#grant ward x sister!reader

[zyafics]

play fake | part seven

series play fake — ( masterlist )

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚

It's easy for you to pretend everything's fine.

You've been worried about the whole Aaron situation for the past week, but you couldn't let that be known. You were handling it—best you could—but, at least, it sets your priorities a bit straighter. You realize whatever the outcome is, you need Rafe to get this job.

So, you were going to play the hell out of the girlfriend role.

To get ready, Rafe picks you up from Sailor to take you to Tannyhill. This time, when you got into the car, it was met with complete silence.

"Hey," you greet, to which Rafe says nothing as he reverses out of the lot and returns to the road. You remember that Rafe doesn't function normally whenever he has these types of events. He's probably nervous about the upcoming gala, a need to impress his father once more and prove to Ward that he's capable. You don't hold it against him. "Okay, then."

You settle back against the leather seat. You weren't going to let him ruin your performance; the curated mood you set up for tonight. You were going to hold out till the gala was over.

Rafe glances over to you once he knows you're looking away. Your chin tucked in your palm as you watch the scenery outside the window. Something pinch in his chest.

His right hand slides over your thigh, exposed from your short work attire, and the warm touch surprises you. You turn back to the blond, tilting your head with a small smile. "Ready to talk to me?"

"Don't push it."

You laugh and the tension in his shoulders loosens. The sound always feels like a constant mark of normalcy.

"Who's watching your sisters tonight?"

"Huh?" You respond, the question caught you off-guard and you wonder if you misheard him. "Oh. Oh. I got a babysitter for them. They should be fine till tomorrow."

He nods, knowing he shouldn’t have asked but having done it anyway. "You could've let them stay at Tannyhill. I have people to watch them for free."

He pauses, holding his breath as he waits for your response. Very few people get this offer and the fear of rejection hangs over him.

"Nice try, darling," you tease, falling back to a sense of comfort, "but I'm fine. I got it figured out."

He‘s not surprised by your answer, but it annoys him nonetheless.

When you reach Tannyhill, you didn't bother to wait for Rafe to give you the boyfriend experience. You knew he wouldn't. Instead, you went ahead and opened the car door yourself, heading straight for the porch.

Rafe was just about to cross over to the passenger side.

Following suit, he unlocks the front door and grants you entry. You step inside, reveling in the details of the estate. Despite only being here a few times, you can recall the key pieces of the house—the crystal chandelier with dangling pendants, the cabinets of beautiful collector items from the Bahamas, the flowery display that Rose curates in her free time. You immediately check off all their placement in your head, strolling over to the staircase to ascend.

"Know your way around my house, huh?" Rafe taunts, sticking his hands in his pockets. You glance over your shoulders with an easy grin.

"Just trying to take notes for the next Mrs. Cameron. Don't worry, it's not for me." You wink, turning back around before you notice the way his smile falls flat.

Reaching Rafe's bedroom, you step into the familiar space and eyed it with suspicion. From social media, you saw that Rafe went to a party right after hooking up with you the other day. You will never admit it to him but you wanted to catch if there's any evidence of another woman.

But instead of finding a pair of panties on the floor, you find the red tulips sitting on his desk. Your guards lower.

After he gifted them to you, you cut off the ends and put it in a glass vase in hopes of rejuvenating the flowers. It worked. You nearly forgot about it since you haven't visited since that day, but you were surprised he kept it after all this time.

You turn around to Rafe once he enters. "You like tulips now?" You tease, to which he glances over to the bouquet.

"I forgot to throw them away."

"Sure." You hum, partially unconvinced but deciding not to take any deeper meaning to it. He probably did. "Well, I'm going to go get ready."

You head into the ensuite, dropping your bags on the floor. As you change into your dress, curl your hair, and put on your makeup, you realize you forgot your lipstick.

Searching through your bag and throwing out used brushes into the sink, leaving a powdered mess, you still couldn't find it anywhere. You frown, "dammit."

Your attire feels incomplete without it, but you're not going to cry over this miscalculation. Stepping out, you find Rafe, fitted with his tailored black suit, sitting at his desk and reading a file in his hands. His concentration breaks when he hears you exit. 

His eyes scan over your figure and, while he knows he's already seen you in this before, it does nothing to minimize how captivating you truly look in the dress. The dress he bought. "You look amazing," he murmurs, causing heat to rise to your cheeks.

"Thank you." You say with a laugh, uncomfortable at the way his attention is set on you. You need to expel it. "Unfortunately, I don't have any lipstick on. I probably left it at home."

"You mean this?" He picks something off his counter and holds it out to you and, lo and behold, it was your lipstick.

"Where'd you get that?"

"You left it here," he declares, lifting to his feet and approaching you with it. "The maids were going to throw it away but I assumed that..." He trails off, his eyes finding yours.

"That I wouldn't be able to afford another one?" You supply with a forced smile, knowing it squeezes your chest at how Rafe sees you. A Pogue who can't afford many luxuries. "Don't worry, Kook, it's like seven dollars, I would've bought another one."

That wasn't what he meant.

He remembered that you didn't let him buy you another one so he figured you wouldn't allow him to replace it either. But, he didn't know how to say that without coming off pathetic.

Instead, he returned it to its rightful owner.

Grateful, you take it out of his hand and begin to apply it right there. He watches you as you do, the freshness of plump lips replaced with a coat of red. "How'd I look?"

Kissable. Rafe swallows hard, tearing his eyes away and finding the empty space around your neck.

"Where's your necklace?"

You twist the cap back on the lipstick, tipping your head to the bathroom. "In there. I was going to put it on later."

"Let me put it on for you."

You blink up at him from the sudden offer. "You want to?"

He shrugs. He feels like he's playing a silent dance with you, hoping you’ll take the next step.

A small smile curls on your scarlet-stained lips and a flutter of butterflies release in your stomach. "Okay, come on," you take his hand, pulling him in front of the sink where you left your brushes, "don't worry about that, I'll clean it later."

Rafe honestly didn't mind. He likes the idea of you making a mess in his bathroom, the counter littered with your things. It shows that you were here. "Make sure to make it spotless. I don't want to see this shit tomorrow."

You roll your eyes and pull out the small box wrapped with a golden ribbon. "Yes, darling," you say with a mock, "would never want to disappoint the Kook prince."

He's used to feeling pride in being from Figure Eight, but something about the way you use Kook makes him wish he wasn't.

You take out the necklace from the box, internally reprimanding yourself at how expensive the piece is—knowing how it could be well-spent paying back Aaron—before handing it over to Rafe.

He places it over your neckline, pushing your styled hair to the side for full exposure. You watch him through the mirror, his concentration pinned on clasping the small hole.

"What were you working on?" You ask, filling in the silence as you refer to the file.

"A case for my dad." He explains, frustration slowly building in him because the hook won't puncture through the complicated loop. "He wants to close this deal tonight with one of his partners but they're refusing to budge."

You nod just as you hear him release a swear under his breath, his brows crinkled together and his patience thinning. You know the look. "It's okay," you comfort with a gentle tone, "take your time. It's not going anywhere."

It won't slip through. "I should've gotten you another necklace."

"I guess someone should've listened to me." You tease with a chuckle. Rafe flicks his gaze to meet yours in the reflection, watching your smile, no judgment in sight. His shoulders slacken a bit. "I guess it proves that you should always listen to your girlfriend. What's that saying? Happy wife, happy life?"

"We're not fucking married." He announces bluntly without much thought, his focus too wrapped up on the stupid chain. Your smile falters. Right, you got too carried away in your role. He clasps the ends together. "Finally."

You nod your head in gratitude as you silently slip out of the bathroom once again, making your way to the dresser where you left your purse. Your eyes gloss over the opened file on the desk and you stop in your tracks.

"Wait, I know him." You point to the paperwork, glancing over your shoulders to find Rafe. "He's that guy that owns the hotel chains for the tourists. The one who just bought up all that land near the marsh."

Rafe nods, picking it up. "Yeah. Cameron Development wants it but he handed the negotiation off to his daughter. She doesn't wanna talk and plans on proceeding with the original blueprint."

"But that doesn't make sense." You frown, plucking the case out of his hand. You look through the information. He lets you. "That land isn't a good location for a hotel. It's too close to the wilderness protection area for endangered species. They're going to get hell from the FWS."

Rafe stares back at your assessment. "What?"

"Look," you point to the map where he highlighted where the land is going to be used. "This is where the marsh is. This is where the hotel is going to be built. If you use that land, you'll disrupt the ecosystem and it's going to fuck you over later by the government."

He shakes his head, disagreeing. "We planned ahead for that."

"No. You only minimize it. You're going to cut off a main water source. It'll dry out the fishes and marines. You may be able to hold off the feds for a couple of years but I'm willing to bet it won't last longer than five. Max."

He's watching you, the way your brows knit together and your lips purse as you examine the case. "How do you know all that?"

"I work on the docks," you shrug, giving back the file to Rafe. "Heyward has been talking about how some Kook hotel magnate is planning on restricting a part of the marsh where they make their living. It's worrying them."

Rafe says nothing, glancing back down to the papers. "Well, Cameron Development was planning on using it for residential housing."

You shake your head, settling on the end of his mattress. It's so soft, unlike the one you have back home. "I wouldn't suggest that either."

He knows he shouldn't be taking suggestions from a bartender, but something in the way you held your ground makes him consider otherwise. "Why not?"

"Other than disrupting people’s livelihood? You don't want an alligator to end up on someone's back porch and they can't shoot it because it's part of the endangered species list. The lawsuits would be a nightmare."

What you don't explain to him is that you learned a lot of this because of what your parents drilled in you. They discussed local politics often. They believed it's important to have an understanding about your community and to know when certain corporations or people are about to harm it. That's what Kooks often forget.

"I mean, do what you want but that's my honest opinion." You conclude with a shrug. At the end of the day, it’s not your business.

Rafe watches as you lay back against his bed with a sigh. Your dress riding up; the high slit revealing more of your skin.

He has nothing else to say to that—to you—because, in some ways, you're right. You come in here and break down a problem he spent the past three days trying to figure out. It's maddening how incredible you are.

He throws the case onto the desk. His focus now pinned on you as his knees sink to the space beside your hips and he hovers over you, strong arms pressed next to your head.

"You're pretty smart then, huh?" He goads, his eyes scanning over your face. The necklace tangled with his initials. How you look under him.

You grin. "I told you. I'm not just a Pogue with no brains."

You're referring to his insult at the bar, the insulating that you weren't smart enough because you were from The Cut. He couldn't believe you remembered that.

He should apologize.

No one taught him how.

He changes the subject. "So why is someone like you, who clearly has a knack for these types of things, running a rundown bar in the middle of the docks?"

Rafe doesn't recognize your smile slipping off, just slightly. You don't immediately answer him. Your hand raises to cup the side of his profile.

"Are we going to keep discussing business or are you going to kiss me?" You challenge, because that's the best way to avoid these types of conversations with Rafe.

He scoffs. The way you tease him sends a shot of arousal down his spine. "Who said anything about wanting to kiss you?"

You tilt your head with a raised brow. "Are you saying I'm wrong? Because I have a faint memory of someone saying I was right about a certain necklace…”

He shakes his head, the corner of his lips raising in a smile. "Never said that."

"Didn't need to," you declare with a wink, "I can read your mind."

"Yeah?" He leans forward, his mouth right beside your ear. "Do you know what I'm thinking of right now?" He lowers his hand to travel up your exposed leg, closer to your aching pussy. Your breath hitch. "That I want to rip this fucking dress off and fuck you right here?"

You wrap both your arms around his shoulders. "Yeah," you play along. "I did."

"And what are you thinking about?" He rasps, his eyes searching your face for any sense of affirmations. That you could possibly want him too.

You merely smile, gently pushing him back and onto the mattress. Changing position, you straddle him. "How about I show you?"

Planting kisses on the edge of his mouth, down to his jaw, to his neck, he tips his head back for you. You feel his erection hardening under his pants, pressed directly against your core. "Feels good, darling?"

Rafe draws his hands up your waist to hold you in place. He wants to kiss you now, desperately, but you avoid his lips as punishment. "A little underwhelmed to be honest, sweetheart."

You giggle, slowly rolling your hips. He groans at the sensation, feeling his cock tightens. "Are you sure?" You say, sucking on the curve of his neck as you hear a small moan leave his lips. The low sound igniting heat in your lower belly. “I think someone wants me.”

"That's enough." He announces, grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you into a hungry kiss. Both your hands slide up his chest for balance and you melt into his touch.

Red lipstick marks are covering Rafe all over, but he didn't fucking care. All he wants is to taste you, feel you, that he would gladly take the mess you give.

His hand lowers to your exposed cut of your dress, pushing the red satin away to gain more access. His knuckles brush against your bare cunt. "No panties?" He asks with shock, his darkened blue eyes finding yours. Your shy smile gives him everything he needs. "Bad girl."

Your expression is innocent. "It ruined the dress."

His fingers graze your wet slit. "I have to buy you more then."

You chuckle, before he finds your clit and rubs broad circles around the swollen nub, and your laugh turns to a shudder. "Th–that was a one-time thing."

"Is it?" He muses, his fingers entering you and a whimper escapes. "I bet I can fuck a yes out of you."

He probably could, with the way he handles you. Knowing your body so intimately, what turns you on, when you're about to come. You couldn't give him that satisfaction, pulling him into another kiss and silencing your response.

Rafe gives in immediately. Your lips part and he sucks on your tongue while his fingers rub you faster, little moans leaving you between kisses. You come on his hand within time.

Weakly pulling yourself off, you start to unbuckle his belt and take off his pants—his hips lifts to assist. When you free his bulge from his boxer-briefs, it stands hard and swollen. "Such a pretty cock," you sigh in awe, stroking your thumb over the bit of precum at the tip. Rafe lets out a groan.

"Are you going to ride me, baby?" He asks thickly, his hand landing on your waist in preparation to help you mount.

"Not right now," you declare with an apologetic smile, his expression falling. "I can't ruin my makeup." You look at your kisses smeared over his fair skin. "Well, more than it is."

His hand doesn't leave your hips. "You can always reapply."

You shake your head, gripping around his base, your fingers barely connecting because of his girth. Rafe's breath grows swallows as you start to pump him. "But I can make you feel better."

He loves the way your hand wraps around him, tight enough for him to feel pleasure with each stroke, and his balls soon tightens. "Just like that, baby," he moans, propping himself back by his elbows as you work on him. "I'm about to come."

You notice, with the way his cock is twitching under your palm, and just as he's about to release his load, you dip your head and cover your mouth over the tip.

"Fuck." He grunts under his breath as you suck him clean, your hand continuing to rub him to empty every drop. When he finishes his high, you pull back, wiping your chin with the back of your hand.

"Didn't want to ruin your clothes." You inform bashfully, standing up from the bed. He wanted to grab your wrist and pull you back beside him but the opportunity was missed.

You go to the bathroom to grab a wet paper towel and return with the intent of washing away all your markings on Rafe. As you settle beside him to wipe away the lipstick, he moves away.

"What if I want to keep one?"

"What?" You shed a small laugh. He can’t be serious. "My lipstick?"

He shrugs. "It shows that we're together."

Oh, right. For a blind, hopeful moment, you thought it was because he actually wanted you. More than just a fake title. No, it was just another shield, another way to demonstrate he's committed.

You silently agree, wiping away most of your kisses until the last one is left. Just right under his collarbone, enough to be seen with a good eye but mostly inconspicuous. "Good?" You ask evenly, to which Rafe glances over to the mirror and nods. "Okay, I'm going to fix myself and then we should start heading out."

—

You put on your facade.

It's easy. You just pretend you're someone else—not a lowly bartender from The Cut making ends meet but someone dignified and deserving. You play into the role of being Rafe Cameron's girlfriend with that mentality.

The gala is hosted downtown, at a large five-starred hotel with a massive ballroom. When you enter through the double doors, opened by a pair of waitstaff, you stare in admiration at the exquisiteness at the place. Rafe catches your expression.

“Close your mouth. You’re acting like you've never been to a gala before."

"I haven't." You snap back lowly, before remembering you're in public. You shift your tone to be more friendly. "I mean, this is my first time here."

Rafe's taken aback by your compliance. He knows he should appreciate it, because you always fight back against him on everything, but the achievement feels hollow and disingenuous.

The two of you fall into steps with the room, greeting familiar faces. When Rafe ends up in a conversation with a group of Cameron Development's business partners, you were casted aside in the role of obedient housewife—where the women socialize while the men talked shop—and you didn't like that.

With a gentle hand on Rafe's shoulder, you subtly interject yourself into the discussion.

"Y'know, Rafe's pretty good at that." You praise, causing the eyes of the older men to fall on you. Your fake boyfriend stiffens under your palm, his gaze set on your profile to understand what you're trying to do. "I saw the way he works those cases. He's dedicated and efficient. Business deals are meant to be made with a keen eye and deep considerations. Rafe always does that."

They fall silent for a few moments, watching you with amusement, before a man with a scuffed beard opens his mouth. "And how would you know anything about it? Aren't you a bartender?"

Rafe's jaw tightens at the way those men address you, with such a superiority complex. It reminds him of when he first met you. But, like then, you didn't let them bother you. "Yes and I'm also the sole owner of Sailor. I've been running it by myself since I was eighteen, which has had an average increase of 1.1% profit margins every year since. I know what I'm talking about."

Rafe stares at you, slack-jawed. He didn't know that. The group of men held similar expressions, filled with embarrassment at their misperception of you. "And, if I remember correctly, you had a construction plan for a new shopping center downtown, right? Instead of contracting with Cameron Development and utilizing local labor from the Banks—which Rafe suggested—you wanted to import mainland workers. How did that work out for you?"

You heard Rafe on the phone once, talking about a shopping center being built, with an intended budget of thirteen millions, wanting to cut corners. They didn't listen to Rafe with his recommendations, pinned him as too young and inexperienced to know better, that it ended up costing them twenty-one millions. It's still yet to be finished.

Scuffed Beard shifts uncomfortably under your scrutiny, his eyes flickering amongst his peers with humiliation. You smile sweetly. "I'm not saying this as a critique on your character, sir, I'm sure you're an incredible businessman." You declare, coaxing him with compliments so he wouldn't hold bitter resentment against the Camerons. "But, your organization has an aging board committee. You might want to consider a fresh perspective on things." You glance over to Rafe, in a subtle gesture. "It might even save you millions."

A woman's hand settles on your waist and draws your attention away to say something. When you turn back to Rafe, you present a loving smile, so bright and natural. If he was anyone else, he would've believed that you adored him, but he knows it's a mere disguise.

"I'm going to go mingle, darling, have fun." You raise to your tippy-toes and plant a soft kiss on his cheek. It leaves a faint lipstick stain but you figure it would help him sell his committed act.

Turning your heels, you leave and continue your (fake) girlfriend duties. Rafe watches until you disappear into the crowd and only then does his attention return back to the quieted group of boisterous men who once didn't view him as competent. Their gaze shifts to his, waiting.

"You were saying?" One of them offers, reminding him of an idea Rafe was talking about before you came in—one they were rejecting—and a concealed smirk rises to his lips.

The rest of the night is spent talking and establishing relationships. An orchestra plays in the background while the men gather around, discussing their partnerships. You rarely saw Rafe, except in the passing, and each time his eyes lingered over to your direction, you gave him an affectionate smile, your fingers waving fondly over the separated distance.

All for show.

In the middle of a conversation with a group of Ward's partners, which were talking about golf tournaments and fickle deals, he pardons himself and strolls over to you. You were in the middle of talking to a group of women, hyping up Rafe's reputation as a successful underdog, knowing that, while the women may be casted as gossips, they are also direct access to their husbands' ears.

His hand slides under your waist. "Excuse us." Rafe nods to the housewives, before pulling you away.

"What happened?" You ask quietly, searching his face. "Is there a problem?"

"No, everything's fine." He shakes his head. Something about it warms his heart, but he can't help but wonder if this is the continued act you've been putting on the entire night. "I just... I needed a break."

You nod. "That's fine. It's good to take a breath once in a while. I know it can be overwhelming."

His jaw flexes. Something about your saccharine mood this entire evening feels off. The way you were complimenting him earlier with the business partners feels dishonest. "Stop it."

Your brows furrow together at his sharp tone. "What? What did I do wrong?"

"That." He gestures to you as a whole. "The concern. That pretend. I wanna hear my girl, not the bullshit you've been putting up for everyone else."

You blink in surprise. You can't even fully appreciate him referring to you as his before scoffing at his audacity. "Seriously? You're mad because I'm being too nice? Would you rather I give you an attitude every time you open your mouth?"

He smirks, satisfied. "There you are."

You can't help but roll your eyes. "I can't with you. When I snap at you, you get pissed off, but when I'm nice, you're pissed off. You can't be pleased, Rafe Cameron."

He doesn't understand it either, but he loves the fire behind your eyes when you talk back and he loves the way his name rolls off your tongue. Perhaps, it's something about who you reveal yourself to. How much. The idea that he gets the other side of you—one where no one gets often—that's what he likes. It doesn't matter if it's your attitude or bitter remarks. It's different. Because it feels completely his.

"Yeah." He nods, cupping your cheeks with one hand, running the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip. "What can I say? I love this mouth. Reminds me of when I need to punish it."

You playfully shove him off but you can't ignore the knot twisting in your stomach. Your mind wanders to earlier, when you were giving him a handjob and swallowed his cum. It causes you to rub your thighs together.

Rafe recognizes that look. He wants to rile you further, maybe drag you off to a secluded area and fuck you—but he hears his name being called from behind and he looks up to see his father approaching. His spine straightens, his shoulders tense up.

"Rafe." Ward greets, glancing over to you with an acknowledged nod. "He has just arrived. I need you to convince him to settle on a deal before we lose that land. You're the only one I can trust with this."

He's a bit annoyed that his father interrupted his limited time with you but with the ounce of approval he's giving—telling Rafe he's the only person he can rely on, the one he wants to close the case—he can't help but submit.

When Ward leaves, Rafe looks back at you, his expression is vulnerable for a moment. His father is depending on him and the pressure is kicking in. He wants to ask you to come with him, for moral support, but he doesn't know how to word it without sounding inadequate—like he needs you there to succeed. So, he settles on his silence.

You return to the housewives but, this time, you remain closer to Rafe. You saw the look on his face and, while you wonder if you're overthinking, you wanted to stay nearby.

After his negotiation to the hotel Kook, the man considers his proposal. He tells Rafe that he needs a moment with his company to discuss before making a final decision. Once he left, Rafe releases a heavy sigh, searching for his father when a figure among the crowd makes him stop. Sarah.

What the fuck is she doing here? He has never once seen her attend any of Cameron Development's events, claiming them to be too meticulous and boring. Yet, here she is, wearing a formal dress and heading directly to their father.

Ward greets her with a beam of pride, his arm wraps around his eldest daughter and introduces her to his partners. Sarah reciprocates, waving and nodding along. Rafe could only hear the sound of his own blood boiling.

When his sister goes off somewhere, Rafe makes a direct beeline to his father. He pulls the patriarch aside. "What the hell is Sarah doing here?"

Ward knows the look in his son's eyes. "Calm down—"

"Calm down?" He echoes, incredulous. He hates that phrase. His darkened eyes stare down at his father. "What does that even mean? What's going on? Are you—" He couldn't utter the next words, his anger reaching its peak.

"Rafe, listen. Sarah, she's been out for a couple of months—"

"Yeah, because she fucking ran away."

"Language." Ward's command is sharp, causing his son to fall silent. "That's your sister. She's coming home and I'm trying to make her feel more comfortable."

"Comfortable?" He repeats with an indignant scoff. When Rafe was at his all-time low with his coke addiction, his father kicked him out of the house for weeks. But when Sarah abandons Tannyhill for months, doing god-knows-what with her boyfriend, Ward welcomes her back with open arms.

It isn't fucking fair.

"Does this mean..." Rafe couldn't finish the sentence. He doesn't know if he wants to know. All he feels is this intensifying frustration at the way his father could always accept his perfect daughter but criticizes him at every little mistake. Never good. Never enough.

Ward answers him anyway.

"Yes, I'm still considering her for the company."

He doesn't respond to that. He stares at his father with nothing more than pure, unbridled anger. Anger and rage. Rage and jealousy. Jealousy and hurt.

Ward tries to place a comforting hand on his shoulders, but the eldest son shoves him off. He turns, exiting from the ballroom.

You follow him.

"Rafe. Rafe. Rafe!" You chase after him, breaking into a mini-sprint as your heels click against the marble-floored lounge, before your hand catches his elbow. Your eyes search his hardened face. "Talk to me."

He pushes you away too. "I hate him."

"What?" You blink through the confusion. "What happened?"

"He always picks—" He cuts himself off, his eyes growing teary and he doesn't want you to see. "Fuck."

Someone walks by and Rafe tries to turn away, not wanting to be seen as weak by any passing stranger. You pay a glance to the oblivious man cruising by, before taking Rafe's arm and pulling him to the nearest empty space: a bathroom.

When the door locks, you face the blond. Your tone gentle, your approach cautious. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"Okay?" He scoffs at your concern. He doesn't feel anywhere near okay. "What the fuck do you think?"

You frown, but you know this is always the first step. His anger always targets you first. "I want you to tell me."

Rafe locks his jaw, frustrated at the way you're being too kind while he's nothing but filled with rage. He doesn't deserve it. "My sister is back and you're asking me if I'm okay? Are you stupid?"

You cross your arms over your chest. Not out of anger, more out of protection. "I'm not part of your family, Rafe, I don't know why that matters. You're being mean and I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" He repeats, disbelief dripping from his tone. "Like you were helping me with my conversations? Talking me up? Making me sound like I was good?"

He's on the brink of a breakdown and you can't seem to understand him. Why is he making it sound like it was a bad thing? "I am. I'm trying to help you."

"You're just lying!" He accuses, his voice cracking from the intensity, stepping back. Like he couldn't trust you. Like you hurt him. "You say some shit, making me feel like you want me, and then you go off and do other shit that proves you don't."

