinion; bringing the manticores to the Solstice luncheon would probably push the already hostile Illyrian lords to self-combust. So the manticores would remain on stand-by, out of sight but near enough to the camp to intervene if necessary.

“Ready to go for a ride, sweetheart?” Cassian teased Nesta as she walked towards him.

Cassian had expected things to be strained between them since he had given Nesta the necklace. There was also the small matter that they would be publicly declaring themselves together today, but Nesta appeared wholly unfazed. If anything, she looked happy, despite the sexual innuendo which usually had her dropping swiftly into irritation. Her cheeks were stung pink from the cold air, giving her a healthy glow, and her eyes were impossibly bright in a way that made his own heart ache.

Her lack of reaction didn’t help Cassian to stop thinking about Nesta in a sexual capacity. And the thought of Nesta actually riding him… He had dreamt of her so many times now that their imagined actions had become a well-rehearsed dance. He knew what it felt like for her to straddle his hips. Knew what she sounded like when she sighed and sank down onto the length of him, his lips attacking the column of her neck. Of how he groaned so deeply that everything in him shook. Nesta’s phantom hands always weaved through his hair at the sound, and when she bent to kiss him, she tasted entirely right...

“I suppose I’ll have to make do with you,” Nesta struck back, pulling Cassian out of his salacious thoughts with a jolt. Her tone was playful, but there was an underlying edge of disappointment that told him she was fed up of being carried around.

Even though it hurt, Cassian understood. He wouldn’t want to be carted around the skies when he could fly through them. So, he only cast a new protective shield over them, knowing that Nesta would spit blue murder if he ruined her hair. He also knew that he should look presentable for once, rather than turning up in blood-stained armour and hair so wind-snarled that running a brush through it threatened to break it more than it promised to ease out the knots.

Cassian might be the Night Court’s general, but that didn’t mean it was beneath him to look presentable.

For a long, the two of them travelled in silence. To his surprise, Nesta had curled her fingers into his chest, an action which had been lost long ago with her fear of flying. The action was absent-minded enough to tell him her thoughts were elsewhere. Indeed, when he glanced down at her she looked far away.

Cassian was just about to ask if she was all right, when Nesta asked, “Sala will be ok in the forest?”

He bit back a smile at her concern. Somehow, he knew that would upset her.

“Yes, she’ll be fine,” Cassian replied sincerely. “She’s an alpha predator and she’s with Caer.”

Darting another glance downwards, he found Nesta chewing on her lip. The action made her appear even more beautiful. Cassian didn’t know how Nesta always managed to look so arresting. Sometimes, he thought it was because he saw her through rose-tinted lenses, but then someone else would make a comment, like Lorrian yesterday, and he’d know it wasn’t in his imagination at all.

“If you need her, she’ll come,” Cassian assured Nesta, locking his eyes with hers so his words held weight. “Sala is bound to your magic, just will her presence and she will find you.”

Slowly, Nesta nodded. When she unclenched her teeth, her bottom lip was swollen and flushed. He wondered what it would feel like to kiss her when they weren’t dying. Whether she’d let him. Sometimes—only rarely—Cassian thought she might. Like earlier, when he had given her the necklace and she had twisted to look up at him. It would have been so easy to cup her cheek and bow his head that little bit further. And for a second, he’d thought that was what she had wanted. Her eyes had darted to his lips, but rather than satisfaction Cassian had felt a stab of mutual fear. Because they both knew that if Cassian was to give in to temptation—if she let him and wanted it—they would not stop until their skin was bare and their bodies were moulded into the other.

Cassian fortified his ring of fire at the thought. Made it even tighter and more formidable. Blocked out the thought of Nesta’s endless skin and her unforgiving curves. Since the kerits attack on Windhaven, Cassian felt more of Nesta down that shared tether. It was still constricted, but it was enough to get hits of emotion more frequently than before. And even though Cassian was desperate to, he hadn’t dared to reach out and touch that twisted rope again.

It hurt to deny himself the pleasure of brushing against it. The urge pulsed beneath his skin, whispering her name over and over: Nesta, Nesta, Nesta.

“You’re ok with today’s plan?” Cassian asked Nesta, because he needed to say something that didn’t make him think about how they would be sharing a bed later. How he would be so consumed by her scent it would be hard to breathe, let alone think. Needed to focus on the fact that today could be very dangerous and that he was willingly carrying her right into it.

It would not be like last time when she had been suffering from nightmares. This time she would be lucid. He would not be able to arch a protective wing over her and ghost his body alongside hers. It was going to be necessary torture and he had no idea whether she had yet pieced together that they would not have separate sleeping arrangements. Nesta was usually so quick to put two and two together, but she had not truly snapped or refused point blank to be anywhere near him, which made him suspect that it hadn’t yet clicked.

“Aside from being promised to you?” Nesta asked, a slight crease appearing between her brows.

The words were not vicious, but Cassian still had to snicker away the hurt. “Aside from that.”

“Yes, I’m ok with the plan,” she replied. She craned her neck up to look at him. “You’re worried.”

Cassian could not help but press his lips tightly together. He thought about denying it, but somehow he knew that she could read his expression too adeptly.

“I’m always wary before I meet with the war-lords. I’m even more wary when a meeting has been brought forward,” Cassian admitted. He cast his gaze forward to the skies, to Lorrian and Frawley who were flying ahead of them. Lorrian’s natural gait had always been faster than Cassian’s. Whilst Cassian’s wings were bigger, Lorrian’s build was made for speed. “I’ve got a bad feeling about it,” he admitted. “Marsh is a notoriously harsh war-lord, but he’s been unwell in recent years. Usually, a war-lord would not think twice to rid himself of a son who would pose as a threat. Kallon has openly claimed to have Enalius’s sword and his father has not made a single move against him, even though it threatens his position.”

“You think Marsh would kill his own son?”

Cassian snorted. “It has happened before. That, or a son would be cast out of the camp and stripped of his entitlement.”

Nesta frowned. “So, what you are saying is that you do not think that Marsh has long left to live and he is allowing Kallon to rule in his stead?”

“Yes, that is exactly what I think,” Cassian replied seriously, not at all surprised at Nesta’s intelligence. “And that means Kallon could soon be in a position of great power and influence, especially if he claims to have been chosen by Enalius to unite the Illyrians.”

They flew in silence for a few minutes. Cassian could almost hear the cogs turning in Nesta’s mind, as she digested the information he had just given her. But when she finally spoke, it was not about Kallon or the rising discontent. “I won’t be subservient.”

Cassian looked down at her in surprise. Did she mean today? “I don’t want you to be,” he said carefully. Honestly.

“Aren’t you going to remind me of the Illyrian customs and how I shouldn’t behave considering I’m a female?” Nesta asked stiffly.

Cassian frowned. Maybe things weren’t fine between them, after all. There was a sudden edge to her voice that he had heard when he had first shown her the necklace. That sharp, brittle parry that had almost seemed like she was purposefully attempting to put distance between them. He had felt her panic. She hadn’t been able to stifle that emotion before it flew down their tether. Nor had she been able to disguise the beating of her heart, which pattered at such a rate that it had melded with his own terrified rhythm.

Nesta knew what the necklace was, Cassian was sure of it. Knew by now that he had dived back into the Sidra to retrieve the gift she had refused, just as she had rejected him.

Now Cassian was no longer clouded by the fierce grip of rejection, he could not entirely blame Nesta for turning him away on Solstice. She had spent the evening sitting as far away from the fire as possible during a visit against her will. And not only had she had to fight battle trauma, but she had been forced to endure how they were all moving on without her. It was what Nesta had insisted upon, but Cassian was not stupid enough to think that it hadn’t hurt, especially when he had opened Mor’s gift and laughed along with everyone, pretending everything was fine when it most certainly was not. When it had felt as if someone had already thrust a hand into his chest and thrown out his bloody, bleeding heart for everyone to see.

To see the world through a pair of dusky blue eyes rather than hazel had everything tilted sideways, but it was necessary, he knew that now.

“No,” Cassian replied shortly, and meant it. Nesta was wild and he hungered for it. To see her chained and timid went against every fibre of his being.

“Is that not what is expected of the females here?” Nesta questioned, her voice that little more pointed.

Cassian frowned again. “It is, but I like you just the way you are,” he confessed slowly. “It is not what I would ever expect of you.”

Then, he barked a laugh, missing the sudden change in Nesta’s expression. “And you’ll find your defiance is in good company. You and Frawley are going to make a formidable pair.”

A soft snort. It was as close to a laugh as Cassian was going to get, but he would settle for it, even if it was nothing on the joy that had hit him square in the stomach a few weeks prior. He had been eating breakfast in the kitchen when he had felt it: pure, radiating laughter that had somehow ghosted into his ears and wound itself around his most vital organs. He had been out of his seat and in the skies before he had a moment to catch himself, following that tether between them that was more defined than ever before. But the cold, bracing air had done him good, and Cassian had turned sharply around, suddenly understanding that it was not his moment to share. That it was something Nesta needed to experience independently from him.

So, Cassian had waited at the bungalow for Nesta to return, every second a new form of torture. And from the moment she stepped through the front door, he had known they had reached a turning point. There was a lightness to her features that he had not seen before. As if the laughter had broken through that expressionless mask and rendered her new.

Cassian had expected to have to wait for a glowing retelling from Mas the day after, but Nesta had told him herself, a ghost of a smile on her lips as he made her breakfast and a mug of chai, listening to her talk and talk and talk.

He would have sold his soul in that moment. Would have done anything for her. But he had only sat opposite with a cup of steaming coffee and watched her eat as if she hadn’t for days. And when he had asked if she wanted to come with him to oversee his camp duties, she had nodded without hesitation, telling him she had a few hours before she was due to show Feyre around the camps with Mas.

“I should warn you that they’ll be interested in you,” Cassian told Nesta after a moment.

Nesta’s body turned stiff in his arms. “What do you mean?”

“Word has spread amongst the camps about what you did,” Cassian explained.

Mas had encouraged the widows to do as much. The monthly market set deep in the mist-shrouded valley of Empyr, was the perfect opportunity for those that could fly to spread word, just as Kallon’s recruits spread vicious discourse about the Night Court. The valley was flanked by lush forest green and cascading waterfalls, and Illyrians flew from all over the mountains to stock up on essentials, from grains and spices, to weaponry and healing medicines. It was also the location of the Illyrian festival Kharon, where once a year, Illyrians congregated to sail souls to rest down the River Styx.

Cassian couldn’t wait to take Nesta there. Was waiting for the perfect moment.

“Feyre was there, too,” Nesta reminded him, but Cassian only shook his head.

“You brought Mas back to life. A lowly widow in the eyes of the average Illyrian. You gave someone worth who was deemed as having none, Nesta. You sparked an oppressed female to lead others and finally stand up against cultural traditions that have been engrained for centuries—”

“But the males don’t see it that way?” Nesta guessed, cutting him off. Her expression did not give any indication that his praise had either pleased or irritated her.

Cassian tilted his head in a shrug, but he did not stop staring into her eyes—into the smoky blue that mesmerised him even now. “Should the dissent continue to rise, we might be forced to invoke a referendum about whether Illyria should become an independent nation,” Cassian explained. “Females have the right to vote. Rhys instated the law many years ago, much to the chagrin of the Illyrian males. I think that’s why Kallon has been targeting the females who lost their husbands and sons in the war—in the hope that their support would swing the cause in his favour.”

“But if he is behind the orchestrated attacks, then we could stop a divided nation?” Nesta asked, finishing his strain of thought.

Cassian’s smile was grim. “Exactly.”

“You think he did it?”

Cassian shrugged. “I keep thinking about those bastards who have disappeared. I would not be surprised if their allegiance had been bought by the rebellion. I’m sure they have been promised a station above the lowest ranking foot soldier. You heard Devlon, they are all exceptional in the skies, but they aren’t recognised for their talents. They have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

“What would happen if you captured them?” Nesta asked quietly.

Cassian looked into the distance—at the pine-capped mountains and the craggy mountain stone. He didn’t want to think about what would befall those males. He knew them. They were good soldiers with no sense of self-worth.

Nesta touched Cassian’s shoulder. “Maybe it won’t come to that,” she said.

“Maybe,” Cassian replied, but he knew he didn’t sound convinced.

  Lord Marsh’s residence was a too-large stone building set deep into the forested mountain ledge that overhung the rest of the mountain pass. Flags bearing the Ironcrest insignia—a crested hawk eagle with its wings spread wide—rippled in the breeze, and Fae males armed with spears flanked the huge double-doors, which were made of heavy pine and punctured with black iron studs and heavy handles in the shape of Illyrian wings. The guards iron helmets were plumed with pointed black feathers tipped with white, just like the hawk that had given Ironcrest the latter part of its name.

Carefully, Cassian touched down onto the stone a careful distance from both the entrance and Lorrian and Frawley. He did not give Nesta the opportunity to step away. Instead, he tightened the arm that was still wound around her waist and curled a wing around them like a shield.

Already he felt territorial. Already he did not want to let her go.

“You stay with me tonight.”

Nesta’s head whipped up at the dead seriousness of his tone. His words were not up for debate but to his surprise, she did not hiss ‘no’ and he did not feel that silver power push against her skin. Cassian suspected that Nesta’s nerves had started to fray at the prospect of being somewhere that was not the bungalow or Lorrian and Frawley’s cottage.

He touched her hand to bring her back. Nesta stared down at the fingers that clasped hers as if she did not understand how they had got there, before she tightened her grip and turned to face him. As she met his gaze, that smoky blue latched onto him and he felt as if he was a predator who had crawled into the palm of her hand and rolled over in surrender.

“If you need to get my attention when we are inside then send me a subtle signal,” Cassian told Nesta in a quiet voice. Already there would be too many prying eyes and ears. He could already feel Fae watching him from the crown glass windows, their faces distorted by both the plain whorled glass and the stained colours of the insignia set into their middle.

Nesta frowned. “How—”

Cassian pressed his fingers gently against Nesta’s stomach. He felt the wings of her ribs and the muscles of her core. “Here,” he said softly, his heart battering against his chest. “Like you did the other day at Kanaman.”

This close up Cassian could taste the sweetness of Nesta’s breath. Could see every single one of her eyelashes and the black-blue kohl that rimmed the upper lids. Nesta was not usually one for enhancing the features she already had. She did not need to. Staring at Nesta as a human had been enough for Cassian’s breath to catch in his throat, but as Fae… she was devastating. And whilst Cassian preferred Nesta windswept in leathers and a simple braid, he could not deny that when he had found her that morning to give her the necklace, his knees had gone weak.

Yet, there was something about Nesta being dressed up which made Cassian feel as if he were at a distance from her. As if the formal garments and the tight, intricate arrangement of her braid slammed a partition between them, highlighting how he was only a lowly bastard and she was too good for him. It was why he had often kept his distance before, too fearful to speak with her in front of his friends in case she were to shoot him down publicly. And the truth of it was that Nesta made him feel like he was young again. He had played games without realising it. Ignoring her to feign indifference, hoping to hide just how affected he was by her mere presence in a room. How scared he was to let his friends see just how much his wild and vulnerable heart had been flung out before this bewitching female for the first time in centuries. Because Nesta was not like anyone else he had ever met. He had never felt like this. Not just an undeniable pull of attraction, but something deeper than lust or fancy. Something more.

It was only when Cassian spied the pyrite laying below her collarbone did he relax a little.  Perhaps it was too simple for someone as arresting as Nesta, but she hadn’t rejected it. Had let him put it on her and she had not taken it off, not even when she had realised what it was. How it highlighted that painful memory that was strung between them.

She had called the necklace beautiful. Had meant it.

“What—” Nesta started, but she broke off suddenly, a flicker of recognition dawning on her face. Absent-mindedly her fingers closed around the pyrite, as if touching it allowed her to understand—to tap into his mind and read his thoughts.

For a moment, they stared at one another. Both of their hearts thumping even as their expressions remained impassive. If not for the slight stain on Nesta’s cheeks Cassian would not have known she was affected at all.

It amused him that she had thought she had gotten away with sending an emotion back without him noticing. It was the first he had felt something gentle from her, rather than a blast of emotion. And whilst the sensation had still been stifled down that constricted tether, it had touched him in a way he could not explain. That she had cared enough to soothe his torment.

In that moment, Cassian had felt wholly connected to her, but Nesta hadn't even glanced his way.

Outside of their cocoon, Cassian heard approaching voices and the clink of armour. Even still, he found himself hesitating, wanting a private moment with Nesta for a little longer before they were thrown to the vultures.

So, Cassian surprised her, raising her knuckles to his lips. Her skin tasted so intoxicating the primal part of him internally growled, but he only looked at her with dark eyes as he slowly retracted his wing — at the smoky silver that slid behind her irises, and unable to help it, breathed softly, “Pulchra.”

His lips quirked against her skin when her breath hitched. Then, slowly, he dropped her hand and offered her his arm with a smile that for once he did not have to catch and shape into something else. “After you, amore,” he said.

Nesta studied him for a moment. He watched her eyes slide past him to the stone building—to the window and the faces that he knew were staring, prying and scheming. Saw the understanding dawn on Nesta’s face that told him she had believed the kiss for show, when really it had been nothing but a perfect excuse.

And then she took his arm.

  Warriors on duty armed only in fighting leathers and what Cassian suspected was a number of well-hidden knives led them to the drawing room. Stone walls lit by bobbing faelights cast dark, long shadows in the hallways and onto the faded rugs. As they turned a corner, female servants came into view laden with silver plates piled high with food. In the near distance, a wide doorframe gleamed, light spilling into the corridor and with it, the rumble of forced conversation and the clink of glasses.

One step into the bright room had Cassian on high alert and scanning for every possible exit point. As usual, the Solstice Luncheon did nothing to bring the Illyrians together. Instead, the clans remained steadfast in their own groups of lords and ladies, save for the odd stiff conversation between camps with long-formed alliances. Cassian spied Lord Condor from Forktail speaking stiffly with Devlon, and Cassian immediately thought of Lorrian. How would he fare coming face-to-face with his younger brother today? Notoriously they did not get on. Rumour had it that Lord Icor Condor had not been happy that Lorrian had been promoted from outcast to Colonel. Cassian had received a hate letter for it, not that he cared. Everyone knew Lorrian was the best equipped Illyrian to get their warriors back to a high-level of skill in the skies.

It did not take Cassian long to locate Ironcrest’s war-lord. He was sitting at a large pine table laden with Illyrian cuisine in front of the right-hand bay window. In front of him, a large silver goblet was full to the brim with red wine, as well as a plate piled high with untouched food.

Lord Anguis Marsh had always been a broad shouldered male who was unusually well-kept for a warrior. His dark hair was slicked back to feather at the nape of his neck, and he sported a hooked, crooked nose and an ugly scar which effectively splitting through his upper lip. When Marsh had been in good health, he had been known for his alarming speed on the battlefield and the vicious nature with which he gutted his opponents. Now, Cassian could not find that male in front of him.

Marsh was the eldest of the war-lords—a few millennia old, perhaps—and as Azriel had reported, his health was not what it was. The lord—or prince, as all the top ranking war-lords were referred to (with Enalius being viewed as their God and King)—had not been able to fight in the most recent war, nor had he made a point of sitting in on the War Counsel. Kallon, who was Marsh’s only princeling and son, had been denied a place on the Counsel in his stead, with Cassian arguing that it was not only because Kallon was unseasoned, but because he wasn’t intending to fight against Hybern himself. It had been a decision that Cassian knew had not been taken lightly, and he did not delude himself to think that the repercussions weren’t now stacked against him.

