#I've been lately in a Danger mood | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

dinogoofymutated · 4 months ago

Note

You asked for some smut suggestions for Logan, and I got one:

So like…I mean…Logan might be on the short side, but he’s still big! I mean, like,,,those hands 🫣 It would be nice to see a fic to do with Logan and a little manhandling. but not like in a BDSM way, more like a “I am very strong, and here’s a little reminder” type way. Might seem kinda silly but I’d enjoy a fic like that lol.

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB!Reader Ask and you shall receive!! I've spent like the last four days working on this and atp I can't looks at it anymore lol. I'm not super happy with how the beginning is written, but I still think it's alright enough to post lol. It's a lot more tell than show compared to most of my other fics, and I was halfway tempted to reformat it into headcannons, but I didn't feel like it. Anyway, hope you like the way I included the manhandling lol! Hope it turned out okay :) Also, might or might not be tall logan. I'll leave it up to yall to assume, I'm just short af so there's not a single person in marvel who wouldn't have to look down at me lmao.

Edit:FUCK I FORGOT THE READ MORE! TWs: MDNI!!!!!! Seriously, you will be blocked. Masterbation, lil bit of a scent kink. Sexual frustration. Manhandling. Jealous Logan. Creampie. Logan calls you "sunshine" and pretty and shit. I'll add more if I can think of any.

You had a problem. You’ve had a problem. And it really didn’t seem like it was getting any better. It didn’t help the fact that it was incredibly embarrassing, either.

You couldn’t get off. It’s not like you ever struggled with it before, but lately, it felt like you were fighting a losing battle. At first, you didn’t realize why. Maybe it was because you moved into the X-Mansion. Nerves because you’re living somewhere new, right? So you change it up a little. You got comfortable, had a glass of wine or two, and picked up a raunchy book. Yet every time you slipped your hand between your thighs… Running circles around your own clit, trying your best to finger yourself to your finish, you just could never quite hit that peak. It was safe to say you were beyond frustrated.

Lucky for you, most people didn’t notice. You try your best not to be too uptight or mean, but there are just some things that you can’t quite hide from certain people.

Logan’s noticed that something is up with you. You can tell he has, seeing the looks on his face, nose scrunched up in a way he’s catching into something that he just can't quite place. You’re assuming it’s your own pheromones, but hey, as long as he doesn’t realize what it is you’ll be fine, right?

Maybe not.

Eventually, you finally realized why you were having so much trouble getting off. All it took was one training session with Wolverine, and you knew immediately. You weren’t sparring or anything like that, hell, you knew before you even hit the danger room floor. Logan was in a bit of a mood today, although not as grumpy as he can be- and he’s trying to be patient with you. You can tell. But you’re having trouble focusing today- and you have been for a while. He can tell you’re not at 100% just by the way you hold yourself, and spends about 5 minutes watching as you struggle to reset the Danger room panel before he’s finally fed up with it.

“Jesus fuck. Here, let me do it.” Logan grabs you by the waist, pulling you to his chest with one arm as the other reaches around you to reset the panel. It’s not like you didn’t find him attractive before, but the close contact? The smell of his aftershave and the sound of his voice growling in your ear?

oh.

Oh.

You were having trouble getting off because you had a thing for Logan.

You’re practically stunned when he pulls away, standing there with a flushed face and something rather embarrassing pooling in your underwear for the first time in a while. You had to quickly excuse yourself before you ran the risk of him catching onto anything coming from you. He’s a little confused for a second, but you can hear the sound of his low chuckle as you scramble away.

First thing you do? Go to the store.

It's not a random errand. At least, not entirely. You had meant to go out with Storm to grocery shop later this afternoon, but you told her you could really use some time out of the house by yourself, which she completely understood. You had the list and everything, it was only a coincidence that you passed by the cologne section on your way to pick up some toothpaste. The sight made you stop for a minute, the gears grinding in your skull. You spent just a few minutes curiously sampling the bottles until you found one that smelled a bit familiar… Should you? No, that's a bit strange. But really, what was the harm, right? I mean, who would know?

So you bought it. You felt a bit embarrassed afterward, knowing what you bought it for, and ended up letting it sit in the drawer of your side table for a good while. Until another desperate attempt at fucking your own brains out, that is.