You're not quite sure he's talking about you anymore. It's something more. It doesn't take a lot to figure out who.

You approach him calmly. "Is that what Ward is doing to you?"

Rafe doesn't answer you, staring back glassy-eyed with choked breaths. He's hurt. He feels unwanted. He can't explain it. Sarah returning home, to open arms, confirms something he’s always trying to push away. It means that his life will be more difficult; his goal of getting the family company more challenging. Because he knows, he will always be the second choice to the golden child.

And if you have that, who the fuck needs Rafe Cameron?

"You... you are good." You begin slowly, watching the way he shakes his head in doubt. "I told them the truth. You're an incredible businessman and you care about your company. I saw it at the country club's dinner, I saw it when we were getting ready and I see it now. What's the problem with me letting other people know?"

His insecurities are suffocating him. "You don't believe that."

"I do." You affirm with a nod, stepping closer to him. "I don't lie about that stuff. I admire it, that's why I remember."

His breath is cut short at your admission. Several beats take place before he speaks again. “You admired me?"

You laugh, the melodic resonance making everything feels better, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders while he leans against the sink. "Don't let it get to your head," you warn with a soft smile. "But, yeah. It reminds me of me; how much you care about your family's business."

Rafe doesn't say anything, his broken gaze finding yours. They trace over your features, trying to read any sense of insincerity in them, only to find none.

"Your family's business?" He prompts quietly, using this opportunity to gateway into learning more about you. To let him in—that’s how you earn his trust. You falter.

"Yeah." You admit weakly. Every bone in your body is screaming at you to remain silent, to keep him out, but you can't help but continue forth. "I inherited it after my parents' passed away in an accident."

His eyes widen, at you revealing this glimpse into your past. Discomfort settles in your stomach, at letting another person in, but you can't help the way your chest lightens ever-so-slightly.

You don't want to deal with it.

Leaning forward, you press a soft kiss on his lips. Tender and warm, Rafe's hands immediately draw up to capture your waist before reciprocating the touch. It turns hungry, passionate, and when you pull away, breathless, you flick your gaze up to him.

"Want to know something else?" You ask in a whisper. "I haven't stopped thinking about your cock all night."

Rafe feels himself hardening at your confession. You have that effect on him now. “Yeah?”

You nod with a timid smile, playing with the buckle of his belt. “Can I blow you?”

He couldn’t say no to that.

Unbuckling his pants, you remove them within seconds. The corner of his lips quirks into a smirk. “Eager, are we?”

“I told you.” You say as you pull down his boxer-briefs, his cock springing free as your hand immediately wraps around the length, stroking slowly. “I want you in my mouth.”

Rafe can’t begin to express how it makes him feel hearing you say those words, your attention set on getting him as hard as possible.

Instead, he removes his blazer and sets it on the floor.

Your smile grows. “Didn’t know you would throw away good money like that,” you tease, glancing at the jacket that is probably worth more than your entire closet. “Thought Kooks have to take care of their things.”

“I am.”

The knot in your stomach tightens. You know you shouldn't like the possession behind Rafe's voice but you rub your thighs together to satiate the feeling. He notices, his arrogance grows tenfold. "Does my girl like that? Does she like knowing I own her?"

Rafe is probing you but there's a sense of comfort in knowing that he has this effect on you. When you quiet down, his words being too real and your hands stopping at the base of his cock, he wonders if he went too far.

Until you whisper, "I like it when you take control."

"Yeah?" He can feel his skin pricking with excitement. "The girl who always has something to say wants me to tell her what to do?"

Your cheeks flush with heat before you nod. "Good. Now, kneel."

You sink to the floor, your satin-covered knees pressed against his jacket to soften the blow of the hard ground. When you align yourself in front of his groin, you dribble a bit of spit over the head before spreading it over his length. Rafe lets out a low moan.

"I like hearing how I make you feel." You sigh fondly. "It lets me know how to please you."

Fuck, Rafe thought to himself, the idea of you getting turn-on by pleasuring him sends all the blood straight to his pelvis. You feel him twitch under your palm.

"And I think you like that too," you observe with a small smile, "you like having me as your own personal slut, don't you?"

He doesn't get to answer before you tilt your gaze up to meet his, taking his cock in your mouth. Rafe lets out a groan, the admission of your words tonight igniting desire all over his body.

The way your eyes connect with his as you slowly take him in, inch by inch, drives him insane. Your hand syncs with your mouth as you cup him, twisting and rubbing.

"Shit," he whimpers, the way you squeeze him feels incredible while your head sinks deeper, causing a small gag to form from the back of your throat. "That feels so good, baby."

The praise goes straight to your core. Your thighs are slick with your own arousal, aching, but you refuse to move till he comes. Your tongue flicks over his length, rolling around his tip.

"You're doing so well." He grunts, his voice thick as his fingers grips at the root of your hair, his climax quickly approaching. "Just like that, I love hearing the way you gag on my cock."

You do it again, louder, this time triggering a guttural moan from him.

Your technique grows more confident as your hands fall to play with his balls, and your head bobs up and down his shaft. When your cheeks hollow to add suction, it doesn't take long before he feels his muscles tightening. He's close.

"Are you going to swallow for me, baby?" Rafe rasps, causing your heavy-lid eyes to find his once again. "I know you can."

You nod. "Yes."

His hot cum shoots to the back of your throat in fast spurts while you take it all. His moans complement his orgasm, riding out with loud praises and noises you can't help but fuel your own desire.

When you swallow all of it, you pull back, his softening cock pops out of your mouth. Your hands settle on the flat of your thighs and you look up to him with doe eyes to ask. "Better?"

Panting, he answers. "Not even close."

He reaches down and hauls you to the sink, making you giggle at the way he handles you. Your ass settles on the granite counter and Rafe wastes no time to pull you to the ledge, pushing your dress up to your hips to reveal your glistening, bare cunt.

"You're this wet from sucking dick?" He teases, massaging your slick inner thighs. You bite your bottom lip, nodding along.

"Just yours."

He loves it. Tonight, you're simply perfect. Saying everything he wants to hear. Everything he needs to feel. He gets hard again, so easy under your influence.

You notice, glancing down to his hardening erection with a teasing smile. "Already?"

He chuckles, capturing you into a kiss. He tastes himself on your lips, the acknowledgement signals a primal urge, while his knuckles brushes against your throbbing clit, causing you to jerk into his hand.

"Rafe." You whimper, breaking from the kiss, your eyes meeting his with desperation. The feeling between your legs growing unbearable by the second. "Please, make me come."

This time, in a bathroom, your plea is met with a different consideration. He smiles before nodding once, lining the crown of his cock against your wet folds. "Only 'cause you ask so nicely."

Rafe pushes in, slow and steady to let you adjust to his girth, while your hands clasps around him for stability, your nails digging into his shoulder blades. Then, his thrusts begin to speed up.

"You like that, baby?" He asks, his free hand rubbing your swollen clit simultaneously to his penetration. You nod vigorously, your eyes closing shut from the pleasure. "Your pussy feels so nice around me."

"Like it was made for you." You supply with a moan.

“That's fucking right. Like it's mine."

His hand raises to the cleavage of your dress, pushing down the satin to reveal your tits. He's never been happier to know you decided not to wear a bra and pinches a pierced nipple between his fingers, causing your head to tip back with a raspy mewl. "Just like these." He adds, knowing the way he's playing with them will make you reach your peak faster. "Fuck, these are my favorite things."

The way he's teasing you, fucking you, feels so good, but you can't help but release a small laugh at his assertion. "Of course they would be, you whore," you say with a wispy smile.

He abandons his play, causing you to let out a small whine, when his hand cups your cheeks, jutting out your pout. "Nah, this mouth is." He closes the distance, kissing you, before drawing out your bottom lip with his teeth. The act is so surprising, you clench around his cock.

It causes a shudder to pass through him.

"God, you feel perfect," he confesses, his thrusts growing less controlled as he's deep inside of you, feeling every little response between your legs. "You should've been mine a long time ago."

The fabric of your dress falls back over to your pussy while Rafe wants nothing more than to watch how he pumps in-and-out of you. The frustration of the cover makes him roughly push back the material against your hips.

"I'm going to rip your fucking dress off."

"Don't you dare." You warn with a weak glare, the pleasure building too strongly for you to feel any genuine hostility.

"Thought you didn't want it?"

"I never said that."

"What is it, then?"

A moan ripples out of you as you lean forward, your lips fall next to the shell of his ear in a whisper. "My boyfriend got it for me."

Fuck, that got him and he spills in you, this time, the motion leaving him more jerkily and unstable than before. Despite the overwhelming sense of pleasure coursing through his body, he isn't finished. Knowing you haven’t came, his fingers fall back down to your clit and begin to rub in tight, fast circles, trying to help you reach your own orgasm.

You do, following quickly after, that he feels your walls clenching around his warming cock. When you ride out your high, you're breathless as he pulls out.

There's silence, and you expect him to get dressed and leave the room, but he surprises you when he focuses on helping you clean up. From wiping away his cum around your thighs, to fixing your hair, and helping you off the counter.

You don't know how to feel from the gesture; your heart clenching from his gentle acts.

Only then does he redress himself, picking up the wrinkled blazer off the ground and throwing it over his shoulders.

"Wait," you reach out, pulling him closer to the sink as you grab a wet paper towel and wipe away all the smudges of your lipstick over his lips. Your voice is soft. "I can't let you go out there looking like that."

He watches you as you work, wiping away any residues clean.

"I don't want to go back out there." He admits quietly. "I just wanna leave. Are you good with that?"

The question came at a surprise. "You're asking for my permission?"

He rolls his eyes at the look on your face, his shoulders relaxing. "Either that or you're going to get pissed at me again for taking you out before you're ready."

You chuckle. "We can leave. I just have to say goodbye to the housewives first."

"Had to get the word out for your bar?"

"Nope." You shake your head, realization striking you that, throughout this entire night, you spent no time thinking about yourself. Your hand lands over the doorknob, and just before you twist to open, you spare a glance over your shoulders at Rafe. "We were talking about you."

You leave first and Rafe's momentarily stunned that you used your one opportunity to talk about him rather than advertise your bar as a catering option for these plentiful Kooks. His chest warms and he soon follows you back to the ballroom where you pay your farewells.

Off on the side, trying to avoid his father, Rafe waits.

When someone taps his shoulder, his jaw clenches, not wanting to face Ward, only to turn and find the hotel magnate standing before him.

"We talked it through." The man declares as you pull away from the final housewife to return to your boyfriend’s side. "You got yourself a deal."

He hands Rafe a card, scribbled with a personal number at the top. The eldest Cameron reaches out to take the small card from him, rejoining their hands in a formal shake.

"Thank you, sir." Rafe expresses, keeping his voice neutral. The man nods.

"You got a good head on your shoulders. Keep it up." He declares, before nodding to you in recognition and leaves.

It takes a few moments for it to register. How it happened. How it worked out. When Rafe turns to you, your elation is too hard to contain, and you tackle him into a hug.

"You did it!" You beam, louder than the normal convention, and catch the attention of the nearby housewives who watch the interaction between the two with awing amusement. As you pull back, your hands clasps around his shoulders. "I'm so proud of you!"

Those words mean a lot to him. Especially now knowing that they're genuine coming from you. He doesn't know how to react, especially with the look on your face, the expression of complete pride from his success. "Really?"

You nod frantically, your cheeks hurting from how big your smile is. "What did you say to him? How did you convince him?"

His fingers mess with the business card in his hands and he shrugs. "I told him what you told me."

You can't believe Rafe listened to you. "So, what are you going to do with the land? Are you still going to build alligator-infested houses?"

He knows you're teasing him but he chuckles anyway. His adrenaline comes down to a neutralized comfort. Safe. He can't help it. Your presence, your words, and your kindness drives something deep in him.

"No." He shakes his head. "We're going to use the difference to invest into the fishing industry on the docks, benefitting from their stock value."

What he's not saying is that your argument held value to him. That his decision to help the Pogues is because of you. But, you take it either way, the announcement bringing a realm of good news for the first time in a long time.

Your chest is overwhelmed with such gratitude, you almost confess something you shouldn't.

"That's good." You settle with a gentle smile, clearing your throat. "I guess this means we can both go home to a satisfying conclusion, huh?"

That was the goal. But now he's not too sure he wants to depart from you this early. Knowing who you truly are—not just putting up a mask and caring about him in public, but genuinely proud of him, supporting him, always in his corner—he doesn't want to separate just yet.

So, he does something out of his comfort zone.

"It's getting late and it'll be a long drive to your house. You should just stay over."

This is the second time he's asking you, holding his breath to see how you would respond, and when your smile softens just a bit, almost in a way to let him down, he thought he got rejected again.

You know you shouldn't. You know this is only going to complicate your personal and professional lives. You know you should go home and place some distance from Rafe, to save you and your heart.

But something in you clench about the offer. It feels too similar to hope.

You nod. "That sounds like another great idea of yours." 

— part eight here —

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#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron smut #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader #obx smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #rafe cameron x female reader #outer banks #zya's fics #zya's play fake series

[diejager]

i love your platonic yandere ghost x little sister reader so much.

…can we get a feral big brother ghost?

or ofc if that’s too much (which i understand) then may i request a situation where ghost and his little sister get into a fight?

I wasn’t sure what you meant, so I tried smt??

Sibling Quarrel

Pairing:big brother!Ghost & little sister!reader

Cw: verbal arguments, platonic yandere, possessive, isolation, threats, physical altercation, verbal to physical fight but nothing violent, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 1.5k

“I told you not to do that!” You screamed, erratically waving your arms around you, hands clenched in a fist and shoulders shaking. “I told you, Simon!”

“And I told you how dangerous it could be!” He growled back at you, hands clenched to his side, body shaking in pent-up frustration. He didn’t know whether it was against you or the man who’d been trying to hit on you, but he felt frustrated and angry. “I warned you, (Name)!!” 

You scoffed, turning around, giving him your back as you screamed into the ever-calmness of your shared room. A cry of anguish and loneliness, a far cry from your smiling and happy self from years back, your isolation and background made it difficult - near impossible - to form a long, lasting relationship with someone, be it a friend or lover. You moved with Simon, you changed with Simon, you died with Simon, as much as Simon would with you. Being the two last of your family, one could not live without the other.

Yet that did not give him the permission to rule over your life with a gavel, pushing away those that you’d come to care for, building a wall around you against the harsh world, or standing between you and someone else. Granted, he had his reservations, but that didn’t mean you’d abide by all of his rules. He could only do so much until you caught on, and when you did - as he expected - you wouldn’t react so approvingly. 

That time when your “friends” wouldn’t talk to you, giving you the cold shoulder as they shuffled away hastily in a group, holding their arms as if they’d fall off. They wouldn’t talk to you when you cornered them one by one, stalking the halls of the base at night until you ran into them, asking, pleading to know why they wouldn’t talk to you anymore. Everyone would shake, trembling in the spot you’d pushed them into, eyes fleetingly scarce when you urged them to look at you as if it was made taboo for them to simply look at you. They mumbled excuses, soft pleas when a steady hand fell on your shoulder, the familiar presence of your brother standing behind you. All they did was shake and run, knees weak and mind faint.

Or the time when men and women alike would walk away when you arrived, reeling back to pave a path for you to walk through. Their eyes gazed at the ground when you passed as if it was ingrained into their bones that staring at you was forbidden. Those lower than Ghost would cower in fear, even some higher than him feared him solely by his reputation. Ghost’s name came in synch with yours, it was never only Ghost nor simply Doc, it was Ghost and Doc, balaclava-wearing specialists in the 141, or the ghost duo, being forgotten members of society. 

Or the time when everyone simply ignored you, walking away once you approached them. They would slowly and unconsciously walk off when it was just you, their backs turned to you and shoulders tense, but when you were beside Ghost, they would scurry away in fright and anxiety, rushing off before he could even step inside the room. 

It was then you realised that your name besides Ghost was what warded them away, he was pushing people away from you with his name, his gaze and his words. They were cut-throat and blunt, dangerously calm and murderously malicious. Your brother ensured that you would be his alone, your body, mind and soul his own. 

“Don’t turn your back to me, (Name),” his voice was deathly quiet, a threat lacing his tone. His broad body standing behind you, tall and unmoving to all but himself. “Don’t walk away.”

You glared at him, face turned to peer at him from your shoulders. You slowed your steps, feet moving one after the other in a slow motion: “Watch me.” Was all you gave him before striding confidently towards the door, arms outstretched to reach the knob with your gloved hand, the cool metal fated to meet your warm flesh- 

You grunted, body slammed into the wall beside the door. You spat curses at Ghost, arms clasped to your sides, unmoving and uncooperative to your wants. He pressed himself against you, his hard shoulders blocking you from peering over him, his strong arms holding you still and his steady legs holding you in place. You were stuck between a rock and a hard place. You faced him, eyes glaring up at your brother, your hate and anger burning into his pale face. In the privacy of your shared room, you could comfortably walk around without your masks, faces bare to each other. You couldn’t hide your expression from him, and he couldn’t hide his tears from you. It was a blessing and a curse, there was no secret between you, but it was hard to hide anything when your eyes were so expressive. 

You caught the hardness in his orbs, the cool and menacing threat he posed toward you. Although you shared blood and a connection thicker than anything, he wouldn’t fear showing you the darker side of himself, the all-imposing and domineering man that gained the fear and respect he held. Your lips pulled into a sneer, baring your teeth at him like an - wounded and cornered - animal, and he returned the sentiment, his chapped lips parting to hiss at you with sharp teeth and even sharper canines. It made your growl look pathetic, his bigger set of teeth gleaming under the dim lighting of your room and his harsh glare life-ending.

However tall and threatening he was, you didn’t back down, being a medic didn’t necessarily mean that you were weak-willed or feeble, you were as much as Ghost was, strong-headed and stubborn. That was something you shared with all your siblings, that stubbornness that made you nearly insufferable, even within the family. Yet people would see the stark difference between you, his towering terror against your puppy-like attempt at seeming threatening. 

“Back off.”

“No.”

“I said back off, Simon.”

You threw your head forward, your forehead aiming to break the soft cartilage of his nose, but you were pushed back, a hand leaving your arm to hold your throat against the wall. You sputtered, your free hand grasping his wrist. It was warm, burning in a way that had you sweating and panting loudly. Ghost narrowed his eyes, his grasp on your throat loose and soft, non-threatening against the light of his universe, but if you kept squirming and struggling, he’d have to tighten his hand around your neck, your small, weak throat right under his big palm. He had you where he wanted, weak and vulnerable, pliant - as pliant as you could be in this moment - under him. 

“I told you,” his chest rumbled with a low growl, his shoulders shaking with the force of his restraint, but his body remained still. “I warned you, (Name).”

He’d warned you, but about what? Was it him warning you about not walking away from him? Or was it about something else? You wondered what he meant, his words holding a deeper meaning to it. Perhaps it was the darker intonations, his narrowed eyes or your situation. You couldn’t and wouldn’t understand what went on in his mind in these moments, where he shut you out and wore a mask. 

“About?” You tried, all you could do was push and push until he let you in, to lower his wall and let his kid sister in, to understand his pain and his fear. You knew he dealt with harsher things than you did, so all you could do was stand beside him and support whatever he wanted. 

You asked a second time when all he did was stare at you through squinted eyes, his eyes glazing over with a deathly still daze, mind lost to whatever thoughts he had swirling in his mind. You couldn’t let him lose himself in another torrent of self-hate and self-deprecation, to fall into another pit of neglect and loss. Your hand glided over his forearm and shoulder, to hold his nape reassuringly. It was something he used to do with you when you panicked, grounding you with soft circles on the side of your neck. 

You saw his sneer loosen, his shoulders relaxing as he moved to pull you into his arms, one hand urging your head to rest on his shoulder and the other gripping your waist, embracing you within his warm arms. Sometimes, Simon might be harsh or mean, or he could be silent and glaring, but he could also be soft and caring, or loving and obnoxious. You might hate him on some days and loathe him on others, but you always came back to him, like a moth to a flame, you depended on him as much as he depended on you. 

“You don’t have to tell me, Si,” you whispered, humming softly in his ears as he ran his fingers through your hair, mumbling apologies. You hated when he turned this way after a rough confrontation between you both, how broken and wounded he sounded, or tearful and sad as he pleaded for your forgiveness. You’d always forgive him, he was your only family, no matter how feral you both acted. “Stop apologising. You don’t have to, I’ll always forgive you.”

His shoulders shook, a choked breath leaving his frowning lips.

“Always.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

#x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #mw2 ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #ghost cod #yandere ghost #simon x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #yandere simon riley #yandere mw2 x reader #yandere mw2 #call of duty mw2 #mw2 #mw2 x you #mw2 x reader

[themotherofhorses]

bewitched

pairing: alys rivers x fem!targaryen!reader, minor aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

summary: she is many things— this witch, and observant is one of them. alys rivers can see the way your older brother stares at you, that mix of heavy lust and longing darkening the violet in his eye.

it is quite cute, she thinks. such a shame she's decided to claim you for herself.

warnings: explicit language. aemond acting like book!aemond in the beginning (violence and death). seduction. mention of canon-typical targcest between siblings. oral (f receiving) and fingering. tiddy sucking. slight breeding kink. alys straight up stealing aemond's bitch.

masterlist

Without any further thought, you had followed your older brother on his sixteen days’ march to Harrenhal, riding alongside him at the head of his army, some four thousand strong. Your mother had protested it a great deal, demanding you stay back and remain with her and your broken older sister.

But you were Aemond’s in the way Helaena’s was Aegon’s, and where he went, you followed.

And it was you, his sweet little sister, who did her best to calm him down when, twenty days later, word of the fall of King’s Landing finally reached him. At dinner, Aemond felt thrice the fool, you knew, and cried out curses at his uncle and the “river scrum” and Rhaenyra, over and over again. His fury was fearsome but never directed at you. He loved you too much. That night, you held him close, cradling his head against your breasts as the two of you slept.

The following morning, he began his onslaught.

Under the dawning sun, Aemond soon killed Ser Simon Strong in a duel, cutting the old man to pieces before feeding the corpse to Vhagar. Ser Simon was the great uncle to Larys Clubfoot, you then remember, grimacing at the blood puddling across the castle’s courtyard. Larys Strong. Harwin Strong. Lyonel Strong. Bits of his limbs were scattered about too, a horrible mess of muscle and skin and greyed hair. The sight made you sick to your tummy.

Bring me his grandsons! Aemond demanded soon after, freckles of dried blood staining his cheekbones and brow. And every man or boy with Strong blood in his veins. The Stranger does not discriminate in his wielding, and neither will I!

You watched in tears as one by one, your brother’s men dragged out both man and boy, some no older than your niece and nephew. Their screams broke out across the courtyard as their bodies stacked in a pile almost three feet high. Clutching Aemond’s sleeve, you begged and pleaded mercy for the children, and for the womenfolk huddled within the wards.

“See reason!” you cried. “They are innocent in all this, the babes especially! Do not let your anger deceive you, my dear brother!” But Aemond was unmoved by your words, to your utter dismay.

No trueborn Strong was spared nor any bastard, both adult and child. All except Alys Rivers.

You pled mercy for her as well, and Aemond surprised you by granting it. He gestured for two soldiers to shove her back inside Harrenhal, safe and alive, before asking if you were finally happy. Your lips curled at the bite in his tone, and the madden glare in his eye.

“This is unlike you,” you told him. “I do not like it.”

Aemond rolled his eye. “And I do not give a shit, sweet sister. If you wish to cast blame onto someone, let it be our eldest whore sister and her damn husband. Ser Simon was a traitor to the crown, and died a fitting traitor’s death.”

“But this was unnecessary, Aemond! You’re many things, yes, but cruel is not one of them.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“I know it!” you insisted.

Aemond sighed. His sword was back belted to his hip, hidden by the cloak he wore. “We’ve entered a war, sister. Fairness and humanity do not survive long on the battlefield. Do not expect much compassion during these times.”

You frown. Was Aemond always like this?

Suddenly you wish to be at home, tucked within the Keep’s stone walls, in your mother’s arms. Perhaps if you closed your eyes, you’d be back in the gardens, smelling the warm earthy smell of early springtime and feeling the cool wind play with your hair.

I want to go home now, you wanted to say when you reopened your eyes to find yourself still at Harrenhal. I don’t wanna be here anymore. Anywhere but here.

You did not know this man in front of you. Not anymore. He was no longer your older brother and protector, the man you would soon wed when the moon turned again, and the one you loved with your whole heart. Your eyes drifted back to the corpses stacked atop each other, bloodied legs and arms and messy heads strewn all over the redden dirt.

With nothing else left to say, you turned and left.

She is many— this witch, and observant is one of them. Alys Rivers could see the way your older brother stares at you, that mix of heavy lust and longing darkening the violet in his eye.

It is quite cute, she thought. Such a shame she’s decided to claim you for herself.

Alys felt no guilt at that. You had saved her life, although she hadn’t the slightest inkling as to why. Or, maybe she did, actually. She herself was older by many decades, raven-haired, and as tall as the Prince Aemond himself. Her breasts were still heavy with milk from all the highborn children she fed throughout the years. She was a wet nurse, a bastard woman.

There were so many pretty maids, all of your own years, at Harrenhal, and yet you never once entertained them as companions.

No, instead your pretty eyes remained on her.

As the evening sunlight streamed through the castle’s windows, Alys arrived at your bedchamber, guised as a servant. In her hands, she carried a tray of plated roasted deer, goat cheese, and nutty bread, still steaming from the furn. You’ve barred yourself shut in your room for the better part of the day, too upset with your brother’s carnage to venture beyond the walls. The hour had grown late, and you must be starving.

“My princess,” she greeted softly, bowing when you let her in. You stand by the window, gazing outside at the east gate, near the Tower of Ghosts- one of the five immense towers bent and lumped and cracked from the Balerion’s fire during the conquest. As dark and ruinous as it now stands, it was still hauntingly beautiful. “Might you be hungry?”

You sniffled. “My appetite has fled me, I’m afraid.”