The prince’s declining health was far worse than when Cassian had last seen Marsh. That much was evident from where he remained seated at the thick pine table rather than standing with the majority of his guests. Although, Cassian mused, he would not put it past any Illyrian war-lord to feel so superior that they remained seated at their house table as if it were a throne.

Steering Nesta over the table to get the formalities over and done with, Cassian deliberately shortened his strides to match hers. As he did so, he tracked Marsh reaching stiffly for his goblet to take a deep drink. It did little to disguise the unmistakable tremble of his hand. Only the war-lord’s eyes remained the same as Cassian remembered; small, yellow and beady — alert and vigilant in the way that only a true Illyrian warrior was. They slid from Cassian to Nesta, before moving on to Lorrian and Frawley behind them.

“General.” A deep, drawl laced with the faintest rasp. Not as fierce as it used to be, that was for certain.

Yet, the sneer that twisted the male’s tan face as they came to a stop a few feet from the table undoubtedly belonged to Marsh. The movement highlighted the scar on Marsh’s lip, the skin crumpling as the split caused it to curl in the wrong way. “I see you brought company, bastard, when usually you do not grace us with your presence at all.”

Cassian did not let a flicker of expression taint his blank canvas. He had sent word of their intended stay well ahead of time, but Cassian knew that Marsh would feign ignorance just for the spite of it. “Yes,” he replied. “As I am sure you are already aware, Colonel Lorrian has been reappointed and is overseeing the armies aerial fleet. Neither of us would miss the Rite counsel.”

It was true, Cassian would not miss the Rite counsel that would take place later that afternoon. It was unusual that it had been moved. Usually it took place mid-January, but seeing that it was Ironcrest who was due to hold the ceremony that year, combining the Solstice luncheon and the Rite counsel made sense. It didn’t stop Cassian from being suspicious. Any deviation from the Illyrian’s deepest traditions always had Cassian’s hackles raised, not because he did not appreciate progress or the ability to adapt, but because it was not the Illyrians usual way, especially when it came from one of the oldest Illyrian war-lords.

Marsh did not acknowledge Cassian’s comment regarding the Rite. Instead, he said maliciously, “I didn’t believe there was an aerial fleet left.”

Cassian did not allow his body to stiffen. Did not allow to show how they affected him, even now. He could beat them all to a pulp if he wanted, Cassian reminded himself. He had more siphons than all of them. More Killing Power. He may be a bastard but he was a worthy warrior and better suited to lead the armies than any one of them.

So, he dropped into a voice that he saved for occasions like this. A voice which promised death and destruction and was not to be disputed. “Colonel Lorrian will oversee the training of your aerial warriors tomorrow morning,” Cassian clipped coldly, as if he had not heard the rebuttal. “And we will see how much of that rings true. I am sure Ironcrest would not have allowed their warriors to sink in standard.”

Another curl of the lip as Marsh sneered. Without looking behind him, Marsh raised his goblet with a shaking hand. A female servant rushed forward with a tall, heavy pitcher of wine. When his goblet was refilled, Marsh did not shift his yellow, beady eyes from Cassian as he lifted the goblet to his lips. His hand shook with enough effort that the contents spilled over the lip and onto his arm.

A snarl unleashed itself from Marsh’s throat, the sound not unlike a whip hitting home. The goblet thunked onto the pine table, wine sloshing over the surface. “Maya, you useless female,” Marsh chastised the female servant, whose eyes had widened with fear. “You jostled me. Get me a napkin at once or I will banish you to the widows camp and be done with you.”

The hand that was still looped through Cassian’s arm tightened slightly, and Cassian felt the threat of Nesta’s magic push beneath her skin. Training regularly with Nesta had allowed Cassian to become used to the seal of her magic. It was something which had become as naturally as breathing to him since that day at Spearhead, when they had first trained with his siphon. It was almost as if Nesta’s magic had imprinted onto his very being. When it moved, he felt it. When it blazed, he burned without fire.

As if it were the most natural gesture in the world, Cassian brought a hand to cup Nesta’s where it lay on her arm. It was a reminder to stay calm. Nesta’s job was to scout out the emotions in the room, not set it aflame.

“Father,” a male voice announced.

Cassian turned to see a male standing a few feet from them. Kallon was the imitation of his father when he had been in good health: impossibly dark hair scraped back to the nape of his neck; yellow eyes; a chiselled jaw; and sharp cheekbones. He was handsome in the way that most Fae were, and his skin betrayed his youth; the majority of brown unmarred, save for a vicious looking scar on his arm and half of a missing index finger on his left hand, which left the digit intact only to the knuckle. Kallon did not have Illyrian tattoos yet—had not seen war to earn them—and on the backs of his hands lay no siphons.

Given the steadfast rule at all gatherings for the war-lord, Cassian was not surprised to see that no sword lay either in a scabbard by Kallon’s side, or strapped down his spine, as was Illyrian custom.

“My son, Kallon,” Marsh announced with the stiff flick of a trembling hand, “who I presume you have met before.”

Cassian did not bow his head. “I don’t believe we have met in a number of years.”

Piercing yellow eyes studied Cassian. “I don’t believe I would have had cause to, considering our General does not visit Ironcrest often, and given that I was not permitted a place on your war counsel.”

An insult already and one that was not entirely true. Cassian had visited Ironcrest a fair few times over the last four months, but Kallon had never been in the training ring or with his father at the same time.

Kallon’s luminescent yellow eyes moved from Cassian’s to the female beside him. They stilled and then, painstakingly slowly, they deliberately raked a path over every inch of Nesta’s body. The movement was purposefully claiming, and Cassian suppressed the growl that came roaring to the forefront as Kallon dared to flex the claws on his wings. “And who is this bewitching female?” he asked.

Nesta had turned preternaturally still, and not one part of her body moved save for her eyes, which slid to the talons at the apex of the princeling’s wings. In fact, Cassian noted, Nesta’s posture had not changed since she had entered the house; her spine stacked tall, her chin slightly raised, those beautiful eyes lined with silver shimmering mercury blue. But there was something in her stillness that made Cassian wonder if Nesta, too, had dissected that Kallon’s good looks had a cold and unreachable quality that hinted at something far sinister. As if he used them as a way of luring in victims, much like sirens tempted sailors to the rocks at sea.

Nesta would have felt distant and otherworldly if she had not been holding his arm. If he could not feel her, ever so slightly, down that bond thanks to her lowered walls.

“This is Lady Nesta Archeron,” Cassian replied, forcing all malice from his voice.

“Oh, yes,” Kallon mused smoothly, his irises flaring as if they were an extension of his nostrils. No doubt trying to scent whether Cassian had claimed her. “I have heard of you. I can feel your power. I’ve heard others call you a witch, but I have also heard that you have taken a power that is ancient beyond reckoning. Something that is not yours.”

The princeling’s voice had dropped into a purr and a snarl roared inside of Cassian as Kallon closed the distance between them to take Nesta’s hand. His signet ring flashed in the faelight as he placed a slow, deliberate kiss to Nesta’s knuckles—the exact same spot atop Nesta’s ring finger that Cassian had kissed moments earlier.

“Such a touching story,” Kallon continued, his voice unbelievably even as he looked up at her, “about how you defended one another on the battlefield.” His gaze intensified and sharpened on Nesta as he lowered her hand from his mouth. “Rumour has it that your dedication did not last long, but who can blame you for deciding not to settle for a lowly bastard?”

The way in which Kallon straightened was slow and deliberate. He did not let go of Nesta’s hand, his yellow eyes continuing to stare pointedly at the female before him, as if he had been privy to every night she had fucked someone else and Cassian had perched outside on the rooftop.

Hot and cold washed over Cassian’s body with such ferocity it felt as if he had jumped into both ice and fire. Rage and humiliation battered against his shields, but he did not lower them. Would not allow Nesta or anyone else in the room know how much those words affected him.

But then he felt Nesta’s anger fling itself hard down their tether, the sensation not akin to a blow to the stomach. It pierced through his fire, his heart, and for a moment he felt as if he had been set aflame. He knew she had lowered her shields so she could sense others' emotions in the room, but to be reminded how much she truly felt when she let every barrier fell away was astounding.

Even so, when Nesta spoke, her voice was icy and level beyond reckoning. “Evidently that is not true, otherwise I would not be here.”

She retracted her mist-wrapped hand from Kallon with such care Cassian knew that she was considering smacking him round the face.

A low, sensual laugh that was more fitting for jovial conversation than it was here. “Do not try to convince me that you, a High Fae, has settled for the lowest born faerie? Just how poor was the offering back in Velaris? I hear there was no shortage of males in your bed…”

Cassian had stopped breathing for fear that if he did he would launch towards Kallon and use his fists to beat him bloody and blue. His shield had faltered, the fire sputtering as the words hit home like a spear to the heart.

Nesta did not rise to the bait. She only clipped, “It turns out that the only male I found to be worthy was an Illyrian bastard, so that is no longer relevant.” That chin of Nesta’s rose defiant, and with it, she grew even taller; a vengeful mighty queen looking down on her subjects with pure loathing. “And I may have been Made High Fae against my will, but I am human at heart. I believe you think them to be at the bottom of the chain, so perhaps that will help you sleep easier at night.”

Kallon blinked at Nesta, momentarily stunned. His gaze slid to her fingers, where mist was still seeping from them, curling around Cassian’s bicep. The heat was a welcoming lick rather than hot enough to burn, but the way her fire started to take form, the mist turning into a rope which blazed in coils around her forearm was enough to insinuate otherwise. And there was the fact that Nesta could will it to burn hotter if she liked. Cassian did not doubt that she could incinerate the room with a mere flick of her fingers.

The thought thrilled him. Stacked up the fire inside of his own body, his internal shields answering to hers as his flames licked higher.

Kallon did not step back, although Cassian saw the muscles in his body tense as if to fling himself out of range. He cocked his head to the side, contemplative, as if Nesta were a puzzle he wanted to figure out. And then, he slipped. For a fraction of a second his right hand fell to his hip, where a sword or knife usually hung from his weapon’s belt. But the way his fingers remained there, lingering… it was enough to tell Cassian that he was hiding something. That he was armed, even though he was not supposed to be.

And the knowledge clearly gave him courage, because he stepped towards Nesta, his eyes gleaming—

Nesta snarled, her whip uncoiling itself, the tip lashing out across the clearing with such speed Kallon recoiled.

“It’s true then,” Kallon said, his eyes bright as he took a step backwards. “Silver flames—”

But his father interjected, as if he had endured enough of his son’s games. “I do not remember inviting two witches and an Incomplete to this luncheon,” Marsh snapped.

“Scared of what we’re capable of?” Frawley asked, speaking up for the first time since they had stepped into the room. Her voice was quiet but chilling, and her ice-blue eye levelled Marsh with such a glare that Cassian found himself tensing. Frawley was not irresponsible enough to start a fight, but she had been known to provoke the war-lords when she saw fit. Usually when they insulted her husband.

“To think that you would be in the company of two females more powerful than you,” Frawley mused with the deathly sort of calm that Cassian usually harboured for himself during battle. “And that’s not to mention that one of us beheaded the King of Hybern.”

That lip twisted and contorted, but Kallon spoke before his father had the opportunity to do it himself. “I do not think that we need to thank a witch for ending a war where Illyrians were treated as disposable,” Kallon said.

A murmur went through the crowd. But that did not deter Nesta, who levelled Kallon with a gaze which had him stilling as a slow, cruel smile crept across her face. “I’m not a witch,” she vowed. “I’m something much worse.”

True silence. So quiet that Cassian could have heard a pin drop.

And that was when, without waiting to be dismissed, Cassian chose to steer Nesta away from the war-lord’s table and into the watching crowds.

  Nesta moved beside him as if she were floating, as if gravity did not apply to her. Cassian challenged every stare and every curling lip they passed. When they reached the large windows farther down the room where it was less crowded, he drew them to a halt.

Begrudgingly, he dropped his arm, but then he felt couldn’t resist the temptation this partnership had granted him, so he dared to raise a hand to touch his fingers to the nape of Nesta’s neck. As well as being self-indulgent, it was also a gesture of intimacy that he thought would make Nesta least uncomfortable. It was a self-indulgent move, something that sung intimacy and was designed to stake a claim. Because he had seen the way in which Kallon had stared at Nesta. The way he had tried to scent for a bond or claim on her. The gleam in Kallon’s eyes had told Cassian he was not wholly convinced about their claim of being partners, enough for him to prod and poke about Cassian’s bastard status and Nesta’s bedding habits. To see what they said and how they behaved.

And whilst Illyrian males were not overly affectionate with their partners in public, Cassian never intended to take a wife who he did not openly cherish.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked softly.

To his surprise, Nesta did not flinch. Instead, she turned into his touch, lifting those smoky blue eyes to his as if this impromptu dance they were orchestrating was as natural as breathing. That she hadn’t just been called out on her promiscuous behaviour and her continual rejection of him.

She gave a short nod. “Please.”

Her expression, Cassian noted, might be carefully blank, but her eyes were readable to him. He had spent four months living with her. Had learnt to dissect every hollowed out stare and every dulled light whenever she was unguarded enough to let him. And whilst Cassian had expected Nesta to wear the mask she so habitually wore, her eyes were open enough for him to know that she was still angry.

Sweeping up four goblets of wine from the closest servant, Cassian tried not to mourn the loss of Nesta’s skin beneath his fingertips. Frawley flicked her hands casually at both Lorrian’s and Nesta’s drinks, turning the wine to juice before either of them had a moment to comment.

“I could do with some wine,” Lorrian confessed to Cassian in a low, bitter tone as Nesta turned to respond to something Frawley had just said. His friend’s face was wholly impassive to the outsider, but Cassian knew Lorrian well enough to catch the slightly mournful look in the Lorrian’s eyes as he glanced down into the depths of his goblet. “I give it five minutes until I have a war-lord upon me demanding for an update on the state of the aerial fleet.” He cast a slow, hard look around the room. It was a look that Cassian had honed himself over centuries of learning how to assert authority. “That being said,” Lorrian continued, “I think that could have gone a lot worse.”

Cassian grunted, the sensation making his chest jolt and his armour clink. “Speak for yourself.”

Lorrian shot Cassian an apologetic look. He watched Cassian take a deep sip from his goblet. At least the wine was good, Cassian thought bitterly, as if the silver lining would smooth over the battering he’d just received.

“If it’s any consolation, my brother has been sneering at me since we set foot in the room,” Lorrian admitted to Cassian, as if he knew what Cassian was thinking. “I’d sell my other arm in a wager that he’ll have strut over here by the end of this damn luncheon to give me hell.”

It was intended to be a joke but Cassian knew how sensitive Lorrian was about his missing limb. And understandably so. Illyrians were cruel at the best of times, but to have already been referred to as an Incomplete was enough to have a traumatised warrior drowning in a sense of underserved dishonour.

Like Cassian, Lorrian was resplendent today in his black scaled armour, and his right arm glowed a soft emerald from where he had used his magic to temporarily reinstate his limb. “At least we took Frawley’s poison blocker before we left,” Lorrian continued to mutter under his breath. “I bet the majority of this room would take great joy in our deaths.”

Another grunt from Cassian—this time one of agreement. He glanced down into his goblet which was now empty. It was not like him to drink so quickly in the company of the lords, but Kallon had Cassian’s anger pushing at his skin, ready to jump to the forefront with one sneering look.

He lifted his eyes to search for another servant, but the same female Marsh had snapped at earlier—Maya—appeared at his left-hand side with a silver pitcher of wine as if she had been watching him.

The first thing Cassian noticed about the widow was that she had large, almond shaped hazel eyes that were so light, they were almost amber. Her long, ebony hair was fashioned into a double bun at the nape of her neck—a style at odds with her servant status—and on the inside of her wrist, as she lifted her arm to pour him a drink, Cassian spied a tattoo of a sun and moon.

A twin.

Cassian was so distracted by the ink that he didn’t realise he had moved his goblet away until it was too late. The wine spilled over the rim of the cup and onto the flagstone floor, the red liquid splattering over his leg and onto the back of Nesta’s dress.

Maya’s eyes went as round as saucers and he saw the panic flood her expression in a way that told Cassian she was not treated well in the Marsh residence. Nesta turned around sharply, most presumably, from feeling the females terror with her magic.

“I—I am so sorry, my lord,” Maya stammered. Her eyes, which had been dutifully downcast, had snapped up in alarm to connect with his. “Please, let me clean this up. I—”

But Cassian only shook his head, wordlessly taking the handkerchief Lorrian passed to him and took a deliberate step backwards so Maya was deliberately placed in front of him. “I think you will find that it is me who should be apologising,” Cassian corrected kindly. “I moved my goblet.”

He turned to Nesta. “Are you wet?” he asked, holding out the handkerchief to her before even thinking about drying off his wine-covered hand.

“I’m fine,” Nesta replied, shaking her head. She had not made any movements to draw attention to herself like many other females would have done. It was as if she, too, had deduced that if Marsh was to catch wind of the incident, Maya would be cast out into the cold. “It’s only a little on the bottom of my skirts. It will soon dry.”

Maya’s eyes slowly fell to the floor at Nesta’s words. They widened in horror at the spatters of red that had already seeped into the light fabric.

“I am not wed to this dress,” Nesta assured Maya. Her usually clipped manner had fallen into something softer and more sincere. It was a voice she used with a fair few: Elain, Roksana and Mas. Sometimes him.

Sometimes.

Cassian pressed his lips together to stop himself from protesting. Because whilst Nesta might claim not be wedded to her dress, he certainly was. The floating material was the colour of dusky cornflower, a shade which made Nesta’s irises so light they shimmered ice blue. The effect was so startling Cassian’s heart had stopped when she’d opened her bedroom door that morning. If he hadn’t been so nervous he would have probably gone to hell with it all and bent his head to press his lips with hers. Instead, he had stared into those mesmerising eyes and, for a moment, forgotten the silver chain that was burning into his fist.

Avoiding the puddle of wine, Nesta stepped deliberately closer to Cassian, using their bodies to shield the spillage from the war-lord’s table. She touched his arm with her fingertips and looked up at him. “It’s nothing our housekeeper can’t fix. Isn’t that right, amore?”

For a moment, Cassian stared at Nesta, unable to process that she had not only spoke a word of Illyrian, but the term of endearment he had used earlier. Her voice was matter-of-fact, but there was something lacing the words that made him, for a stupid second, believe she meant it.

“Our housekeeper is very skilled,” Cassian assured Maya, allowing a rare smile to slip across his expression. “It won’t be an issue.”

But Maya was still pale. Her eyes slid past them, to the war-lord sat at the far end of the room.

“He can’t see you, Maya,” Cassian assured the servant evenly, as he finished wiping the wine away from his arm and sleeve. When he was finished, he wound an arm around Nesta’s waist, intending to pull her closer to his body, but she moved for him, moulding her curves against his hard lines, blocking Marsh completely from view. Jasmine and vanilla washed over him, the scent a relief. He rubbed a thumb over the fabric of her dress in thanks for playing along. For the blessing of having her pressed up against him.

“I can take care of it.” Frawley took a small step forward to close their circle.

She held out her goblet purposefully outwards, as if she were in need of a refill, and Maya tentatively topped up her a drink as Frawley subtly flicked her fingers. The puddle of wine and the stain on Nesta’s dress vanished.

Again, Maya’s eyes widened, but she was clever enough not to make any kind of movement to attract attention.

“Th-Thank you, my lord. My ladies,” Maya said gratefully, the clear relief in her voice enough to make Cassian angry. When would the injustices inflicted on Illyrians by Illyrians stop? Cassian had no doubt Maya had been mistreated, despite the fact that her twin status must provide her with a certain amount of protection. Illyrians were a superstitious race and would not risk the wrath of the Gods for casting a twin out into the cold.