You were sweaty and uncomfortable in your bed, sleep shirt sticking to your skin as you struggled to pump your fingers in and out of your tight cunt. It’s been a while, and it shows. You couldn’t even get your favorite dildo to fit inside of you, only adding to your frustration. Touching your clit hardly helped much, leaving you as unsatisfied as ever. Eventually, you give up, lying there as you sigh to yourself. You turn over in your bed in a huff, halfway temped scream your lungs out into the pillow you bury your face in. Instead, you let out something that sounds more like a whisper than a yell, letting the air in your lungs deflate as you let your feelings out. You roll over onto your side when you’re done, halfway tempted to be done with it entirely and go back to bed when you catch sight of the nightstand drawer, slightly ajar. The amber bottle of liquid stares right at you.

You open the drawer some more, picking up the bottle and looking at it as you wonder if you’re actually going to do this. But you’re ridiculously horny, and tired, and you know you’re gonna have trouble falling asleep in the state you’re in- so you end up spraying the smallest amount on your pillow.

It’s…nice. The pillow is warm from where you had been laying on it, and despite how strong men’s cologne could be, this one isn’t quite so striking. At least, not in the amount that you used. You relax back into your bed, pressing your face into the pillow and laying there for a moment. You start thinking about Logan… His calloused hands running across your skin. How his lips and tongue would feel against your own, trailing down your body to your breast. Your hand trails down to your clit as you imagine it as his own. You imagine him behind you, pressing you to the bed as he growls into your ear. You think about what his happy trail would feel like against you. What his cock would look like, feel like, pressing into you. Your legs twitch and shake as you see stars underneath your eyelids, the scent of Logan hitting all the right parts in your head and going straight to your cunt.

Holy shit.

Your orgasm lasts what feels like forever. Your legs are still shaking as you whimper from oversensitivity and pull your hand away, panting as you try to catch your breath. You haven’t cum that hard since… ever. Maybe the cologne was worth it, after all.

You felt really good the morning after. You found yourself humming in the shower, more energized at breakfast and morning drills. No one had said anything, but you knew there were a few who were relieved to see you back to your usual self. If anything, the only person you noticed acting very differently around you was Logan. He was more tense than normal. He scowled a lot, spending less time in your presence. You’d strike up a conversation that would only last a few minutes before he would make an excuse and leave. It made you a little disappointed. But you knew him and knew he had good and bad days, so you brushed it off at first. But a week, two weeks- almost a month went by, and still no change. You felt scorned almost, silently rejected by the guy you had finally realized you were practically in love with, and to be honest, the only man who could get you off just by thinking about him- and boy, did you get off while thinking about him.

You’ve almost resigned yourself to the fact that Logan wasn’t interested when he corners you one morning. He’s leaning up against the wall of the hallway, waiting for you when you step out of your room. It makes you jump a little, closing your door quickly behind you, knowing damn well you hadn’t washed your sheets after fucking yourself to the moon and back last night and fully not wanting the smell to hit his nose. All Logan does is narrow his eyes. Shit.

“Who is he.” He asks you. The question completely derails your train of thought. And you furrow your brow, confused. What was that about?

“Who is he? Your guy?” He asks again, but it does little to clear up your confusion. You’re halfway wondering if he’s being serious at this point, stepping away from your door as you cross your arms.

“What?” You ask. Logan huffs when you respond to him, cocking his head at you in a way that's more sarcastic than curious. The way he’s looking at you is doing some things that you don’t think you’d like to admit, eyes narrow and scrutinizing as you struggle to keep eye contact with him.

“What do you mean? What guy?” You repeat back to him, starting to get a little frustrated. He snorts, rolling his eyes as his scowl lingers. He steps closer, looking down at you from less than a foot away with that angry stare.

“Don’t play stupid with me, sunshine. I can smell him on you.” You ignore the way the nickname makes you shiver a little bit, too busy shrinking into yourself when you process the extent of his words. Smell. He could smell someone on you. Something. Oh god, this was embarrassing.

“Oh! That- It’s not what you're thinking!” You say, face flushed red. You’re flustered beyond belief, doing your best to convince him to leave it be, and it’s not going so well for you.

“Sure it’s not.” Logan huffs. He starts to take steps forward, closing in on your personal space.

“It’s not. I can promise you that.” You’re anxiously fiddling with your fingers now, taking a step back for every step he takes. He looked predatory, unlike any time you’ve seen him before. You haven’t even seen him like this in the danger room, even less so on the battlefield.

“Just tell me who he is.” Logan is adamant about it, his scowl beginning to turn into a frown. Your back hits your door, kickstarting your heart in surprise. You hadn’t realized he had backed you up so far.

“I can’t!” You say, in the beginning stages of becoming absolutely exasperated, and already incredibly embarrassed.

“Why not!?” Logan Snaps, stopping just inches away from you. You cover your heated face, pressing your palms into your eyes until you see shapes, wanting nothing more than to curl up and die right then and there.

“Would you just leave it!” You shout, but Logan’s having none of it.