“At least try, child.” Alys set the tray on the desk, before taking a step back to study her new prize.

Up close, you’re very much a Valyrian beauty, with hair as silvery as moonglow and deep purple eyes. There is a certain softness and sweetness to you that strikes her fancy, from the elegant way you hold your posture to how you trailed after your brother, the prince. Her eyes fall to your breasts, and she licks her lips.

“Thank you…um…” you paused shortly, unsure of her name.

“Alys Rivers.”

You nod, smiling. “Ah, yes, Alys. I remember now. Thank you for the food,” but then you shake your head, chuckling, “But I don’t think I can stomach any food after today….brutality. I feel sick just remembering such…”

Alys felt the same way as well, though she didn’t fault the little princess for such. It was all your damned brother anyways.

An awkward silence soon followed, and it left her wondering if both you and her had swallowed your tongues in that moment. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she cleared her throat and offered you the chalice of wine she brought too. “Here, sweet princess. A bit of wine to wash away these ill thoughts.”

“Thank you, Alys.” You took a sip, quickly relaxing your shoulders. Mmm, very nice. “I wish mercy on Ser Simon Strong, and his grandsons too, may the gods give them all rest.”

Ser Simon was her great uncle too, Alys thought with some sadness. “He was an old done man, my princess,” she said, lacing her thin fingers together. She wore two silver rings on each hand that sometimes she twisted when anxious. “I like to think he lived a good life before now. He died with bravery and a sword in his hand, the way many in House Strong dream of passing.” Or dreamt, I should say. I’m the only one left, next to Larys.

The two of you spoke for the rest of the hour, moving to sit comfortably on the settee at the foot of the bed. Alys Rivers was a complete joy to be around, and very beautiful. As she talked, you took some time to admire her. Her green eyes shone like bright emeralds, and her hair was long and dark as the midnight sky, falling thickly around her ample breasts. Maybe it was the wine tonight, or perhaps her voice, but you were struck with the sudden urge to kiss her plump, pink lips.

So you did.

You leaned forward, kissing her— softly at first, until she wrapped her arm around your waist to tug you closer. Nobody had ever kissed you before, not even Aemond, although during boyhood he made several attempts to steal a kiss. Her tongue found yours in a short dance before you broke away from her, a tad breathless now.

“Princess,” Alys whispered, hands falling down to your shoulders.

“Apologies!” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed. “I cannot believe I just did that—my sincerest apologies, Alys. I don’t know what overcame me, I—” your voice was muffed as you hid away from her gaze.

She just laughed. “Was that your first kiss?... Have you been deflowered, sweet princess?”

You shook your head.

“Really?” Her dark eyebrow lifted in surprise. “With the way your brother looks at you, in truth I would’ve thought his babes were already in your belly.” Prince Aemond hasn’t bedded you yet? Alys was astonished at that. A silver flower still blossoming prettily in the rosebush, ripe for plucking? A slow smile spread across her lips.

“Aemond—he hasn’t…we’re to be married when we return to King’s Landing, I believe.”

“Do you like him?”

“I do. He is a good brother, and he will be a fine husband, and father too!” You said in a quivering voice, trying to calm your breathing. “He loves me, I think, and I love him too.”

But Prince Aemond had made you afraid of him today, she could smell it on you, even if you would never admit it aloud. This was very good. She could use it to her advantage. “Ah, I see. Well, in that case, I wish you two a fruitful and blessed marriage. You’ll make a fine wife when the day finally arrives, little princess.”

That made you pause. “I don’t know…” you mumble, picking at the skin around your nailbed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well…our elder brother, King Aegon, he took Aemond to a brothel on his thirteenth nameday. He likes to joke that our brother is well-educated in pleasing a woman. I worry that I’m not…I’m not up to his standard. Or that he may not desire me afterward.”

Alys drew back, shocked. Up to his standard? Non-desirable? Does she take him for an utter fool? For what man wouldn’t wish to bed a Targaryen princess like yourself?

She scoffed, leaning her face so close to yours that you could feel her warm breath against your lips. It sent goosebumps prickling up each arm. “Men always love a blushing maiden in their sheets. They may return to the whores in due time, but they’ll always welcome a maid in their bed, however inexperienced she might be.”

Your breath hitched at her words. Could she…maybe….? Your eyes fell back down to her heavy breasts. She was a wet nurse, after all, and confessed to being pregnant with several children of her own. Would that mean she is well experienced in pleasure…? You debated the thought in your head, weighing the consequences of asking such.

Is it really whoring if it is with another woman? It is not like I’m laying with another man….she would be a teacher, not a mistress. You closed your eyes, thinking of Aemond. And Aemond would never know. I’d never tell him.

“Will you show me?” you blurted. “Teach me, so that I might be somewhat educated in pleasure?” Maybe it would take your mind off of this morning too.

Mischief twinkled in Alys’s pretty green eyes. “If it pleases you, my princess.”

Alys is quick to lay you down on the bed before climbing over you, straddling your waist. “I can hear your heartbeat. Do not be scared, little love. Passion is a love song, and lovemaking is merely the dance that follows.” She then takes both your hands in hers, placing them on her breasts. "I am yours to do whatever you wish, my princess." Encouraged by the look she gives you, you rub her nipples with your thumbs, before leaning to take one in your hot mouth to suckle.

She moans, cradling your head closer to her chest. “Good girl,” she whispers, eyes shutting as you flick it back and forth with your tongue.

Your other hand squeezes her other breast, enjoying the way it feels between your fingers and the moans flooding from her lips. You want to ask her if you’re the first woman she’s ever been with and if this moment is as special to her as it is to you. But her tit is still in your mouth and steals all the words away.

After a few more minutes, she pulls your mouth away to kiss you, letting you taste a bit of her tongue. “Very good,” she murmurs against your lips, kissing you again and again. “Did you like my breasts, sweetling?”

“Mmmm,” and you tug at her bottom lip between your teeth. “I did a lot, Alys. They're so soft.”

She giggles before pushing you back down, your head sinking against the pillows. Her soft hand drifts across your belly, fingers skimming below the curve of your breasts down to your hipbones and waist. “You’re so beautiful,” she says aloud, her voice thick with awe. “I dreamt of Targaryens before, but you’re far lovelier than them all, little princess.”

Your brother has been blessed with your hand, she thinks, with a mix of both sincerity and bitterness. Men never deserve such tantalizing fruits. They are all the same in their words and actions. They never truly appreciate the gods’ given gifts.

Her green eyes remain on your naked belly, imagining a soft swell to it. You’d be such a lovely mother, she’s sure. She could never give you a baby, though, but maybe….her eyes look up to yours, noticing the faint glimmers of lust clouding the pretty violet hue. It is a mirror to your older brother, Prince Aemond.

Alys thinks and thinks, taking the time to fondle your smaller breasts.

Prince Aemond could plant the seed…and she could then tend to it.

Alys’s hand continues downward, finding the mound of fine silvery hair between your thighs, grinning when she feels how wet you are. “I wonder if your cunt is as sweet as your lips,” she wonders aloud, more to herself. You bite your lip, watching with large, doe-eyes. Alys moves herself between your thighs, her pretty face hovering over your soppy pussy.

“You are just so lovely, sweet princess.” She flashes you a quick smile while running a finger through your folds, gently easing you open. Above her, you tremble.

She then presses a soft kiss to your clit before sucking it into her mouth, tongue drawing small circles around it. “Ohhhhh,” you moan, face scrunching in blissful pleasure. Alys switches between sucking and lapping at your cunt, her eyes flickering up to watch the way you react to everything. There are tiny beads of sweat lining your browbone and temple, and your fingers are slowly turning white from the tight grip on the cream sheets.   

Scream. Allow me to hear those cries. Let the entirety of Harrenhal learn who’s claimed you tonight.

Your hips buckle up against her mouth as your head lolls to the side, breathless whimpers leaving your lips when she works two fingers inside your cunt, scissoring and pumping and stroking your sweet spot until all you can see are flashes of blinding white. “ALYS,” you shriek, bringing the sheet to your mouth to bite down as hard as you can to muffle the rest of your screams. “Oh, gods be good, Alys!”

You don’t wish for your beloved Aemond to hear you, nor anyone else.

Oh, but you taste so fucking good, Alys thinks, savoring your arousal on your tongue. She continues to eat you out, as well as fucking you with her fingers, partly dreaming of a wonderful new life where she wakes up every morning between your shaky thighs, breaking fast with every sweet orgasm she pulls from you.

My princess, mine own dragon.

Several seconds later, your legs twist around the older woman’s body, breasts heaving as your whole body shakes and shudders. Your pussy clenches tightly around Alys’s fingers, a sign that you’re close to cumming. “Cum for me, sweetling,” she coos, kissing the inside of your thigh- once, twice, thrice. She feels victorious in a way, a great pride simmering within her as she eyes the way your peak comes only closer and closer.

Prince Aemond One-Eye may have sacked her Harrenhal, but she sacked his baby sister, and made the little princess her own sweet whore.  

“Would you like for me to bring your dear brother next?” she asks.

You shake your head, panting through the moans and whimpers and gasps. “He—he won’t…take me—ah, until our wedding night—”

“I have a way of fixing that,” Alys says, leaning to lick a long strip up your pussy. She has many love potions and philtres to entice the prince, a collection that would surely inflame his deep passion and lust for his sister. Although, she thinks in amusement, it shouldn’t be that hard. He wants you as badly as she did, mayhap even more. “You’ll be heavy with his child soon, sweetling, his bastard’s fire blazing in your womb.”

“He won’t father a bastard. Aemond hates bastards.”

“He’d father anything if it comes from your loins, sweet one.”

You cry, flinging your head back as you come undone at her fingers and tongue. Alys drinks everything you give her, mouthing tiny spells against your cunt. One for fertility, the second for a blessed marriage, and the third for protection. Except it won’t be between you and the prince.

Alys Rivers always did prefer women to men.

taglist for "bewitched": @chainsawsangel @sweethoneyblossom1 @dahlias-and-marigolds @ilikeitbetterangsty @inlovewithhisblueeyes @the-cult-classic-bitch @666-aiko

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond fanfiction #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #alys rivers #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[the-darklings]

on my hands and knees begging for a crumb of dream's pov when wanderer called for him? 🧎‍♀️

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader (wanderer)

wc: 1k+

notes: I really gave you a choice between the biggest comfort scene in this story & a literal pain fest after two back-to-back pain fests & you all said hold that thought. spoilers for part 8 of tibyim if you're not caught up.

dream & wanderer series: part one | series masterlist | ao3 |

Is is the cruelty of humankind that will be the last of him?

For one such as he, an Endless, who does not change, does not fall the way gods humanity chooses to worship do—death is a sister, a familiar face. 

This is worse than passing into the Sunless Lands. He is not where he is needed; he is locked away, removed from his realm, tools, and function. His dreamers. What horrors are they experiencing due to Roderick Burgess’ greed? His infantile need to gain for himself that which does not belong to any mortal man. 

Morpheus does not know. Time passes here, same as everywhere, but there is nothing outside his glass prison. The power that once cloaked him as his coat of flame and starlight is ash in his hands. There is nothing in this cold prison but suffocating wards. Jessamy's blood speckles the floor when his cruel mind wishes to play a trick on him. Lucienne’s books rustle in his ears. His dreams and nightmares breathe and exist around him. 

Sometimes Wanderer laughs in his ears, and during those times, Morpheus wishes for unconsciousness he grants his dreamers. It would be simpler to flee if he had another way out. 

There is no such relief. Morpheus envisions, dreams, and paints his subjects so often in the dark and the cold metal and glass that he can imagine them real. He can imagine them here. There is no way to reach them now, even if he wished for such a thing, and he does not. He will find a way himself, nor will he place his own in danger. 

Captured. Unable to flee. His essence is all but stolen from him by mortals who know not what they’re perpetuating. 

Is this how it felt, stardust? Is this how it hurts? 

Morpheus, King of Dreams, hears no response in the dark engulfing him. 

.

His captors age. With each passing day, their desperation grows and festers, for they are beginning to sense their mortality, gnawing them from the skin down to the bone. 

“Do you reckon he’s some poor bloke ol’ man hates, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“Blimey, Greg, don’t tell me it doesn’t interest ya?”

“Whatever that thing is, he ain’t human, you dumb bastard. He never eats, never drinks. Fucker never even pisses! Some abomination. God help our souls.”  

.

“Do you know why I’m here?”

To torment me.

“You made me up in your mind. Does that mean you miss me, Dream Lord?”

The gentle teasing rakes through his chest. 

Every day. 

“You threw me out, Dream.” Quiet, vicious words. “You took everything from me. You deserve this. You did this yourself.”

For this judgement, Morpheus discovers no retort. 

.

—Dream of the Endless—answer my call—

Morpheus jerks. 

A jolt races through his body, every sense snapping back to life. Could it be? Has someone located him? Is someone attempting to conjure him, evoke his name? His siblings would not call for him, then who—

I call upon Dream of the Endless—

Something in Morpheus’ chest stills—ices over, then sears and burns. That voice. After centuries he would recognise it in his very soul.

Have I made you up once more, Wanderer?

But no, it cannot be. Even over the sounds of a clamorous party upstairs, his chattering guards who are hardly paying him any heed, Morpheus can barely hear the call. Faint, echoing through some far away tunnel. How—

The pebble. Of course. His power was concentrated in that stone, similar to how his dreams and nightmares are crafted. Unfading. 

—you are sworn.

Old power clangs through him, burning at his core. For he is sworn and has given that pledge to but one. All these centuries, he’s hoped for a call, for a plea for aid. For he could not reveal that when called upon, as an Endless, he is bound by Ancient Laws to answer. There is a reason the other Endless do not involve themselves with mortals and do not get entangled in their lives. No rules prevent him from helping a cursed mortal if it is to fulfil an oath. 

Morpheus’ head lifts towards the light, attempting to see beyond this plane, fingers seeking. 

Perhaps he could follow, wrap himself in a shard of his power and hop through dreams until he’s home. 

Dream.

He presses his slayed fingers into the glass. Nothing. 

“Wanderer.”

His lips scarcely move with the name. His guards are paying him no mind; still, the name seems to ricochet through his cage.

Why do you sound so sad? So devastated and lost? His name, spoken with such soul-crushing sorrow, saddens him greatly. Morpheus wishes, then, to mangle this cage with his bare hands, but there’s nothing. His hands are frail, as good as mortal, even while vengeance beats its war drums through his mind. 

Are you hurt? Dying? For centuries he’s awaited a call, and now…

Dream? Please. You promised me.

No, no. Morpheus’ fingers curl against the glass, his glare reflected in the dull light. His silhouette trembles. What horrors have befallen you? He cannot see anything, sense anything other than a whisper of your voice inside his mind. He’s cut off, bound, and weak until the wards are broken and his tools returned to him. 

I can’t do this anymore. I… I can’t. Don’t leave me here alone.

Despair crawls through his mind and soul, slumping his physical body. The sheer weight of those words is crushing. There’s such naked vulnerability in them, such heartbreaking surrender. It is but a reminder that while you have, and continue to become just a little more Other each time you meet, there is still a fiercely human heart beating in your ribcage—one that feels so much, one that loves so much. 

Gently, sadly, the voice diminishes, splintering and cracking. 

Stay, raw instinct demands. 

His knuckles sit white against the thick glass. Wards flare with wicked fire, smothering his request. So comparable to the request he’s subconsciously transmitted after the battle, drained and weakened, when he first slipped into Roderick’s trap. 

For in his moment of greatest need, it had not been his pride Morpheus called upon, but a name. Not any God or Creator, not even his family of the Endless. 

It had been a gentle title, a title for one who walks in starlight—the one he’s hurt unjustly. 

Wanderer. 

#the sandman #sandman x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #netflix sandman #morpheus x fem!reader #dream x fem!reader #netflix the sandman #morpheus fic #sandman fanfiction #fic: today i bury you in me

[jdeclerc]

to dream of you

pairing: rhysand x reader

summary: Rhys has come home. It is not the return of the mate you once knew but his homecoming brings a second chance nonetheless.

author's note: this idea has lived in my head for longer than I'd like to admit so I finally put fingers to keys and wrote it, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

warnings: some PTSD and slight allusions to SA

word count: 3,003

The sky outside of my room shows no sign of turning to morning, telling me that my fruitless attempts at sleep lasted much less time than it seemed. Sleep had evaded me from the moment I made my way to bed earlier in the night, as it had for the past half century. Falling into bed no longer held the same prospect of rest and retreat from the outside world, no sanctuary was to be found behind a closed bedroom door. And after the events of the last few weeks, I was beginning to believe it never would again.

 I rise from the bed and pull the robe I had discarded earlier tightly around myself. I give the bed a wistful look before making my way to the door and stepping into the hallway, closing it behind me as silently as possible. My feet begin following a familiar path through the hallways of the House of Wind, my steps seemingly having a mind of their own. It was only when I turn a corner, look up, and meet the eyes of the Night Court’s war general that I truly knew where my path has taken me.

Cassian gives me the smallest of smiles as I approach. Without a word he opens his arms for me to step into. As he wraps them around me and leans his head onto mine, I know that he could tell it is exactly what I need.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he says, “I thought I was meant to be the only one awake at this time of night. We agreed you would get some sleep, now didn’t we dear sister?”

“I tried Cas, I promise I did. Tomorrow…I’ll try again tomorrow, like we agreed.”

I step back from his arms, look to Cassian’s left forearm and then to my own, our matching marks staring back at me.

“I don’t destroy the training ring every day and you try to find rest by getting into bed every night…quite the pair we make.”

I can’t help but let out a small laugh at his words, “That we do Cas…you know I wouldn’t have made it through the last 50 years without you.”

“And you know both Azriel and I wouldn’t have made it 5 minutes without you Y/N, you saved us.”

“We saved each other, don’t ever forget that.” I can tell by the look in his eyes he knows this to be true, that our family could get through anything if it could survive what we had. “Has he gotten any sleep tonight, do you know?”

At my words we both turn toward the open door behind Cassian. Through it we have an unobstructed view of the bedroom, or rather the empty room that used to be a bedroom. No longer did the Illyrian sized bed or matching nightstands rest against the far wall. The ancient bookcase and large armchairs that surrounded the fireplace on the opposite wall were also missing. Instead, they had been moved to the balcony, protected by a ward from the elements. No entrance is granted unless expressly given by the balcony’s occupant. It is a room fit for someone who needs an uninterrupted view of the stars in the sky, to feel the breeze against his skin, and to smell the air coming off the mountain.

From our vantage point we can just make out a head of raven hair laying on the left side of the bed, turned away from the door.

“He has been asleep for almost an hour now, I’m not sure if it will last but I’m hopeful. It’s the fourth night he’s refused Madja’s sleeping tonic, each night has brought longer bouts of sleep…but the nightmares –”

“They wake him, every night. I feel it when it happens, he sends wave upon wave of distress and fear down the bond.” I can feel the tears in my eyes when I look up at Cassian.

“He doesn’t know you feel it does he?”

I shake my head, “I know he attempts to close the feelings off from me, but I feel it all the same. I have since the first night he returned. The bond has been dormant for so long that everything is heightened. It’s why I have yourself and Azriel stand watch, I need someone to be here for him.”

“It should be you Y/N, you’re who he needs. I know he hasn’t been the same around any of us, but we need to –”

“He flinched Cas,” the look I receive at my interruption is one of confusion, “He flinched when I embraced him the day he returned, and he has kept his distance from me since. He may never need…may never want me again…so I give him everything I can from afar.”

I had not told any of them about what occurred on the day of Rhys’ return, of how he reacted to my touch as though it was engulfed in flame. Our interactions since had consisted of looks across the dining table and passing glances in the halls. The closest we came to touching again was when I handed him the book I knew he would be looking for in the library, the one I had kept beside my bed everyday he was gone because he had been in the middle of reading it.

I don’t realize my tears have begun to fall until I feet Cassian brush them away.

“He will come back to you Y/N, he may not be the same as when he left but he will return all the same. His love for you may just be the most impressive thing I have ever witnessed. Well, that and Azriel’s wingspan...which I will deny ever having said but it’s true all the same.”

I match his grin with one of my own, “Oh, he’ll be hearing about this. Of that you should have no doubt.”

“Do what you must you cruel female, I will take any retribution brought to me if it means that smile stays on your face for a moment longer…it has been sorely missed these last fifty years.”

“Thank you, Cas, for everything. Come find me before you head to bed in the morning, I wish to know how the night ends so we can adjust things if needed. I’ll be in the office, or the dining room should Azriel wish for our meal together tomorrow to be breakfast.”

“You will have every detail Y/N. Promise me only mundane court affairs this evening, if you must work let it be menial paperwork.”

“Only mundane court affairs, I promise.” I give Cassian a short hug before departing down the hallway, I can feel his worry upon my back with every step.

The office door is ajar when I reach it but is empty upon my entrance. As I round the desk I find a steaming cup of tea, my favourite biscuits, and a note that reads:

Y/N,

The house promised to keep the tea warm until you arrived.

I love you sister.

I expect to find an empty cup and plate when I come to collect you for breakfast in the morning. If you insist on working through the night, I insist on giving you simple comforts while you do so.

Your favourite brother,

- A

I smile down at the note, knowing words don’t come as easily to Azriel as they do to Cassian. Prythian will never know the heart of the shadowsinger and how deeply his love runs for his family. But I cherish every moment he trusts me with it.

---------

I’m not sure how much time has passed when the heavy silence of the House of Wind is broken, broken by a voice I had begged the Mother countless times to hear just one more time. One I would never again take for granted.

“You look much better behind that desk than I ever did.”

It takes me a moment to gather the courage to look up. I am not met with a sly grin or cheeky look but one of deep longing.

“It is the view of you behind this desk I wish to have restored. Sitting behind it was never a burden I wished to carry.” I regretted my choice of words the moment they left my mouth. His face betrays no feelings of hurt though. “Rhys, I…I’m sorry, that was unfair of me to say.”

“Say it again.”

“Wha –”

“My name, say it again.”

“Rhys…Rhysand.”

I realize it is the first time I have said his full name since he returned, I have resisted using it because it brings emotions to the surface I don’t wish to face. But I feel his relaxation through the bond, as though his name on my tongue is a salve to a wound I can’t see.

We fall into a few moments of silence, both of us never looking away from the other. It is Rhys who speaks first. “Walk with me?”

I manage only a nod in response. Wanting nothing more than to be with him in any way he would allow and not wanting to end the closest we had come to normalcy since his return.

He waits until I meet him in the doorway to begin our journey. I am unsure of his path, so I follow him in silence, allowing him to take control. He leads me to the giant balcony off the main foyer of the house and comes to a stop at its edge. I do the same, leaving an arm’s length of space between us.

I can’t say how much time we pass looking at the stars over Velaris, standing in utter silence. It is he who breaks the silence once more.

“It was your voice.”

Four words that raise countless questions in my head, but I remain silent, letting Rhys speak freely. I simply watch his profile, relishing in the ability to do so.

“That is what I missed most. Not the stars in the sky, nor the wind upon my wings. Not your scent, not even the memory of your skin upon mine but your voice. I longed to hear it’s rasp when we rose early in the morning, how it skipped when I brought you to the edge of euphoria, your laugh in response to one of Cassian’s terrible jokes. Even recalling arguments in which you, deservedly so, yelled at me brought me comfort.”

His quickly glances over at me as his voice begins to catch in his throat, he does his best to compose himself before he continues.

“I can’t imagine how these weeks have felt for you, I have spent every moment trying to find the right words but all of them have felt wrong. But I know I want to apologize; I haven’t been who you hoped I would be upon my return.”

It is hard for him, I realize, to give words to the fae he had become under the mountain. How it changed and molded him into someone entirely different than the one who left. How he thought he was no longer the mate I knew and loved.

“Who I hoped you would be? You silly, foolish male.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Look at me Rhys.” He meets my eyes. I hold his gaze, wanting him to hear every word I am about to say. “My only hope was that you would come home. For fifty years that is all I have wanted. Even if you came home and felt differently about all of us…about me, it didn’t matter. You would be home.”

He gives me the smallest of smiles and closes his eyes as he lets out a breath.

“You must know, I could never not need you – and I’ve certainly never stopped wanting you.”

“You heard me talking to Cas.” It isn’t a question; we both know it to be the truth.

“After fifty years of being closed off it would seem as though the bond responds to you at every turn. I awoke the moment you stopped outside the door, just having you near was enough. I didn’t want you to leave on account of my being awake.”

I have no rebuttal; we both know that the distance between us has not been completely one-way. I have never found the courage to speak with him either.

“I…after you first got back, I didn’t want you to feel as though I was pushing myself on you. I knew I needed to give you space.”

“Y/N…” I can hear the catch in Rhys’ throat once more, can see him swallow and force himself to continue. “Over the last half century touch has been used against me. It never held true affection, it was used as a tool of manipulation and control. Yours was the opposite. I felt your utter relief and unending love at the sight of me – it was overwhelming, and I reacted without thought. I’m so sorry to have caused you to think I didn’t want you near.” I can tell he is struggling to form his words, to relive the nightmare he had only recently escaped. And I can’t bear it as tears began to form in his eyes.

“You need not explain yourself or apologize to me. I hope to one day be let into that mind of yours – to know all that you have survived so that I can give you support however I can, but it need not be today. Nor even a decade from now, I will take what you give when you feel ready to give it.”

“You will know, as you have known every corner of my mind since we were younglings. It may take time, but you will know.” It is then that he reaches for my hand, tentatively, as though he has never done it before. He grasps it in both of his own, never taking his eyes off of them. “The cauldron surely made a mistake in bestowing a mate like you upon the likes of me. I will never deserve all that you have given me or this court. It is a debt that can never be repaid.”

“Rhys…what do you mean?”

“I had Cassian and Azriel show me what occurred in my absence, what they allowed me to see that is. There were gaps in what they showed me…because of their love for you, I think. Some things, they said, are for only you to tell me. I hope to learn them one day, every single detail.” His brow furrows with his next set of words. He grips my hand tighter and locks eyes with me. “I saw you give away every piece of yourself, you faded away as you refused to let those around you slip.”