In fact, Cassian was surprised that Marsh dared to keep her as a servant at all. Usually twins were the only low-born Illyrians that were established into civil society. And they were always low-born and always unbelievably rare. More often than not they were the product of lords unable to keep their cocks in their pants outside of their marriage bed.

Holding back a grimace, Cassian made himself nod at Maya as she bobbed a perfect curtsey to each of them, her golden eyes downcast and submissive, before she took leave.

Curiously, Cassian cocked his head at the widow as she quickly disappeared into the crowds, no doubt to find solace in the kitchens for a moments reprieve.

“Do you know who that was?”

Lorrian’s voice brought Cassian out of his thoughts, and he dragged his eyes away from Maya’s retreating figure to look at his friend. He continued to slowly rub his thumb over Nesta’s ribcage, the curve of her bone beneath the his skin a comfort, somehow.

“No,” he admitted to Lorrian, because he didn’t.

“That’s the widow of Halias Marsh.”

Cassian caught the eyebrows that wanted to disappear into his hairline just in time. “Marsh’s younger brother?”

Halias had not been alive in Cassian’s lifetime, but he knew that he had been a cruel male who had made Anguis Marsh look positively sweet in comparison. Whilst Anguis was known for his sharp, cunning intellect, Halias had been made of a brute strength which had led to an arrogance and dominance both inside and outside the sparring ring. It had been no secret that the brothers had an ongoing rivalry, with Halias believing he was best suited to the role of prince. When Halias had died in a fire, there had been rumours that Marsh had orchestrated his brother’s death, but those sorts of whisperings weren’t uncommon amongst the Illyrian camps, where everyone was out for glory at the expense of others.

“Yes,” Lorrian confirmed in a low voice.

“What happened to her twin?” Cassian asked with a frown.

As Cassian and Azriel’s self-appointed guardian, Rhys’s mother had done her best to teach them the history of the Illyrian camps and the war-lords family trees. They had been lessons which Cassian had found inanely dull at the time, usually because he had been exhausted from a rigorous day of training. But he did remember learning that the Ironcrest brothers had secured twins for brides. He also recalled that it had caused uproar amongst the clans at the time. Twins were rare in Prythian and a symbol of fertility, power and good luck. As was usual for twins, they weren’t of high status, but had been plucked from the mud and inserted into elevated society from birth—reared for the two princelings for when they came of age.

The tattoo Cassian had spied on Maya’s wrist was a part of Illyrian culture. When twins were born, they were marked with the tattoo of a sun and moon: separate yet integral to one another, forever entwined. They were said to be a gift from the Gods: fertile and harbouring power beyond reckoning which would be passed down to their offspring. Their wings were cut at birth. Twins were too precious to risk flying away when they could produce offspring with hearty Killing Power.

“Her twin died in the fire with Halias. I believe she was called Lyanne.”

It was Frawley who had spoken and Cassian looked at her with a frown on his face. “With her twin’s husband?”

“It was quite the scandal at the time,” Frawley said in low tones. “Her twin sister was married to Marsh but sleeping with his brother. I’m surprised you have not heard of it before.”

“Marsh loved his first wife.” It was Nesta who had spoken, and Cassian instinctively tightened his arm around her. “I felt his pain when he looked at Maya. It ran deep, as if he could not bare to look at her.”

That would explain why Marsh had not taken Maya as his wife, Cassian thought. To be wed to a replica but know that they were not the Fae you loved… The heartache would be too much, especially if the female you had given your heart to had bedded his brother, and whilst Marsh was cold beyond reckoning, it was interesting to know there was a side of him that was warm-blooded.

“I bet there’s a reason she’s not in the widows camp,” Lorrian said quietly, and Cassian’s eyes snapped to his friends so quickly his neck cricked.

His neck burned but he was too busy processing what Lorrian was saying. To think that Marsh had kept his wife’s sister in his residence so she could warm his bed when he willed it… the hairs on his arm stood up and something inside of him recoiled, even as he knew that it was incredibly likely. It would explain how well-kept Maya was. How, like Lorrian had said, she had not been turned out into the widows camp and into the cold.

“How long have you known that?” Cassian demanded quietly.

Beside him, Nesta had turned rigid. He didn’t have to look at her to know her skin had turned pale. And despite their constricted bond he felt an unfathomable icy rage force its way down the tether of twisted rope to meet his own.

He did not look at Nesta as he sent an emotion to soothe. A heat to lick against their anger until it had thawed.

He dragged his thumb across her rib cage in a slow, deliberate motion. He felt her let out a long, measure breath.

“I don’t know it,” Lorrian corrected Cassian smoothly, as if he were discussing the weather, not wanting to raise his voice so others could hear. His eyes burned when they connected wth Cassian’s. “But it would be interesting to find out, wouldn’t it?”

By the time Cassian and Lorrian headed into the Rite meeting, Cassian wanted to leave Ironcrest so fiercely that he had almost refused to leave Nesta behind. As usual, as the lords consumed more wine throughout the luncheon, they seemed to overcome their disdain at approaching rival clans. It result in the pursuit of a kind of hostile, verbal swordplay that reaffirmed why no-one had been permitted to enter the residence with a weapon.

Not, Cassian thought grimly, that it would stop any of them from magicking one with their siphons anyway.

Icor Condor—Lorrian’s brother—had been the first to stride over to them and interrupt their conversation to publicly sneer at his sibling

Despite being the eldest of the two, Lorrian had lost his right as princeling heir when he had left the camp for Frawley’s heart. When their late father had died, his brother Icor had inherited the status of war-lord, much to his pleasure and Lorrian’s disgust.

Icor was Lorrian’s sole sibling, and at a first glance, the two of them were almost identical in looks. It was only on closer inspection that one noticed the unrelenting hardness to Icor’s dark features—something that was due to the constant state of stark displeasure that hung across his expression. He was also slightly broader in build, the twisted cords of his muscles pushing against what Cassian suspected was too-small armour, and whilst Icor’s eyes were technically hazel, the majority of the time they were a light, unnerving jade.

To the untrained eye, it was Icor who appeared more formidable. But outcast or no outcast, Lorrian was the finest cut of Forktail princeling, made for the skies in a way his brother was not. And whilst Icor was undeniably an exceptional warrior—his primary skill was with the spear—Forktail’s ancestry boasted formidable warriors from the skies, and Icor had been loath to forget it.

To his credit, Lorrian had appeared completely unaffected as his brother barrelled insult after insult his way, but when Frawley’s ice eye had glowed brightly with threat, Icor had taken sudden leave, claiming that he couldn’t stand to breathe the air of someone who was not only Incomplete but a defector of his race, as well.

Nesta had dug her fingers so hard into Cassian’s armour at that point that Cassian had thought her fire might beat Frawley’s own magic to throwing itself across the room and hitting Icor square in the chest.

Now, Lorrian and Cassian followed the rest of the war-lords as they made their way to the war-room, which was situated in the right-hand wing of the residence.

They had barely had time to say goodbye as Frawley and Nesta were ushered into the parlour with the war-lords and Rite representatives partners. Frawley’s eyes had gleamed as she and Nesta floated from the room, and Cassian knew that the witch hoped to wheedle out some information from the females whilst their husbands weren’t by their sides.

The issue of oppressing others, Frawley had said the evening prior, when they were hashing out their plans, was that oppressors had a tendency to become over-confident and over-trusting in their tyranny; so sure of their unwavering power over others that their mouths became loose. And if the females did prefer to keep quiet due to fear of being found out by their husbands, Nesta would sense it.

It was, Frawley had insisted, a win-win situation, and Cassian would have been inclined to agree, if the Illyrians didn't harbour such a fear of outsiders, especially those that were not only powerful but looked terrifying, as well.

Lorrian, Cassian had noticed, hadn’t pointed that out to his wife. Nor had he reminded her that her independently moving eyes had a tendency to put Fae on edge rather than at ease.

Which, Cassian thought with a near huff of laughter, probably made Nesta the most approachable out of the two of them.

That knowledge grew inside of his mind until he wanted to howl, and he clamped his lips tightly together to stop a sound from escaping.

He supposed it was a good sign that he could still find humour in things, especially when he had a looming sense of dread that everything was about to go southward.

“She will be fine,” Lorrian told Cassian, frowning at his friend as they walked through the dimly lit corridors which were darkened all the more by heavy tapestries. “Nesta is more than capable of looking after herself, and she has Frawley with her. They are probably safest with the females, anyway.”

Cassian didn’t want to explain the reason for his expression, so he just nodded. It wasn’t as if he liked being separated from Nesta. The more time they spent together, the more he dreaded their time apart. It was a constant sort of worry that gnawed at his insides and made him feel as if someone had ripped a limb clean off his body. And since Nesta had nearly died healing Mas, Cassian had started to experience incandescent, sporadic flashes of panic that Nesta was dying and he did not know. That she was suffering and he was not there to ease it, even as reason told him that anything that urgent would fly down their shared tether.

“That’s what it was like with Frawley,” Lorrian added to Cassian, his hazel eyes discerning as they followed the hulking, retreating backs of the other war-lords.

“What it was like?” Cassian repeated, feigning confusion. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to partake in the discussion.

But Lorrian only dipped his chin. “It’s when I knew we would be   chroí  . After we were joined, it felt like the greatest relief, as if a spool of yarn had been pulled tight between us but now it could just… exist. Relax a little.”

Cassian thought of the constricted tether between them and the way his light was desperate to push against the inner walls, until that rope had widened into a tunnel clear of brambles.

Not once had Cassian spoken with Lorrian or Frawley about Nesta. About how he was in so deep that sometimes he thought that if she were ever to reject him again he wouldn't be able to climb out of the pit he had fallen into. Both of his friends were sharp enough to have dissected his feelings, he wasn’t naive enough to pretend otherwise. He had never introduced them to a female before, had never allowed them to get to know someone so intimately that was clearly not a friend.

Not that Cassian knew what he and Nesta were. Wouldn’t dare to ask for fear of ruining it all.

And his friends had not pressed him for more information or, to his knowledge, asked Nesta about the two of them. The latter of which he was immensely thankful for.

Yet, that didn’t mean that Cassian hadn’t felt Frawley’s ice blue eye swivel carefully between the two of them, or Lorrian’s knowing smile as Nesta joined in with his friend to torment him.

In fact, the only thing Frawley had commented on was her fondness for Nesta.

“I hope we get to keep her, Cassian,” the witch had said sternly when he had arrived at the cottage earlier that week, as if, ironically, the decision was up to him. Then, without commenting on how premature his arrival was, Frawley had waved impatiently to the back door, “She’s training with Lorrian.”

Having been thoroughly dismissed, Cassian had headed into the backyard to find the paddock to the left of the barn had been cleared of its usual horses. Instead, Nesta stood at a shooting line that Cassian suspected had been made by Lorrian dragging the toe of his boot through the mud. At the far end of the ring —20 metres or so away—stood an archery target.

His friend had not turned as Cassian drew up beside him. Instead, they had both watched in silence as Nesta pulled back the bow string with a strength that no other Illyrian female possessed before releasing it.

Together, they watched an arrow fly across the clearing and hit clean into the outer yellow ring of the target. Lorrian had still not looked at Cassian, had only kept his arms crossed firmly over his chest as they watched Nesta stride over to the target on her long legs to collect her arrows.

“You’ve met your match,” was all Lorrian eventually said, shaking his head in disbelief, before he went over to correct Nesta on her stance.

Now, Cassian glanced sideways at his friend. Lorrian’s eyes were full of a shared understanding that Cassian could not bear. So he looked away, and before he could stop the words, he admitted tightly—quietly, “It’s going to be the death of me.”

Ahead of them, the heavy double doors of the war-room came looming into view, and with it, another layer of dread. Cassian flared his siphons, breaking the sound bubble Lorrian had encased them in, and stalked into the room.

Marsh was already seated at the long, wooden table. He had left the drawing room well before the rest of them, no doubt to hide the extent of his illness, but Cassian could almost taste death on the war-lord.

The others could, too. Those sharp, beady eyes never missed a thing. And if they had not gleaned it for themselves, the way in which Kallon seated himself beside his father was enough of an indication of who was truly intending to run the meeting.

There was a growing expectancy in the air. The deafening kind that was almost like a ringing silence, even as chairs scraped against flagstones and war-lords muttered to their Rite representatives, who took a seat beside them.

It did not escape Cassian that one of Ragar’s friends was seated beside Devlon. That beside the other war-lords, Cassian recognised lordlings who had been reported to have met with Kallon all those weeks ago.

That sense of apprehension intensified, but Cassian settled his wings over his chair and waited for the first war-lord to break the silence. Even as his mind worked at a hundred miles per minute, trying to piece together what he was clearly not seeing.

Unsurprisingly, it was Icor who finally broke the silence. “A representative can’t take place in the Rite,” Lorrian’s brother sneered from where he sat opposite Cassian and Lorrian, his lip already curled as he narrowed his eyes at Kallon.

The princeling did not rise to the barb. He only settled back into his chair with an unrivalled arrogance and smoothness that made Cassian want to smack him in the face. It was an action that almost reminded Cassian of Rhys when he was playing wicked, but there was something impossibly cold and threatening beneath the movement which set Kallon apart from his brother. It made Cassian want to sit up straighter, but he did not allow himself to do it. To let others know that Kallon held his attention so fiercely.

“I am aware of that, Icor,” Kallon replied, once he had taken his time getting comfortable. “I do not intend to partake in the Rite this year.”

Not a murmur ran down the table, but the air became tight and pregnant again. Expectant. It was almost unheard of for a princeling not to partake in the Rite past a certain age, and Kallon was near twenty-five.

It meant that he would not earn siphons of his own for another year.

It was an unusual move, especially given that Kallon was trying to stake authority amongst the Illyrians. Siphons were the quickest way to earn respect amongst Cassian’s race. It was why they begrudgingly accepted Cassian.

Kallon’s birth as a princeling meant that he was born with a natural amount of Killing Power that superseded low-born foot soldiers. Azriel’s information had detailed that Kallon usually trained with three siphons in the sparring ring. That although he was green, he was better than most with the Illyrian saber. That since he had been training with the sword he claimed to be Enalius’s, he had taken to using a fourth siphon to contain the Killing Power that seemed to still be growing within him.

That, in itself, was a worry. Cassian’s Killing Power had reached its maturity at the age of twenty-five, training with seven borrowed siphons in the sparring ring until he finally earned his jewels after the Blood Rite.

The Siphon Master had not hesitated in giving Cassian siphons the colour of blood.

For the blood glory you will earn in battle, ratnik, the Siphon Master had said at the Rite ceremony, as he placed red siphons atop Cassian’s hands, on his knee caps, his upper arms… And across his heart, a flawless star ruby. Even now, Cassian remembered how the jewel had beat a deep, dark red that took on a blueish hue, as if it were kicking into life for the first time. Cassian remembered the gratification that had flickered over the Siphon Master’s face as the ruby did not shatter but became an additional heart, pulsing gently in the spring light.

“Shall we begin, Father?”

This time, every war-lord bristled as Kallon spoke. Somehow, the air became even thicker. A princeling did not order a prince. Yet, Marsh only raked his shrewd eyes over every single male in challenge, before he waved a trembling hand at his son, commanding him to start.

Kallon stood with a confidence that superseded his age; as if he were a messenger sent by the Gods and had the intention of delivering a fucking sermon. Cassian’s stomach dropped leaden to his toes at the same time that his blood began to boil beneath his skin.

Beside him, Lorrian stiffened, as if he too knew that they had been foiled, even though neither of them had yet learnt why.

“Many of you are probably wondering why my father and I have called this meeting early,” Kallon started. The princeling stood tall, his feet slightly apart, his shoulders squared, his wings held up high… A warrior’s stance. But there was something infuriatingly relaxed about his posture, as if commanding an audience was all completely natural to him.

“Tradition states that the first Rite counsel is not held until the new year, but given that Ironcrest is hosting the ceremony this year, we thought it made sense to arrange for this meeting to coincide with the Solstice luncheon.”

There was a pause in which Kallon looked around the room. His voice was too cordial for an Illyrian, especially a princeling, and if it were not for that unfathomable chill to his voice—a carved out emptiness—Cassian would have been willing to bet that he would have been sneered back into his seat. And of course, there was arrogance, too. An entitlement that came with those born into wealth.

“Since Enalius gifted our ancestors with a drop of his power and we were able to mine siphons, the Blood Rite has become the most important tradition in our culture,” Kallon continued. “Illyrians produce the best warriors Prythian has ever seen. Our bloody history shows that whilst we are perceived by High Fae and many others of our kind to be the lowest of faeries, we are triumphant in battle and far supersede not only the Night Courts forces, but the forces in every other court. We Illyrians are relied upon for our gifts, but we are treated as disposable when our talents are not required. The recent kerit attacks on our camps has highlighted what we have known for centuries; that the Night Court does not care about our race to provide sufficient protection.”

Another cessation of speech for what Cassian expected was not for Kallon to catch his breath, but to allow his words to settle. All of the war-lords and representatives remained eerily silent, and whilst they had originally sat forward as if they were waiting to jump in and protest, they were now stock still, drawn in by the words that they all already believed to be true.

“We suffered many losses in the war against Hybern,” Kallon pushed on. “Forces across all of our camps are drained and depleted. Whilst the Rite is an important part of who we are, the loss of more Illyrian lives would be the greatest sin. Enalius gifted all of our families with a drop of his blood so we could ensure that the Illyrian lines did not die out. That we could continue to perform our duty to honour and protect. My father and I have called you here today to consider a hiatus on the Blood Rite. To focus instead on strengthening our troops rather than inflicting more bloodshed upon our kind.”

Silence fell again as Kallon stopped talking. As, with a sweeping look around the table, the princeling sat back down and leant back into his chair with a superior expression on his face. No doubt a sense of achievement that he had captivated the hostile war-lords for enough time to say exactly what he intended. To plant the seeds in the minds of those who already did not look favourably towards their High Lord’s rule.

Lord Alcathoe was the first to snap. The war-lord from Swallow’s Ridge leant forward, his expression dark and openly aggressive. “The Blood Rite has been performed every year without fail. What claim do you have to suggest a hiatus?”

“We have not ceased the Rite in the aftermath of war before,” Lord Hamel added. Hamel’s voice was monotone and bored, but Cassian had learnt from his many visits to Craggs Peak that the war-lord was as vicious as any of the other males around the table—worse than some, actually. One misplaced word and the war-lord was known to explode.

Cassian thought it only a matter of time until everyone at the table witnessed it.

“I don’t think a young whelp who has not fought in a war or earned his own siphons should be leading a discussion in which he has no place.”

“Watch your mouth, Hamel,” Marsh snarled in warning. “My son is smarter than all of your offspring, both the bastards and your true heirs. If you have any true heirs, that is.”

Hamel’s answering snarl had him rising out of his seat. The war-lord’s face had turned purple with rage and his teeth were bared. Spittle flew across the wooden surface of the strategy table. “If you weren’t already on your death bed, Marsh, I’d—”

“It is true that I do not yet own my own siphons and that I have not yet fought in a war,” Kallon interrupted, standing again with a flare of his wings. The sound snapped around the room, like a nine-tail whip cracking against skin. “But I see what our race has suffered at the hands of the Night Court. We are treated as expendable and as bodies rather than being valued for who we are and what we stand for. To put a hiatus on the Blood Rite will allow us to become stronger. It will allow our warriors to become proficient in the art of battle and for our numbers to rise. We cannot afford to lose any more warriors.”