“No, I won't!” Logan grabs your wrists and moves them away from your face, holding them in front of your chest with a grip lighter than you might have thought. You groan in utter frustration and mortification, looking him dead in the eyes as your angry mouth starts speaking before your reasonable brain can fully catch up.

“Jesus Christ Logan! Do you expect me to just whip out the silicone and show you?!” Your eyes widen as soon as you say it, slamming your mouth shut as you finally catch up with yourself. Logan is staring at you in absolute shock, jaw almost slack at the confession.

“...What?” He asks, slowly. You wince, looking off to the side before deciding it's a bit too late to get the cat back into the bag.

“Its… Cologne. What you’re smelling. I use it to uh, help me…” You make a sort of gesture with your head, praying that you won’t actually have to spell it out for him. He’s still in shock as he looks at you, hands frozen with his fingers wrapped around your wrists. He clears his throat when he comes to, an unreadable expression on his face as he slowly steps forward again, close enough to press his forehead against your own as he presses you against your door.

“You’re that pent up, you need cologne to help you get off?” He asks, and you don’t know what to say, cat catching your tongue as he leans forward. The side of his face brushes against your cheek as he leans down a little, the action making your skin prickle. One of his hands releases a wrist to slide up and across the back of your neck, tilting your head to the side as he takes a big sniff of your skin. He’s practically nuzzling you, angling his head so that he can smell the scent on the back of your head where you rest against your pillow at night.

He’d noticed it before, at night when most of his anger had worn off, sometime after he started to pick up the scent on you. The undertones, the top notes. But now with you this close, he can tell that it wasn’t another man he was smelling. No. It was just you. Your scent being drowned out by the smell of something that he could finally tell smelled rather suspiciously like his very own aftershave.

“...Don’t tell me that you wanted it to smell like me.” He asks after a moment. You almost flinch at the sound of his deep rumble, turning your red face away from him. You swallow, feeling like you are absolutely burning up as you nod- right as Logan catches the unmistakable scent of arousal.

“Fuck”

You’re sure the sound was more animal than man as he cups your cheek rather aggressively, pressing his lips against your own in a rather desperate kiss. It takes you a second to return it, eyes wide as you process just what was happening. It didn't take long for you to melt into his desperate kisses though, every nip and brush of his teeth just like you imagined it would be. He presses his knee in between your thighs, finally releasing your other wrist to grab ahold of your hip instead. You accidentally let out a whine when he grinds your hips against him, your heart beating so fast you were sure it was going to explode. He curses again at the sound, both hands sliding around you to lift you against the door.

You practically squeak in surprise, the noise caught by Logan’s mouth on your own one more time before he trails down to your neck, nipping and sucking at your skin. You gasp as he presses against you, his hips beginning to grind against your own. You’re having a hard time thinking, biting your lip as you do your best to stifle your sounds.

“Logan-ah, can we… head inside, please?” He only grunts in response, shifting your weight as you both begin to fumble for the doorknob. He gets it before you do, hardly stumbling as the door behind you swings open. He’s kissing you again before the door is even closed, kicking it behind him. As preoccupied as you are, you at least have the common sense to reach over and try to lock the door before he carries you over to the bed.

He plops you down onto the mattress before he crawls over you, eyes half-lidded and just as lustful as your own. He pushes you down as you try to sit up. His breathing a little hard, pupils dilated to a size you had never seen.

“Now I know why you closed the door so fast,” Logan smirks, having picked up the lingering scent of your sex on the sheets right away. You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off. His tongue snakes into your mouth, and you find that you can’t really remember what you were going to say anyway. He kisses you again and again, distracting you as he reaches above your head. He pulls away when he has the pillow in hand, and you know just by the look on his face that he knows exactly what he is holding.

“Hate to break it to you, but this doesn’t exactly compare to the real thing.” He snarks. It makes you laugh, and for the first time in a while, you see a genuine smile spread across his face.

“Yeah.” You respond, taking the pillow from his hands and tossing it to a far-off corner. “I know.” You could revel in his smile for as long as he’d let you. Logan’s kisses start off sweeter this time, at least for a moment they did. They begin to become more and more rough as hands start to wander and clothes start to come off. His shirt is first to go, your hands running up and down the hair that spans his torso. Logan is quick to remove your shirt and bra in one go, one very small step away from cutting off your clothes entirely. He gives himself a minute to appreciate your breasts, pinching and teasing you by sliding a hand up the middle of your sternum, the back of his hand brushing the side of a tit as he watches you squirm underneath him, arching your back to push your chest out, practically begging him to finally touch you.