“I did what any of them would have done, it was what they needed – it didn’t matter what happened to me, it only mattered that you had something to come home to.” I don’t stop the tears as they come this time, they are matched by those in Rhys’ eyes.

“You are my home. You are what I desperately hoped to return to. You are more than anyone in Prythian deserves. I hope to, one day, be deserving of the sacrifices you made, the mate you deserve once again.”

“You have always been deserving of me, who you are at any given time is deserving. For the first time in half a century I feel like I can breathe, I feel complete with you here…no matter what that looks like.”

“And I am on my way there, racing as fast as I can to match you. My steps may be those of a babe for a time; short and unsure. But I want to move forward, closer to you, all the same. I love you more than you could know Y/N, give me time and I will show you this in every way imaginable.”

“The pace of your steps is irrelevant, I’m just happy I get to see them once again. We are in this as a pair, as we always have been.”

Rhys drops my hand and straightens to his full height, looking every bit the part of a High Lord. He extends his right hand into the space between us.

“Then let us strike a bargain. We do this together. We take steps forward to grow and heal, as one, never letting the other fall far behind.”

I put my hand in his and we close our grips around one another.

“As one.”

If the look on his face is any indication, I know Rhys feels the seal of our bargain at the same time I do. I look down to see identical markings on the inside of our right wrists.

We drop each other’s hands and fell into a comfortable silence, both leaning against the railing of the balcony. I can tell that Rhys is exhausted, both mentally and physically. He seems reluctant to leave, reluctant to admit how much one conversation has so utterly drained him.

“It’s alright Rhys.”

He hums in response and gives me a questioning look.

“Go back to your room, you need sleep. I will be fine.”

“Our room.” He frowns at his own words. “It will be one day again, give me time.”

I give him a tentative smile in return.

“We’ve got all the time in the world.”

He reaches down to squeeze my hand before releasing it and begins making his way toward the door. I call his name and stop him just as he reaches it and is about to walk through. He turns to face me.

“Do me a favour.”

“Name it.”

“Try and dream for me, you deserve the peace it will bring.”

My words are met with an expression holding a difficult story I do not yet know and before Rhys disappears into the house he says,

“I simply think of you darling and I’m already dreaming.”

#rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar #night court #acomaf #acotar x reader

[ethereal-night-fairy]

Forgotten sorrows

Chapter 4

Fae!Soap X Female Reader

Rún tries to keep her emotions in check while dealing with her traumatic memories and a turbulent reunion with Price.

Warnings: MDNI, dark themes, mention of trauma, suicide attempt, mental health talk unstable emotions, guilt and angst, sorry if I missed any.

Sorry I've been gone for so long it's been over a month i know. I just had a lot on my plate but I'm hopefully getting back to a more consistent writing routine. This chapter isn't all that great but it goes into detail on how Rúns mind works. Im not even sure Rún and Soap will be a thing by the end of this story but we'll find out together lol. Next chapter will probably be a mix between Rúns Pov and Soap's Pov. I just wanted to let anyone know that I'll be blocking blogs that follow me that don't have ages or +18 in their bio. I rather minors not read my content. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. This Fae au belongs to @ghouljams I feature their Oc in my writing, send them some love. This story wouldn't exist without them.

Forgotten Sorrows Masterlist

Masterlist

Words: 5.1k

After entering the home, you occupy yourself by looking around trying to see what had changed since you last came rather than talk about why you were crying. Your friend walked into her kitchen after getting you settled in her living room probably giving you time to sort through your thoughts. You felt the magic of her wards buzz around you welcoming you back after what felt like years but it had only been a couple of weeks since your last visit. Your eyes stung from crying and you felt a little restless so you get up and walk towards her massive bookshelves and cabinets. Little sniffles still left you as you inspect different vials and jars of herbs displayed on her old mahogany shelves. You definitely felt a lot safer than you did before which helped greatly in calming down your nerves. You decide to prop your little wrapped gift beside her other herbs and spices hoping she'll like it. Your best friend comes in with two mismatched tea cups on a tray with your muffins on it.

Sitting down she pats the space beside her on her sofa. She watches you walk over gingerly and sit down beside her. After handing you your cup she encourages you to take small sips of her herbal tea, gently probing trying to figure out how your seal broke while rubbing your back soothingly. She hasn't seen you like this since before your memories were sealed. You were never this unstable with your magic. Maybe it was a bad idea to begin with but it was the only thing at the time she thought would help you. You were in such a desperate state to forget everything, she was afraid you'd do something far worse. She eventually got you to speak. What followed was more tears and a whole lot of word vomit which she deciphered fairly quickly with some well placed questions. She'd gotten the gist of the series of events that brought you here in such a state. It was your sister again, she had a tendency to get herself in horrible situations only to dump all the responsibilities of said situations on you when things didn't work out. She wasn’t a fan of your sister and voiced her displeasure often. Though this time was far worse, your sister had become entangled with a fae. A fae clearly out to consume her. You were too kind for your own good and highly protective of the one person who said they wanted you as their family. You two would get into small arguments about the way your sister treated you so you both came to an agreement not to talk about it unless it was absolutely necessary to persevere your friendship. She was confused about how your seal broke though. Granted that you were only in your early teens when you managed to put the seal in place. But it had withheld all these years regardless of the amount of times you were perused by the fae or saw something parculiar. Especially that time when a fae tried draining your life force at your previous job. Witch was on a foraging expedition to gather rare plants in season when you ended up in the ICU. She had rushed back as soon as she was informed by your work. You were extremely lucky that fae from work didn’t come visit you in the hospital. You might of died if they came in contact with you in such a vulnerable state. You had chalked it up to overwork since the seal was in place which isn’t necessarily wrong. They did often overwork you with little regard for your wellbeing. Maybe your seal had reached it’s limit and was on the brink of collapse anyway.

Having gotten a fairly comprehensive understanding of the situation she starts gathering ingredients and materials to create protection amulets and charms while she listens to get your anger out on this 'infuriating' Fae as you so put it who was so adamant on ruining your sister. She clearly wasn't a fan of your sister and would much rather she left your life (not that she wished death upon her because she didn't....most of the time) but she knew it would devastate you losing more people in your life and she didn't want that. So out of the love she had for you she went about trying to help you the best she could. She listened to you go into great detail about why you hated this Fae. Why you wanted to "smack his stupid smirk of his handsome face" or that you wanted to "push his stupidily muscular body into the lake" or even better yet "gouging out his pretty ocean eyes". She couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the strange situation. You would inadvertently compliment him while thinking about all the ways you'd want to hurt him. She could clearly tell you were physically attracted to him but decided not to comment on it as she went outside to collect some things for the charms while you mulled over how you could further insult him.

She heard you pace around in the living room as you threw further insults at this mysterious Fae while enjoying a muffin. The witch felt a presence approach as she gathered the last of the ingredients she needed. Looking up she sees an ever so handsome Fae (though she'd never admit it to his face, not yet anyways) leaning against the wall and her threshold. She felt the smoke of his cigar engulf her in a warm embrace but she waved her hands dispensing the smoke cloud nonchalantly trying to appear unfazed by his appearance.

"Hello sweetheart", his deep gravelly voice sends shivers down her spine as she puts away her herbs into her basket standing up straighter.

"Price", she greets a little too eagerly, trying to keep the butterflies in her stomach at bay. They stay like this for what feels like hours just consuming each other through their eyes. Price eyes her up and down especially when she bends over to grab some herbs making idle chatter. Sometimes it feels like she dips her shoulders on purpose giving him an eyeful of full luscious breasts. Not that he's complaining but he'll have to teach her a lesson if she's doing that in public. She hears you walk outside through the backdoor still mumbling insults at that Fae you “absolutely” didn't have some sort of crush on.

"You know what's worse is his stupid name, What the hell kind of name is Soap anyway!?", She watches you look up from the muffin in your hand and freeze when you realise there's another 'visitor' in the garden. You lock eyes with Price with an odd look on your face as if you recognise him. It doesn't last long as you both hear Price speak. He just smirks leaning further against the wall pushing against the threshold a little more.

"Seems like a name for a true muppet if you ask me", he lets out a deep chuckle. Not knowing what to say you simply nod and mumble you'll be waiting inside. You glance back at him one more time with your magic swirling around you confused.

"She's all grown up", Price says to himself, moving away from the wall a little bit. "I'll come see you at a better time luv, seems like you have your hands full". The witch glances after Rún confused and goes to ask Price some questions only to realise he's left not before leaving a small bundle of rosy periwinkle on the wall with a small note attached. 'For the tea and biscuits last time'. She smiles at the note and puts the flowers into her basket to take inside still confused at your reaction to Price. She didnt realise you knew him.

You were sitting on the sofa finishing your tea when you saw her walk inside. You both exchanged a knowing look. You could see her flushed expression from a mile away. And She herself had questions she wanted to ask you. You spoke first excitedly.

"Well?", You narrow your eyes at her. "When were you going to inform me about this drastic change in your love life?

"What drastic change? He's juusst aaa …….friend?", She avoids looking at you while she begins preparing ingredients for the wards.

"Are you asking me or telling me? Because I don't believe you for a second!, you were making heart eyes at him", you scoff clutching your heart thankful for the change of topic. "Oh the betrayal!! The betrayal!! You kept this from me? Me? Your best friend? How could you?", You fake sob into your arm.

"You're so dramatic", she says, rolling her eyes focusing on preparing the things she needed. "I was not making heart eyes at him"

"Yes you were, I have eyes, I can see. Never took you for a liar", you pout. "And here I thought we'd live out our lives out together being platonic virgins", you hear your friend chuckle at that.

"Nevermind our stupid promise, that offer was only valid if we both reached 30 and hadn't lost our virginities or found someone we wanted to be with."

"So you admit it! You want to fuck him!",You watch her choke on her spit trying to deny it. "We only had a couple years left you know, we could have been platonic soulmates. But nooo you had to go find a very powerful Fae to take my place. I don't even have enough power to fight him to claim you. It's the beard isn't it? It is isn't it?”, you sigh playfully hand on your head as you lounge on her sofa like a french girl.

"Are you done?", she laughs grabbing a few things off her shelves. When she finally notices a small wrapped box on her shelf she lifts it to show you. She looks at you knowingly.

You avoid her eyes and just look outside refusing to comment on the present sitting in her hand. “How do you know Price?”, she asks changing the subjest. “You seemed to recognise him”.

“Price? Is that his name? Fits him well”, you think outloud. “Never took you as someone who was interesting in the elderly though”, you laugh jokingly trying to hide the pain of revisiting suppressed memories. You try piecing together the few instances you recall of him in your distorted mind. “I met him before i was brought to the orphanage, he looked the same as he did back then”. “You know the story of when i first met my father after my mother had died, he was there at the High courts when they decide what to do with me. He was the only one who spoke up and gave me the means to decide my own future.” You don’t explain further delving deeper into your own thoughts. Your friend notices and snaps you out of it not wanting you to enter a rabbit hole you won’t be able to get out of. She hands you the wards and protection charms to put into your sisters home.

“You dont need to think about that right now”, she holds your hands in hers. “The next few days are going to be extremely tough on your mind, your memories are going to come back in bursts and with your magic also manifesting you might spiral into hysteria. I want you to come stay with me for a little while so I can keep an eye on you and help you through it.”

You open your mouth to protest but she’s not having any of it. She insist you stay with her until your more stable and able to control your magic better. You sigh defeated and let her know you’ll pack your necessities and come back tomorrow after placing the wards in your sisters apartment. She hugs you as you leave and you feel the warmth and safety evaporate the second you step out through the gate. The feeling of dread re-enters your body and you glance around hastily before getting into your car and driving home. Maybe because you’ve become somewhat paranoid it almost felt if a shadow was following you or was in your near vicinity.

After placing the wards and charms in your sisters apartment when checking in on her as she worked from home you make your way back to your bestfriends house with your bag of necessities and clothing. Your sister seemed alot better and it didnt seem like Soap would bother her anytime soon considering she was complaining he wouldn’t respond to her texts from yesterday.

The next couple of days were very difficult. For both you and Witch. Guilt was eating away at you for being such a burden on her regardless of her constant reassurance that you were anything but. You tried your best to keep in touch with your sister as often as you could but with the building migraines and fits of passing out left you little time to worry about anything else. You also tried your best to be useful when you weren’t in pain but your attempts were shut down and you were told to rest. But after some light arguing she relented and allowed you to help with small tasks to keep your mind off things. Alot had happened in a few days and many disturbing memories resurfaced preventing you from leaving the bed. You spent majority of your day crying and trying to regain some sanity. Your daily meditation sessions helped with your racing mind and unstable magic. The witch would guide you through controlling your magic during the meditations even though your magic and hers were completely different.

Thing were slowly looking up but you felt very unsure of yourself and the identity you created when the seal was in place. The mundane life you had was your safe havan, which now felt inaccessible. You didnt know what to think anymore you didnt feel like the person you felt before, it was like you were back in the mindset of your childhood days. Times which you so desperately wanted to forget.

Memories would resurface of you trying to play with the other children at the orphanage. But because of the tricks the fae would play on anyone who got close to you they would get hurt, you were deemed unlucky or cursed. Some of the tricks were harmless enough like things going missing of being misplaced which would often be blamed you. But the pranks escalated as time went on, ending up with people being hit with potted plants that were on window sills or tripping and falling into nettles. One of worst memories that resurfaced so far was when you were waiting on the curb with another orphan girl you had befriended, you two were waiting to cross the street on your way home from school. You watched as other parents and guardians had come to pick up their children. You remember yearning for someone to hold your hand too while asking how your day was. From the coner of your eye you saw a large shadowy dog? Or was it a cat? Approach your friend as you two stood waiting for the lights to turn green. You had tried desperately to shoo it away before it came closer but the girl just saw it as you being mean to the animal and stopped you. You saw it push your friend onto the road when a car was approaching. Logically it would have been impossible for the animal to have pushed her onto the road so when it had happened and the car came to a screeching halt an inch away from the girl. Every adult on the street and cars understandably were screaming at you after making sure the girl was ok. Who was now crying recoving from the shock of almost dying. The orphanage cartakers were called by the teachers at the school gate and you were kept away from the other kids for a really long time as punishment. And for their safety for your so called ‘unpredictable behavior’ even though it wasn’t you who had done it.

The isolation that followed was one of the worst you ever felt. But blaming it on an animal you called a fairy would have deemed you insane or in need of mental counselling so you kept your mouth shut and took the blame. You could never forget the look your friend had given you after the ordeal. You spent months grounded with having to take up more chores to atone for your actions. Rumours spred like wildfire in school, parents and teachers alike warned kids to stay away from you. But after things settled down the guilt of the situation made you go apologise to the girl even though you never pushed her. You kept to yourself after that much to the releif of the other kids. The only place you felt safe was at the house of your current best friend. Her and her family would come donate things to the orphanage and spend time with the children. You laugh to yourself remembering the first time you had met her. She had introduced herself as ‘witch’ and nothing more as you sat on the grass making flower crowns at the edge of the garden. You had told her to stay away and that bad things would happen to her if she came close to you. Which she proceeded to ignore saying she isnt afraid of the fae. You remember looking at her with shock and admiration. For the longest time you were ridiculed for blaming the bad things that happed on ‘fairies’ as everyone else put it. You were now banned from talking about said ‘faries’. You asked if she could see them and she said no but she could sense them and her family said they were real so it had to be true ‘because grandma doesn’t lie’ . You asked why she wasn’t afraid and she said her family and her home is protected. And that you should come visit her grandmothers cottage since its only down the street. You watched her leave with her grandmother through the gate. They placed a charm on the gate before they left and you waved them goodbye.

You honestly owe your life to your her considering all she had done for you. You wouldn’t have made it so far in life without her. Hence the reason why you sat in her sofa ridden with guilt for causing disturbance to her life. Though she adamantly denies it. You watch her mull around her work space opening and closing drawers and jars making a list of things to stock up on.

“At least let me help”, you plead

“Absolutely not, you just had a mental breakdown”, she points her pencil at you before going back to what she was doing. “Sit pretty and enjoy your tea before it gets cold”

“Please i feel like a freeloader, a leach, a parasite”, you pout at her hoping to change her mind

“You are anything but, you may not realise or value the things you do for others but I do so just sit and enjoy your tea and let me take care of you”, she smiles at you finishing up her list.

“Can i make dinner at least?”

“No we’ll order takeout once i come home from shopping, i would take you with me but your magic is unstable right now so its best if you rest while i run some errands”, she walks over to you and places her hand against your cheek lovingly. “You are and never will be a burden on me, ok?”

You look into her eyes and nod as you get up to follow her to the door as she gathers her essentials. Before she leaves you call out to her one last time.

“Give me something small to keep myself occupied while your gone then....please”, you plead

She catches the desperation in your eyes, this whole ordeal was taking its tole on you she could see in your sunken eyes and the dark circles you now have due to the lack of sleep and constant nighmares. She thinks for a bit before she speaks.

“The flowers around the house are getting old, why not make some new flower arrangements to put in the vases?”

You smile at her suggestion and nod as you wave her goodbye and lock the front door.

You go about gathering all wilted flowers around the house and taking the vases to wash in the sink. Once everything was cleaned and dried you pick a basket and sheers to go into the garden to gather new flowers to arrange into bouquets. It felt a little odd being in the cottage all by yourself but the warmth and safety never left. You look open the back door taking in the good weather.

The fresh air felt nice on your skin. Paired with the bright sun shining on you, a calming sensation engulfed your senses. You let a shaky breath out trying to dispel all your worries even if it was only momentarily. You take a look around the garden contemplating on what flowers to choose. The red rose bush near the back gate stood out to you. They were in full bloom and had a lovely smell emanating from them. Making your way towards the bush you were careful not to touch the thorns as you cut the roses and put them into the basket.

The felt a familiar presence approach without having to look you knew who it was. The wards hummed in recognition as he leaned againt the wall, pushing at the threshold. You didn’t feel any form of hostility or danger from him surprisingly.

“She’s not here, but im sure you knew that already”, you say straighting your back and making eye contact with Price.

“Oh? And how would i have known that? “, he chuckles

“Your claim is on her, i only realised when i had seen you that day. There was a scent on her and her things that i overlooked”, you pout slightly still upset at losing your platonic soulmate, yeah definitely platonic....

You shake your head trying to dispel your thoughts.

“You upset i stole her from you?”, he smiles mischievously.

“I wouldn’t call it stealing per say. She’s still in my life and i dont plan on that changing. Her hapiness and wellbeing is my top priority, if you so happen to bring her hapiness who am i to object. Im happy as long as she’s happy”

“ ‘s that so?”

“Im asuming your here for some other reason than to annoy me?” you finish gather the roses as you move towards the peonys at the far end of the the right wall. Price casually walks as you do continuing the conversation.

“Heard one my boys was causing you some trouble. That muppet Soap has a ferocious appetite. I’ll warn you he hasn’t had a good meal in a while. Might be best to let your sister go and mourn already. I need my boys well fed to run my errands”, he says sympathetically.

Your pain takes a spike as you hear him mention Soap and your sister. You chest felt heavy when you look into Price’s eyes. He might of meant it sympathetically but in your mind it came across as condescending almost as a warning to back off. You felt hurt at his words considering he had helped you when you were little.

You scoff fighting the tears in your eyes and busy yourself gathering the peony.

“You fae are all the same, selfish and unempathetic”, you didnt want to enage in the conversation further conviced he’d say somthing to further upset you so you turn to leave. The pain was spreading from your chest as if you were being injected by liquid fire. It was coursing through your veins and burning every nerve ending. You felt your magic whiplash around you trying to keep danger away even if it was only emotionally.

“Don’t forget you have the same blood flowing through you. You are one of us. He may be doing you a favour by removing your sister from your life”

You snap your head toward him, anger bubbling up from deep within. You feel the pressure push at the walls of your mind. “When have i ever been seen as one of your kind!? This blood has brought me nothing but torment!!”, you laugh with no mirth in your voice. “Doing me a favour!? Doing me a favour? By what? Taking away my only family? By taking away the only person who needs me? My sister is the reason I am alive right now, I continue living for her sake. If she’s gone I have no purpose”, you give him your worst glare. You eyes begin to hurt and you feel a migrain coming on but you refuse to blink. You want to drive home the point you aren’t afraid of him or any fae especially when it came down to family. The magic within you becomes scorching hot, expanding and creating pressure that you felt in your eyes. The longer you stared the more the pain grew. It was as if you were pulling an elastic band to its limits waiting for it to snap or for you to let go. Either way you knew the sting was coming.

Price didnt say anything and returned your stare unnerved. He could see the pain not only in your heart but in your mind. He could feel the pain through the magic in the air, your magic had taken on a murky colour a mixture of red and green. You were actively fighting the seal on your eyes trying to prove a point but you were just hurting yourself. Your eyes were growing teary and he knew you were about to break. What he didnt expext was for your magic to combust around you when it happened. Like a match being thrown into a pool of gasoline the flames engulfed you.

You collapsed onto the grass desperately trying to contain your magic and tears. You felt like a failure, a burden trying to grasp at straws to keep people in your life. Now look at what you’ve done! How were you to explain how the garden burnt down. You sob into your hands trying to calm down. You wished the flames would just consume you. You were tired, so tired. If there was no hope in saving your sister why bother living. You thought of your will as you felt the flames touch your skin and burn you. At least you could repay them back in some sense for having had to waste their time on you all these years. Just as quickly as you embrace the flames you felt them extinguish. A cold sensation ran all over you soothing your superficial burns before you realised you were wet. You open your eyes and see Price inside the threshold but quite a distance away as if he couldn’t get to you in time.. You look at him confused. An empty watering can lay next to you. It must have been the protection wards that had put you out. You knew your friend would have felt that and was probably on her way home.

You look around disoriented, nothing had been burnt expect you. You decided to just stay quiet. You didn’t know how you could possibly go about explaining what had just happened to your friend when she got back without incriminating yourself and your attempt to end everything. You watch Price crouch down to your level bringing his hand towards you. You flinch and move back.

“Im just trying to see how badly your injured, i won’t hurt you”, he sighs a sad look crossing his eyes.

“Maybe not phyically but you have a way with words”, you bite back.

“We’re often blind to volatile people in our lives. Im sure i’m not the first or only person to warn you about her”, you stay quiet because you yourself know what your sister is like an how she treats you but for some reason you feel bound to help and take care of her to the point of exhaustion. You feel indepted to her for showing you kindness when no one else would especially after you sealed your memories away. Spending time in a house where no one acknowledged you was heart wrenching, she was your salvation when you couldn't find purpose in life. You couldn’t abandon her now. You were bound by duty of repayment.

You sniffle as you roughly wipe your face wincing when you came in contact with the burn. You had few people in your life who cared about you. You desperately needed to be of use to them. It was the only way in your mind they tolerated your presence. Why else would anyone need you or want you? You wouldn’t have been abandoned or mistreated if you were useful. The current situation had you feeling on thin ice as if you’d become a nuisance to the very person you love. Regardless of the amount of times she has reassured you, your mind refuses to believe it.

‘She’s just being nice’ ‘She just a kind hearted person to everyone your not special to her’ ‘You need to get better and leave before she she gets tired of you’, you mind would constantly berate you for wanting your needed anything from others. You needed to be 100% independent in order not to inconvenience anyone. And right now you were anything but. You were glad you didn’t burn down her garden though, one less thing to add to the growing list of situations to feel guilty for. The pain in your chest didn’t dissipate it only got worse as you sat there on the grass, as Price looked around for something to dry you with. In your desperation to lesson the pain you claw at your chest feeling around to rip out the source of your troubles. But how was one supposed to rip out emotions? You kept feeling around trying to find somthing tangible to pull out but you couldn’t. You were just left with a guilty conscience and a river of awful memories. Price tried to approach you a couple more times but you refused to let him near.

You didn’t know how much time had passed but the summer sun had dried you by the time you heard the front door open hastily and you watch your friend try to locate you. Your skin was still stinging from the burns as Price stood by leaning against the wall with his arms crossed with an unreadable expression on his face. She came into the back garden with a frantic look on her face. You watch her run to you and collapse onto the grass holding you to her chest. You wince from the burns and she pulls back holding your face in her hands, inspecting to see the extent of the damage. All you could do was apologise as tears streamed down your face. Begging for forgiveness saying you didn’t mean for it to happen. She just held you as you let everthing out.

Copyright © by ethereal-night-fairy. 2023. All Rights Reserved. Writing not permitted for reposting, transcription, translation or use with AI technologies.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 #captain john price #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #john soap mactavish #call of duty mw2 #cod mw soap #soap cod #soap mw2 #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mctavish #soap x reader #soap modern warfare #john mactavish x reader #johnny mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #cod modern warfare #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #captain price #john price #1fae1 #fae!soap #fae!au

[joelsgreys]

Names (Steve Rogers x Female!Reader)

Summary: You and Steve name your twin babies and you choose two very special, meaningful names.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Warnings: Just to be safe I am going to say this is slightly AU, please do not come after me Marvel gatekeepers. Also, it is Dad!Steve. Need I say more than that?

Length: 567 words

A/N: Okay, last Steve fic I had sitting in my drafts, I promise! Just felt like writing something cute and really fluffy today because my mental health went into the bin this weekend.

“I can’t believe they’re actually here,” Steve murmured softly. 

He gazed down lovingly into the sweet little face of his tiny, newborn daughter.

From the moment she’d entered the world, he refused to let her out of his arms.

“I can’t believe it either,” You agreed, letting out a sigh of content. Your son, who had arrived not too long after his sister, was sleeping soundly on your chest. You lifted your hand and very delicately brushed your fingertips through his tufts of soft, dark blonde hair. Although you were told that they weren’t identical twins, both babies shared the same, dark blonde haired trait. You looked forward to discovering what other traits your children would share—although Steve had expressed on more than one occasion that he wanted them to look like you, you secretly hoped that they would take more after him instead. You smiled at the thought of your two babies inheriting his cerulean blue eyes. “They’re perfect, Steve. They’re both absolutely perfect.”