The blood in Hamel’s face was slowly draining from purple to red. Still angry, but not as if he was going to self-combust. The war-lord had sunk back down into his seat, and it was clear that an internal conflict was going on in his mind; as he decided what held greater importance, his hatred of Anguis Marsh and his son, or his opinions on Night Court affairs.

And the issue was that whilst there were statements of Kallon’s that were wrong—namely that the war was not an Illyrian cause and that Rhys saw the Illyrians as disposable— the princeling was also right. The Illyrians could not afford to lose any more warrior blood in the upcoming Rite. It was an issue Cassian had deliberated over repeatedly. One he had brought up with Rhys and Azriel. A problem they had decided not to interfere with for fear that it would set the Illyrians against them even further.

But what Kallon was doing… it was clever. It played on the Illyrians sensibilities and the ever-growing notion that they should not be ruled by Rhys’s hand. And if Kallon could get the war-lords to agree… he would be seen as a martyr, whilst the Night Court would be viewed as complacent in further deaths of the Illyrian race.

It would gain him support amongst the most influential of the Illyrians. It would strengthen the dissent. And if the war-lords made it clear that they were openly opposing Rhys’s rule, then many more Illyrians would follow their example.

As if Kallon knew he was triumphant, he pinned Cassian with a stare. “Do you not agree, General? We have suffered the death of an entire aerial legion, plus many of our strongest warriors against Hybern. Surely you cannot argue that we should go ahead with the Blood Rite rather than strengthen our forces before we allow ourselves to suffer any more losses?”

Cassian and Lorrian were rabbits caught in a hunters snare and Kallon knew it.

“The Night Court agrees that we cannot afford to lose any more males in the Blood Rite,” Cassian replied, his voice so deep and commanding that he did not recognise his true self—the part of him that was not General but Fae. “Should another war come to Illyria, we need to ensure we can protect our kind and those throughout our court. A reprieve from the Blood Rite is the best way to prevent further bloodshed.”

A growl sounded from Icor. It was an abrupt, guttural sound that sounded too much like a temper tantrum. He had no doubt been expecting Cassian to side with him. “You have not answered the question, princeling. What right do you have to suggest a hiatus?”

Across his cruel face, Icor looked briefly triumphant. A petulant child believing he’d won a game rather than contemplating the life or death of his best warriors. “So tell me, what right do we have to interfere with the will of our warrior Gods?”

“My son has been chosen by the Gods. By Enalius himself.” Marsh’s grating voice was deep and commanding. Forceful.

A dismissive snort. “I do not think—” Icor started, but Marsh dismissed Forktail’s war-lord entirely, and looked towards his son. His heir.

“Show them,” Marsh ordered Kallon with a wave of his hand.

The princeling turned his head in a way that was more automaton than Fae. He looked towards the doors, where a male steward wearing Ironcrest colours stepped out of the shadows.

In that moment, Cassian wished Nesta was in the room with them, if only to sense the emotions of every single war-lord as their lofty expressions turned carefully blank. As their eyes fell to the sword laying atop a velvet-crushed cushion the colour of mustard.

Enalius’s sword. Or at least, a sword with ancient magical properties.

Cassian could feel the hum of it in his blood—his magic—turning over inside of him, pressing against his skin as if it was trying to leap from his body and join with the steel. His siphons pulsed, his star ruby beating like a star-blessed heart. And from the look on every other males face, they could sense the magic of it, too.

The sword looked exactly as it did in the drawing printed in Heroicis. The sword Cassian had committed to memory as a youngling, as he stared at that inked drawing—the only thing he could understand as an illiterate bastard trying to make sense of a book full of words. The blade was arced, the steel etched with the Illyrian marks of glory that each of the war-lords wore on their own skin. The curved bone pommel gleamed as if it had been recently polished, even though the handle looked well-worn and cracked.

Just as Frawley had reported, the oval jewel was missing from where it should sit on the wide guard.

Cassian knew without Frawley having to confirm it—with a certainty that was completely devoid of doubt—that Kallon was presenting them with Enalius’s sword.

And worse, that the princeling would gain the begrudging respect of the males around this table for it.

Tags: @arin1030 @superspiritfestival @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @mylittlebigplanet @biggestwingspan-az @bellsqueen @ekaterinakostrova @bookstantrash @prophecyerised @rainbowcheetah512 @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook @iammissstark @lovelynesta @melphss @nestalytical @darkshadowqueensrule @laylaameer01 @a-trifling-matter @grouchycritic7794 @thalia-2-rose @champanheandluxxury @swankii-art-teacher @princessconsuela02 @lavendergoomsltd @little-diyosa @princessofmerchants-reads @jeakat @sjm-things @imwritingthesewords @nestable @inejbrekkxr @silvernesta @inyourmindeye @amelie775  @iwastoowildinthe70s @helen-the-weirdo @pizzaneverdisappoints

#embersandlightfic #embers and light #nessianfic #nessian #nesta x cassian #acotarfanfiction #acotar #acofas #acosf #cassianfic #cassian #nestaarcheron #nestafic

[scorsoneamelia]

Can you write something where Amelia is taking care of everyone, Scout, Maggie, Mer etc and she comes home and she is sad and when Link asks her what is wrong she tells him she’s burned out and she can’t help but think that everyone around her keeps dying Derek, Deluca, Christopher, etc and he tells her that he will always be there for her and maybe he does a nice romantic gesture. Basically I want some fluffy amelink please thanks so much I love your writing. Stay safe!

 honestly im kind of disappointed in this :((((( i have been working on it for three days tho and i keep promising that i’ll post so here it is!!!!

          Exhausted. Mentally and physically, Amelia was drained. There’s been too much on her plate, Scout, Meredith’s kids, Meredith, Andrew, her own thoughts and her addiction was slowly starting to creep back in. She feels like she hasn’t slowed down in months and she’s tired. Maggie had come down with the common cold, causing her to be stuck in a bedroom because there was a pandemic. It’s not covid, Amelia. I was tested. But they lived with 4 children, there was no risking anything, so Maggie isolated herself in her own bedroom. Whenever there was food made, (if Amelia was actually able to cook something edible) she’d have to deliver it to Maggie’s room. Meredith was still in the hospital, she was awake but she couldn’t come home yet so her nieces and nephew was still her responsibility.

           Link had been occasionally going to Jo’s house with a bottle of wine, or some hard liquor that they’d usually finish in a few hours because he was coping and because he’s “not in recovery.” Something that Amelia couldn’t do because she was an “alcoholic.” So even though Link was stressed out he still had an outlet, an unhealthy one some would argue, but he would leave the house to hangout with a friend to get the edge off.

            Amelia had just gotten back from visiting Owen, (mostly to help Teddy) because after another tragedy they lost Andrew DeLuca, causing Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for Teddy because it brought back memories of Allison, the love of her life. Owen was being insensitive and Amelia would be the first one to call him out on it. It caused a lot for Amelia too, the pandemic, taking care of everyone else and never getting a chance to breathe and focus on herself which was causing her addiction to creep back in, losing a good friend due to a horrific tragedy, all of the stress, she just couldn’t handle it. Seeing Teddy in that state only reminded her of everyone she lost too, and it made her sad. It seemed like everyone around her was dying, everyone she considered a friend was either dead or was dying.

            Everyone around her always dies. Her father, her best friend, her boyfriend, her baby, her brother, Meredith almost left her too and one of her coworkers, her friend, also died. Now the help that she got from Maggie wasn’t there because she was in isolation. Link was drinking at Jo’s and Amelia refused to bring it up to him again considering the last time she said anything it caused a fight, resulting in Link leaving the house.

            The kids were all in bed, Scout being the last one to be put down because he was extra cranky today, it felt like all he did today was cry and it seemed like on some days that’s all he could do, no matter what she did for him. Babies are hard work and she knew that, but she was burnt out. She never understood how Meredith did this with three kids.

           A long and exhausted sigh came out of her mouth as she plopped down onto the couch, bringing both hands to her face to run them through her hair. Her life has changed so much, ever since Christopher she never imagined having another baby, she feels guilty for loving Scout and she almost feels like it replaced her love for Christopher.

          The front door was being pushed open and Link was walking in, taking his black jacket off and then they made eye contact. She didn’t say anything to him, she just adverted her eyes down into her lap, her hands resting in them. A soft cry escaped her lips and her face was being put into her hands, cries slowly making their way out of her throat.

         “What’s wrong?” Link immediately asked, sitting next to her and placing a hand on her shoulder in a comforting way. His voice was soft and he sounded concerned.

          “I’m just,” she sniffled, bringing a hand up to her face to wipe off the tears. “So tired. I feel like everyone around me is dying and I’m exhausted.”

           Immediately after, Link stood from the couch, quickly making his way over to the staircase. “I’m going to run you a warm bath and you’re going to relax, it’s what you need right now.” Before Amelia could interject, he was already up the stairs and moments later she heard the faint sound of watering running and filling up the bath tub. So, she followed, meeting him in the bathroom, tears still wetting her cheeks. 

          “You need a minute to just relax and breathe,” he placed his hands on her shoulders and rubbed them, the friction making her warm. “You’ve been doing so good with the kids and Scout, you deserve this.” 

            A small warm smile tugged at the corners of her lips and her blue eyes looked into his matching blue eyes, both of their eyes trailing down to each other’s lips. Their kiss was soft and gentle, like it was their first kiss and it was just what she needed. “Thank you.” She whispered softly before they kissed once more before he left the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind him so that she could have some privacy and so she could relax. 

________

            She had come downstairs, a loose pair of baggy pants hanging off of her hips with a loose t-shirt on and her hair was damp. Link thought she looked beautiful, he knows he’s in love with her. To prove that, he had set up a bed in front of the fireplace, there was lots of blankets and pillows, all of her favorite kind of snacks (doughnuts too, cause Link loved them) spread out on the floor. The wood in the fireplace was burning, making a crack and pop sound every so often and the house was quiet and warm.  

          “Link,” she breathed, walking closer to see the set-up he made for her. “What’s all this?”

          “I just wanted you to have a good night, just the two of us.” He was already laying down on his side on top of the mountain of blankets, using his arm to prop himself up. “Breathe and relax. You’re so stressed out, you need to relax more.” 

            She joined him, the heat from the fireplace immediately warming her body. Both of them reached for a doughnut, trying to put as much of it into their mouths as they could, it was something they’ve always done it somehow became their thing. But everytime they both end laughing too hard and one of them always almost chokes on it, or one nearly spits it out. Both of them were laughing now, genuine smiles taking over their faces that even reached their eyes. 

            “I just want you to know,” Link said once their laughs subsided, his hand reaching for hers and letting her soft fingers intertwine with his. “I know everything feels overwhelming right now and everything sucks. But, I just wanted to let you know that I will always be here for you, I’m not going anywhere. I love you, Amelia. You have me, I’ve got you. Everything is going to be okay.” 

            Her smile was warm, her grip on his hand getting tighter and she was moving closer to him. “I know you might be feeling all of this guilt with Scout and Christopher. I know you love Christopher and I know you love Scout and nothing will ever replace the love you have for him. You have enough love to give everyone, and that’s what I love about you. You feel everything so deeply, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” 

           There were both kissing now, this time not as soft, this time they were kissing with so much passion that you could feel the love in their kisses. Her left hand reached up to his face to rest it on his jawline, pulling him closer to her. She loved him so much that she could feel it throughout her entire body.

           After they broke up their kiss, they were laying down, Link’s back flat on the ground while Amelia laid her head on his chest, wrapping an arm around his waist. “You didn’t have to do any of this you know.”

          “I just figured you could take your mind off of some stuff for the night, and I wanted to remind you that I love you.” His arm was running up and down her arm and her side, her face nuzzling deeper into his neck. 

         They both laid there for a few minutes in silence, both just wanting to enjoy each other’s company. The tips of his fingers were running up and down her arm in a soothing motion, his heartbeat vibrating against his chest and within minutes she was asleep. A soft snore came out of her mouth and it caused Link to smile, placing a kiss on the top of her head. 

         Scout was crying from upstairs, most likely because he had an accident and he needed his diaper changed. Amelia stirred from under him, her eyes fluttering open an being woken up from her short sleep. Her arm that was around his waist loosened and she was pushing herself up so that she could go and check on Scout. 

          Link beat her to it though, standing up before her. “I’ll go, you sleep.” He planted one more kiss on her forehead and turned to make his way up the stairs. He turned back to look at her once more, seeing her already peacefully sleeping, her mouth partially open and a soft snore coming out of her lips. One arm was rested against her side and the other nuzzled underneath her chin. He could look for her for hours because she looked so calm and peaceful and beautiful. He would have stayed in that exact moment but Scout’s cries were only getting more demanding and he didn’t want to wake Amelia so he left, heading up the stairs.

#ameliashepherd #amelink #amelia x link #link x amelia #link and amelia #ameliafics #ameliaandlink #greysanatomyfics #greys anatomy #atticus link #stories

[hufflepuffhollander]

the photoshoot: tom holland imagine

a/n | i got this idea from a facebook post i saw and ran with it! i’ve never included a photo story in my writing so i hope i didn’t botch it! my WIPs are all pretty angsty so i figured i’d fluff it up a little for y’all (also this gif amirite)

summary | you are picked for a social experiment: a couples’ photoshoot where you don’t meet the person you’re posing with until the beginning of the session.

tom x fem reader | contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff | word count: 2.1k | enjoy!

“My god, just pick a dress, y/n. We’ve been here for hours.”

Your friend stood with her arms crossed as you studied yourself in the dressing room mirror, making faces of content then unrest, unsure if this dress was the one to go with- or if it could’ve been any of the last 15 you’d tried on.

“I can’t decide, maybe I just need to go through them again-”

“No!” your friend said, grabbing the pile of hanged clothes off of the hook on the wall and holding them out of your reach. “You’re overthinking this, it’s just a photoshoot! You don’t even know the guy! And the one you have on is obviously the best choice.”

You turned back to the mirror and stared at the starchy white fabric of the dress, its eyelet lace design making it a tight fit that accentuate your curves. You sighed in resignation. “Fine. But if the pictures come out and I look like a ghost, I’m blaming you.”

You took the outfit home and laid it out in preparation for tomorrow, kicking yourself for having signed up for this in the first place. After a long week, you only wanted to stay in your sweatpants in bed tomorrow instead of getting all dolled up to go take photos in cliche poses with a total stranger. You sent your friend a passive aggressive text about it, since she was the one who made you sign up for the ‘social experiment’, and all you received back was an annoyingly curt “you’ll thank me later”. You threw your phone aside and went to bed early, crossing your fingers that tomorrow would go by as quickly as possible. 

You arrived to the shoot location the next day- a vineyard an hour away that you got turned around twice trying to find. Once you stepped out of the car, the photographer came to greet you, a friendly woman in her mid thirties wearing all black and a massive camera swinging around her neck like an oversized necklace.

“Ah, y/n, thank you so much for coming! It seems like your partner is running a little behind, so we’ll just have to wait for a few,” she smiled bleakly, running away to ridicule one of the men setting up the reflective umbrellas.

“We want to capture the people, not the sun, Nicholas.”

You leaned against your car already annoyed at your partner for failing to show up. You had woken up two hours early to curl your hair and do a full face of makeup, and this is how you get rewarded? You swore up and down that you’d smack your friend when you saw her later. The photographer, whose name you learned was Karen—typical—brought you into a tangle of grapevines to test the lighting and shoot some practice photos. You were already horribly uncomfortable when it was just you standing alone, and couldn’t imagine how much worse it would be when another clueless anti-model had to pose next to you.

“Doll, just put your hand on your hip, like this-

“Well no, not like that—uh, Nicholas, can you go pose her?

“Just smile, dear. You look...really unhappy.”

It was nightmarish. 

You were saved by the bell as another car pulled into the lot and a guy of average height wearing a crisp blazer stepped out, wearing the snobbiest looking pair of wayfarers you’d ever seen. 

“Oh, great! Tom’s here,” Karen cheered, happy to rush away from the agonizing one-on-one session you’d just had. You looked at Nicholas, trying again to fix the umbrella.

“Tom?” you asked, and he just nodded. 

“Yeah, Tom Holland. Don’t know how she managed to get an A-lister out here for this, but that’s Karen,” he responded, walking away.

Wait, what?

Karen waltzed back over to you with him in tow, a smile plastered on her face so big you thought the one she flashed you earliest must’ve been entirely insincere.

“Great! Here we are! y/n, this is Tom,” she said, pushing him forward to stand in front of you. He gave you a bright smile and stuck out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, love.”

You shook his hand without speaking because you literally had forgotten how to breathe. This was your stranger? You’d had the biggest, most incurable crush on Tom Holland since you were a teenager, and all of your social skills that you’d picked up as an adult had clearly just evaporated in the sun.

“Uh, hi-” Karen and Tom shared a laugh at your starstruck expression. “Sorry, do you two know each other?”

“Yeah, Karen and I go way back,” Tom said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and squeezing her tight. “She taught me how to model.”

“Well, it’s not hard when you have this face to work with!” She pinched Tom’s cheeks and grinned, then looked you up and down, reminding you with a glance how hard it had been just to get you to smile for the camera without looking deranged. Ouch, Karen.

“Okay, well, let’s get started then,” she skipped off back to the rows of vines lining the field and Tom ushered you with his hand. “After you,” he smiled. 

You tried not to stumble over your heels stepping in the uneven earth below you, and Karen brought the camera up to her face with a squeal. “Alright, sweeties, let’s make the camera think you’re falling in love!” Karen, you decided, was an extremely over-the-top human. “This is your meet cute. You’re just seeing each other for the first time. Make it sparkle.”

That was all she gave you direction-wise, and you and Tom just stood staring at each other a few feet apart as the camera started clicking. The shade of your cheeks made it look like you’d just run a marathon and you just started giggling out of sheer nerve, making Tom start to work up a laugh, too. 

“She’s a bit much, isn’t she?” he motioned with his eyes so Karen couldn’t pick up on his comment.

“I don’t even know what she wants me to do.” you said, concentrating on a bushel of grapes instead of Tom’s dreamy face because you were worried if you spent more than three seconds looking into his eyes, you’d pass out cold.

“Well I’m basically a pro at this, so let me help you, okay?” he said, reaching out for your hand again. You took it as your heart did somersaults in your chest, and as he exclaimed “ooh, nice nails”, you genuinely smiled, giving Karen exactly the shot she wanted. 

Your hand was shaking, and he gave it a gentle squeeze. “Why are you so nervous?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I’m absolutely clueless!”

Tom shrugged and looked off to the side. “Well, you said it, not me...”

You gasped and feigned offense, whipping your hand out of his. “How dare you!”

He laughed and tried to take your hand again, but you dramatically swiped your arm out of his reach, and the camera picked up a series of shots that made it look like you and Tom were playing ninja. 

“Uh, what are we doin’ here, folks?” Karen questioned as you and Tom ran in circles around one another, him trying to get at your hands and you doing everything in your power not to let it happen. Your nerves melted away as the endorphins kicked in. Eventually Tom gave up and decided to grab hold of you, pick you up and twirl you around, in the chaos yelling “We need to please the Karen!”. You were laughing and out of breath from running around, and you slowly lowered your head to his, the look in his eyes reading that he was about to kiss you...

“That was amazing!” Karen squealed, shaking you from Tom’s mesmerizing stare, pushing the moment past you. Tom let you down to the ground, both of you shocked that he’d made such a bold move in the first place. He wiped his hands on the legs of his pants and cleared his throat as you fiddled with some of the curls that had come loose around your face. Karen couldn’t be happier; the money shot came out looking like a magazine ad.