Steve leaned down and gave you a gentle kiss.

“I love you,” he whispered, his lips lingering against yours. 

Your heart had never felt so incredibly warm and full. “I love you too.”

As he kissed you again, the door to your delivery ward opened, startling you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” a female nurse apologized as she walked into your ward.

“It’s quite alright,” Steve assured her, drawing himself back up to full height. 

“Are we going to be discharged from the facility soon?” You asked her, eagerly. 

She nodded, holding up the data pad in her hand. “Yes, but first, we need to get some more information to finish filling out birth records for the babies.” 

You and Steve glanced at each other. 

“Names,” You realized with a gasp. “Steve, we haven’t given them names yet!”

He frowned, glancing at the nurse. “I’m sorry, could we have some more time?”

The nurse chuckled. “Not to worry, Captain. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Steve sat down on the bed beside you as she disappeared from your ward.

His movement caused your baby girl to fuss, but he effortlessly soothed her with  a gentle rocking of his strong arms and a few loving words. “It’s alright,” he cooed, “I’ve got you, my little girl. It’s alright, Papa’s got you.”

Your heart swelled with pure joy. 

There was never a doubt in your mind that Steve would be an amazing father.

“So,” You broke the lingering silence. “Do you have any names in mind?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment. “Well, I have an idea for our daughter.”

“What is it?”

“Sarah.”

“Sarah,” You repeated the name and smiled. Naming the baby after his mother seemed like the perfect idea. “I like it, Steve. I love it, actually.”

Steve seemed slightly surprised by your positive reaction. “Really? You do?”

“Of course. It’s a beautiful and classic name.”

“Okay. And what about for our boy?”

You lightly touched your son’s back as you quietly thought it over in your mind.

It didn’t take long before you realized that your choice was the obvious one.

“We should name him after you,” You decided, confidently. “Grant.”

Steve’s blue eyes instantly filled with pride. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” You nodded, grinning. “I think Grant suits our son very well.”

“It’s settled then.” Steve’s grin matched your own. “Welcome to the world, Sarah and Grant Rogers.”

#steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers blurb #steve rogers fic #dad!steve rogers

[thinkingaboutbetterdays]

risking it all.  ( tom branson x reader )

gif belongs to me

The party was lively when you sneaked out, your shoulders slouching in relaxation a little as you slipped off your heels, making your way quietly to the front door. After stepping into your heels, you headed to the garage where you found Tom polishing the car. Your father and his associate would be travelling to town in the morning, and Tom always went over the car with the utmost precision and care.

You tapped your knuckles on the wooden door and he looked over his shoulder, lips parting when he saw you standing in your formal dress. You smiled softly at his reaction as he placed the cloth on the hood of the car as he approached you.

“Shouldn’t you be upstairs?”

“They will not miss me.” You assured him.

“How could they not?” His eyes wandered briefly before meeting your gaze, wondering for the hundredth time how a woman like you fell for a man like him. Yet he felt lucky you had done so as the past month had been wild, passionate and exhilarating as you sneaked around the manor to spend time alone even if it was only for two minutes.

You approached the radio that was playing. “I wanted to dance with the man I love. And if they will not allow us to do so upstairs, well,” You turned the dial to increase the volume and turned to Tom whose eyes were soft, yearning for the freedom to grant you your wish, but you both knew your family and their friends wouldn’t approve. So for now, you would have a moment alone, which is how you preferred it as you could be as free as you wanted with him.

A smile tugged on his lips as he stepped forward, bowing slightly, “May I have this dance, My lady?” He held his hand out and you smiled as you slipped your hand into his.

“You may.” You giggled when he pulled you to his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck as he began to sway to the music.

“How did I get so lucky?” He asked quietly.

“You gave me your coat when it was pouring down with rain.” You smiled at the memory of you both running into the manor, his coat over your shoulders to keep you warm and your dress dry. He rubbed your arms to keep you warm, and you stared up at him, seeing the raindrops falling down his hair onto his forehead. It felt like less than a second, the time between you reaching up to comb his hair away from his eyes, and your lips meeting, the feelings that had been buried for so long, boiling over.

Tom mirrored your smile as he recalled the night he had driven you to a friend’s birthday celebration and you had left early, bored of the high society for the night. The car was parked far from the house and he put his coat over your shoulders to keep you warm and dry from the rain that pounded the ground.

“Sometimes I wish I told you to take me away.” You sighed softly, resting your head on his chest. “Far away from this place.”

Tom noticed that you were different from your sisters. Mary for example was perfect at social gatherings aiming to gain influence by making friends with those in high places. While you long for a peaceful life, free from all expectations, refusing to play the game. Lately, however, your yearning had grown and it wasn’t uncommon for you to mention running away.

He had considered it before, of course. Wanting a place where you could be together without scrutiny, wishing everyone thought as you did, but not everyone shared your values nor your respect for the working class.

“Where would we go?” He asked, raising his hand to play with the waves in your hair.

“Somewhere far away. A cottage probably. With a sign warding people away.”

Tom chuckled, pressing his lips to your forehead. “Am I to pay heed to the sign’s warnings?”

“No,” You lifted your head with a teasing smile on your lips. “I would need you to drive me, of course.”

“Of course.”

You sighed as you held his gaze. “I want to run away and never look back.”

“Do you think you could?” He asked.

“I know it would upset my mother and anger my father, but...I do not wish to live this life any longer. I would leave tonight but I have too many dresses.” Tom smiled as he placed a hand on your cheek, fond of your humour and wit. “Would you leave with me?”

“I could not in good conscience allow you to drive yourself.” He replied, referring to the time he had tried to teach you to drive and you had almost crashed the car. You smiled, closing your eyes when he leaned in to kiss you. “But yes.” He continued when he pulled away moments later. “If it meant being with you, then yes.”

You opened your mouth to speak but Tom wasn’t finished.

“But I couldn’t provide for you the way you are accustomed to.”

“I don’t want what I have.” You took hold of his hands, “I want you. As long as I have you the rest doesn’t matter.”

Tom stared at you for a moment realising you were serious. “You really want to leave?”

You nodded, biting your lower lip. “I can’t do it anymore. Please, Tom.”

He slowly nodded his head, eyes widening slightly as his mind raced, starting to piece together a plan. “Alright. I’ll make arrangements -”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him passionately and he placed his hands on your waist as he reciprocated. You backed against the hood of the car, and Tom warned that your dress would be marked, but you tugged on his jacket, smiling as you pecked his lips.

“I don’t care.” You murmured between kisses, and Tom placed a hand on your cheek, smiling as he returned the kiss.

The next day, in the early hours of the afternoon you had written letters to your family explaining your reasons for leaving. You knew there would be a sense of betrayal, however, you hoped that, even if it was years from now, they would learn to understand that you had to do this.

Tom approached you in the evening and told you the arrangements he had made, finding a hotel you could stay in for a night before moving into permanent accommodation and as he explained the plan your fears left you, excitement taking over as you stared at the man who would do anything you asked him to. A man who loved you unconditionally.

“- and then we will -”

“I love you.” You declared softly.

Tom stammered briefly, closing his mouth as he held your gaze which displayed the level of your love for him - something he never thought he would see from a woman of your class. But here you were, risking everything to build a life together.

“I love you too.”

You placed a hand on his cheek and kissed him tenderly. You didn’t care if you slept in a barn for a night if it meant having Tom by your side. And you would do anything to spend the rest of your life with him, as he would you, believing there could be nothing and knowing there is no one better to spend it with.

#tom branson #tom branson x reader #downton abbey

[avecra]

Deception - 9

summary: In order to save your father from an unnecessary fight, you force yourself into an arranged marriage with Brock Rumlow. But when he threatens your father over a small mistake on your part, you find yourself in front of your husband’s biggest rival and your old friend, Bucky Barnes. With the shared history between the two of you, Bucky finds himself drawn to you once again, and will risk everything he has just to keep you safe.

pairing: mob!bucky x stark!reader

word count: 5.0k

chapter warnings: canon level violence, injury, language, character death, the final showdown

series masterlist // next chapter

Fury drove Bucky to break all traffic laws. He hadn’t felt any notion of anger ever since his father’s unexpected passing, when he took the bearing role of man of the house, watching over his mother and sister. But the second he received your location, he grabbed all the weapons he could get his hands on and headed straight for the highway. 

He didn’t waste a single second, not when your life was sitting in the grimey clutches of Hydra. Bucky couldn’t lose you, not again. 

Ignoring all the sense in his head, he headed straight for the black

There was an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he pulled into the lot that led to the factory, he flicked the headlights off and threw the car in neutral, aiming to be as silent as possible. He pulled in as further, avoiding the already present SUV’s.

“So, how are we doing this, boys?” Natasha’s velvety voice cut through the silence. Bucky took the keys out of the ignition and glanced at her. His gaze caught Sam and Steve’s as well and a plan quickly formed in his head. 

“Did you bring the detonator?” Bucky asked, turning to look at Natasha. She reached under the seat and grabbed a circular device, along with a blasting cap, silently answering his question. 

He didn’t enjoy this plan in the slightest; triggering an explosive device in an unstable factory with you inside wasn’t his ideal plan. The thought of putting you in harm's way made him sick to his stomach, but if it was the only way to safely, he would begrudgingly have to take the risk.

Though he planned to keep it as far away from you as possible.

And if there was a possibility that he could lure Rumlow away, he could have a clear path to you.

Bucky grabbed the magazine of his gun, double checking that it was fully loaded. “I’ll circle buy. Stay here until Collins arrives with Lang and the others. I’ll ping you when I get visual.”

With a final nod to Steve, he threw open the door and sank down to the ground, keeping himself lowered as he made his way over to the building. The muffled sound of hushed voices hit him when he reached the worn out walls.

Keeping himself low, he swiftly made his way to the other side of the factory, discreetly lifting his head so that he could assess who was where, and immediately his blue eyes flickered to your worn out figure. 

Huddled in the wooden chair, arms crossed tightly across your chest with your head leaning against your shoulder, Bucky caught a glimpse of the gash on your temple and the blood that dried to the side of your cheek. 

Your eyes were filled with unshed tears brimming at your waterline, and he could see how you tried to muffle your sniffles in the crook of your elbow. Bucky’s heart cleaved in half as he watched you look around with a fear in your eyes, a sense of rage filtered through him. 

Grant Ward paced back and forth in front of you, scowling at you when a whimper passed through your lips, as if he was disgusted with the emotion you were showing. 

Specks of blood dripped onto the soft pink fabric of your shirt and the ends of your pajama pants were dirtied and slightly torn from when Brock had dragged you into the factory building. Even the dark colored sweater you wore on your shoulders had a few drops of blood and dirt.

His eyes flickered towards the group of men dressed in black, a darkness covered the blues of his irises. He noticed how you jumped when someone raised their voice, and how tense you had become when Ward continued to pace in front of you. 

Bucky pulled out his phone and sent a message to Steve, giving him the all clear. He begrudgingly tore his eyes away from your trembling form and looked over to Rumlow, who had his hands buried deep in his hair. 

“What’s the play here, boss?” Bucky heard one of the men whisper rather loudly. A glance to your direction, he could see your gaze was still centered on the floor. 

“Yeah, how are we supposed to find a way out of this mess?”

He saw Rumlow take a deep breath before punching one of the men roughly across the face. “Patience, boys, patience. We’ve got the daughter of New York’s most wealthy man in our possession.”

Bucky’s frown deepened as peered over at the group of men. Rumlow stood over his men, fingers lightly scraping his stubble as he glanced over to you. Bucky followed his gaze and tightened his fist. 

“You think Stark will just give you money like that?” 

“You underestimate how valuable that woman really is,” Rumlow chuckled darkly. “I bet his price will go if you add a few more scrapes and bruises to her delicate face. That’ll really send him over the edge.”

The quiet vibration of his phone was the only thing that grounded Bucky, when he glanced down and caught a glimpse of Steve’s confirmation, he reluctantly pulled away, until he heard Rumlow sneer at his men. 

“If that goes south, then we’ll kill her and dump her in the river. Erase our tracks, Sitwell will handle that.”

Red hot anger possessed Bucky as he reached for the grip of his gun, but the quiet sniffles halted his movement. Sparing a glance at your fear stricken expression, the redness that covered the whites of your eyes and the ripped skin on your lips, he couldn't -- wouldn’t risk a stray bullet hitting you.

“Her father will pin it on you without a doubt, you know that,” He heard Rollins speak. “Sitwell may be good, but Stark is smarter.”

Bucky had only seen Tony Stark angry a handful of times, majority of it was when a threat was posed on your life. After the crash that left both you and Bucky injured, after one of his former employees had ‘accidentally’ tripped you during one of your soccer matches that left you with a sprained ankle and when one of his clients had called you every name in the book after you peered into your father’s office to ask him a simple question. 

You had never seen him so angry, seen his face so red before, brown eyes filled with nothing but pure anger. He apologized profoundly to you, for having to witness his anger and being on the receiving end of his former client’s harsh words.

But if he had ever found out that someone had done physical harm to you, Bucky guessed that person would have hell to pay. 

“Fuck,” Rumlow cursed, kicking the scatterd pieces of wood that littered the floors. You flinched at the sudden movement. 

Ignoring the gaping hole in his stomach, Bucky made his way back to the car, keeping his figure low to the ground, keeping himself out of sight. Not that Rumlow could see anything through the dirtied grimy windows, they looked to be withered over the years of harsh winds and rain.

He noticed the second car parked a few feet away from his, the driver’s window was rolled down a few inches but he could clearly see the shadow of Scott and Collin’s body as he leaned over the steering wheel. He could also count the other two men that sat in the seats, armed with guns and knives strapped to their chests.

Bucky beckoned them out, pounding against the side of the SUV he arrived in, directing them in the direction of the shrubs that were angled away from the factory. One by one, Steve, Natasha and Sam led them over to where Bucky was standing. 

“What’s the play here, boss?” Collins asked, placing a delicate hand under the machine gun secured to his chassis. 

Bucky glanced at the withered building and exhaled sharply. “Rumlow had his two right-hand men with him, Jack Rollins and Grant Ward inside. He’s got Ward guarding Y/n and the rest of his men are surrounding the entrance.”

“What’s the play here then? We’re not going through the front entrance though, right? I mean that just means that Y/n is at a high risk of becoming a casualty.” Sam said. 

Barging through the front door would only rile up Rumlow, and there was a possibility he would take it out on you. And from the state in which Bucky saw you, with teary eyes and a bloody head, he knew the chances were high. 

“No. We’re causing a distraction to draw out Rumlow, to get him away from Y/n. Nat will plant a detonator that is gonna be set to go off in five minutes, it’s not powerful, but it’s enough to cause thousands of dollars worth of damage. Once it goes off, we rush in. Collins and Lang will cover the exits, Steve and I will deal with Ward and safely guide Y/n to the car. Nat will be there if we need back up.”

Hushed approvals were murmured and Bucky nodded his head. “Getting Y/n safely out is the main objective tonight. You can have your revenge on Rumlow for all that he's done to the Stark’s and the havoc Hydra has wrecked on our family.”

With a final nod, he slipped a small communication link into his ear and glanced over to Natasha, who smiled and carefully made her way over to the factory. Bucky watched as she kept low to the ground, keeping the bomb in her hand, slowly but surely making her way around the building, away from you. 

Steve walked up beside Bucky as the men around him started to fill their weapons with ammunition, double cheing to make sure they had everything set for what was about to come. His men knew how close the Stark’s were to the Barnes, a partnership that had lasted almost three generations in, starting with Howard Stark and Bucky’s grandfather. 

His men knew of the relationship between you and Bucky, how the close relationship you had started to blossom into something more. The years of close friendship that turned into romantic connection, despite years being spent apart. 

“We’re almost there, Buck. Just a few more steps and then she’s back with her father. That’s the important thing, right? Her being safe?” Steve placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. 

“You know I’m not gonna relax until she’s back with Tony,” Bucky muttered, checking the magazine of his gun before sliding it back into place. “Even after that, I’m still gonna worry. Rumlow has hundreds of employees and I only saw a handful. Meaning they’re still out there.”

“And I know for a fact they won’t go near her because of her name and because of you,” Steve cut in gently. “The same guy who wouldn’t let her lift a finger when she had a concussion. You have to take this step by step, for her sake, or else everything you think is gonna go wrong will.”

Steve gripped Bucky’s flesh a little harder, meeting his worried gaze. “You love her more than anything. Use that to push through.”

Bucky nodded, swallowing down the worry that threatened to suffocate him as he nodded at Steve. There were times when he could be overbearing, too worried about what was going on in Bucky’s head, but Steve had always managed to push through the worry and be straightforward. 

“You alway manage to say the right thing,” Bucky said, the corners of his mouth dared to lift up in amusement. “Sometimes it’s fucking annoying.”

The blonde chuckled and gave Bucky one last pat against the shoulders before pulling out his own gun, checking his ammunition status, tucking more rounds into the waistband of his pants. 

Looking around Bucky watched as his most trusted men, the ones he would risk his life for, packed their weapons, slipping more ammunition wherever they could fit; boots, pockets, the waistband of their pants. A soft smile crossed his face, a sudden wave of emotion hit him, the notion that only a few had met you. 

Yet they were willing to run into the direction of Hydra, the rivalry that had been going on for decades.

Vibration sounded against the top of the SUV and tore through the silence. Collins glanced over to Steve and Sam, eyes flickering back to the hunched over figure. Bucky’s head shot up and he lunged for his phone, unlocking it to see a confirmation ping from Natasha. 

A message to confirm the bomb was in place. 

All he needed was for Natasha to make it back to the car. In which he had no doubt in her, she could take out half of his men, including himself if she really tried. When he caught the sight of her red hair, he pulled the detonator from his pocket. 

Glancing over to his confidants, he tightly gripped the glock in his and pressed down on the red button.

---

Every passing second made your head feel worse. The throbbing in your head seemed to intensify, the only thing you could really do in the moment as you leaned your head against your shoulder, curling into the wooden chair. 

The sweater you wore on your shoulders did little to warm you up; with the temperature of the factory low you nearly saw your breath. The rain had lightly soaked into the cotton fabric, you did what you could to warm up.

Steadily as minutes passed by at an agonizing long pace, more of your husband’s men seemed to file in. Not that many, though, only less than ten of the vast amount of men Brock had to begin with. 

You could faintly hear their conversation from the other side of the factory, their hushed voices rising in irritation, but you paid little attention to them, your eyes were blurry as tears clouded your vision. 

Sniffling as quiet as you could, you lifted your head to see Ward pacing in front of you, sending you scowls and sneers. You did best to ignore him, keeping your teary eyed gaze on the puddles that covered the cement grounds. 

The sudden sound of your husband curing and kicking a chair startled you, pulling a flinch out of you. Ward scoffed and paused his pacing, his arms came to cross over his chest as he looked at your weakened form. 

“Your daddy isn’t coming to bail you out of this one, huh?” 

His words didn’t reach your ears, you didn’t even think you had the energy to lift your head into an upwards position. 

Your eyes flickered up to his, but you ignored him. You heard him scoff again. 

Taking a small breath in, you moved your head to the other side of the chair, taking a glance over to Rumlow’s direction. His shoulders fell in angry heaves, you could tell from his body language that he was another type of anger, one who had yet to witness till now. 

You never thought he would take it to this extent; taking you to stateline, hiding out in an abandoned building and taking a threatening picture of a knife being held against your throat that was surely to be sent to your father.

As minutes, maybe hours passed by, you felt the pulsing in your head increase by the second. You watched as your husband made his way over to you, glaring down upon you with a loathing look. 

Avoiding his gaze only seemed to edge him on more when he slowly knelt to your height, grabbing a hold tight grip to your hair. A gasp passed through your chapped lips, one that turned into whimper. 

“I hope it was all worth it, darling,” Brock sneered into your ear. 

It was. 

Even if you were certain you weren’t going to make it, having overheard a bit of his conversation with Rollins, it was all worth the risk. You knew that your father would be okay, given the amount of personal friends the man had. The fear and terror were worth it.

Rumlow pushed your head and released his grip from your hair, a few stray tears rolled down your cheek. You quickly brushed over them as he stood up, wiping the back of your sleeve across your damp cheeks. 

He opened his mouth to say another thing, but the sudden thundering of an explosion caused him to fall a few steps forward. The explosion shook the unstable warehouse, and a yelp left your lips as you tumbled out of your seat and onto the grimey floors. 

Rumlow’s eyes lit up with anger as he quickly regained his balance, glancing at the small flames from the smudged windows, the orange hue breaking through. 

He glanced down at your shaken form, surveying as you tried to stand. In a fluid motion, he leaned down and grabbed your elbow, bringing you up against him to lean against his chest. 

Without a care, your husband tossed you to Ward as he pulled out a gun, unlatching the safety. “Stay here. Don’t let her get away, I’m gonna check to see what the fuck that was.”

You watched helplessly as he made his way down the hall. Ward’s grip on your arms were tight, enough to the point where bruising was evident. 

There were beats of silence that passed, aside from the sound of rain and the heavy breaths of Garrett and Beckers. Ward tightened his grip and held you tightly against him, you couldn’t even try to get away, even if you tried. 

The door was suddenly ripped open and two small steel spheres came tumbling in, and with a soft click, smoke beagin to filter through the room, spraying out of the orbs. Ward shattered shouting for Garrett and in the brief moment his grip loosened, you slammed your elbow down hard against his ribs. 

He let out a loud groan and you pushed yourself away from him. The room began to fill more and more with smoke, the vapor making it difficult to see within three inches. You kicked in his knee as best you could, the little self defense knowledge now wearing to a thin. 

Ward fell onto one of his knees and reached out a hand, tightly gripping your wrist. He pulled you forward, despite you dragging your feet into the ground to halt his movements.

“Stop,” you warned, voice trembling. Your heels dug into the ground and dragged you forward, but a shot rang out through the smoke filled room and halted Ward’s movements. He fell forward in a heap, groaning weakly as his hold released.

You stared in shock, pulling your arms tight to your chest as you backed up. The pounding in your head made it impossible to hear the approaching footsteps, and you almost missed the gentle hand that came to rest on your shoulder. 

Out of reflex you flinched and turned around, holding your fists to defend yourself, but the sight of sparkling blue eyes made you freeze in your movements. He stared at you, eyes wide with a mixture of both shock and relief.

“Bucky?” you choked out, tears spilling out of your eyes endlessly, and without warning, you crashed straight into his arms. 

The weapons he held tightly in his hands fell to the floor as he caged his arms around you, pulling you tightly to his chest, his hands coaxed gently down your spine before moving up to cradle the back of your head. 

A strangled sob passed through your lips as you held onto him tighter, if that were even possible. Bucky pulled your head away from his chest, cupping the sides of your face to get a clearer and closer look at you.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Questions filtered out of his mouth, and despite the pounding in your head, you nodded. 

“H-how did… what are you doing here?” you mumbled, watching as he tried to wipe away the dried blood on the side of your face. “How did you find me?”

Bucky let out an exhale, “You didn’t text me when you got home. I knew something was wrong.”

If it were entirely possible, you could've burst into tears at that very moment, but Bucky’s gentle hold kept your tears at bay. You glanced over your shoulder to see Steve lingering by the door, once he caught your gaze, he sent you a soft smile. 

“You came for me?”

“I’m not losing you again, sweet girl.” Bucky whispered as he pressed a soft, tender kiss to your forehead. 

You relished his presence for minutes, holding onto him tightly as Bucky called Steve over. But when he made  his way over to you, the low dimmed lights suddenly gave out, plunging the entire factory into complete darkness. 

Bucky looked around at the sudden darkness, trying to find Steve. He still kept his hold on you, but when he took a step towards the direction Steve was, he felt you freeze into place. 

“Stay here, Y/n.”

He still held you at arm’s length, keeping his hand gently on your wrist. Your cold fingers shakily rested over his, your nails lightly scratching his skin, in a way to prove to you that he was really here.  

You ignored the conversation between Steve and Bucky, and just as the hold on your shoulders loosened a tiny bit, a rough hand clamped down on your shoulder and pulled you to a sturdy chest. Another hand clamped down hard on your mouth, silencing you before you had the chance to cry out. 

“Y/n?”

Muffled whimpers passed through the hand that was clamped over your mouth, you kicked your legs, slamming your foot on the ground in order to gain attention from someone - anyone. You grasped the familiar wrist of your husband just as he sneered into your ear, “Shut up.”

“Y/n!”

The chill of the night rain and breeze hit you as Rumlow began to drag you out, despite you kicking and clawing at his grip. He ignored it and heaved you up against his chest, wrapping arm arm around your waist. 

You screamed and tugged against his hand until he released the clasp he had over your mouth, but the grip on your waist did not let up. He kept dragging you across the empty lot until the back doors bursted open. 

Bucky tore through the doors, gun held tightly in his hand as his cerulean eyes raked over the landscape before landing on you and your husband. Rumlow halted in his movements and reached behind him to grab the gun that was settled in the belt of his pants. He held the barrel against your neck. 

“You move one more fucking step and I put a bullet in her throat.” 

Blue eyes wide with anger and rage flickered over to the weapon in his hand, the one pointed at you. His gaze went to your eyes, seeing them filled with fear as your husband tightened the hold around your waist. 

“Long time no see Barnes, I haven’t seen you ever since your little redhead friend blew up one of my properties. Guess she still has the same taste for pyrotechnics, huh?”

Rumlow taunted, pushing the barrel of the gun deeper into your neck. You squeezed your eyes shut as his chin came to rest on your shoulder just as Bucky cocked the weapon in his hand. 

“I guess she has a taste for unsupported buildings. I mean, she took down yours with just a few samples of Stark’s technology. Down your building went, in just a few short minutes.”

Rumlow’s smirk faltered. “I’’ll fucking kill her, you understand? I will kill this fucking woman and not a shade will change on my face.”

“Do that and you’ll be starting a war with Stark. And there is nowhere in this world where you will be safe from Stark. You underestimate how powerful he really is when his one and only daughter is in harm’s way.”

Every bit of Bucky’s words seemed to draw more anger into Rumlow as he trailed the gun from the crook of your neck up against your cheek until it settled against your temple. You couldn’t hold in the tears as they slipped past your cheeks. 

“You and I both know you can’t get within a hundred foot radius of Tony Stark anyways, so if you kill her, you’re signing your death warrant.” Bucky nearly growled. 

His eyes flickered to yours for a moment, the shades of his azure eyes softening for a moment as he looked at you. The tear marks on your cheeks, the blood cakes to the side of your cheek, the wide look in your eyes that was filled with fear. 

Rumlow faltered in his stance, the grip around you slacked and the gun he held against your temple wasn’t as pointed as it was. And for the moment  his grip around you fell, you slammed the heel of your foot into his ankle, and a scuffle erupted between the two of you as you fought to get away from him. He grunted and cried out, pushing you away before a shot rang out through the empty night air. 

The breath from Bucky’s lungs was stolen as he stumbled forward, eyes wide when a strangled scream left your lips. 

You were hunched over, knees barely skimming the pebbles on the ground as your hand reached out to steady yourself. Breaths came in too fast, and when you glanced down to your side, you saw the crimson that slowly started to spread across your pink shirt. 

Gasps left your lips and in your brief moment of pain, Rumlow stood over you, pure hatred in his eyes as he pointed the gun to the back of your head. 

A bullet planted itself in his abdomen before he had the chance to place his finger over the trigger, and he fell to the muddy ground with a loud thud. 

But that didn’t matter to Bucky, he ignored Rumlow’s groans as he took cautious steps towards you to see your hand coated with blood. Your blood. Slowly, he made his way over to you, taking slow, cautious steps so as to not frighten you. 

But when you looked up at him with a fear stricken face and wet cheek, he damn near lost his composure. 

“Look at me, Y/n,” His hand gently grasped your bicep and he pulled you up, holding you against his chest. His other hand lifted up the edge of your shirt to see the small bleeding wound. “You're okay, it’s just a graze, okay? You’re gonna be just fine, sweet girl, you're gonna be fine, I promise.” 

You nodded and glanced over at Rumlow, who looked at you despite the blood pooling out of his mouth. Without looking, you reached for Bucky’s gun and pointed it directly at him, taking shaky steps as you placed a hand over your bleeding side. 

A surge of confidence shot through you while you gazed down at your husband, who looked at you with heavy eyelids. The gun shook in your grasp. 

“Y/n-”

“You ruined me. For five years, you ruined me. You locked me in the penthouse, only allowing me to visit my dad on your accounts. For five years, I was locked away from my family, from my friends all because you wanted to boast to all your clients that you managed to nap Stark’s daughter!” Tears rushed down your face as you unlatched the safety. 

“I hate you so much, for all the pain you cause me, for all the events you dragged me to, for all the times you threatened my dad. For all the times I shared a bed with you, I hated. I signed the fucking marriage certificate because I thought it would keep my dad safe, and I was willing to give everything up. I spent the first year stupidly doing whatever you asked and I was stupid to think that someone like you could ever be changed from a monster to a loving husband.

"You were supposed to love me but you resented me instead. You locked me away and yelled at me when I didn’t slither into bed with you. When I didn’t wnat to go to those stupid parties t be your eye candy. I put up with your bullshit for five years and I’m over it. No one has ever hurt me the way you did.”

A soft warm hand came to rest on yours that held the gun, Bucky’s thumb caressing the back of your palm. You felt him press something up against your side and you looked over at him, seeing him look at you with the softest sympathetic look. 

A look you hadn’t received in years. 

“You’re not a killer, Y/n. Don’t put this on your conscience,” You opened your mouth to say something, but Bucky’s gentle voice cut you off. “I know you’re feeling hurt and pain in all of this, but if you do this, you’re ever gonna be able to come back from it. You’re too good for this, sweet girl.”

A sob left your lips as you dropped the gun and fell into his embrace weakly. You did not spare your husband a last glance as Bucky pointed the gun at him.

“I’ll always find a way to you, you fucking bitch,” Rumlow slurred, but Bucky held you so tightly to his chest you did not hear your husband’s harsh words. 

Instead, you heard Bucky’s comforting and soothing voice and the steady beat of his heart. 

“Close your eyes sweet girl,” he instructed softly. You did and felt him cover your other ear with his hand, his arms anchoring you to his chest. “We’re gonna be okay, alright? I’ve got you, I won’t let him hurt you again. I swear on my life.”

You felt no remorse or sympathy when a final gunshot rang out. You only felt the safety and solace of being in Bucky’s arms as he gently led you away from the nightmare. 

And when you were finally settled into the backseat of the SUV, with Bucky’s warm hands pressing into your cold sides, for the first time in five years you allowed yourself to relax. 

Everything would be okay. You would be okay.

---

tags 🏷 - @matchat3a @moonlightreader649 @boofy1998 @impala1967666 @emmabarnes @sarcasmoverlordxo

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes fic #mob!bucky

[skzsauce01]

Smoke and Mirrors and A Lot of Fire

Synopsis: Hyunjin has the ability to use charmspeak, and you are mystified by his insistence to not use it, so you plot to make him recognize his true potential. Or, you risk everything for someone you allegedly really aren't interested in.

Warning: arson, fighting, mentions and uses of weapons

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: son of Aphrodite!Hyunjin x child of Hecate!reader

Camp Half-Blood AU Masterlist

When you saw Hyunjin for the first time, you thought that he was an illusion, the Mist working overtime to conceal a hideous monster. Except you were at Camp Half-Blood where the Golden Fleece resided and ensured no monsters could come in, and by the nature of your mother, you should be able to see through the Mist rather easily. When your eyes seemingly betrayed you, you tried to wave the nonexistent Mist away, but nothing budged. Hyunjin looked at you curiously, and you pretended to be batting away a mosquito. It came to you with no great surprise when you learned that he is a child of Aphrodite.

Children of Aphrodite are always uncannily beautiful, but there is a particular sullenness to Hyunjin that is magnetic. It adds a layer of mystique to him, not that he needed anymore anyway. He can speak one word, and the whole world will stop to obey. Once, he accidentally told all of Cabin 20 to stop, and your arms immediately froze mid-air and the rest of the spell caught in your throat. It only took hold for less than five seconds, but you recognized it as a primordial form of magic. Spellcasting is nothing compared to that.

But he refuses to use it to his favor. During Capture the Flag, he would rather don on armor and pick up a sword than let his voice wash over a crowd. Wouldn’t it be easier to command the enemy team to drop their weapons than to forcefully smack them down? Magic is not an easy skill to master, you admit, but he simply has to open his mouth to win.

Your confusion—and quite honestly, your frustration—grows the following Friday during the Capture the Flag game. Cabin 10 and Cabin 20 are on opposing sides, and in the last ten minutes, you haven’t felt any of your wards being set off by charmspeak yet. Just use it! It’s not that hard. Granted, Hyunjin could be somewhere else in the forest, but his rejection of his power is exasperating. In the midst of setting up more wards near the perimeter of the forest, one of the previous ones you set up goes off. Warning signals ripple, accompanied by a repeated string of rooster crowing. You glance around, find nothing out of the ordinary, and grab a section of the Mist before whispering, “Mina, is that—”

Something hits you on the small of your back, sending you sprawling to the floor. The Mist slips out of your grasp as your palms scrape against the dirt, and your whole body collapses when someone pushes you down with their foot. That is definitely not your half-sister. Well, at least the bottle of Greek fire in your pocket hasn’t broken. It’s too early into the game to go down in a blaze of not-exactly-glory.

“Clear! Go!”

Unidentifiable boots and sneakers trample past you, Celestial Bronze greaves and shields ring against your ears, and a cannon fires in the distance. Hopefully, that’s from your team.

You chant a line of Greek, making a flame burst into your hand, and you fling it upwards to your attacker. While he yelps and jumps back, you scramble up and launch another one for good measure. The second fireball is deflected by his shield, but when he lowers it, Hyunjin in full battle regalia stands before you. For a moment, the two of you stare, sizing each other up. You only have a breastplate on and a dagger that is useless when you can’t get up close, but you do have a seemingly endless supply of fireballs. Thank the gods you have an affinity for elementals.

You throw another one at him and hastily recite the new protection spell you learned to block his sword jab. You dodge, you cast more fireballs, he deflects, he stabs the air. The ground around him burns as the seconds pass, as the darkness creeps in. Like your mother’s, your magic is stronger at night, so the flames grow hotter, scorching Hyunjin’s jeans until they’re hanging by a thread. But he won’t try to stop you with his voice.

“Just use it already!”

He hesitates, his sword stuck in motion, so you tackle him to the floor and knock his sword out of his grip. It flies into one of your ongoing brush fires, which is more like a lesser Greek fire based on how much of your irritation went into it. You pin him down with a full-body freezing spell, leaving only his face uncovered, and press your dagger to his face.

His eyes remain unchanged. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like? Your pretty face is going to be scarred.”

“Ambrosia exists.”

“I also have Greek fire, so take your pick. Use your charmspeak or die.”

A wry smile appears, and when you direct the point of your dagger to one of its corners, he laughs. “So this is what it’s about? You know, people usually don’t want me to charmspeak. Seriously, what’s wrong with you?”

“Me? What about your untapped potential?” you snap. The inferno is melting away the ice around him, and you mutter the freezing spell again, which is a terrible mistake because a wave of nausea hits you and makes you drop your only physical weapon. You summon another flame, but it’s significantly weaker than the previous ones, only a dull orange than a bright red. “Don’t make me bring out the green stuff.”

Your wards shift, signaling that someone has tried to break it with a Celestial Bronze cannonball. You try to repair it, but from this distance and the large amount of magic you exerted, they break anyway. Someone yells, a crowd answers back.

You’re screwed, so screwed that Hephaestus himself would need the world’s greatest drill to get you out of this mess. Hyunjin has started talking again, but his voice isn’t honeyed with charm, just distant and metallic. Maybe tinged with concern if you’re being generous.

Fine. As your vision flickers, you reach out for the bottle of Greek fire and hold it high above your head. Then like some stupid cliché, everything goes dark.

You wake up from a dream message of your mother scolding you for being reckless with your power. It’s not the first time she’s warned you about overexertion, but today she concluded it rather ominously: “Don’t burn too bright when your embers are just beginning to be stoked.”

The real world isn’t much better. The bright afternoon sun filters in through the windows, making you reluctant to open your eyes. When you do, not only is Hyunjin sitting at your bedside, Chiron is too. When the Activities Director takes time from his presumably busy schedule to see you, that’s never a good sign. A blond boy, probably from Apollo’s Cabin judging by the medical kit in his arms, breathes a sigh of relief when he sees you’re alive. He’s not the lead healer, and it doesn’t look like he’s a healer at all based on the useless bandages he has loosely draped over his wrists.

“How do you feel?” Chiron gently asks. His centaur half is compressed in his magical wheelchair, so he looks less imposing than normal, which prompts you to be more honest than you would be if he was in centaur form.

“Horrible,” you croak. Your throat is dry, and your body feels like it’s been run over by a whole herd of centaurs. When you sit up, you notice that your shoulders are sore. “And it’s really hot.”

“That’s probably the nectar,” the blond says. “Might have given you a little too much. I didn’t get any of Dad’s healing.”

Chiron dismisses him, saying that he can handle it from here. When it’s the three of you since Hyunjin is here for some reason, you feel your stomach sinking. They’re both looking at you with unreadable expressions.

“So what happened?” you shyly ask.

Chiron sighs. “Well, you nearly burned down the section of the forest you were in, but fortunately, Chan was able to put it out before it spread any farther. The nymphs aren’t pleased with you though.”

“Sorry.”

“And you passed out on top of Hyunjin who was encased in ice and had a mild case of hypothermia when we found him.”

“Sorry.”

“Your powers are—”

“I know,” you interrupt. You don’t need to hear it again. “My mom visited and told me. I’ll be more careful. I just got tunnel vision. It won’t happen again, I swear. Not on Styx though, but I’ll do my best, and I’ll apologize to the nymphs.”

You suppose you’re one of the better troublemakers he’s encountered because he leaves with a kind smile and no further reprimand.

“Sorry,” you repeat to Hyunjin who has no visible wounds on him. “Why are you here?”

“To see how you’re doing? You almost killed both of us with your magic.”

Mom did say in her lecture that you had a tendency to go overboard. Chiron only mentioned the damages you caused and not what caused them so: “Does that mean you charmspoke then?”

To your disappointment, he didn’t. “It doesn’t work when someone’s unconscious. The bottle didn’t break when you dropped it, which is why we’re here and not the Underworld. You look very annoyed for someone who’s alive.”

You explain it all to him, not even bothering to sugarcoat your words. Every bit of frustration, every instance of eye rolling, you tell it all. By the time you’ve finished, your fever has broken, and your shoulders have stopped pulsing.

Hyunjin rubs the hem of his orange t-shirt. You half expect sparks to start flying based on how intensely focused he is. After another second of trying to set himself on fire, he says, “You know what people see when they look at me? Just some pretty boy. They don’t take me seriously as a fighter already, so if I hide behind my charmspeak, they never will.”

“So instead you’re self-righteous and purposely give yourself a handicap to the point where you’d rather die.”

“It’s cheating if I use it!”

“Aphrodite gave you that power, how is that cheating?” you exclaim. You snap your fingers, and the potted yellow flower on the windowsill turns into a dragonfly. “Is that cheating then? Or this?” The curtain transforms into a sheet of steel, landing onto the floor with a thud.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “You don’t force people to do things.”

“I can make them see things that aren’t there and force them to make a decision they don’t want to.”

“That’s not the same. You don’t get it.”

“Fine, I don’t. But when it’s my life or my friends’ lives on the line, I’m not going to care about your stupid moral code, so what about you? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some nymphs to apologize to.”

You hobble out of bed and grab your dagger from the side table, securing the leather sheath around your hip. Either Chiron revoked your Greek fire privileges or someone swiped it since it’s nowhere in sight. You take one final glance at Hyunjin, noting that the sullenness that intrigued you so much is no longer appealing. He just looks sad now.

You mumble another apology and head to the forest to make amends. Demeter’s Cabin has helped the surrounding plants to grow back, so any remnants of ash are now being used as fertilizer for the plants. As you make the rounds, casting any requested spells for the angry nymphs as penance, you keep going back to Hyunjin. You suppose you understand. None of the campers took you seriously when you first arrived because all you knew how to do was conjure flames and nothing else. Bending the Mist to your will took you so much effort that you neglected the skill for a whole summer because fire and magical barriers were easier. Hyunjin’s gone the opposite route, choosing to hone his weaknesses rather than his strengths.

After transforming a flower nymph’s flower to another kind of flower, you feel an onset of dizziness coming, so you return to the main camp, hoping that dinner will be ready soon. When it is clear that it is only mid-afternoon, you wander over to the arena where you plan to stab a straw dummy for an hour or until you faint again. It’s never clear how much magic takes a toll on your physical body until you’ve nearly blacked out, and today feels like the sort of day for limit testing.

A few campers are having an archery competition, including the blond from Cabin 7. You wave hello and station yourself in front of a dummy, practicing feints and jabs. Mina, head counselor of Hecate’s Cabin, advised you to pick up a weapon as to not rely solely on your magic. Did Hyunjin get the same talk from his head counselor, or did he decide on his own? As far as you know, no one else can charmspeak, or if they do, they hold the same principles as him.

“Hey.”

You first pretend not to hear Hyunjin, but a better idea strikes you. Using the Mist, you make Hyunjin believe that you have whirled around him to stab him when you really have ducked behind the dummy. He sweep kicks your illusion, finding only dust.

Ignoring the vertigo that is threatening to begin, you step out and stand over him. “Hey,” you say, extending your hand out like an olive branch. “Nice moves.”

He takes it. “Thanks. I didn’t even see through that. No fire today?”

You shake your head, but that just makes things worse. You really shouldn’t have used any more magic. As your mother’s words come back to you, you shut your eyes and grip the dummy for support, your hands prickling at the coarse straw.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier, and I get it, but I’m sticking to my rules for normal days. When I’m out on a quest, I’ll definitely use it, but for now, I’m training everything else, so please stop trying to kill me and yourself with your stupid ideas.”

“Okay, fine, but can you charmspeak me to not black out?” you ask. The world has tilted off its axis. “I’m not joking. I used too much again. Gods, Mom’s gonna be so mad at me. Please, I don’t want another lecture today.”

“I just told you not to— Are you serious?”

“Yes!”

After a moment, he says, “I’m taking you back to the infirmary. How do you feel right now?”

“Tired. Dizzy. Terrible.”

He grabs your arm, and for a moment, you can’t believe that he’s actually going to make you walk all the way there, but he actually ends up throwing you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes. Your face smacks against the hilt of the sword strapped to his back.

“Are you okay?” he asks. His voice sounds muffled; that is definitely not okay.

“Can you just…”

“Nope, nice try.”

As he shifts to accommodate your weight and his stupid sword, you use a small bit of magic to cast a levitating spell, which is a dumb decision because you are now teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. However, your whimper does trigger Hyunjin’s panic—he very anxiously tells you not to faint.

Then he commands you with a weak dose of charmspeak to wake up, and you do, just enough to spot an archer hit a bullseye, before succumbing to your fatigue.

This dream from your mother is probably the most absurd one yet because she accuses you of hurting yourself to impress Hyunjin. She doesn’t say it outright, but the phrases “interest in Aphrodite’s child” and “lack of restraint” make an appearance. You blush furiously at the allegations, which makes her take it as a confirmation. You have never been so mortified in your life. And if this is what your own mother thinks…

This time, Mina is at your side when you wake, and she gives you a light scolding for pushing your limits too often.

“Where’s Hyunjin?” you ask, pushing yourself up on your elbows, taking note that you’ve been returned back to Cabin 20. It’s dark outside, and when you reach for the Mist, it bends pliably. Most of your strength is back.

“Getting ready for bed probably. I saved some food for you from dinner if you’re—”

Mumbling a quick apology, you throw off your sheets and head towards Aphrodite’s Cabin. Weak light streams through its lacy curtains, so you plant yourself at the doorstep and ask to speak to Hyunjin. The girl who answered the door giggles and calls inside the cabin that “there’s a pretty someone waiting for Hyunjin.” She flicks her fingers at you, magically straightening your rumpled camp shirt and taming your bedhead. You start to tell her that’s not what you’re here for, but Hyunjin has arrived.

In a pajama shirt patterned with hearts, he looks perfectly nonthreatening, but his whispering siblings behind the closed door are a different story.

“Let me make this clear because apparently even my mom doesn’t get it,” you say, heat crawling up your cheeks, “but I have no interest in you as a person. My interest is your charmspeak and your refusal to use, not you, okay?”

“Obviously.” He leans against the door frame. “Are you feeling better?”

“Yeah, I guess. I passed out twice in twenty-four hours, so it’s all relative.”

“Good ‘cause we’re training together tomorrow, all weapons, no magic. Your technique was really bad today.”

Whatever embarrassment you feel is replaced by indignation. “It was the Mist.”

“No way you purposely made your technique bad. It’s also you. Based on what happened, you need some practice, and I’m offering. You can’t rely on fire all the time.”

You feel a strange urge to set his clothes aflame, but you push it down. “I’m fine. If I wanted combat advice, I’d ask someone from Ares’ Cabin.”

“See, I was right. No one, including you, takes me seriously because you think I’m just another pretty face. I can go toe-to-toe with Changbin, and you think you’re better at fighting than me?”

“Get over your self-righteous self. I can handle myself fine in a real world situation. You may be better at combat, but I could beat you simply because I’m not afraid of using everything I have. Let’s spar tomorrow,” you suddenly propose. “No holding back. I’ll show you what you’re missing.”

A smirk slowly appears on his face. “And I’ll show you not to underestimate you. Five o’clock at the arena. Rest up.”

Just for show, you transform the door into a pile of rotted planks, revealing the crowd of nosy Aphrodite kids huddled around the entrance. They gasp when they see you, and you send them and Hyunjin a brilliant smile. Then you summon a sword from the Mist and direct it at Hyunjin. “You too.”

When you’re halfway down the steps, a brand new sword resting against your shoulder, you restore Cabin 10’s door to its initial state, causing yet another round of gasps. You can feel Hyunjin’s stare as you stroll back to your own cabin. However, when you’re safely inside your own walls, you collapse onto your bed and take a bite of the ambrosia bar Mina left on your bedside table. Even with the night, that endeavor sapped some of your already depleted energy, but you decide it was worth it.

Gods, you can’t wait to see his face when you pummel to the ground with all of the fancy spells and tricky techniques you know. Even with the sun up, you’ll be terrifying enough that he changes his mind. He has to.

All that untapped potential of his, you’ll bring it out, one way or another.

#stray kids #skz #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyujin imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin scenarios #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fluff #hwang hyunjin fluff #stray kids au #skz au #pjo au #demigod au #camp half blood au #20220728

[rachaelswrites]

How do these sound for new characters to write for?

So for Agent Carter, I’m thinking of doing:

Daniel Sousa x daughter!reader and x sister!reader

Peggy Carter x sister!reader and maybe x daughter!reader

And for Agents of Shield:

Fitzsimmons x daughter!reader

Coussin x daughter!reader

Grant Ward x sister!reader and maybe x daughter!reader

Bobbi Morse x daughter!reader and sister!reader (and Bobbi/hunter x daughter!reader)

[thewidowsghost]

The Sky’s Tsunami - Chapter 7

3rd Person POV

"Are you seeing this?" Fitz asks Simmons. "It's alive."

"Wha -" Skye steps back. "Alive alive?"

"It has a functioning power source," Fitz murmurs.

"Sleepy's reading radionuclides," Simmons observes, "but they don't match any known isotope."

"I get temporal matches, but even then, they seem to shift," Fitz comments. "Is that even possible?"

"Well, we didn't realize that there were full-on aliens and then the Avengers fought thousands of them a few months ago," (Y/n) points out.

"Depends on the shifting of the temporal radio stuff, so . . ." Skye puts random words together and (Y/n) giggles, Skye glaring playfully at her. "It's totally weird, right? I'm gonna go check on Coulson."

A moment later, Ward enters the temple.

"We've got company," Ward tells the four.

"What's going on?" (Y/n) asks, stepping up to speak with the taller agent.

"National police," Ward tells her and (Y/n) nods in understanding.

"They want the 0-8-4," (Y/n) guesses. "They're probably bargaining with Coulson for it."

"This area has lots of rebel uprisings," Ward says. "They're probably here to protect it."

"Yeah, people are fighting back against the government's mining policies," Skye vocalizes. "It's pretty kick-ass."

(Y/n) rises an eyebrow at the brunette.

"Yeah, it's kick-ass, all the violence," Ward says, glowering at the hacker.

"That's not what I'm saying," Skye says hastily.

"No, it's what you're typing," Ward responds. "In you van, alone - where it's safe."

"Ward!" (Y/n) says, her voice firm, her (E/c) eyes steely.

"How much longer?" Ward ignores the higher-level agent.

"What's the hurry?" Simmons asks.

"Are we in danger?" Fitz questions.

"Not if everyone does their job," Ward says, then turning to Skye. "What's yours?"

"Ward!" (Y/n) snaps again, meeting the dark-haired agent's gaze with her own hard eyes.

There's an explosion outside and (Y/n)'s head snaps to the entrance of the temple.

"Time to go," (Y/n) tells FitzSimmons, and Skye tries to help put the drones away, but FitzSimmons starts yelling at her, and she stops.

"We need a containment case for the 0-8-4," Simmons says.

"There's no time," Ward snarls.

"But it has a fluctuating power core -" Ward cuts off Fitz.

Another explosion rocks the temple and rubble rains down on the four.

"Sorry," Ward sticks his gun inside his leather jacket. "Science class is over." He walks over and rips the 0-8-4 out of the temple wall.

"Stay close!" (Y/n) orders, pulls a handgun from the thigh holster on her right side.

(Y/n) advances out of the temple, firing a few shots from the gun in her hand, each bullet making its mark. Ward does the same, taking the left side of the entrance of the temple.

"Ward! Cover them," (Y/n) orders but Ward ignores her, and Skye pushes FitzSimmons back into the temple.

(Y/n) takes out a machine, which Skye thought looked like a pen, but when she shakes it and it extends.

"Asuelo!" comes a voice and all of the soldiers drop to the ground.

(Y/n) dives forward, clearing the steps, and rolling. She thrusts the stick into the ground and a field of energy spreads over her head, knocking out the rebels.

"Let's go!" (Y/n) orders, dropping the metal stick and stepping back onto the steps, drawing her gun again. The three step out, Ward covering Skye and FitzSimmons, and (Y/n) covering Ward to protect the three non-combat trained agents.

A sniper is lifted and he aims the gun at the group and bullets leave the sniper rifle and (Y/n) dives in front of the group, but the bullets are stopped by May, who drives up in a van, Natasha in the passenger seat.

"Move! Now!" Ward orders the hacker and scientists as (Y/n) shoots some of the rebels over the hood of the car.

"What about (Y/n)?" Skye asks. "There's no more room!"

"Go!" (Y/n) orders May, and the Asian woman looks regretful before she steps on the gas pedal.

Skye and Natasha are wide-eyed, but then there's a sound of feet falling on top of the van.

Bullets shoot towards (Y/n) from the top of the van, but (Y/n) crouches down and thrusts out her hand. A jet of wind blows one of the trucks back and it hits another, exploding.

Skye's gaze snaps towards the back windshield, staring at the exploded truck.

There's a sharp turn and (Y/n) almost flies off the top of the van.