 Tom gave you a sheepish smile. “Uh, sorry if that was too-”

“It wasn’t,” you batted your lashes at him and could’ve sworn his cheeks were tinted just as pink as yours.

Karen’s loud voice pitched in as you had ended up standing still, a photographer’s worst nightmare.

“Okay, so we’ve met, now show me that chemistry!” she shouted, getting an eye roll from you and a snicker from Tom at your reaction. 

“Is she expecting us to fall madly in love now that we’ve known each other for more than five minutes?” you asked, fluffing out the skirt of your dress.

“Weirder things have happened,” Tom shrugged his shoulders and winked at you before turning around and walking towards a cluster of vines, picking off a grape and popping in his mouth with a satisfying crunch.

“Oh, are we allowed to eat them? I’m dying out here in the sun!” You followed his pattern and picked a few grapes out of the brambles, noticing a few rows away that there was a small table with two glasses and a bottle of wine. Tom followed your gaze to the alcohol and looked back at you, his expression reflecting exactly what you were thinking.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he smirked.

You collectively ignored Karen’s remarks as you wandered to the table and filled the glasses.

“Are we sure this is here for us?” you looked around skeptically. 

“I have no idea, darling. Cheers.”

You sat down in the grass and clinked the flutes together, still unable to believe this was really happening to you. You and Tom started to talk about nothing, already feeling a thousand times more comfortable around each other, bonding over this shared weird experience—and the fresh off-the-vine wine certainly didn’t hesitate to calm your nerves.

As Tom was leaning closer to you, gaze notably flicking from your eyes to your lips, Karen snuck up to you—pretending to be a grape?—and snapped photos of your impromptu picnic. 

“Just adorable,” she murmured, and you almost spilled your wine because of how startled you were. Damnit, Karen, you keep ruining the moment. But she didn’t think twice about the interruption; she almost had tears in her eyes because of how perfect the shots were.

You both sat up and away from one another, feeling stiff now that a lens was pointed at you.

“Well, don’t stop on my account!” she chortled, wholly unaware her debut was what killed the vibe.

Tom stood up and offered his hand to help you stand, not immediately letting it go as you wandered to a different part of the sunny vineyard. You pushed the photographer out of your mind as you chatted again, bumping each other’s shoulders as you walked and not minding it a bit. Every time you saw a certain glint in Tom’s eyes, any moment he caught you looking, there could’ve been a spark there that ignited something more. But you were constantly interrupted by shutter clicks, yells at Nicholas, and annoying directing interjections by the appropriately-named Karen.

At one point, Tom had clearly had enough of the pestering, and took your hand, pulling you into an array of closely packed trees so you couldn’t be found. 

“Woah- what are you doing?” you asked, confused at the sudden change of scenery.

“Guys? Where did you go?” You heard a shrill voice coming from outside the trees, and Tom attempted to shush you by pulling you close into his body and covering half your face with his hand. 

“Shut up shut up shut-”

You heard Karen’s voice grow quieter as she searched in the opposite direction.

“Tom!” you chuckled, prying his fingers off of your cheek. “You’re going to smear my makeup!”

“It’s not like you need it, y/n,” he said without thinking, attention still focused on hiding.

Your whole face grew hot and you couldn’t help but smile like a complete fool. When he looked down at your reaction, he noticed the weight in what he’d said, and made the cutest giggle you’d ever heard, trying to avert the focus from his compliment.

“Sorry, I just couldn’t handle another photo directive being shouted in my ear,” he breathed while pushing his hair back out of his eyes in some devilishly handsome way. You were still clutching the hand that had been on your face, and Tom looked down to interlock his fingers with yours.

“You do know we’re at a photoshoot, right?”

He playfully shoved your shoulder with his free hand at your sassy comment.

“Just saying, I thought you were a pro-”

You heard the photographer’s voice come into the foreground again and you abruptly ran as fast as you could with heels on, still holding Tom’s hand as you trailed behind him. You found yourselves in an even more tightly packed bramble of trees, facing each other with barely a grapevine’s width between you. 

“Oh, you have a stick in your hair,” you whispered, reaching up to pick a tiny branch out of his curls. As you looked from his hair to his eyes, he was staring deeply into yours, prompting you to leave your hand resting at the back of his neck. 

Wordlessly, he leaned in and kissed you in one fell swoop, and you thought you might implode on the spot when his lips came in contact with your own. He tasted like cologne and crisp grape juice and it was a mixture of scents you hoped would never leave your nose—just the way he kissed you so sweetly made you want to bathe in the stuff.

When he pulled back, he brought your intertwined fingers up to cup your cheek, and you let your hand rest on the back of his as you tilted your head to instigate another kiss, still enjoyably dizzied from the one before. 

Tom let his mouth linger over yours after another long kiss before coming up for air again, and you could see his eyes wrinkling at the corners, knowing he was smiling without being able to see the rest of his face.

“You know, I was hesitant to do the whole ‘stranger photoshoot’ thing, but now I’m pretty happy I was able to be convinced.” He sighed contently.

“This was more of a stranger hide-and-go-seek than a photoshoot, I feel like,” you spoke from your lighthearted chest in airy breaths and moved to lock lips again, unable to get enough of your stranger. He put his hand on the small of your back and leaned you backward, deepening the already electric hold he had on you.

“I don’t want you to be a stranger anymore, darling,” he mumbled against you, sending vibrations through you with his voice. You just whispered a soft “okay”, lost for words, as his mouth touched your cheek, your jaw, and then back to your lips for more of your wine-infused kisses. You were wishing this moment could last forever, Tom holding you and sending shivers down your spine, right as you heard a click and saw the bright white flash of a bulb. 

“Jesus, Karen!”

But she didn’t care that you were mad; her experiment had worked, she’d gotten her strangers together—and just look at that shot.

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland pictorial #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagines #tom holland one shots #tom holland blurbs #tom holland pictorials #tom holland fanfictions

[scxrlettwxtches]

[3:30p.m.] kiss in vehicle + hurt feelings | hwang hyunjin

warnings: mentions of break up, heavy angst 

requested: yes!

a/n: why do y’all always make me write such sad things about hyunjin. first it was the bet and now this x_x anyways, i really hope you enjoy, love! this fic was highkey inspired by skz “ex,” which i’ve had on repeat these last few days hehe

You were walking out of your last class of the day, excited to go back to your apartment and finish up your laundry, make a nice dinner--you know--normal people chores, when you got a text from someone you haven’t heard from in three years. Someone you never wanted to hear from ever again.

hi, it’s me. could we talk?? i’m outside the literature building.

The message stared at you, and you stared back at it, feeling an old and unwanted twist of your heart just at the familiar contact name. It must’ve been a moment of weakness from you back then when you decided not to block him completely. Without replying, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket and walked out of the building. 

You stepped out the door, and there he stood, looking just as dashing and just as heartbreakingly beautiful as the day he took your own, very fragile heart and stepped on it until there was nothing left but the cold, pathetic remains of your former self.

“I’m breaking up with you,” Hyunjin spoke, his hands in his pockets and his expression impassive as he looked anywhere but your eyes.

This wasn’t how you wanted the day to go at all. You had been elated when Hyunjin had called you out to go on a date. The small bouquet of roses in your hands now felt embarrassing, utterly humiliating, as you stood before him, the bright and cheerful sparkle in your eyes dying out in that very moment.

“W-what?” you stammered, and your heart pounded in your chest, not in the way it did when Hyunjin had unexpectedly confessed to you, but in a way that it genuinely hurt, the mix of shock and fear that made you want to throw up, “What are you talking about, H-Hyunjin? Everything was fine--we were fine, right?”

“Sure, I’m just not really feeling this relationship anymore,” Hyunjin replied, finally glancing at you, “I think I just fell out of love with you, and there’s no point in pretending.” 

A slap in the face, a knife in your heart would’ve hurt less than the words that were tumbling out of his lips, the lips that you had grown so vulnerable to, the lips that would caress your skin with a delicate gentleness that you didn’t know anyone possessed, that would whisper loving words to you in the dead of night. 

“How long?” You whispered, tightening your grip on the pathetic little bouquet of flowers still in your hand, “How long have you been pretending to love me?”

Hyunjin’s jaw clenched and he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, “It doesn’t matter,” he said dully, “Thanks for the good times, Y/N.”

You were left at the park, feeling like the biggest fool in the universe as the rain began to pour, masking your tears from the world that only seemed to laugh at your misery. 

Ever since that day, the flowers had ceased to look as beautiful to you as they once did.

Hyunjin, whose eyes were drifting around as he waited, caught sight of you the moment you walked out of the building. Immediately, he stood to attention, straightening his posture as you saw him visibly gulp. You kept your gaze impassive, tried to hide the clenching of your jaw as you walked towards him slowly. 

“What’s up? Did you suddenly realize after three years that you forgot something at my apartment?” You asked, and Hyunjin shivered at how such a casual question falling from your lips could feel so cold, devoid of any affection. 

“Ah, n-no,” Hyunjin fumbled over his words, completely forgetting the plan he’d conjured up in his head after mulling this meeting over for months. To be honest, he never thought he’d even get this far. What comes after again…? Text, meeting, saying hello--well, he can’t exactly say hello now--flowers…

“Oh!” The boy brought his attention to the bouquet of lilies in his hands, “I--um--got you these.”

You glanced down at the flowers with apparent boredom, and it scared Hyunjin more than ever. He’d been prepared for your wrath, your anger, as you had always been an expressive, emotional person. Now, all he could sense was boredom, annoyance, and it felt so much worse.

Looking down at the flowers, you were silent for a long moment before answering, “No thanks,” your voice was flat as you crossed your arms, leaning your weight to one leg and letting out a tired sigh, “What are you here for, Hyunjin? I have things to do.”

“I know you do!” Hyunjin stammered out quickly, feeling his heart ache as he let the bouquet fall to his side, reeling at the agonizingly blunt rejection, “That’s why I was thinking that I could drive you home?” 

Momentarily stunned by his offer, you took a quick moment to maintain your impassive expression, “I’m not going home yet,” you lied, fiddling with your bag strap hanging on your right shoulder.

Hyunjin blinked, “But it’s Monday” he pointed out hesitantly, “You always go home after class to do your laundry and prep your meals for the week.”

It was at this moment that you cursed just how well ingrained your schedule was in Hyunjin’s mind, and how you felt the walls around your heart weaken ever so slightly at this confession. Looking at the pure, uncontrollably earnest expression on his face, you decided to cave, just this once.

“Fine,” you spoke coldly. 

Hyunjin’s entire face lit up as if the love of his life had agreed to marry him, and he nodded with bright eyes, “Great! Let’s get going!” He practically tripped over his own feet rushing to the driver’s side after opening the passenger seat door for you, ever the gentleman. 

The trip was mostly a silent one, due to no small part because of you. You kept your gaze fixed to outside the window as Hyunjin drove, despite you being very painfully aware of the the way he turned to glance at you every ten seconds, as if waiting for you to say something. Unfortunately for the both of you, you don’t have anything left to say anymore. 

Finally, it seemed that Hyunjin could handle the silence no longer, and he opened his mouth, “Y/N, about that time--”

“You know where my apartment is, right?” You interrupted him, knowing perfectly well what time he was referring to and also knowing perfectly well that you didn’t want to think or speak about it for even a moment.

“Huh? Yeah, of course I know,” Hyunjin answered your question almost through habit before remembering that he was trying to tell you something, “B-but, Y/N--really, back than I was--”

“Do you really need me to spell it out, or can you take a hint and realize that I don’t care about what happened back then?” You spat coldly, finally turning to glare at Hyunjin. It made his heart chill to the bone, as he could no longer see those soft eyes of yours that were always so gentle, so unbelievably soothing on his bad days. 

Hyunjin’s expression filled with hurt, “You don’t mean that, do you?” he asked softly, “That you don’t care.”

“I used to care, but I’ve moved on just like you,” you spoke, nonchalance clear in your tone as you crossed your legs.

Like him? Oh, no no, that can’t be possible, because Hyunjin has never once moved on. From the very night he’d ended things so coldly with you, Hyunjin had beat himself up for his words, his attitude, his utter stupidity for letting you go. You were the best thing that happened to him, and your love was something he didn’t realize he needed until he realized he was actually starving for it again. 

“What if I haven’t moved on?” he let his mental walls down as he glanced, desperately wanting you to come back to him, to let him in again, because god knows how faraway you were keeping him right now. 

Damn him. Damn Hwang Hyunjin and his stupidly innocent words. Damn his puppy dog eyes, damn the way his lips curled into that adorable pout. Your resolve wavered more than ever, but you controlled yourself with a clench of your jaw. You weren’t ever going to let him hurt you again.

“Then, I’m sorry, but I don’t really know what you expect me to do about it.”

The blasé tone of your scathing words hurt Hyunjin more than he could even begin to explain, but in his heart, he knew he deserved it. He deserved every spiteful remark, every cold shoulder, every hurtful comment that would come out of your mouth, because he knew none of them would equal the amount of pain he caused you. 

“Maybe you can give me another chance? Please?” Hyunjin knew how pathetic he sounded, crawling back to you on his knees when he was the one that threw you away when you needed him most. But he’d do it, he’d do anything to get you back, to bring everything back to the way it was before he fucked it up. 

Inside, your heart and your mind were at war, screaming and kicking at each other as you felt your mouth grow dry at Hyunjin’s words. He wanted you back. Hyunjin, the only person you’d ever loved even after he took your heart and crushed it right when you were the most vulnerable, wanted you back, and the most twisted part  was that you wanted--more than anything--to go running back into his arms and pretend that things had returned back to the way they were before. 

But despite that, your fear, your fear of getting hurt held you back from his love. You were never going to let anyone have power over you like that, even if it meant being alone for the rest of your life.

“I’m sorry.”

Hyunjin’s heart sank to his feet. The two simplest words, and yet they felt like the strongest, most brutal slap to the face. He would much rather you scream, hit him, yell at him, because at least he wouldn’t feel this growing, bottomless pit of guilt in his stomach. 

He pulled up to the front of your apartment complex like he would do almost every day back when you were dating. He could almost see the mirage of you and him, your fingers intertwined as you went up to your room with him, kissing and cuddling the night away. He could almost feel your fingers gently carding through his hair as he lay his head in your lap. 

The moment the car pulled to a stop, you were ready for a hasty exit. Manually unlocking the door yourself, your hand had already pulled the handle when you felt a hand wrapping around your wrist, gripping it tightly. Turning around, you saw Hyunjin's panicked, almost manic expression, and his hold on your wrist tightened ever so slightly.

“Please don't leave just yet,” he begged, his voice weak.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, glancing down at the way your hands were connected, “Wasn't the point of you driving me this whole time being to take me home?” 

“Not yet,” Hyunjin pleaded.

“Why?”

The man swallowed nervously, and now that you finally got a good look at his face up close, you realized that his lips were chapped, as if he'd bitten it out of anxiety to the point of breaking skin. 

“If I let you go now,” he whispered, “would I ever get a chance to see you again?”

You sighed, tired of him trying so hard when your heart had already closed off entirely, “There isn’t any reason to,” you said, and you moved to open the door again when you suddenly felt a sharp tug on your arm. Thrown off, you fell over to Hyunjin’s side, giving him perfect access to tilt his head and smash his lips against yours. 

Gasping, your grip tightened around the sleeves of his shirt as you tried to pull him away, but now that Hyunjin tasted your lips again, he had no intention of pulling away. He missed you, he missed you so so much. He missed everything about you, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until you were safe in his arms again.

You let Hyunjin move his lips against yours as your resolve weakened, and your resisting hands fell to your sides. At this moment you knew it would no longer be possible. You and Hyunjin were no longer possible. You didn’t feel the butterflies in your stomach. You didn’t feel the light flush on your cheek that always appeared whenever Hyunjin so much as pecked your forehead. All you feel was a lingering pain, a permanent crack in your heart that would never be healed.

Hyunjin must’ve felt your lack of enthusiasm, must’ve noticed that you didn’t make any moves to deepen the kiss, and he pulled his lips away from yours, keeping them only inches apart. Unlike you, his heart was pounding against his chest at the knowledge that he finally had you in his arms again. His cheeks were flushed from finally being able to kiss you again, to see your lips wet and swollen because of him, because you couldn’t stop craving him. 

But he could see that none of his emotions reflected in your eyes, sparkling with unshed tears. 

“Do you not feel the same anymore?” he asked softly, his arm which had wrapped around your waist slowly loosening. 

You looked at him, your expression unreadable when you began to speak, “I’ll never stop loving you, Hyunjin. I think you deserve to know this.”

Hyunjin, desperate and clinging onto the false hope that you’d come back to him, felt his expression brighten almost immediately, only for that hope to be shut down as fast as you get it to him, “But I’ll never stop reliving the day you ended things so coldly, so painfully and devoid without any emotion. Even if I did agree to try again, I will never forget the hurt I felt that day, and that is my fault.”

Your voice was gentle as you finished, “There’s no reason to get back into a relationship knowing that I’ll never be able to get over the past.”

“N-no,” Hyunjin trembled, grabbing your hand as a few tears began to roll down his cheeks and he babbled, “Please don’t leave me, Y/N, I’ll die if I don’t have you--I’ll right all my wrongs, I’ll be a saint, Y/N please…”

Pitying him, but knowing that your pity shouldn’t force you back into his arms, you reached your hand up to stroke his hair, brushing a strand away from his face as you forced a small smile on your face, “I don’t need you to do any of that. I just need you to live your life to the fullest, and to be happy. I’ll do the same.”

Hyunjin wanted to cry and scream, to put up a big fuss just to get you to understand that he couldn’t live a full life without you, but he looked at the expression on your face, the remnants of the pain and hurt that you tried to cover, and he knew. He knew that he had to let you go, even if it killed him to do so. He would do anything to make sure you were happy, even if that meant sacrificing his. It was comeuppance, he supposed. 

“I love you,” he murmured, and his head fell forward, letting him lean down and rest his head on her shoulder.

You only hummed softly, reaching up to card a hand through his hair, “Thank you for showing me what love is, Hyunjin,” you said, and his grip tightened around your waist. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want you to leave again, “I’ll never forget it.”

Pulling away, you give him a sad smile, booping his nose like you used to do before grabbing your bag and getting out of the car. Only when you had shut the car door and were safely inside did Hyunjin let the rest of his tears to fall, opening the floodgates as he let his head rest against the steering wheel as he cried loud, bitter tears. He felt like such a fool, such an idiot to let someone like you slip through his fingers. 

You were prepared to give him all of you when he too scared to do the same. Once he was ready and utterly willing to give up his whole sense of being to stay by your side, the door to your heart had already shut him out forever, too hurt by his young and immature words to ever give him a second chance. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the bouquet of lilies sitting in the backseat of his car, and ever since that day, the flowers ceased to look as beautiful to him as they once did. 

~

a/n: hehe im sorry :)

#inkidz #districtninewriters #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles #stray kids reactions #stray kids imagines #stray kids blurbs #skz oneshots #skz scenarios #skz imagines #skz blurbs #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #skz x reader #skz x y/n #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin blurbs #my fics

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Let Me Save You - Sirius Black

Title: Let Me Save You Pairing: Sirius x Fem!Reader Summary: Y/N will do whatever it takes to save the ones she loves, even if it means joining the dark side. A/N: for the anon who wanted Sirius helping his girlfriend after she takes the dark mark! This is the first time I’ve written a full imagine for Sirius, so I hope it’s okay!! Feedback is always welcome!!! Tags: @feltondarling​ @pandaxnienke​ @raerae27​

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Sirius’ first thought when he boards the Hogwarts Express with James after the Christmas holiday is Y/N. They’ve only been apart two weeks, but for him it feels like an eternity. It doesn’t help that most of his letters went unanswered, and when she did write her letters were short and uneventful.

Sirius and James race each other to their usual compartment, shoving each other as they run. James just barely cuts in front of Sirius as they reach the door and he grins up at his friend as he plops down next to Lily, slightly out of breath.

“Better luck next time, Pads,” James teases, throwing an arm around Lily.

Sirius flips James off as he collapses on the bench across from them. He looks around the compartment, frowning when he doesn’t spot Y/N. Marlene is seated between Lily and Wormtail, and Mooney is sitting a few spaces away from Sirius, dead asleep with his head leaning against the window. “Where’s Y/N?”

“I was just thinking the same thing,” Lily responds leaning into James’ side. “I figured she was with you guys.”

“You don’t think she’s not coming back, do you?” Marlene asks, a worried look on her face.

James rolls his eyes. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic, Mar? Maybe she’s in the loo or got caught up talking to someone. I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”

Marlene reaches behind Lily to smack James upside the head. “Shove it, Potter. I’m being serious.” Marlene leans in and drops her voice to a whisper. “We all know what her family is like. Things with the war have only been getting worse. Maybe they’re not letting her come back.”

“I hate to admit it but what if Marlene is right?” Lily asks, her face contorting into the same worried look that’s on Marlene’s. “She didn’t return any of the letters I sent over break, and Remus said he didn’t hear from her either.”

James nudges Sirius’ leg with his foot. “You wrote to her a bunch, Pads. You get anything back?”

Sirius nods lamely. “One or two letters, if you could even call them that. She didn’t say much in either of them. Mainly just bullshit pleasantries.” Sirius runs his hand through his hair and closes his eyes, leaning back into his seat.

He’s known Y/N since he was a little boy, her family is part of the Sacred 28 as well, and their parents have been friends since they were kids. Even though they spent quite a bit of time together growing up, Sirius and Y/N only truly became friends when they both started at Hogwarts. Like him, she was the first in her family to be sorted into Gryffindor and they quickly bonded over being the family disappointment. They started dating just before the beginning of their 5th year, and now halfway through 7th year Sirius is sure that Y/N is going to be the woman he marries.

“She seemed fine on the train ride home at the end of term last year,” Wormtail adds. “Something must have happened during the break.”

Sirius’ eyes snap open as the train starts to move. “I can’t just sit here. I’m gonna go see if I can find her.”

Before anyone can stop him Sirius is out of the compartment, frantically heading down the hall.

-

“Where the hell were you?” Sirius asks as he engulfs Y/N in a hug. They’ve all just stumbled into the Great Hall worried about their missing friend, only to find her already sitting at the Gryffindor table.

Y/N returns Sirius’ hug lamely before pulling him down beside her. “Sorry, love. I got to the train late so I just sat in the first compartment I could find.”

Sirius watches her for a few moments as his arm winds around her waist. He can tell that she’s lying, but he’s not sure exactly why. Wormtail was right on the train, she’d been acting fine all term, and had been joking around with Sirius and everyone else on the train back to Kings Cross. Something must have happened at home, that’s the only way to explain her distant behavior. Y/N had cut herself off from all of them over the break, and even now as she talks with Lily Sirius can see that her smile isn’t genuine, and there’s no light behind her eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sirius whispers in her ear when Lily turns her attention towards something Remus has said.

“Nothing, Sirius. I’m fine,” Y/N responds, trying to sound genuine. But in reality, she’s dying on the inside.

Spending time at home with her family is mentally and emotionally draining, and after the events that went down over Christmas Y/N just doesn’t feel like herself anymore. But she has to put on a fake smile, for her sake and her friends. They can’t know what really happened over the break, and if she wants to keep them safe she has no choice but to start slowly pulling away from those she loves most, Sirius included.

It’s no secret to anybody, especially her friends, that Y/N’s family are willing to do anything to keep their money and their power. Even though she’s well and truly the black sheep of the family, they expect the same things out of her. There’s a war brewing in the Wizarding World, and up until Christmas break Y/N and her family had been on opposite sides of it. But Y/N would do anything to protect the people she loves, and so on Christmas Eve Y/N stood in the middle of her family’s living room and took the Dark Mark.

The Mark burns with pain every time she thinks about it, but Y/N knows she deserves it. Whether she truly believes in Voldemort’s mission or not, she’s now one of his slaves. She’d done it to protect her younger brother, who was supposed to be the one taking the Mark. But he’s barely 15, and Y/N couldn’t stand there and watch her parents ruin his life. She also did it to protect Lily, her sweet Muggleborn best friend who was already on Voldemort’s radar as a target. And she did it to protect Sirius, who had already been cast from his home and no longer afforded the same protections from Voldemort’s torture as the rest of the Black family.

If taking the Dark Mark is what it takes to save her friends’ lives, then she’d do it over and over again.

“If you’re sure,” Sirius murmurs, before pulling Y/N into a deep kiss. She’s his whole entire world, and he’s willing to wait for her to be ready to open up to him. “I love you. You know that, right?”

Y/N nods and lets her hands tangle in his hair for a brief moment. “Of course, Sirius. I love you too. More than you’ll ever know.”

-

It starts off slowly. Y/N knows the only way to truly keep all of her friends safe is to keep her distance. But just immediately cutting them off would be too obvious. So she starts by heading to breakfast early, so by the time all of her friends are awake and heading to the Great Hall, she’s already on her way to the first lesson of the day. The first few times Sirius questions her, since normally Y/N likes to sleep in until the last possible second. But she brushed his concerns away, simply stating that she never gets to sleep in at home, and she’s gotten used to rising early. Everyone seems a little confused, but they accept her explanation anyway.

Next she moves her seat in all of her classes, so she’s no longer sitting by her friends. They don’t all have every class together, so it takes them all a while to figure it out. Lily confronts Y/N about it during lunch after Potions, when she’d completely ignored Lily and sat next to Severus of all people. Again, Y/N had tried to brush off their concerns casually. Her parents had gotten on her about her grades during break and sitting with her friends would only distract her.

Then she stops hanging out in the common room. Whenever there’s downtime everyone is usually piled up in front of the fire, messing around or playing games. But Y/N is always absent. She either hides away in her dorm room with a book or is in a dark corner of the library doing schoolwork. The first half dozen times it happens one of her friends always seeks her out, usually Sirius or Lily, and they try and coax her back to the common room. But she always denies their offer, either blaming it on her large amount of schoolwork to prep for NEWTS or feigning some kind of illness. Eventually they stop trying, no matter how much it pains them to do so.

The final straw is when Y/N stops sitting with her friends at all. They come down for dinner one night and find that she’s not sitting at their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. Instead she’s at the far end of the table, sandwiched between a group of first years and a group of fourth years. No matter how hard they try no one can get her to come sit with them, even Sirius’ best puppy dog eyes, which can make even Lily melt.

“So, what are we going to do about her?” Remus asks one night over dinner. Y/N has just left the Great Hall, walking by them without even sparring any one a glance.

“She’s being a proper bitch, I don’t know why we need to do anything. She doesn’t want us to be friends with her anymore? Fuck her then,” Marlene sneers, clearly using anger to cover up the hurt she’s feeling.

Lily throws her arm around Marlene’s shoulder, pulling her in tightly. “It’s okay, Mar. I miss her too.” She turns to Sirius then. “Got any ideas?”

Sirius shrugs. “She doesn’t even look at me anymore. Not sitting with us in class or choosing not to hang out with us is one thing, but the silent treatment? It’s killing me. Something must have happened during break and she won’t talk about it.”

“Have you talked to your brother lately?” James asks suddenly.

“Regulus? No, why?” Sirius asks, his tone lit with confusion.

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but I’ve seen him and Y/N talking in the halls a few times while doing Head Boy stuff after curfew. Snivellous was there once or twice too. Seemed like they were talking about something serious, and once they’d spot me they’d all run off.”

Sirius frowns. “So she can talk to that greaseball and my brother but not talk to me?”

Remus sighs. “I think this is far worse than any of us have imagined.” When everyone turns to look at him he continues. “We know Snape has a pension for Dark Arts, and it’s likely that Sirius’ family has aligned themselves with You-Know-Who, right? Well who’s family is close friends with the most ancient and noble house of Black?” He lets the question hang in the air for a moment, but no one has to answer, they all know who it is. “Sirius, you suspected that your parents had made Regulus take the Dark Mark over the summer, after you ran away. What do you think are the odds that Y/N’s family have forced her to take it as well?”

Lily gasps and covers her mouth with her hand. “That makes sense. As much as I hate to admit it, it makes sense. I mean of all the people to sit next to in Potions she sat next to Snape. That never made sense to me, she knows how vile he is, the vile things he’s said about me. But I’d bet all the money in the world that Snape has taken the Mark as well and that’s why she’s talking to him and Regulus.”

“Alright, that’s it,” Sirius says, standing up. “I can’t just sit here and theorize about what might be happening. I’m going to go find Y/N and make her talk to me. Whether she’s taken the Dark Mark or not, something is wrong, and I can’t just watch her suffer.”

-

When the door to the dorm creeps open, Y/N figures it’s Alice or Mary coming to grab something quickly. Lily and Marlene stopped checking up on her ages ago. So she’s surprised when Sirius walks into their dorm. He looks like a mixture of concerned and angry, and it makes Y/N’s chest aches.

“What?” she asks coldly, turning her attention back to her book.

Sirius doesn’t say anything at first, choosing to watch Y/N as he comes over and sits on the edge of her bed. “We need to talk.”

“Didn’t you get the hint? I don’t want to talk to you.” Y/N hates having to be like this with Sirius. He’s always been the person she trusted most in this world, but now she has to let him go. As painful as it is for the both of them.

Sirius crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t care about what you want. You’re in pain, Y/N. And you can’t lie your way out of it. I know you too well. I can see it in your eyes. Please just stop pushing me away so I can help you.”

Y/N slams her book shut and puts it down on the bed. “It’s too late for you to help me, okay? So just give it a rest. It’s in everyone’s best interest to just stop thinking about me and stop caring about me, okay?”

Sirius watches Y/N storm towards the door and he reaches out, grabbing her forearm. She immediately winces and tears her arm from his grasp. Sirius’ eyes widen and fear washes over him. “You have it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Y/N responds lamely, looking down at her hands.

Sirius clears his throat. “The Dark Mark. It’s on your forearm, isn’t it?”

Y/N shakes her head and pushes past Sirius and heads back towards your bed. “You’re out of your mind, Sirius. Now just leave me alone please.”

“Not until you show me your arm, Y/N,” Sirius demands firmly. He already knows what he’ll see when she finally rolls her sleeve up, but he needs to see it. He needs to know that this is really happening.

Y/N sniffles as she turns to face Sirius. At some point she’d started crying, but she’s not entirely sure when. She rips the sleeve of her shirt up to her elbow and holds her arm out so Sirius can see the Mark on her skin. “There! Are you happy? I’m a dirty, rotten death eater. Is that enough to finally get you to leave me the fuck alone?”

“Baby,” Sirius coos, taking a step towards her. “How did this happen, please, Y/N. I love you. This doesn’t make any sense. Talk to me, please.” Sirius isn’t even sure if what he’s saying is making sense, but his mind is going too fast to string a coherent thought together. This was never supposed to happen to them. Sirius ran away from his family to avoid this fate, he let himself be disowned so he and Y/N would have a chance at a long, happy life together. And the sight of that Mark on her arm has suddenly ripped those dreams right from under him.

Y/N collapses onto her bed, holding her head in her hands. “I didn’t want it to happen. You have to believe me, Sirius. I’ve hated myself every single day since I took this fucking thing.”

Sirius sits down next to Y/N and wraps his arms around her, bringing her to his chest. “I know, baby. I know,” he soothes, starting to stroke her hair. “Let me in, please. I can’t see you hurting like this anymore.”

“They were gonna make him do it. Michael,” Y/N starts. “He’s barely even 15, I couldn’t let him. He looked so scared when they told him, like he was going to cry. I had to protect him Sirius, I couldn’t let them ruin him. So, I told them I would do it.”

Sirius leans down and presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Then why not just say that to us? Y/N we all care about you. We love you. You can tell us anything. We’d never be mad. I’d never be mad.”

“Because, Sirius. This isn’t just some game or joke. I’m his slave now, I’m at his every beck and call. Being around me is dangerous, especially for you and Lily. He has information on muggleborns, Sirius. Like files and files about people. He knows pretty much everything you can about Lily. Being friends with her gives him a direct connection to her and I can’t let that happen. And you. God it would kill me if you got hurt because of me. I love you, Sirius. More than I love anything in this world.”

Sirius grabs Y/N’s face in his hands and tilts her head up so he can kiss her slowly and passionately, trying to convey every feeling he has for her through this one kiss. “Runaway with me,” he whispers when their kiss breaks.

“What?” Y/N asks, blinking up at him.

“Let’s go to Dumbledore. If anyone can help you out of this mess it’s him. He’ll be able to hide us away somewhere, until it’s safe.” Sirius hugs Y/N tightly. “I love you, Y/N. There’s no one else in the world who will ever make me feel like this. You’re the person I’m supposed to marry and have kids with. Grow old with. You’ve already saved me, now let me save you.”

Y/N kisses Sirius. “I love you too. There’s no me without you.”

Y/N lets Sirius drag her from her dorm and to Dumbledore’s office. There’s no guarantee that he’ll say yes, or that hiding will work. But with Sirius by her side, Y/N knows that everything will work out in the end.    

#sirius black #Sirius Black imagine #sb #marauder #Sirius Black fanfiction

[ourloveisforthelovely]

HP A Working Progress (one shot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Request Fic from @vacantpage0910

a regulus one shot where he’s paired with this other slytherin girl in class and she’s very friendly and inviting, but he keeps his cold demeanor the whole time. (Inside he’s melting as times goes on though) regardless of his hard exterior and his seemingly annoyed stature, once they’re done being partners he seeks her company out (totally by “accident” and not precise planning or memorizing her time table 😉) and the rest is up to you. I would like a fluff ending though. Maybe she could be a Potter too?

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T 

_______

“This day!”

You snapped before throwing your bookbag on the table in front of you and plopping down across from your best friend. Winter looked up curiously from the books that she was hovering over.

“Rough day?”

Winter questioned as you looked up. You made a muffled “umhm” sound before looking up. Winter smiled, hoping to ease whatever tensions that you had.

“What’s wrong?”

You glanced over your shoulder in the direction that Regulus Black had stalked off in before turning back to your friends.

“McGonagall paired me up with Regulus Black for a project.”

Winter frowned.

“I thought that you fancied him.”

You laughed. There was no “thought” to it. You were simping for Regulus Black hard. That didn’t mean that he liked you, however.

“I do but he thinks that I am the most annoying creature known to wizardkind. Like he genuinely hates me.”

Winter gave you an amused smile. She had known about your cute little crush on Regulus Black since 2nd year.  

“He doesn’t hate you. Regulus just doesn’t know how to show any emotion other than loathing. If you had a mother like him, you would be a miserable git too. Lucky your mother is so charming.”

You had to agree with that one Euphemia Potter had to be the most wonderful mother ever! Granted, she was older than most of your friend’s mothers but that didn’t matter. You contributed that her age helped with her “mothering” style.  

Walburga Black was no source of secrecy for you. After Sirius moved in over the summer, you learned all about that “charming” woman. Regulus’ sullen and moody disposition suddenly made sense.

“He sure has a funny way of showing that he doesn’t hate me.”

You grumbled, taking a sip of the water that Winter pushed across the table. Winter smiled.

“Tell me what he said to you before you explode.”

You groaned.

“Well, there I was just minding my own business being my super friendly self when McGonagall paired me with him. He didn’t say one word when he sat down. He acted like I had some kind of cooties or something. His only words to me were you better not let me fail, I don’t like your chattering, and why do you talk so much? Tell me how that is nice? If that is nice then I must be like some kind of deity for not smiting him. Look, I get that I am a chatterbox but that’s my appeal...go ask my brother. When I stop talking that’s when he knows that there is a problem.”

Winter had to agree with James Potter on that one (what a rare occurrence). You were the girl that could sit and be nice to anyone about anything. When Winter first met you, she couldn’t help but wonder how in the hell you had been sorted into Slytherin. You seemed more like a Hufflepuff yet here you were dressed in green and silver. It didn’t take Winter long to be over the moon for you. When she had a nasty letter from home or something else was bothering her in the slightest, you were the person to go to.

“You are not a chatterbox.”

“Come on, Winter. This is me that we are talking about.”

Winter rolled her eyes.

“Shut up, smart mouth. I was simply saying that you are an enjoyable person to talk to. You have a very nice refreshing outlook compared to the rest of us in this house. Yes, you're sassy but that adds to your appeal. What did you say to him?”

You scowled over at Regulus who was talking to Evan Rosier about something. Neither boy looked in your direction for a moment. It was Evan that turned to you first. You quickly turned back to Winter. The last thing that you wanted was for Evan to think that you were looking at him. That boy’s head was big enough as it was. He didn't need any help from you.

“I just muttered rude under my breath. Now I am stuck with him for the next two weeks.”

Winter smiled.

“Just go snog him and get it over with. I see how he looks at you.”

You started dying laughing at that. Winter sat looking at you with a look of contempt as you continued to laugh so hard tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Are you done?”

You shook your head as Regulus walked over. Winter smirked as you continued to laugh hysterically.

“What did you do to her, Winter?”

Regulus questioned as your laughter suddenly stopped. Your face reminded Regulus of a little strawberry as you turned to look at him before turning back to your friend. He was feeling a bit guilty about being such a dick in transfiguration. It wasn’t like you were being rude or obnoxious. Regulus simply didn’t know how to deal with people asking him questions or his opinion on something. He was the one that most people ignored and forgot was there.

“If that is what you think, Winter then that makes me an astronaut.”

“I’m not joking. Hi, Regulus. Do you need something?”

Winter continued, for the moment ignoring Regulus who was clearly trying to put everything together.

“Yeah, Y/n, we need to start working on that project.”

You scooted over to give him enough room to sit down. Winter stood to pick her books up.

“I have to get to potions. See you later, Y/n.”

You nodded before turning to face Regulus. His dark eyes were focused on the table in front of him. This was going to be an awkward project if you were going to be the one doing all of the talking.

“What days do you want to work on this?”

You questioned as Regulus looked up finally. Why was being nice so freaking difficult? Regulus wasn’t for sure why he had to be so snotty toward you. Maybe it had to do with James being your brother? It wasn’t your fault that James Potter was your brother. Just like it wasn’t his fault that Sirius was his older brother.

“Most of my afternoons are free. I have quidditch in the evenings during the week. Would you meet me in the library?”

You nodded in agreement. The inner girl in you was thrilled with the prospect of spending your afternoons with the boy that you had a crush on. If you could get him to talk things would be even better.

“That sounds fine to me.”

Regulus took a breath before turning back to face you. You reminded him of James (just a James that he didn’t want to smack.)

“About earlier...I’m sorry….I was kind of a jerk. Apparently, I’m not much of a morning person.”

Regulus was relieved when you smiled.  

She’s smiling because of me. Merlin, I made a girl smile...I can do it!”

Regulus couldn’t help the thoughts going through his mind. Other than Ambrosia Parkinson, who only liked him for his family name, no other girl looked at him like that.

“You’re in luck to have me for a partner. I can make dandy coffee.”

Regulus smirked.

“Will it take the paint off of the walls?”

You liked “this” side of Regulus. This boy seemed happy.  

“If that is what you want.”

Over the following week and a half, the two of you spent every free moment together. Regulus wasn’t for sure when it happened but he realized that he was falling for you hopelessly.