Word Count: 721 words

#daisy johnson x reader #skye #daisy johnson #skye x reader #skye x fem reader #skye x romanoff reader #daisy johnson x fem reader #daisy johnson x romanoff reader #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x sister reader #dad coulson x romanoff reader #dad phil coulson #melinda may #mom melinda may x romanoff reader #grant ward x skye #jemma simmons #leo fitz #jemma simmons x leo fitz #grant ward #phil couslon

[mrsbbridgerton]

In Amongst the Roses

Colin Bridgerton x Reader

Word Count : 1387

Warnings: fluff, pining

A/N: I don’t know what I wanted to write but I wanted to kiss Colin so there’s that.

***

Your mother rushed around you as you kicked your slippers off and walked to the window. You had just arrived at Aubrey Hall at the invitation of the Dowager Viscountess and your mother was most excited that all of the Bridgerton men were in residence, not to mention a fair few more that had been invited along with their younger sisters or wards.

“Come now Y/N we must change out of these travel clothes, there are already several young ladies in the gardens and we can be certain that there are no eligible gentlemen in this room.” She bickered, busying around the room as your lady’s maids unpacked your luggage.

“Mother, half the rooms are not yet occupied – and I am fairly certain at least a quarter of those that are, are occupied by Bridgerton’s.” you sighed, looking out over the large rolling estate, spotting a glistening lake and dappled forest in the near distance.

After a swift half an hour in the hands Iris, your lady’s maid, your hair was re curled into a neat coiffure and your favourite muslin dress was carefully slipped over it before you were whisked downstairs by your mother to thank your hosts, yet again for their gracious invitation. Unfortunately for your mother, as you descended the stairs you found only Violet Bridgerton in the entrance hall, still greeting incoming guests.

“You’re entirely welcome.” She said with a beautiful smile. “I am so sorry my son isn’t here to thank you himself, though having been in town for so long he has many matters to deal with at the moment, I’m sure you can understand?” Your mother fawned in agreement, going off about the delicate décor of the ceiling and the wonderful portraits on the walls. Your eyes drifted to the open doors around you, all of them offering you glimpses into each of them. “Please, feel free to wander Miss Y/LN.” Violet Bridgerton said, drawing you out of your daze. “Some of the ladies have already gathered in the drawing room and several guests have gone to the gardens” she gestured through a door to the open French windows.

“Yes, Y/N. Go along” your mother gestured eagerly. You nodded your thanks and curtsied before making your escape down the hall. Making your way into an unoccupied room you found yourself in the library. At least you expected it was the library, it was full of books. Walking over to the French windows in the corner of the room, the early afternoon light shaded by encroaching ivy, you spotted some young children running on the lawn in the distance. You watched them play for a while, the small boy whipping the ribbon from the hair of the little girl before running off over the hill – only to be chased back up it by a young gentleman.

You opened the doors and stepped out onto the secluded patio, watching as the man played with the young children as if he was still their age. You smiled and crossed your arms as you walked towards them, noting the distance from the rest of their party as you crossed the short distance.

“Miss Y/LN” he looked up from his kneeling position, surprised at your sudden appearance. The children halted for only a moment at your appearance before the young girl took the opportunity to bolt across the lawn to take refuge behind a tall gentleman holding a mallet.

“Mr Bridgerton” you greeted, smiling as he stood and brushed the dirt from his sleeves.

“Y/N” he whispered lower, looking around before stepping closer to take your hands in his.

“Colin” you replied, matching his love-struck look with your own blushing grin. He held your hands tighter and pulled you just an inch nearer to him as a loud cheer went up in the distance, catching your attention – only to find the company distracted by a ball rolling away down the hill. Finding his opportunity, Colin pulled you away into the covered rose garden: hidden with high hedges and climbing roses, he guided you through the perfectly manicured bushes, down the cobbled path and around the small water feature to the deepest, most secret spot he knew hidden. You laughed at his boyish dashing when he tugged you along with him, until you were nestled away in your quiet corner, the sounds of guests dulled by nature and the gentle splash of water.

“Y/N” he whispered again, softer this time, as he allowed the distance to close between you; bringing a hand up to your soft cheek to brush his finger over your heated skin. “I’m so glad you came.” His soft full lips brushed your brow as he spoke, as if speaking words into air.

“My mother would not have refused the invitation had there been a gorilla in attendance.” You joked “she does wish for me to make a prosperous match” you sighed, avoiding his eyes.

“And I am still not good enough to please the great Mrs Y/LN?” Colin questioned, pressing you back into a tree as he nuzzled the side of your face.

“Colin do not jest” you pushed at his chest, drawing his attention back to your face. “I love you…”

“And I you.” He interrupted, his hands burning into your skin, through the almost sheer muslin of your dress. Your hand came to cup the back of his neck, playing with the soft curls at the base as a silence settled between you.

“She thinks you too young,” you paused, watching as his brow creased to dismiss her “and a rake in the making for all the women that fawn over you.” You smiled, up at him, glad to halt his protest. Colins arms wound around you further, fully holding you too him as he spun you around and sat you on his knee as he took a seat on a bench.

“But I suppose my brother is still an excellent match in her eyes?” he prodded again, satisfied with the new position he found himself in.

“Oh of course, one can overlook anything for a title!” you laughed, mocking your mothers flustered wittering’s whenever Anthony was near. You wriggled out of his loose grip and stood to wander back to the tree. Colin kept a hold of your hand as you walked away, making you turn when he didn’t release. “I wouldn’t care for a title.” You said out of the blue. “I don’t think I’d suit it?”

“I think you would suit the title of Mrs very well” Colin said, standing up to sweep you back into his arms and against the tree once more.

“Colin, stop” you smiled and his wandering hands tickled your skin.

“I will marry you” he whispered into your ear through your laughter. Your laughter died down as you caught his eye. “I promise. I will talk to my mother, and Anthony” he added. “And I will talk to your mother” he said softer “I will make her sure of my love for you so much so that she cannot deny us.” His lips were a hairs width from yours, his emerald green eyes appeared almost black at the distance between you. His lips brushed yours with such softness you were almost brought to tears. Memories of your first stolen kiss came flooding back as his lips captured yours. The soft, sweet smell of him engulfed you as he pulled you ever closer. His tongue licked against the seam of your mouth, pressing for entrance which you happily granted. You stayed like that for what felt like an age and a heartbeat all at once – locked in each-other’s arms as nothing but pure love flowed between you.

Pulling back only a little, Colin had to almost physically restrain himself from pressing you up against the tree once more and taking further liberties; the warmth and redness of your lips and the soft heavy pants of your breath driving him to distraction. “I will speak with them now.” He set you down and stepped back “I can wait no longer.” He almost shouted as he hastened back towards the house, leaving you breathless and panting by yourself against the shady tree. With a smile on your face and a cool breeze washing away your flush, you knew everything would work out in the end.

#bridgerton #colin bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton x reader #colin bridgerton imagine #my writing

[my-darling-luna]

Your Majesty Chapter 2

Please note that NONE of the gifs that I use are supposed to show the reader’s skin color or weight!!! It’s so hard to find gifs on here because I’m new to Tumblr and idk how things work. I’m so sorry, I’m trying to learn lol.

Your Majesty Masterlist

Summary- It has been more than a decade since the Kingdom of Ultron lost their princess. (Y/n) was just a 17 year old that didn’t know much about her past. Realizations happen and lives are crossed. How will (Y/n) handle the new pressure?

Stucky x reader

---

     (Y/n) paced back and forth in the main entrance of the palace, her shoes making a soft thud on the marble floor. Tony and Pepper stood off to the side, watching as (Y/n) would pause, mumble something to herself, then go on to pace again. They had previously each tried to console the girl which had only ended with a firm glare and a quick push to gain space between the two. Rhodey left an hour ago to find (Y/n)’s parents and bring them over to the palace like she insisted and (Y/n) was becoming more and more restless by the minute. 

     A neigh and footsteps on the stairs caught the three royal’s attention, all of them pausing and looking over as the door opened. Her mother ran forward and tried to cup her daughter’s face, her smile faltering as (Y/n) stepped back from the hands. 

      “Did you know?” Her eyes went from her mother’s to her father’s, guilt shining in both of their eyes. Tears fell from (Y/n)’s eyes at the thought of being lied to. 

       “Not until you were ten.” (Y/n) sobbed quietly, looking away from the couple that raised her as theirs. Her mother rushed forward, pulling (Y/n)’s face in her grasp without letting go. “We didn’t know when you were brought to us.” 

       “Brought to you? I was yours! Your child.” Her father’s face crumbled, tears quietly fell down his cheeks. 

       Father shook his head. “You were left on our doorstep when you were a baby with nothing but a blanket and a card with your name on it. No note and no one else to claim you, so we took you in.” (Y/n) pulled out of her mother’s hands before grasping at her arms. Her chest raised and fell at a rapid pace as she gulped for breaths through her tears. 

       “You lied to me.” She hiccupped and her parents nodded with a grimace. Tony watched as his daughter began to fall, so he rushed forward and gathered her tightly in his hold. He rubbed her back softly. 

       “Why don’t we go upstairs to you can sleep a little?” (Y/n) nodded, her eyes slowly falling shut with the stress of the day on her shoulders. Tony led her up the stairs, pausing shortly to whisper something to a guard to the entrance of the stairs. The guard nodded and Tony continued walking, a arm around his daughter’s waist to hold her up. “This room is yours.” Opening the door, Tony walked her in and set her on the bed. “Go to bed, okay? I’ll see you in the morning where we can talk about everything.” He left as soon as (Y/n) nodded, but not before he pressed a quick kiss on her forehead. 

***

     It was mid morning when (Y/n) woke up. A quiet knock shocking her out of her dream. 

     “Miss?” The door opened and a woman with blonde hair stepped through the doorway. “I’m here to dress you.” (Y/n) nodded before she got up. The woman led her over to the mirror and began to undo the lace of the dress that she fell asleep in last night. A new dress was put on her, a simple gold and silver design covered the entirety of the outer layer.  

      “Thank you...” (Y/n) smiled once the maid was done with her dress and makeup. 

       “Lillian and it’s no issue, miss.” 

       “Lillian and it is to me.” Lillian flushed, but calmly explained how the guard outside of her room would help her to the dining room. (Y/n) nodded and walked outside to meet the man who brought her to see her family. Tony and Pepper sat at the table along with a little girl in a high chair. The three looked up to see (Y/n) walking in. She moved slowly and nervously before being ushered into a chair and pushed in by a guard. 

      “Good morning, (Y/n).” Pepper smiled kindly and (Y/n) smiled back, nervousness practically oozing out of her. 

      “Good morning.” (Y/n) looked over to Tony, catching his gaze.

“I’ve been thinking about how to go about explaining everything to you all night.” Tony began after setting down his silverware. “I have imagined finding you ever since you were taken away from me all those years ago.” He brushed a tear away as quickly as it fell, hoping that no one saw the small bit of water. “You were taken on the day of your first birthday. Your mother Leia had left you with a maid to help set up for the party that we were going to have. The maid was attacked five minutes after you were handed to her and she was fine, but you weren’t. We looked for you everywhere, but you were gone.” (Y/n) rested her hand on Tony’s as her heart dropped at the fear he must’ve felt in those moments. “The man who attacked you was found. His name was Grant Ward, a soldier in the Kingdom of Hydra. He refused to give up your location and we couldn’t find you until now.” Tony pulled (Y/n)’s hand up to his lips, kissing the back of her hand before encasing her own in his.

“What happened to my mother?” (Y/n) asked quietly, her eyes trained on her father. Her real father.

“She passed away ten years ago from pneumonia. She refused to get help until it was too late. Too stubborn. I married Pepper five years ago and this,” he motioned towards the little girl who was eating pancakes in Pepper’s lap, “is your half sister Morgan. She’s three.”

“And a haf!” Morgan squealed, pausing from her pancakes to look somewhat angrily at her father although she didn’t look very threatening after she mispronounced ‘half’.

“And a half.” He chuckled sadly before turning to his eldest. “I’m so sorry (Y/n).” She shook her head, tears trailing down her cheeks.

“It wasn’t you.” (Y/n) said simply and Tony sniffed. “Do you except me?” Pepper and Tony looked up in surprise at (Y/n).

“What do you mean by except?” Pepper asked, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Well I’m not taught and I lived in a cottage for almost all of my life and I’m not what a princess should look like.” (Y/n) ranted, the fear of losing her real family seemed too close. She knew that her family back in that little cottage was loving and safe, but how was she supposed to go back knowing that they knew and lied to her for years? She couldn’t. She would have to beg and she knew that.

“Dear,” Pepper reached across the table to grab her step-daughter’s hand, “I know that I might not be your real mother and I will never ask to be that, but we aren’t letting you go back to that cottage unless you want to. We want you here with us and for the not being taught part, we’ve already got a hold of the best teacher in the kingdom for you if you want it.” Tony nodded at Pepper’s statement.

“Of course I want to stay here and I want to learn.” The two adults sighed and relaxed in their chairs slightly, their posture still rigid and tight.

“Well I think this calls for a welcome back party.” Tony smiled at his daughter, his eyes brightening at the thought of a way to celebrate the appearance of his long lost daughter. Pepper laughed, wrinkles appearing at her eyes, showing the wear and tear of life with (Y/n)’s father. This was exactly where she wanted to be.

***

“I would like to speak with my family down at the cottage.” Tony stopped scratching on the piece of paper laying in front of him. His heart dropped slightly, but relaxed again at the sight of his daughter’s nervous face.

“That can be arranged, is there any reason?” She knew what he was doing. (Y/n) had been living at the castle for only a week and she was quick to notice how Tony would ask questions in what seemed like a nonchalant way to get answers out of her. Almost like he didn’t care, but he so clearly did.

“I want to talk to them about how they knew.” Tony nodded before looking down at the paper he was supposed to sign.

“Okay. Tell Vision to go with you. Be back before dark, okay?” (Y/n) nodded before leaving.

It took a little less than half an hour to arrive at the small cottage sitting on the outskirts of Hydra. The house looked dark and empty, but to be honest, it never looked like it was fit enough to be lived in. Vision held his hand out to stop (Y/n) from moving out of the carriage.

“Wait here, there’s something wrong here.” Vision’s pessimism scared (Y/n). Everything looked completely normal to her, but she did let the soldier go first while she waited. It took two minutes for Vision to run back to the place were the carriage stood. Slapping the side of the white iron outside.

“Vision what is going on?” (Y/n) yelled, confusion taking over at the fast movement. He forced her off of the seat and down to the floor.

“There has been a murder and your caretakers were the victims. ‘You will be next’ was written on the wall. You are no longer safe. Hydra has just started a war.”

--

Taglist- @austynparksandpizza @aikeia @simplyfandomish @baby-noodles​ @lili-ann-love​ @rebloggingeverything​

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #tony stark #stucky x reader #stucky #stark reader #love #fanfiction #fanfic #fantasy #royalty #royal

[440mxs-wife]

No One Hunts Alone

Pairing: Dean x Reader. Other Characters: Sam Winchester, Ruthie (Reader’s BFF) and Amber (OFC’s), Jim and Trevor Morrison (OMC’s)

Word Count: 6460

Warnings: Some mutual pining, Reader is a little stubborn, dreaded class reunion, mostly fluffy though.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You were putting away some freshly folded laundry when your phone buzzed in your pocket. The screen showed the call was from your best friend, Ruthie. "Hey, chickie, what's going on?" you asked. Silence. "Ruthie? What's wrong, honey?" you insisted. Your panic level escalated with each passing silent moment. "Please, Ruthie, answer me," you pleaded.

"Hey," Ruthie finally answered softly. "Listen, I know you said you wouldn't be able, or didn't want to come back home for the class reunion, but...." she trailed off. "I really think you should reconsider. Please. There's something weird going on around here. You know, your kind of weird," she emphasized.

Dammit. You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger and sighed heavily. "Yeah, okay. I'll pack up tonight, and leave early in the morning. I can bunk with you, right?" you asked.

"Of course you can stay here, you never have to ask. You know that," she gently chided. "Just you, though? You're not bringing the Wonder Twins?" she asked.

"Nope, just me," you replied. For now, anyway. They have too much going on already, wouldn't want to be a bother to them, you thought. You heard a knocking at your door. "Ruthie, I gotta go. Someone's at the door. I'll text you before I leave tomorrow," you promised.

You opened your door to find Dean standing there. "Hey, sweetheart. Ready for our Movie Night in the 'Cave?" he asked.

Ordinarily, you'd jump at the chance to spend any amount of time you could with Dean. But you had to pack tonight so you could easily slip out in the morning. "Is that tonight? I'm sorry, Dean, but I'm kinda tired," you replied.

"Aw, come on, it's still early. Please?" Dean tried his best to give you the puppy dog eyes.

"Not tonight, Dean. I'm sorry, I'm just tired and I have a lot on my mind right now. This thing with Ruthie--" you stopped short before you gave everything away.

"Wait, what 'thing' with Ruthie, is everything okay?" he asked with concern. Dean knew how close you and Ruthie were, that you were more like sisters than best friends.

"It's just some local stuff. It's probably a bigger deal in her mind than it actually is," you explained, hoping he'd buy it.

"Well, if you're sure," he remarked, raising one eyebrow. "But you owe me for missing our regular Movie Night," he grinned and tapped the end of your nose.

"Put it on my tab, Winchester," you teased. "Goodnight, Dean," you replied softly.

"Goodnight, darlin'. Sweet dreams," he responded. You closed the door and leaned back against it, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

After he left your door, Dean walked into the library, where Sam was sitting at the table, reading. He looked up to see the concerned look on his brother's face. "What's up with you?" Sam asked.

Dean explained that he had just reminded it was time for your usual Movie Night in the Dean Cave, but that you had backed out. "So what, Dean? Maybe she really is tired and has a lot on her mind," Sam defended.

"Nah, I think there's more to it than that, Sammy. She said there was a 'thing' going on with Ruthie, then tried to play it off as no big deal. Some kind of 'local' situation," Dean muttered.

"You want me to check online, see if there's anything resembling a case in her hometown?" Sam asked.

"For right now, let's just keep an eye on things, see what happens. There has to be some reason she didn't or doesn't want me--er, us--knowing what's going on," Dean replied. Sam nodded in agreement but grinned internally at Dean's almost confession.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You went to bed shortly after packing your bags and stowing them in your closet. You felt a twinge of guilt about turning Dean down for your Movie Night, considering your feelings for him. As far as he was concerned, you have been and probably always would be just his best friend. For you, though, it was more than a crush. Yep. You were full-blown, head-over-heels, heart eyes, Cupid's-arrow-in-the-butt, in love with Dean Winchester.

Too many times, you were almost caught staring at him, wondering what it would be like to be held in his strong arms. Or kissed by those plump, perfect lips. One look in his forest-green eyes and you were a goner, throwing almost all speaking ability out the window. For all his strength and take-charge attitude, though, he let you see his tender side as well. The one that brought you tea when you weren't feeling well, or held you close when you watched a horror movie in the 'Cave. How tenderly he dressed your wounds after a hunt.

Yep. In love with your best friend, and you couldn't do thing one about it. Not without it becoming awkward around the bunker when he didn't return your feelings. Sam figured it out a long time ago, but you made him promise not to say anything to Dean about it. So far, so good, but you weren't sure how much longer you could go without him finding out.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The way Ruthie sounded on the phone made your heart clench, especially when she said it was your kind of weird. She knew what you did for a day job and that it was important, even though she didn't like thinking about you in danger.

Ruthie didn't give you many details, but because she was involved, that made it personal. Despite having so little to go on, you knew you had to drop everything and go. There was no way you were going to trust another hunter to handle it.

There was always the hope that it was a 'milk run' kind of situation, and that you could cover it on your own. If not, you were sure that you could call Sam and Dean for help, though you considered that as a last resort. They have enough to worry about. No, you thought, this one's on me, I can do this. I have to do this myself. You rolled over, closed your eyes and tried to get some sleep.

Early the next morning, you quietly slipped out of your room with your bags and locked the door behind you. Using one of the secret passageways, you silently made your way to the garage, undetected. Your weapons bag was put into the warded compartment under the trunk bottom, with your other duffel bag on top. Before you left, you turned off the GPS function on your phone so you couldn't be tracked. You texted Ruthie, then eased your car out of the garage and headed for your hometown.

Your route out of town took you by one of the nearby parks where Sam usually went for his morning run. You hoped that you had left the bunker before him, to reduce the chances that he would see you as you drove past him. Just as you passed the park, you saw a familiar figure in a navy blue jogging shorts, sweatshirt and beanie. The figure turned his head in your direction and you knew you'd been made. Welp, you thought. So much for a clean getaway.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam turned his head just in time to see you drive past the park. He stopped on the path to stretch, then pulled out his phone to call you.

Next to you on the seat, your phone rang. A quick glance at the Caller ID showed that it was Sam, but you chose not to answer it at first. Immediately after it stopped ringing, it started again, so this time you picked up.

"Hey, you're up awfully early, what's going on?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, Sam, I'm running some errands," you explained.

"You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?" he shot back.

"Believe what you want to believe, Sam. Listen, I have something that I need to handle. I'll be back in 2, maybe 3 days, tops. Bye, Sam," you replied.

"No, wait, don't hang up! I'm headed back to the bunker now. Just please pull over and wait so that Dean and I can catch up to you. Whatever it is, we want to help. Please," he implored.

You thought about doing as he asked, but then you realized that they have enough to worry about in their own lives. Surely you could handle this one case by yourself. "I'm sorry, Sam. You guys have enough to deal with on your own, I can't put this on you. I have to do this on my own. Please understand. I'll be home in 2-3 days," you said. After you hung up, you turned your phone off.

Sam knew there wasn't a moment to waste. Whatever you had going on, he knew it was better for you to have back-up, despite what you thought. He hightailed it back to the bunker to wake up Dean and try to figure out what you're doing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"She WHAT?!?" Dean roared.

"I saw her on the highway, headed out of town, so I called her to ask what was going on. All she told me was that there was something she had to handle, and she'd be back in 2 or 3 days at most. I tried to get her to pull over and wait for us, so we could go with her. She said we had enough to deal with on our own, that she wasn't going to put this on us. Then she hung up, and I haven't been able to reach her since," Sam explained.

Dean cast his eyes downward and shook his head. "That stubborn woman. Doesn't she know that I--we--would drop everything to help her? That hunting alone in a highly emotional state is dangerous? What if something goes wrong, what if she zigs instead of zags and she ends up getting hurt? Or worse?" he whispered the last part.

Sam studied his brother as he ranted about you and your decision to hunt alone. Granted, he had the same thoughts as Dean, that he was worried about you, but with Dean....it was more. "You care about her, don't you?" he asked.

"Of course I do, Sam! She's my best friend," Dean snapped.

Sam gave his brother an epic bitch face. "C'mon, Dean. You know what I'm talking about," Sam admonished.

Dean couldn't form the words at first, so he just nodded. "Been wanting to tell her for a long time, man. I decided that last night was time to 'nut up or shut up', which is why I waited until our Movie Night in the 'Cave. I was going to tell her everything," he explained. "She's amazing, Sam. So sweet and kind, smart, she's got the best sense of humor and she's an awesome hunter. Damn gorgeous, too."

Sam chuckled softly at his brother's assessment of you. "So, you said this had something to do with Ruthie. Wouldn't Ruthie's house be the first place she's going to go?" Sam asked, to which Dean nodded. "Okay. I'm going to go shower, then we're gonna pack up and head in that direction. You with me?" Sam inquired, his hand out for Dean to take.

"Yeah, let's do this," he said as he locked hands with his brother to bring him in for a bro hug. Dean caught a whiff of Sam's shirt and immediately drew back, waving in front of his nose, which was wrinkled in disgust. "Whoa, dude, you reek! Get to the showers, man, before I pass out!" he grinned. Sam shook his head, and as he left, Dean clapped a hand on his shoulder.

After Sam left the room, Dean pulled out his phone and dialed your number, only to have it go straight to voicemail. He decided to lay it all out on the line and let the chips fall where they may.

"Hey, sweetheart. Listen, Sam told me you're on your way out of town, on a case. I-I know you have your reasons for doing this alone, and I hope you'll tell me sometime. But please, honey, whatever you do, be careful," Dean pleaded.

"I'm....I'm not gonna lie to you, I'm kinda freaking out right now, 'cause you're out there, alone, and you don't have to be. I wish you were here with me, because then I'd know you were safe. Please call me back when you get this," he ended the message and started packing.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Ruthie was sitting on her front porch when you pulled your car into her driveway. You got out of the car, grabbed your duffel bag with your clothes and headed into the house. Ruthie's husband, Jim, was waiting inside the door and gave you a hug when you came in. He took your bag and put it in the back bedroom, where you would be sleeping. Ruthie gave you a hug as well and asked you to join her in the kitchen while she made you something for lunch.

A plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, chips and two cookies was placed in front of you. "EAT. Then, you're going to tell me why you didn't want the Lumberjack Brothers to join you on this case," she remarked grimly. "You know, they've been calling me, asking what's going on and if I've seen you. They're worried about you, sweetie, especially Dean. He sounded miserable," she added.

You dropped your head to the table. "Oh, man, that is the last thing I wanted. I thought I'd come here, take care of things and that would be it. Zip, zap, no muss, no fuss. I can see now that was a mistake," you admitted. You pulled out your phone and turned it back on, only to see about 10 missed calls and 4 voicemails from Sam.

There were twice as many calls from Dean, but only one voicemail message. You punched in the code and waited for the recording to start. What you heard was the last thing you expected. Instead of an angry tirade, you heard the concern, the understanding, but mostly the fear in his voice that you were out here on your own. You realized that you had made a huge mistake in thinking you could work this case without them. Time to face the music, you thought.

With trembling fingers, you accessed your contacts list and selected Dean's number. You wondered if he'd even pick up, and if he did, how would he react to you calling him? You had to try, had to start somewhere. Just as you were about ready to hang up, you heard, "Hello? Sweetheart, is that you?" he asked.

"H-hey, Dean, it's me," you answered. There was an audible sigh of relief on his end. "Dean, I'm sorry for leaving and not telling you where I was going. I--" you started to explain, tears threatening.

"Never mind that right now, just listen. Sammy and I are on our way to Ruthie's right now, so stay there with her and Jim, where it's safe. We should be there in a couple of hours, hopefully less. I am very much looking forward to hearing your explanation of why you thought hunting on your own was such a good idea," Dean replied sternly.