I need to stop...I have to stop. It wouldn’t work. My parents would never agree to this...but I don’t care. Today is the last day of the project. I have to talk to her today. If I don’t do it then I will spend the rest of my life regretting being a chicken. What if she doesn’t like me? She’s sweet to everyone...what if she is just being nice to get through this project?

Regulus thought as you put the finish touches on the project. He watched as your nose scrunched up as you looked everything over once more.

“Regulus?”

You saying his name didn’t get Regulus’ attention right away. Turning away from the paper, you turned to look at the boy beside you. Regulus’ eyes were locked on the table in front of him. Over the past few weeks, you had gotten used to Regulus’ hard exterior but had found ways to break through it leaving you with the boy that you liked the most. It didn’t happen often but when you did it felt like a small victory.

Reaching out, you snapped your fingers in front of his face. Regulus blinked a few times before quickly grabbing your hand. Whether it be the shock of him moving so fast or the fact that he was holding your hand, you sat staring at him as Regulus smirked.

Neither of you was ready to admit that there was clear chemistry going on. If Regulus kissed you in this particular moment, you wouldn’t have fought back.

Come on, kiss me….be nice...do something...please

You screamed in your head as Regulus continued to hold your hand in his.

“You think that you are clever, don't you?”  

You grinned.

“I would like to think so. Considering that we are in 5th year and I never have had to hex anyone...I think that I am doing downright nifty.”

Regulus didn’t want to but he slowly let your hand go.

“I’ve actually had a nice time working with you on this.”

He commented. That was the first compliment that he had let slip the whole time. You couldn’t help but be flattered.

Regulus, meanwhile, watched as the strawberry hue returned to your cheeks. He was going to miss seeing you blush over something that he said or when you knew that his eyes were on you.

I’m going to miss this.

As the next week began and life returned to normal, Regulus found himself missing spending every afternoon with you in the library. He had returned to his normal “life” of tagging after Evan and not trying to murder Barty Crouch Jr but it wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter how many stupid “dad” jokes that Evan came up with, none of them were funny as the silly childish ones that you could come up with a moments notice.

“Why don’t you go talk to her already?”

Regulus looked up from the breakfast that he was pretending to eat. He had been pushing food items around for the past half an hour and finally caught Evan’s attention.

“Who?”

Regulus questioned as Evan rolled his eyes.

“Potter. You’ve been acting like a heartbroken 19040’s housewife since that project ended.”

Regulus rolled his eyes.

“A 1940’s housewife?”

He questioned. Evan nodded. Over the past week, he had caught Regulus looking in your direction with a sad look on his face. It didn’t take Evan long to figure out just what was bothering his best friend.

“Yeah that or a stalker. You have been watching every move that girl makes and if it makes you feel better she is doing the same thing to you in return. She has had you wrapped around her finger from the day McGonagall set that essay. You may want to write her a thankyou note.”

Regulus’ frown deepened. Had he really missed you liking him in return? Was he that clueless that he missed everything?

“She probably thinks that I’m a jerk. I wasn’t all that friendly.”

Evan closed his book then focused his attention back to Regulus.

“What does she do at 12:30 every day?

“Goes to the lake.”

Regulus commented before his mouth dropped. How did he know this? Had he been watching you this closely?

“And you aren’t watching her.”

Evan muttered as Regulus stood up.

(meanwhile)

You sat by the lake focusing on a novel that Winter had given you to read. Typically, you weren’t one for romance novels but this one was too crappy. It seemed the closest that you were ever going to get to a romance was by reading these shitty books.

Someone sitting down across from you pulled you away from the story. Looking up, your mouth nearly dropped seeing Regulus sitting across from you.

“Hi, Regulus.”

You said with a smile. This had been the first time that the two of you had spoken since the essay ended.

“Hi, Y/n.”

You quickly reached down in your bookbag and pulled out the essay.

“Guess who got the highest scores in our class?”

Regulus smirked. He didn’t doubt that the two of you would have the best scores. It always seemed like it was the two of you trying to outdo each other when it came to grades.

“I’m guessing us.”

Regulus commented. You nodded as he looked at the book on your lap.

“Why do you read those things? My mother reads them.”

You blushed.

“Well, it's the closest to a relationship that I think that I will ever get. I know that real relationships are nothing like these books but...it's nice.”

Regulus was going on pure adrenaline at that particular moment. Where this sudden surge of bravery came from was yet to be determined.

“Stand up.”

You slowly did as you were told. Regulus stood up and took his place in front of you.

“Those books can be right...you just have to find the right person. Let me guess this is some story about a princess looking for a prince charming that doesn’t know what the hell that he’s doing?”

“Something like that.”

You muttered. Something was different in Regulus’ eyes as he looked into yours. The moment that his mouth was on yours, you didn’t know how to react. When he pulled away you stood looking at him with wide eyes.

“Whoa. Can you do that again?”

Regulus shook his head.

“In a minute, I need to tell you something first. First, I’m sorry if I was a jerk to you at all over the past few weeks. You’re a really nice girl and I have really grown to like you. I just don’t know how to do all of this love stuff…”

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you smiled.

“Kissing me again would be a great place to start.”

________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @realgaytrash @spiderxalmighty @acciosiriusblack @quuenofblacks @fandomsxxregulus @jessyballet @knreidy1 @whymyparentscheckmyphone @hazncalsgal @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @shaylybaby2032 @emiwrites3reads @li0nh34rt @tas898 @marichromatic @maggioli-m @stuckinsaudi1 @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @knight-of-gleefulness @untoldshortsofthefandoms @sprnaturallover @deanwherescas @shitfaceddaniel @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner @rubyroscoe1

#Regulus Black #Regulus Black x Reader #marauders era fic #young marauders #timothee chalamet as regulus black #Regulus Black request fic #harry potter fan fiction #marauders au #Evan Rosier #barty crouch junior #Harry Potter #harry potter au #regulus arcturus black #regulus x reader #reader x regulus #harry potter reader insert #potter sister reader #the ancient and noble house of black #the potter family #one shot #A Working Progress #update

[dreamescapeswriting]

Her Alpha ~ JJK [M] [Request]

↱↱↱Word Count: 2.1K

↱↱↱Genre: Fluff, smut, Werewolf!Au

↱↱↱Pairing: Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!Reader

↱↱↱A/n: I’m still new to writing werewolf things as it’s not something I ever saw myself writing but hope this turned out for you, I tried to keep it as different from my other JK wolf fic :)

Jungkook knew the moment you walked past him one day in the hall, he could smell you instantly and the way you opened up his sight to everything almost set it in stone that you were his mate. Your scent was intoxicating to him and he knew from the moment it hit his nose you were the one for him, but when he watched you it was as if you had no idea he even existed when he asked around about you his pack told him you were a new wolf and had no idea about how anything worked. He was worried about you but kept his distance not wanting to scare you about anything about your new life, it was scary for him and he was born into the life. You were bitten meaning you probably had no idea about anything about it all, which was made clear to him when he followed you into the library one day and found you trying to read mythology books about your kind. 

"It's no good, they're old and miss a lot of facts on us." Your eyes widened when you heard someone talking to you and you dropped the book on the floor.

"Us?" You stuttered not knowing if he was being genuine or if he was just trying to joke about it, 

"Werewolves." He whispered in your ear, it was just an excuse to get closer to you to smell your scent once again but he resisted the urge he had to kiss you and ravish you right in the library but he had to hold back. 

"Y-You're one too?" He nodded and stared into your eyes, your eyes were wide with fear as you thought you were the only one on campus. 

"Have you changed yet?" He whispered feeling protective over you, you nodded and shuddered at the thought. Remember how it felt when you changed on the first full moon, your bones breaking one by one and then the killing of animals just because you were a wolf. 

"Yeah." You whispered looking at him and he nodded going on to explain you would learn how to control it eventually and could learn to change whenever you wanted.

"I'll teach you everything I know-"

"I don't even know who you are...how do I know you're not the one that changed me?" You questioned looking at him as he stared back down at you. 

"Because I wouldn't wish this life upon anyone, come on." 

That was months ago and now you were close friends, Jungkook had neglected to mention mates to you deciding it would be better for you to find out in your own time that you were his mate. He didn't want you to think he was just pressuring you into being with him it's not what he wanted at all. 

"Get away from me." You groaned as someone pushed you against the locker in the college hallway, Jungkook looked away from Jimin who was talking to him and saw you struggling to move past three jocks who kept pushing you. 

"You've been flirting with me all morning and now you reject me!?" He yelled slamming your back against the locket, Jungkook growled at the sight and thought of you flirting with someone that wasn't him and he was going to walk over when he saw you push the jock onto the floor. 

"Leave me alone!" You growled at him but it earnt a bunch of laughter from the boys surrounding you, but it only got worse because one behind you grabbed you by the hair and slammed your face against the locker. The next thing you knew he was on the floor and Jungkook was pulling you in the direction of the library, 

"You alright?!" He rushed to look at you, cupping your face in his hands and turning your head around to make sure they hadn't hurt you. His alpha instincts were kicking in and he was going into protective mode wanting nothing more than to go back into the hall and rip their heads off.

"Say something to keep me distracted." He mumbled holding onto your face and you stared up at him, looking deep into his eyes they were flashing red which meant he was trying to stop himself from changing in the middle of the library. 

"Take me home to my dorm...We'll get some food and movies and chill out Jungkook." He nodded and you took his hand in yours pulling him through the halls, 

"Look at the slut! Taking the bitch boy home to fuck instead!" You ignored their comments continuing to pull Jungkook through the halls and out to where your car was parked, 

"Were you really flirting with him?" You looked down at your hands as you got into the car, Jungkook watched you from the passenger seat and took a deep breath in, he could smell that you were in heat which gave you a reason to be flirting with everyone but he couldn't help but feel jealous about it. 

"I-I don't know what's wrong with me...I've never felt this way before." You whispered gripping onto the steering wheel and rubbing your thighs together, your eyes glancing at Jungkook as he nervously stared forward as you drove.

"Like what?" He questioned wanting to make sure you were talking about what he thought you were talking about, 

"I want to fuck everyone I see b-but none of them will satisfy me...Only one will." He glanced at you as you continued to drive and he saw a layby coming up, 

"Pull up." You nodded and did it without questioning what he was getting at, you switched off the engine and he was facing you. 

"Do you know who will..." You nodded slowly and looked up into his eyes, he was closer to you now as he was leaning across the gearstick to get a better smell of you. 

"You." You whispered looking down at his lips and he smirked knowing you were in heat and he would love nothing more than to take you but you weren't aware of anything yet, 

"You're just in heat. It'll pass in 5-14 days depending on you." You stared at him and whined wanting him to take you, your hands reached up to cup his face and he looked at you,

"There's something you don't know..." He started, he had no idea how to bring it up and being bold and open was his only option right now.

"What?" You whispered running your fingers over his soft skin and he almost let out a whine at the smallest of touches from you he'd been dreaming of you for months. 

"You're my mate." He said to you looking at you as you processed what that meant. 

"Is that why I have a strong attraction to you and only you?" He nodded and you leant up to kiss him but he pulled away, 

"You're just in heat, you don't mean this-" You kissed him again grabbing his face and pulling him closer to you,

"I mean everything, since the day I met you I've wanted you Jungkook...Take me," Those were the only words he needed to hear and he began kissing you roughly in the car.

"Jungkook!" You whined as he pulled you through the hallway of his dorms, he'd made you drive back to his place after making out in the car and getting you riled up,

"Just a little further, there's no way I'm fucking you in a car." He growled finding his dorm room and pulling you inside. He slammed and locked the door not wanting any of his roommates to come in when they weren't welcome and as soon as the door was shut you pushed him against it making out with him just as roughly as you did the first time, 

"Fuck you smell amazing." He groaned bending down and picking you up, he walked you towards the bedroom and dropped you on his bed continuing the heated makeout session his hands travelling all over your body, not knowing which part he wanted more. He just loved that he was finally getting to kiss you and you were kissing him back, 

"Jungkook I need you." You moaned out as his hands began rubbing your throbbing clit in small circles through the fabric of your jeans, he practically ripped the jeans off your body after you told him you needed him and they were thrown somewhere in the room. 

"Have you er- had sex-"

"Before? Yes." You whispered shyly and he smirked kissing your neck, at least he didn't have to teach you the whole thing and you whined as he continued to rub your clit, 

"N-Need you now." You whimpered and he took himself out of his jeans pumping his member a couple of times before lining himself up at your entrance, 

"This might hurt a little." He whispered, bending down and kissing you softly as he pushed into you inch by inch until he was buried deep inside of you and you were begging him to move or do something. 

"You need me that bad huh? Does the little bitch need me?" You whined at the name he gave you and clawed at his shirt tearing holes into it but not caring since he already ripped your jeans apart. 

"You're so goddamn fucking tight." He grunted slowly thrusting in and out of you which only made you whine wanting him to be faster with you and as if reading your mind he hooked one of your legs on his arm and angled himself so he could thrust harder and deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot with each rough thrust into your throbbing core.

"R-Right there." You moaned out, reaching your hand down you began to rub your clit to bring yourself closer to your much-needed release, you'd been dying for this for the last week and it was finally happening. He continued his rough and fast thrusts into you not even giving you a moment to get used to the pace changing it up from fast to slow but just as rough.

"You feel so good, fuck I can feel you clenching around me." He grunted pushing your legs down by your chest and hitting deeper than he was before, you could feel every vein along his shaft and you moaned out when you felt him twitching. 

"F-Fuck, stop clenching." He grunted at you but you did it again on purpose and his eyes lit up the bright red colour that made you weak at the knees for him. 

"Jungkook." You moaned out as his hand replaced yours on your clit, his circles were fast and rough and you knew you were going to cum soon. 

"G-Gonna cum." You whimpered to him and he smirked biting down on your collarbone, 

"You wanna cum all over alphas cock? Hmm?" You whined out a yes but it wasn't good enough for him, he thrust deeply into you and held himself just at your hilt making you cry out in pleasure, desperate for him to keep moving. 

"Tell me what you want." He whispered in your ear, your hands reached out the sheets pulling at them as you tried to move onto his shaft on your own but failing, 

"Tell me." He growled and you moaned out his name at the smallest friction he'd made when he yelled, 

"You! I need you to make me cum! Fuck I need you to fill me up Jungkook." You cried out and he began thrusting once more, your hands ripping into the bedsheets as he continued his rough thrusts, you were so close you could feel your stomach tightening and your clit throbbing, 

"Cum for me baby." You whined out as he finally gave you the permission you didn't know you'd been waiting for and it was like an explosion went off, you were clenching around him tightly a white fog was over your eyes as you gripped onto the sheets crying out his name. He pulled out of you as you finally came back to earth and you whined feeling his seed fall out and down your bare ass, 

"Fuck." You both panted as he fell down onto the bed beside you, you rolled over and nuzzled your head into his neck breathing in his scent as you did so. 

"You know that means you're mine right?" You nodded and kissed his chin wanting nothing more than to fall asleep in the arms of your alpha. 

"No more flirting with other people." You nodded again and he tightened his grip around you looking around his room, feathers from the sheets were everywhere and his shirt was torn. He was going to have to find a new place for you both to do this again in, knowing his roommates they would ask too many questions and he knew that as time went on mates tended to get a little heavy-handed and the bed probably wouldn't survive that.

@writingdreamsnottragedies @yoongisdumplingcheeks @snowy-meowl​ @lynnthevirgo​ @jooniesdarlingdimples​ @kpopfanfictionhoes​ @lyoongx​ @mitzwinchester​ @fan-ati--c​ @btsiguess-kpop​ @rjsmochii​ @callingmyangel​ 

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x y/n #bts smut #bts wolf #bts wolf au #bts imagine #bts imagines #kim seokjin #seokjin #jin #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #jung hoseok #hoseok #jhope #kim namjoon #namjoon #park jimin #jimin #kim taehyung #taehyung #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - When he confesses to you

This work, 当他向你表白, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR] 

You can’t help but sense that Victor is slightly different from his usual self. Although he often finds reasonable excuses to bring you to Souvenir for a meal, it has never felt the way it does right now.

Perhaps due to your occasional suggestions, the chilly white lamps have been replaced by warm lights, exuding a hazy, pleasant comfort.

“Why are you daydreaming? Come over and eat.” 

While you’re steeped in your thoughts, Victor walks over, carrying the meticulously prepared beef steak.

“Victor... why is the beef steak in this shape...” You stare dazedly at the heart-shaped steak on the plate, knowing the answer deep in your heart, yet not daring to confirm it.

“I initially thought you’d understand if I gave you sufficient time. Looks like I’ve overestimated your IQ. Now, I can’t wait any longer.” 

Victor retrieves a rose from the dining cart, and offers it to you the same way he has offered you pudding countless times. 

His actions are smooth, as though he has rehearsed them several times.

The weight in your heart is lifted. 

Wanting to lighten the atmosphere, you quip, “Victor, do I get any special privileges as your girlfriend? For example, submitting...”

You watch as his brows furrow.

“There’s no discussion on whether you can submit proposals at a later date. But I will watch as you amend them, and will raise your chances of getting them approved.” 

Considering how well Victor understands you, he can always make you swallow your words even before you’ve finished speaking.

“...”

Victor, is it too late to return the rose?

[ GAVIN ]

It’s rare to see Gavin in formal attire. When you had troubled him that year to accompany you home to deal with your aunt, he mentioned that he wasn’t used to wearing them. 

So, when he appears in front of you in a suit and tie, you’re left slightly flabbergasted.

“Gavin, does the revolving restaurant have a dress code? Is my skirt too simple...”

You shift your gaze to your own attire - a white, off-shoulder dress which looks plain no matter how you look at it. 

“No, there isn’t such a requirement. Also, you look very pretty like this,” Gavin says with certainty. “Let’s go. It’s almost time.”

“Gavin, hold on.” 

Standing on your tiptoes, you tug at the shell of his tie, straightening it. “All right, it’s fine now.”

“Cough...” 

It’s always an interesting sight to see Officer Gavin’s ears turn red.

Dinner is a quiet affair. Most of the time is spent admiring the night scenery offered by Loveland City from various angles. Right now, the tall buildings are dyed in dazzling light, as though they’re competing with the stars to see which one is brighter.

Seeing that you’re almost done with your meal, Gavin inconspicuously signals to the staff to bring out the thing he prepared.

The lights in the restaurant suddenly grow dim, and your table is illuminated more brightly than the others, casting it in yellow light. 

Gavin takes the white lily handed to him by the staff, then gets down on one knee before you.

“Are you willing to be my girlfriend?” His eyes are sincere and tender. 

As though entranced by a spell, you nod.

Mixed with the cheers and noises from the restaurant, Gavin takes you into his arms gently. 

“That’s good, we didn’t miss out on each other.”

-

A few days later, you recollect the scene.

“Gavin, why did you get down on one knee when you were confessing? It wasn’t... a proposal...”

“Cough, Minor said that doing so would make me appear more genuine.”

Gavin, honest as always, sells out the man operating behind-the-scenes.

“...next time, spend less time playing around with Minor!”

[ LUCIEN ]

When Lucien invited you to a movie, you thought it would be a classic, black-and-white film. However, it was only when you reached the cinema that you discovered he chose a coloured movie you know very well - “Flipped”.

In the movie, it’s only after the male and female protagonists go through various experiences that they finally see their feelings clearly.

“Lucien, why did you choose this movie?” You press him, wanting to confirm that what has been in your heart isn’t merely your own wishful thinking.

“The way they planted the tree together - doesn’t it resemble how we tended to the gardenia back then?” Lucien doesn’t give you a straightforward answer, and simply gives you a slight smile. 

Lucien turns his gaze to the screen, but seems to be looking at something else far beyond it. “The movie says that one day, you’ll meet someone who’s as magnificent as a rainbow. From then on, everyone else would be passing clouds.” His line of sight returns to you.

He offers you his palm slowly, seeming to wait for your response.

“I think I’ve met my rainbow.”

[ KIRO ]

Ever since finding out that the biggest commonality between the two of you is eating, Kiro often looks for you (when Savin doesn’t notice of course) in order to share newly discovered delicacies.

“Miss Chips, I put in a massive amount of effort to pick a place with amazing food to share with you~” 

His trademark smile is contagious. With him, any sorrows and unhappiness can be cured.

“Is that so? I’ll have to give it a try then~” Mimicking his exaggerated tone, you rub your hands together excitedly, then use a toothpick to bring a small meatball into your mouth. 

“Is the meatball delicious?” Kiro looks at you, begging to be complimented.

“Yes.”

“Is the milk tea tasty?”

“Yes.”

“Is the mousse nice?”

“Yes.”

“Be my girlfriend?”

“Yes.”

“That’s great! I hereby announce that from this day onwards, Miss Chips is Kiro’s official girlfriend!”

“???”

[ SHAW ]

“Why the sudden invite to KFC?” You ask in a garble, chewing on a New Orleans chicken wing. Meanwhile, Shaw is just about to stuff a handful of fries into his mouth. 

“It’s not fun to eat on my own.” 

He wipes grains of salt off his fingers with a tissue. Then, he tears open the plastic covering to take out the small toy that came along with the kid’s meal he ordered for you. 

He complains, “Why is there only one? They’re cheating their customer’s feelings.”

“Agreed.” You nod, snagging the final popcorn chicken laying before him. “The advertisements said the toys come in a pair.”

Shaw stands up. “Sit here and don’t move. I’ll get another kid’s meal for you.”

“...”

Even though he’s the one paying, you kind of feel like you’re being taken advantage of.

There aren’t many people at this time, so Shaw returns fairly quickly, holding the other toy featured in the advertisement.

“Since you’re single, why don’t we get together. You like me anyway.”

“Cough cough cough...” His words nearly send cola down the wrong tube. “Who said I liked you?”

“I can tell for myself.” Shaw shrugs, an innocent expression on his face.

“...”

“Do you lack the guts?” He banters, biting the straw. He’s in an incredible mood while watching you squirm. 

“Who says I lack the guts? Let’s get together then, boyfriend!”

-

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

#mlqc #mlqc victor #mlqc gavin #mlqc lucien #mlqc kiro #mlqc shaw #cheri shortcake

[fandom-imagines-stories]

If I Don’t Wake Tomorrow

Tom Branson x Reader

Words: 3395

Part One

Summary: Married for nearly a year, the reader and her husband return to her home and family for a dinner at her sister’s invitation. Tom faces judgment and becomes a point of ridicule. Everything halts when the reader falls deathly ill. 

Notes: Like I said, I love putting my boys through hell. Yes, I’m lazy and I just totally made up a nameless illness. Sue me. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to see more Downton in the future.  (I know this gif is gut-wrenching, but it was just so perfect, I had to use it.)

-

Everyone had been gathered into the library for Dr. Clarkson’s analysis. The Winstons were required to stay since no one knew how contagious Y/N’s illness could be. It was quickly determined that this was no ordinary fever. Robert was pacing madly back and forth, waiting for Dr. Clarkson to speak. Tom stood silently in the corner, Sybil keeping close to him to make sure he wasn’t alone. 

“Dr. Clarkson, please just tell us what it is.” Cora begged. He seemed to be struggling to find the words. 

“The good news is, if she makes it through the first 24 hours, the fever should flush itself out.” Everyone hung onto one simple word. If. Dr. Clarkson’s hands fell limply to his sides. He felt so useless. “The trouble is, most patients don’t last 12.” Cora cried out, Mary clutched Matthew’s hand, and Robert stopped pacing. 

Tom felt as if he’d been split open. Sybil watched him grip the back of a chair, doubling over and finding it difficult to breathe. This couldn’t possibly be happening. Not to his Y/N. Your life together had barely even started. 

“Is there anything to be done?” Edith asked. She had been rather quiet through the night, but her worry was genuine. Dr. Clarkson sighed. 

“I’m afraid all we can do is try to keep her fever down… and pray.” A heaviness fell over everyone in the room. Downstairs, a similar scene was playing out. The servants were gathered at the table receiving instructions from a solemn Mr. Carson. Y/N, no matter her decisions, was loved by many of the servants and as a daughter of Downton she would have anything she needed. 

Anna was the most distraught, though she was able to hide it well. She loved all of the girls dearly and Y/N was the brightest soul she’d ever seen. The idea of that light dimming broke her heart. She couldn’t help but wonder what was going through Tom’s mind, the poor man. She was carrying a tray of toast up to the room so Sybil and Tom would have something to eat. It wasn’t proper, but Sybil knew Y/N would be the most comfortable with Anna. Thomas certainly wouldn’t be the friendliest face to wake up to. 

“Fortunately, this strain is only transmitted through contaminated liquids, usually drinking water.” Dr. Clarkson explained to those who had moved up to Y/N’s room. Violet and Isobel remained in the library, along with Edith to keep the Winstons at bay. 

“So we can be with her?” Cora likely would have stayed anyway, illness be damned. She was to stay by her baby’s side every second she could. Dr. Clarkson nodded. 

“And the Winstons are free to go.” Mary muttered, grateful at least that Y/N would not have to spend another moment in the same house as those girls. 

“Can I…” Tom tried to keep his composure as he looked down at his wife. “Can I hold her hand?” Dr. Clarkson’s eyes were filled with pity for the poor man. Tom didn’t want his pity. He wanted him to save his wife. 

“Of course.” 

“Must you all speak of me as if I’m not here?” You laughed weakly, your limbs heavy as you tried to move them. Tom was at your side in an instant. “You aren’t making a fuss of me, are you?” This was supposed to be Sybil’s dinner and you hated to ruin it. Tom laid a hand on your cheek. 

“You gave me quite a scare, darling.” His eyes were red from crying, making you feel even more guilty. 

“Now that you’re awake, I would like to do a more thorough examination.” Dr. Clarkson suggested. If they could determine how much the illness had progressed, he may be able to give the family more of an answer. He motioned towards the door and the family began to file out. Tom stayed beside you. 

“Tom,” Sybil began gently. “I’m afraid you’ll need to leave. Only for a few moments.” At first, he didn’t move. He couldn’t. His eyes were locked on his wife and he couldn’t bear to tear them away. 

“It’s best we all stay out of Sybil’s way.” You gave him the most reassuring smile you could muster. He nodded slightly and leaned over to kiss your forehead. 

“I’ll just be out in the hall.” He promised before reluctantly following the rest of the family out of the room. He felt as if all of the strength had left him. He could barely stand without leaning against the banister. His Y/N. His beautiful Y/N. She would be alright. She had to be. 

“Is there anything we can do, Tom? Anything at all?” Matthew asked, his wife standing silently beside him. Tom had always known Mary to be cold and lacking emotion, but now her eyes were filled with a sorrow that he’d never seen in them before. 

“Pray.” Tom choked out. Matthew gave him a sympathetic look and placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“Of course.” He wished that there was something else. Anything else. Tom was a good friend and he and Y/N deserved happiness. Matthew began to head downstairs, but his wife lingered. Mary looked as if she wanted to say something, but she just couldn’t find the words. She turned and followed her husband just as Edith was ushering the Winston’s out the door now that they were cleared to leave. 

Abigail and Margaret looked as if this were nothing more than an annoying inconvenience rather than someone’s life at stake. Abigail looked up and saw a distressed Tom and leaned over to his sister, hardly lowering her voice. 

“Look at him. Surely he’s the one who killed her. Who knows what sort of illnesses she’s contracted in that dirty country. And that train!” They shook their heads. He shrunk away, her words sinking into him like claws. Mary had had enough. 

“Have you no decency, Abigail?” She hissed, breaking away from Matthew to confront her. 

“I beg your pardon?” The family halted in their tracks and Edith gave her sister a pleading look. She didn’t want things worse than they already were. 

“First, you blatantly insult my sister at dinner and now you mock her husband as his poor wife lay ill and possibly dying!” She had raised her voice beyond what was proper but at the moment she didn’t care if the Queen heard her. “How dare you come in this home and act in such a manner.” 

“Really, Mary, did you expect all of society to accept your new… connections?” Margaret interjected, though Lady Crawley’s ferocity frightened her. 

“Those connections are my sister and my brother-in-law.” Mary fired back. Matthew was too stunned to intervene, and besides, he couldn’t help but feel pride fill his heart. “Former chauffeur or not, Tom Branson is more welcome here than you shall ever be. Now leave here and never come back.” 

“I will dismiss your outburst since your sister is dying.” Abigail held her chin up, her last words spoken with venom. “I do hope she gets better.” With that, the family scurried out quickly to avoid any more altercations. 

“You didn’t have to do that.” Tom’s quiet voice surprised Mary. He had joined them at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes sunken and red. If one didn’t know, they would think he was the one who was dying. Mary straightened her shoulders. 

“Believe me, Tom, I have been waiting to do that for years.” Sybil emerged from the room, signaling that it was okay to come back. The three rushed up the stairs, quickly joined by Cora and Robert. 

“This illness works quicker than anything I’ve ever seen.” Dr. Clarkson sighed, standing in the doorway. Tom looked at him in horror. 

“What does that mean?” Sybil stepped towards him. 

“Tom-”

“What does it mean!” He didn’t mean to be so rough when he grabbed Sybil’s shoulders. 

“Unhand her at once.” Robert ordered. The tensions were high and stress made everyone act strangely. 

“Papa, it’s alright.” Sybil slowly took Tom’s hands off of her, keeping a gentle gaze into his eyes. “Tom, I need you to try and calm down. Y/N needs to rest and we don’t want to upset her. Can you do that for me?” He swallowed hard and nodded before proceeding into the room. 

“I’ve caused a good deal of trouble, haven’t I?” You cried, weakly reaching out to your sister. “I’m sorry for ruining your birthday, Sybil.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You haven’t ruined anything.” Sybil smiled at you and Mary admired her ability to remain so sunny in such a dark time. 

“How are you feeling, love?” Tom took his place beside you, softly kissing your forehead. “I feel absolutely fine. I’m not sure what you’re all so worried about.” You teased, but laughing made your head ache terribly. 

“We must allow her to rest.” Dr. Clarkson instructed. “I recommend all of you to do the same.” Truthfully, he worried that an abundance of people in the room would excite you and make things worse. Mary and Matthew walked towards you and your eldest sister placed a hand on your cheek. 

“Married or not, you are still a Crawley woman. And us Crawley women never give up without a fight.” She said affectionately before she and her husband retired to their room. Your father put a hand on your mother’s shoulder. 

“Cora…”

“I’m staying here.” She pulled up a chair beside Tom. 

“Dr. Clarkson said-”

“I’m sure Dr. Clarkson has no quarrels with her mother staying with her.” Dr. Clarkson, of course, had no argument as long as Y/N was able to rest. 

“Mama, at least change into something more comfortable.” You instructed. She was still in her dinner clothes and you would hate for her to try and sleep in them. They could be dreadfully uncomfortable. After a moment’s hesitation, she agreed and went with your father to their room. Now, you wished to speak to your husband. “Sybil, Dr. Clarkson, would you mind stepping out? I would like to have a moment with Tom.” 

“Of course, dear.” Sybil dipped the cool cloth in the water before returning it to your forehead. Once the two were gone, you could see Tom’s resolve begin to crack. His shaking hand brought yours up and held it against his cheek. 

“Y-you must get better, my love.” He stammered, kissing your palm. He held back a sob. Tom was a strong man, but he was not one to hide his emotions for long. It broke your heart to see him like this. 

“My dear, you mustn’t shed tears for me.” You soothed, brushing a fallen tear away with your delicate fingers. “Everything is going to be alright.” You didn’t dare show him the fear that was slowly consuming you. You didn’t want to die. You hadn’t lived enough to die now. You wanted to grow old with the man you loved, to have a big family in Ireland and to watch your children run in the fields. You wanted to gather every Christmas and teach them songs. You wanted to kiss your children goodnight before falling asleep in your husband’s arms. 

“This is all my fault.” Tom uttered, now gently kissing the inside of your wrist. “Those women… they were right.” Abigail Winston’s words still cut deeply into his heart. “If I hadn’t taken you… if you had stayed here, at home with your family, this wouldn’t have happened. I should have cared for you, kept you safe. I should have-”

“Tom, stop this.” You sat up, fighting the heaviness in your limbs and ignoring your pounding head. “Those petulant girls know nothing but the comfort of their spoiled, insignificant lives. Their cruel hearts could never hold a love like the love I have for you. Whatever they have said came from a place of hatred and jealousy. This illness is in no way your fault, my darling.” 

“But if I hadn’t taken you from your home-”

“Downton isn’t my home, Tom.” You smiled. “My home is by your side, no matter where we are. My heart will always belong with you.” Tom mustered a small smile and pulled you into his arms. 

Dr. Clarkson and Sybil came back in, along with your mother. You were saddened by your father’s absence. You had hoped to mend your relationship if the worst should happen. Sybil continued cooling your arms and face with the water while Dr. Clarkson looked over his notes to find anything that could help treat the illness. 

“Is it alright for me to lie with her?” Tom begged, wanting to hold you in his arms so that you would not be afraid. Dr. Clarkson gave him a solemn nod. Tom climbed into the bed beside you and you rested your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapped around you. 

“Tom, I didn’t have the opportunity to apologize for the behavior of our guests.” Cora began grimly. 

“There’s no need, Lady Grantham.”

“I will not allow my family to be spoken to in such a manner.” She gave him a motherly smile and he realized that she meant it. She saw him as part of the family. Aside from Dr. Clarkson and Sybil’s murmurs to each other, the room fell silent. Exhausted from a hectic and emotional night, both Cora and Tom fell asleep, your mother resting her head on your hand and your husband holding onto you as if he alone could keep you from drifting away into the dark. 

You too closed your eyes, but only for an hour or so. When you opened them, Dr. Clarkson had gone- back to the hospital for supplies- and Sybil was sitting in a chair reading. Standing beside Cora was your father, looking down at you with tears in his eyes. You felt your heart swell with joy. He was here. 

“Papa,” You sighed happily, slowly moving your hand so you didn’t wake your mother. You reached it out to him and he took it. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Of course I’m here.” He exclaimed. “I could not stay tucked in bed knowing you were suffering.” You felt a surge of emotion and tried to keep your cries quiet so you wouldn’t alarm Sybil. 

“Tell me…” You took a shaking breath. “Tell me that we have not severed our ties forever. Tell me that you still hold a place in your heart for the daughter that married the driver.” 

“Y/N, sweet girl, while it is not the marriage I would have picked for you, I think of you every day. You never left my heart or my mind. You are my child. My familyYou will always be loved here.” You shared a smile, tears falling onto your cheeks. You looked to your husband.

“Can I ask something of you?”

“Anything you need.” Robert drew closer, leaning so that he could hear you better without you having to raise your voice. 

“If I-” You struggled to keep your voice from cracking. “If I don’t wake tomorrow, can you promise me something?”

“Must you talk like that-”

“Please, father.” You pleaded and he nodded. You brushed a stray hair away from Tom’s face, his steady breathing warm on your skin. “If I don’t wake tomorrow, will you care for him? I know he’ll return home, but could you look after him? He’s such a good man, papa.” You turned back to your father, tears coming faster now. “I do not wish for him to feel alone. I want him to be happy, even if it is without me.” You couldn’t not stop the sob that escaped your mouth and Sybil looked up from your reading. 

“Y/N, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“Please promise, father.” You begged. “Please say you’ll take care of him.” Robert clutched your hand tightly. 

“I promise.” You shared a quiet, tearful moment and knew that all was well between you. If you should succumb to your fever, at least you knew you were with the people you loved and who loved you in return. With that comfort, you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

-

Tom woke to the bright sun shining through the windows and the feeling of his wife’s cold skin. The complete terror that raced through him nearly stopped his heart. People were rushing around him, pulling him out of the bed and away from you. Cora was rushed out of the room before she even knew what was going on. 

“Let me go.” Tom begged, his voice barely above a whisper. He couldn’t speak correctly, unable to breathe. “Y/N. What’s wrong with her? Y/N!” Regaining his voice he began to shout, struggling against the servant that was holding him. “Sybil, what’s wrong? What’s going on? Let me go!” 

“Turn her on her side.” Sybil instructed Anna. Dr. Clarkson was in a panic. 

“There’s too many people in here.” He exclaimed. He didn’t have time to be sympathetic. Sybil looked at Tom. 

“I’m sorry, but you have to go.” She nodded at the servant holding him and he was dragged from the room. 

“No! I won’t leave her!!” He cried, fighting as hard as he could. He was sure he punched Thomas, but more servants were able to get a hold of him and pull him out. “She’s my wife, let me go! Y/N!” The door was slammed in his face and he desperately pounded his fist against the wood. “Let me in! Sybil, let me in!” 

“What is it? What’s happened?” Mary emerged from her room at the commotion, Matthew joining her. Cora was right beside him, begging her daughter to let her in the room. 

“Something’s wrong, they said we had to leave. She looked so pale.” Cora was starting to break into hysterics. She couldn’t lose her baby. 

“Oh god, Y/N!” Tom yelled again, banging on the door. Anna was barely able to get out without him pushing passed her. 

“Mr. Branson, Lady Grantham, Dr. Clarkson and Sybil need you to wait in the library until someone comes and finds you.” She felt strange, giving commands to Lady Grantham, but Sybil had specifically instructed her. Before either of them could argue, she added. “They can’t help her unless you let them. Please.” 

“Mama, we must let them work.” Mary pleaded, taking her mother’s hands. Her worried gaze switched to her brother-in-law. “Tom, we have to go.” 

“I won’t leave her.” He sobbed. 

“You’re not leaving her. You’re letting them help her.” 

He finally complied, following them down into the library while other members of the family slowly filed in. They all rushed to comfort Cora, only Matthew noticing when he slipped out of the room. He took refuge in one of the staircases that the servants used. The stairs he once used. In the silence, he sat down on a step and broke down. He gripped the railing, his body shaking it with his sobs. He thought he was alone. 

“Forgive me, I did not know you were in here.” Mrs. Hughes said suddenly, though she made no move to leave. Instead, she sat down beside him. There, in that staircase, he was just Mr. Branson- the rebellious chauffeur who brought so much love to this house- and he was about to lose his wife. “Poor lad.” She sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder. He leaned into her touch and found himself curling up beside her like a young boy crying to his mother. And she let him cry. 

It seemed like years had passed when Matthew opened the door. Tom was unable to read his expression. 

“Come quickly.” Was all he said. Tom didn’t wait for anything else. Outside the door, Cora stood, crying heavily. Tom tried to brace himself as he went in. He immediately fell to his knees beside the bed. 

You smiled at him, the color and warmth slowly starting to return to your face. 

“She’s going to be alright.” Dr. Clarkson informed happily. Tom pulled you into his embrace, both of you crying with relief. You pushed back slightly. 

“Perhaps we can go home now?” You laughed lightly. Tom put his hand on your cheek, looking into your eyes. 

“My darling,” He gently kissed your lips, “you are my home.” 

-

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#i'm a sap #tom branson x reader #allen leech #tom branson #cora crawley #Mary Crawley #mrs. hughes #robert crawley #downton abbey #downton abbey imagine