You swallowed back a sob at hearing the disappointment in his voice. "Yes, Dean," you choked out. "I promise I'll wait here, talk to Ruthie and see if we can figure out what's going on," you whispered.

Dean agreed that talking about the case with Ruthie and getting some details down would be a good idea. "Hey?" he called.

"Yes, Dean?" you answered.

"Whatever this is, whatever is going on, we'll figure it out and fix it together. Remember, sweetheart?" he inquired softly.

"I do, I remember, Dean. See you soon," you responded.

After you hung up the phone, Ruthie pointed down the hall and ordered you to go get some rest. She said she would wake you up when Sam and Dean got there, and then you all could talk about the case.

You thought about protesting, but you figured you'd made enough bad choices already. Finally, you relented and trudged to the bedroom at the end of the hall. Once inside, you changed into more comfy sleep clothes and crawled beneath the blankets. As soon as your head hit the pillow, you were out cold.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Around a couple of hours later, you awoke from your peaceful slumber to voices and laughter in the kitchen. You splashed some water on your face, took a swig of mouthwash then pointed yourself towards the voices. Ruthie looked up to see you standing in the doorway. "Hey! There she is! Did you enjoy your nap, honey?" she asked.

You nodded. With your eyes transfixed on Sam and Dean, mostly Dean, you tried to gauge their mood. Sam rose from the table, coffee cup in hand. He motioned that he was going to get a refill on his coffee, and as he passed by you, he squeezed then patted your shoulder.

"I'm going to get some coffee," you mumbled. As you walked by Dean, he stood up and you knew he was following you.

He brushed his knuckles up and down your bare arm. "Can we talk?" he murmured. You nodded and led him by the hand out to Ruthie's back porch. Dean stood next to you at the railing, neither of you speaking at first. You turned to Dean and opened your mouth to say something, then closed your mouth again as if you'd thought better of it.

"Okay, I'll start then," Dean remarked. "That night I asked you to watch a movie with me, this was what you were talking about with Ruthie? A case?" he asked.

"Yes. She told me about the stupid class reunion a while ago, and I had already decided that I didn't want to come back for it. But, when she said something else was happening here that was 'our kind of weird', I had to check it out," you replied.

"But why didn't you tell me or Sam about it? Why did you think you had to do this all on your own?" he demanded.

"Dean, we just got back from a series of back-to-back hunts. You and Sam were exhausted, I was trying to give you guys time to rest. Besides, you two have enough going on, you don't need me adding to your list," you retorted.

"So, what, you don't think you need rest as well? Last time I checked, you got thrown around pretty good on that last salt-and-burn we did," Dean snapped.

"Dean, she's my sister! No matter what, no matter when or why, if she calls, I drop everything and come running. That's how it works," you shot back.

He put his hands on your shoulders then ran them down your arms and cupped your elbows to pull you closer. "Sweetheart, I understand that, really I do, but you are just as important to us. If you had brought us in on this case, exhausted or not, we would've dropped everything for you," he affirmed.

You laid a hand alongside his face. "I know, Dean, and I'm sorry for running out like that on you and Sam," you replied gently. "Let's go back inside and Ruthie will fill us in on what she knows. Then we can hopefully fill in the blanks," you started to walk back into the house.

Dean caught your hand in his and pulled you back to face him. "Hey. I'm still a little upset with you," he declared as he narrowed his eyes at you a bit. Then he cupped your cheek and caressed it with his thumb. "But I'm also glad you're okay and that we're working this together," he added, softening his gaze. He pressed his lips to your forehead in a lingering kiss and you closed your eyes to savor the moment. "Come on, let's head inside to see what we're dealing with," he said.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You and Dean walked back into the kitchen, hand-in-hand, which did not escape anyone's notice. "I was just starting to tell Sam what I know, Sis," Ruthie informed you. "I was in the grocery store the other day, and I heard someone mention Trevor Morrison's name."

"Ugh," you remarked, rolling your eyes and making a noise of disgust. "And?"

"And, they were saying that he just got back from some overseas trip, and that there was a late-night delivery to his house the following day," Ruthie explained.

"How big was the delivery? Did anyone see any strange markings on the package?" you inquired.

"No one mentioned seeing anything strange on the box. Size-wise, not that big, maybe the size of a phone book and about as thick," Ruthie answered.

"Sam, do you think you can patch in to the cargo plane manifests and figure out what it could be?" Dean asked.

"Let me see what I can do, Dean," Sam replied, taking out his laptop.

While Sam was getting his laptop set up, Dean noticed the troubled expression on your face and pulled you aside. "What's the deal with you and Trevor Morrison?" he asked.

You took a deep breath to calm yourself before responding. "He's an ex-boyfriend from high school. We were supposed to go to Prom together, but we sorta didn't after I found out that he cheated on me with the head cheerleader," you muttered.

Dean put his arm around you and rubbed his hand up and down your back. "I'm so sorry that happened to you, sweetheart," he murmured.

"I got it, here it is. The Grimoire of Astaroth is what Trevor had delivered to his house," Sam swung the laptop around to show everyone the packing slip.

"So, what's the significance?" you asked. "Who's Astaroth?"

"Astaroth is a demon, who makes his appearance by riding a dragon-like creature and carrying a viper in his right hand. The lore says he knows the answers to the Past, Present and Yet to Come, and can discover all secrets," Sam explained.

"That's an awful lot of power in the hands of one man," you warned. "We need to get in to his house and retrieve that Grimoire."

"Leave that to me, dear sister," Ruthie said with a smug grin on her face.

You quirked an eyebrow at her statement. "And just how do you propose to get us in there?" you asked.

"I can get everyone tickets for the reunion. You go in with Sam or Dean, then Jim and I will go in with you. Whoever doesn't go in is in charge of surveillance, telling us where the cameras and security guards are. Sound good?" Ruthie suggested.

You, Sam and Dean looked at each other in silent communication. "It's worked for us in the past, I don't see why it won't work this time," you acknowledged. "Which one of you is going in with me?" you asked.

The boys looked at each other, brought up their fist for Rock, Paper, Scissors. You and Ruthie both rolled your eyes at the way that this was being decided, but you knew this was the easiest way. "Okay, winner goes in to the party, loser is stuck with surveillance," Dean said.

"Ready? One, two, three!" Sam counted. He chose paper, while Dean chose scissors. A smile as wide as the Grand Canyon broke out over Dean's face.

"You bring your 'Fed threads'?" you asked.

"Always, sweetheart. What about you? Do you need to go shopping for something to wear?" Dean inquired.

Ruthie spoke up. "I'm sure I have something she can wear. I might have picked something up for her when I was out shopping for my own dress," she added with a wry grin.

Your eyes narrowed at her. "Did you set this up just to get me out here?" you exclaimed.

"Relax, would ya? No, I did not set this up, but there is definitely something weird going on. You coming out here is just a nice little side bonus," she stated simply. "Come on, let me show you what you'll be wearing."

"I'm going out to the car and get our bags," Dean announced.

As you walked by Sam, you caught him chuckling quietly to himself. You took hold of the open sides of his flannel shirt and yanked him downward. "You lost on purpose, didn't you? You KNOW he always chooses scissors, and you planned your move accordingly, right?" you remarked, then let go of his shirt.

"I have no idea what you're talking about. If you'll excuse me, I have to set up surveillance," Sam replied, still with a smirk on his face. "But you're welcome," he said in a sing-song voice.

"Yeah, right, you have no idea what I'm talking about," you mumbled. "Ruthie! Where's this dress you have for me?" you barked then walked down the hall towards her room.

"Step into my office, sister dear. It's time to make some magic!" Ruthie declared.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Where did you get this dress? It's gorgeous!" you whispered.

"You'd better hope Dean's wearing socks, because you're going to knock them off of him when he sees you," Ruthie smirked.

"I don't know about that, but thank you so much for this," you turned and gave Ruthie a hug.

The floor-length dress was a one-shoulder, with the strap encrusted with crystals in a starburst pattern. The bodice was black, which continued down the length of the dress until it faded into a deep red at about knee-level. There was a band of crystals at the waist to divide the top half from the bottom half. A pair of black pumps completed the outfit.

Ruthie even did your makeup for you which was great, because as a hunter, you didn't have much call for it. She curled and fluffed your hair, pulling it back on each side with crystal-encrusted clips. "There, I think that should do it, don't you think?" she remarked.

You stared at yourself in the full-length mirror, trying to recognize yourself. "Whoa. This can't be me. Is it?" you asked.

"Of course it is, silly," Ruthie chuckled. "Now wait here while I get ready, then we'll walk out there together. I'll go first, save the best for last," she giggled, while you just shook your head at her in amusement.

While the two of you were getting ready, Dean slipped out and found a place that was able to rent him a tux at the last minute. He was looking forward to going to this party, because it meant he'd be going with you on his arm.

Ruthie was wearing a floor-length navy blue dress, strapless, with a gathered bodice. The pattern was criss-crossed in the chest area, so it held everything in place. "Okay, Sis, it's your turn. Come on down!" she called.

You stepped into your black suede pumps and nervously strode down the hall, fidgeting nearly the entire way. Sam saw you first, a look of surprise mixed with wonder flitted across his face. But his was not the opinion you sought, the one that meant the most to you was yet to be determined.

Dean raised his head and locked his eyes with yours when you stepped fully into the room. His eyes widened and his lips slightly parted in amazement, then closed. He slowly walked towards you and held out his hand for you to take, which you did. Dean raised your hand to his lips, brushing them gently across your knuckles. "Wow. Sweetheart, you look gorgeous," he rumbled in that deep, sexy voice of his.

You could feel the heat rising from your neck, all the way to the ends of your hair. "Thank you, Dean. Might I say, you look particularly handsome yourself in that not-Fed-suit tuxedo," you noted with a small curtsy.

"Whaaaat? This old thing?" he replied then held out his arm for you. "Shall we, milady?" he asked.

"We shall, good sir," you answered, taking his arm and feeling him tuck yours in close to his side. "Here," you reached into your small handbag and pulled out the keys. "You can drive my car, because I know there will be valet parking. And there's no way you'll let anyone park Baby except you," you remarked.

"You're right about that, darlin'. You trust me to drive your car?" Dean asked.

You stopped him and stared straight into his emerald eyes. "I trust you with my life, Dean. Why wouldn't I trust you with my car?" you reasoned. When the two of you reached your car, Dean opened the passenger door and waited to close it until you and your dress were all settled.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The short ride over to Morrison Manor was mostly silent, except for the rumble of the engine. Dean took hold of your hand and interlaced your fingers. Every once in a while, you'd catch him looking in your direction, so you sent him an encouraging smile. He would respond by lifting your joined hands to his lips and pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. The toothy grin he gave you afterwards was more than enough to make your heart flutter in your chest.

Dean pulled up to the valet station, stepped out and hurried over to your side of the car to open your door. He held out his hand to help you exit the car, which you readily accepted. Just before you entered the manor, Dean tugged on your arm to pull you back a little. "You ready for this?" he asked softly.

You looked at Dean and gave him a soft smile. "Yep. We go in, get the Grimoire, then get out. The rest of it, facing everyone in there? That's nothing. I don't owe anyone an explanation, nor am I required to have lived up to their expectations. I'm good with who I am, with who you and Sam are. I'm proud of us," you replied while you walked into the event.

Dean leaned over and placed a lingering kiss to your temple. "Let's do this," he murmured against your skin. You nodded slowly and the two of you walked in behind Ruthie and Jim.

Sam's voice came over your earpiece. "Okay, I've found it. The book is in his study, but unfortunately, so is he at the moment. You'll have to do something until he's clear," he informed you and Dean.

"Come on, sweetheart. Dance with me," Dean said, leading you to the dance floor. You followed, and Dean took your left hand and curled his fingers around it. His other hand snaked around your waist and splayed across your back. The contact of his fingertips on your partially bare back caused you to gasp at the sensation.

"Relax, darlin', it's just dancing," Dean whispered in your ear.

Easy for you to say, you thought, with your heart beating a mile a minute. At that moment, the voice you never wanted to hear again was demanding your attention. Your dance with Dean was interrupted by none other than the former head cheerleader, Amber.

Dean must have sensed your apprehension because he tightened his hold on you all the more, making sure you knew he was there for you. "Do you trust me?" he asked. You nodded slowly.

Amber stood in front of you and Dean, holding on to Trevor's arm. "Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her presence. I thought you weren’t coming," she drawled. Shifting her attention to Dean, Amber let out a low whistle. "Wow, she must have paid a fortune for you," she sneered.

"Excuse me? That happens to be my wife you're talking about, and I think you should be a little more respectful," Dean snapped.

"Ha! You expect me to believe that? You and her, husband and wife? Prove it. Let me see the ring," Amber demanded.

You looked around nervously, but when your eyes met Dean's, he gave you an almost imperceptible wink. "Honey? You left this on the sink in the bathroom, remember? You must've taken it off while you were getting ready for tonight," Dean pulled a ring out of his pocket and slid it onto your left ring finger. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed a tender kiss to where he'd just placed the ring.

Amber gave you a snort of disgust and stormed off, while Trevor shook his head at Amber's lack of manners. "Excuse me, I have a business matter to attend to," he left you and walked off in the opposite direction as Amber.

"That was smooth, and quick thinking, thank you. Where did you get the rings?" you inquired.

Dean wiggled his left hand for you to see his ring before grasping your left hand. "Remember that museum job where we went undercover?" he asked, to which you nodded. "Well, these are the rings we used for that case. Good thing I kept them in the glove compartment all this time," he declared.

"Thank you, Dean. I don't know what I'd do without you," you remarked, leaning into his embrace.

"No thanks necessary, darlin'," he replied while his hand settled on the small of your back.

"Uh, guys, I hate to interrupt, but a window of opportunity just opened to go into the study and grab that book," Sam interjected.

Dean released you from his hold and grinned as he searched your face. "Ready?" he asked. You nodded your head enthusiastically and took his outstretched hand in yours. "Then let's get this thing and go home," he remarked.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Around 90 minutes, a couple of slices of pizza and a beer or two later, everyone had returned to Ruthie's house to relax. The Grimoire of Astaroth was safely stowed in the warded compartment in the trunk of your car to escape detection. Once you returned to the bunker, it would be catalogued as had been done with other charmed or cursed objects.

"Who's up for another round?" you asked, rising from your chair at the kitchen table. Everyone raised their hand, so Dean got up to help you. Before you could open the refrigerator door for more beer, Dean caught your hand and motioned for you to follow him outside. Curious, you slipped out the back door to the porch and into the cool night air.

"You warm enough?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied just as a shiver ran through you.

Dean chuckled. "Come here," he said as he unzipped his sweatshirt and wrapped his arms around you from behind.

"Mmm, that feels nice, thank you," you sighed and closed your eyes.

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you," Dean began. "You've been my best friend for the longest time, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. That's why what I'm going to say next is so difficult," he added.

You turned around in Dean's arms to face him. "Dean, no matter what it is, you know you can tell me and I'll still be your best friend," you tried to assure him.

Dean looked up to the starry sky and took a deep breath then locked eyes with you again. "I hope so, sweetheart, because I wanted to tell you I'm in love with you," he declared.

"What?" you whispered.

"It's true. You're smart, kind, you have the best sense of humor, even though you still laugh at my feeble attempts at telling jokes. You have the biggest heart of anyone I know, and your dedication to family is almost stronger than mine. As was just recently proven, I believe," he chuckled.

"Yeah," you returned his chuckle.

"And for me to say you're so beautiful just doesn't even cover it. From your eyes that look at things from a different perspective, to your cute little nose that crinkles when you're researching. From your smile that brightens up my day just to see it, to hands that are tough when swinging a machete and soft when sewing up an injury. Ones I can't wait to have roaming over every inch of my body while I'm taking my sweet time to learn every inch of yours," he explained.

"I had no idea you felt this way, Dean, but I'm glad you told me. Kinda makes what I have to say next so easy, which is I'm in love with you too. I have been for a long time, but I didn't want to give up what we had if you didn't love me. So I kept my feelings to myself," you finished.

"Oh, sweetheart," Dean whispered.

"There are so many things I love about you. Such as, you like to show the world how tough you are, but I know about the flip side of that. The one that tenderly patches me up after a hunt or takes care of me when I'm sick. Or holds me in his arms so I feel safe from my fears, real or imagined. The side that knows when something's bothering me and won't let up until it's out in the open. And believe me, you're no slouch in the looks department," you giggle at the last part.

"Really? Well, don't stop now, baby, I think you're really on to something," he replied.

"Let's start with the eyes. I know I can tell you anything and I won't see an ounce of judgement in them. Plus, they kind of shine when you talk about the things you love, like music," you started.

Your index finger began tracing a line down the edge of his jaw. "Your smile is contagious and it lights up the room. And last but not least," you whispered, inching ever closer. "I really want to know how soft your lips are. So, for the sake of science," you closed the gap and meshed your lips together with his.

The kiss itself was perfect, all you'd ever imagined, and then some. Your lips left his for a brief second until he recaptured them and dove back in for more. As your mouths moved in tandem, Dean's tongue swept along your bottom lip to request access, which you readily granted.

"Mmf, sweetheart, I love you so much," he murmured against your mouth. He nudged your head upwards to trail a path of open-mouthed kisses across and down your neck. Once he reached the place where your neck met your collarbone, he attached his lips and sucked at the skin. When he pulled back, he had left a mark there for all to see. "Now everyone will know who you belong to," he grinned.

"My heart was always yours, Dean. Always and forever," you sighed. "I love you."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

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[spasmsofthought]

15 years, 15 million tears (i gave it my all, he gave me nothing at all) [thor x reader]

hiiii I’ve been in my feels lately so here you go. maybe more parts to come?????

please forgive any typos or grammar mistakes! 

enjoy! xoxo 

+++

The pageantry never seems to end, apparently, as Asgardians partake in another feast, overflowing with food and drink, for the third time this week alone. The room is glowing and decadent, reflecting the riches of the people gathered together among the tables and around the pillars in a small area of this magnificent castle. There is laughter and smiles and an overall atmosphere that would be hard to resist if it were your first time at such an event.

It is not.

The merry faces hold sway over you no longer and it is easy to fade into the background while picking at the food that has been placed in front of you by a servant half-captivated by the scene in front of her and smiling politely at those who glance your way.

A boom of laughter comes from the other side of the chamber and it is not hard to guess who it belongs to. Thor Odinson has never been known for silence and his open mouth and wide grin portray his delight as he lifts his mug of ale and drinks yet again. The Warriors Three and other varying courtiers surround him, laughing along heartily. Lady Sif gives a quirk of her lips, playing along for a moment, but otherwise remains more stoic than the rest of the group.

It can be easy to be swept away in the revelry but tonight it just leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. There is no one near you that cares enough to notice when you get up from your seat, leaving your plate half-finished, and wander slowly towards the shadowed corridors hoping for quick exit. 

“My dear,” Frigga calls in her soothing voice.

Curse Frigga and her warm heart, for she knows you cannot dismiss her and you have no desire to. She is the Queen of Asgard and your guardian while you remain here in Asgard, and the wisest of all. 

“My Queen,” you turn and curtsy as she walks towards you. You can only offer her a slight smile hoping she will let you go soon and dare not ask for you to stay. 

“Why do you leave so early into the night? Is something the matter?” There is a concern, as always, in her voice, but something else that you cannot detect hides behind it. 

“I simply weary of the night, my lady, and seek rest in my own chamber, ‘tis all.” She comes closer and captures your hands with her own warm ones. Her gaze is loving and for a moment you imagine it would be like your own mother’s if she still lived. 

“Is that all?” She reads you like the palm of her hand but you give no answer. “I will have Thor escort you back, it will be no trouble.” 

You peer over her shoulder seeing Thor cast a quick glance over to his mother, for it is not often enough he sees you together in public spaces in the presence of so many people. It is the only glance he has spared you in months. You wrench your hands out of hers and hold them up to her in a pleading gesture, “No, please, my lady. He is enjoying his company and I wish to disturb no one. I know the way back to my own room.” 

Her eyes pierce yours but she chooses to relent this time, “Very well. May rest come to you tonight.” 

Her arms come to smooth over your hair and down to your shoulders, gentle and firm at the same time. 

“Good night, my Queen.” You nod and she lets go, allowing you to escape down the corridor into a darkened hallway. You continue to your room as you always have: alone. 

+ + + 

“I request an audience with my lord Odin Allfather and King of Asgard.” You try to keep your voice from trembling and you think you do well enough. This is not going to be easy, and you think your pacing wore through your bedroom’s carpet this morning. 

The throne room has always been grand, gold glinting from Odin’s seat and the weapon in his hand. When you came here years ago, it took everything in you to not cower in sheer fear of speaking to him. Now, the weight of the situation is no less heavy, but Odin is not as intimidating as he once was. 

“Speak, child,” his voice says to you after you curtsy in front of the dais. 

It is not warm like Frigga’s or boisterous like Thor’s. What little you have heard of Loki’s hold no comparison either. It holds the weight and authority of a king who has reigned longer than you have lived. 

“I wish to depart Asgard and return home,” Frigga’s eyes catch yours for a moment and there is something in them that makes you dread this conversation even more than you already do. 

“For how long? We will organize guards to accompany you on your journey and set a feast date for when you are to return.” 

“My lord, I do not wish to return at all.” The statement hangs in the air and the words echo around the chamber. It is now that you enter into truly dangerous territory. 

“And why with so little words do you wish to leave all that has been provided for you here? Foolish child, you do not know of what you wish.” Odin has always been rough around the edges, so you expected such a reaction to your proposal. He spent much time getting exactly what he wanted. 

“I know, my lord,” You beg your voice to stay even. It is not a time to test the King of Asgard anymore than you have, “that I can no longer sit idly by, gorging at feasts and drinking to my content, as my father grows old and my older sister fades away to time--” 

“You are shortsighted in your vision,” He interrupts adamantly, dismissing your words as if they are from the mouth of a child. But you are not a child and you have not been for a very long time. 

“I would continue to be patient,” It is like a spark lights inside of you, “if the Allfather would fulfill what he promised to me and my people decades ago. We gave you our best soldiers and our smiths and you still have yet to betroth me to a prince I came here decades ago to marry.” 

“I will tell you the same words I told you when you arrived here and became our ward--” 

“If my lord will forgive me,” For all the kindness and grace that has been instilled in you, your time here has taught you to never allow yourself to be spoken over, not even by the King of Asgard, “I have no time to entertain the same empty promises and fanciful notions that brought me here to you. I am the heir to my own throne and I am of no use to my kingdom if I wait endlessly for something that you, King of Asgard, have no intention of actually granting me nor my people. If it means I leave here declaring war, so be it.”

Frigga is wary next to her husband, as she is Queen of Asgard and no longer just someone who cares for you as a mother would. She cannot defy her husband in public, especially when the Court will hear of all of this before the end of day. Odin’s lips are pressed together and it is easy to tell that he is quickly losing what patience he holds with you. But you think your threats have worked well enough for the moment.

“I will grant consideration of this request but I make no promises. My decision will be known to you in the coming days.” He waves his hand at you, a quick and effortless motion. 

“My King,” You say begrudgingly though you glare at him as you give a final curtsy. The walk to exit out of the throne room is the longest of your life. 

+++

There is a loud knock at your chamber door two days later. The servants have pitied you with sad eyes and hidden frowns meant only for you, but otherwise you wait for news that still does not come. By the weight of the knock, you know it is Thor. There only has been one other time he has come to your door and it was for the feast thrown in your honor as you were welcomed into Asgard 15 years ago. It is funny how little the prince who was promised to marry you has seen you in the span of those years. 

He avoids you and everyone knows it. 

“What do you seek Thor?” You sigh as you see his face when the door opens. You are tired. His mouth is set in a grim line, which is unusual for him. He barges in with no care to how he may jostle you, which is usual for him. 

“I hear you are planning to leave us,” You want to roll your eyes, and behind his back you do. If he is coming here to simply confirm information he has already heard, you have better things to do with your time. “Permanently.” 

You stay stationed by your door, leaving it open. He will not be here for long. Your silence has him turning towards you. 

“You run as a coward?” He does not understand you in his foolishness, the kind that he seems to refuse to grow out of; he never has. 

“I cannot serve my people in a gilded cage waiting for you to grow up, Thor Odinson.” His facial expression startles for a second, as if he does not expect you to have a spine. 

“These promises,” He steps closer, confusion furrowing his eyebrows, “they mean so much to you that you would abandon the life that has been made for you here?” 

“I have no life here if your father does not keep his word. I leave with his permission or I leave without it. But I am not staying here sheltered like an innocent and dependent little girl.” There is some silence and you still wait by the door. 

“I do admire you,” He says. You want to scoff. This is longest conversation you two have ever had, so these words are meaningless. 

“Admiration does nothing for my people. And it helps me even less.” 

“Would you have even wanted to marry me?” He asks all the wrong questions at all the wrong times. 

“Perhaps, Thor,” you shrug as he comes again past you, barely stepping past the threshold, “if things were different and you were more willing to look beyond yourself.” 

He looks a little as if you have struck him, but you cannot find it in your heart to ask for any sort of forgiveness. He barely manages a nod to your words. 

“I think I would have liked to know you better--” 

“But you haven’t, Thor,” And you cannot help but be honest. The words are bitter as acid but they bring a relief. Too long have you bottled everything in. And it’s not like either of you are going to see each other any time soon. “And that is partly why everything is the way that it is. And it is why I must leave.” 

“I bid you good fortune, then, my lady,” He says as a farewell before he is briskly making his way down the hallway, as if he cannot get away fast enough. 

And you are alone, again, like maybe you were always meant to be. 

#avengers #The Avengers #thor #thor x reader #thor x oc #thor x you #thor x y/n #thor x ofc #marvel imagine #thor imagine #thor oneshot #thor marvel #thor odinson #thor odinson x y/n #thor odinson imagine #thor odinson x reader #thor one shot