“Patience is a virtue, Sunshine.” Logan says, causing you to scoff. You glare at him a little and all it does is make him chuckle a bit.

“Don’t be mean.” You whine. He laughs a bit harder as he finally lowers himself to your chest. He keeps his eyes locked on your own as he brushes the blunt ends of his teeth across the soft skin, but he’s never been the most patient man. It doesn't take him long to give in to you, sucking on each breast individually, massaging the soft skin of the opposite as he does so.

“Careful.” He growls when your own hands begin to wander, touching him over the fabric of his jeans. He releases your nipple with a pop, bearing his teeth as he presses his face back into your neck. You don't pay much mind to that, rather enjoying the grunts and sounds he makes as you slowly stroke his covered hardness from base to tip. You can't imagine how restrained he must be feeling. You can’t help but smirk a little as your hands drift up and down, before oh So slowly unbuckling his belt. Logan is agitated, practically bucking his hips into your hands to get you to just get over with it.

“Patience is a virtue.” You quote, only earning a restraining hold on your hands once again.

“Fuck that.” Logan growls. He holds you by your wrists, pushing them above your head as he uses his free hand to remove his belt and frantically unbuckle his pants. You'd be complaining if it weren't for the view of his straining cock, slapping against his abdomen as he pulls his pants down.

You don't get to stare for too long before he flips you on your stomach like you weigh nothing. He lets your wrists go to pull down your shorts and underwear, a sticky string of your slick thinning as he pulls the items down.

“Fuck. You're this wet from just that?” Logan asks you, taking two fingers and sliding them through your lips from behind, spreading his fingers to let himself see the mess you've made of yourself already.

“...shut up.” You mumble, more focused on the feeling of those very same fingers sliding back and forth across your cunt, the tips just barely brushing against your clit every time. Logan chuckles, sliding one hand under your lower stomach to lift your hips with ease. Your hips buck as he slides a thick finger inside of you without warning, slowly sinking down to his knuckle with ease.

“Might not even need foreplay at this rate.” Logan rumbles behind you, eyes set squarely on the sight of your pretty pussy spread wide open for him. You can only moan in response as he pulls it back out again, plunging a second finger into you this time. Your hands clutch the sheets as Logan begins to finger fuck you to his content, curling those thick digits to hit that one spot juuust right. You try not to buck or squirm too bad, halfway wondering if this is all just some wet dream.

“Logan-” You call out for him through your moans. He only hums in reply, preoccupied at the moment.

“I- god- I need your cock, please.” You're not sure if it was the phrase or the begging, but it makes Logan groan. You feel embarrassingly empty as he pulls his fingers out. You hear the sound of him stroking his hard cock with your slick, groaning and humming to himself before he picks you up. He leans over you, adjusting to you your hands and knees as you finally feel that thick, thick cock grinding against you. You gasp at the way it feels, feeling Logan smirk against your back.

“Having second thoughts?” The tone of his voice is teasing, but you know there's more than that behind the words. You vehemently shake your head, grinding back against him a little as you protest. Logan swears under his breath, holding onto your hips to keep them still as he sits up.

Both of you groan each time the head of his cock catches on your clit, Logan thrusting through your lips again and again as he lubes himself with the wetness you provide for him. You gasp when his head catches on your slot, notching just right.

Logan pushes into you so slowly, and you feel like he's thicker than you ever imagined he would be. You're impatient, desperate. You push back onto him in an attempt to take him in more, but his hands on your hips stop you.

“Believe me sweetheart, you don't want that yet.” Logan tells you, straining himself with how tight you feel around him. He soothingly rubs his thumbs against your skin, pressing into you until you have him completely, balls deep inside you.

“Please, please. Logan, Please, I need you to move.” Your begging starts to sound like nonsense to your own ears, but it makes Logan gasp all the same, his cock twitching from where it's buried inside of you. You practically cry in relief when he finally begins to thrust Inside of you.

His hip smack against your ass with every thrust, the sound of the slap mixed with the sounds of your love and the headboard hitting the wall a lewd and filthy symphony. Even better than your own moans were Logan's himself. Each and every groan and growl above you gave you a whole new array of things to imagine while fucking yourself- if you ever had to do so again.

You whine and whimper with every strong thrust, Logan slow and forceful with every movement. It felt like he wanted your insides to memorize exactly how his cock feels inside of you, and you doubt you'd ever mind it. He filled you perfectly, hitting every sweet spot inside of you.

Your arms are shaking. Struggling to hold yourself up with each and every rock of the bed. You barely start to buckle when He catches hold of you, an arm snacking under your chest and pulling you towards him. His hand spans your collarbone as he holds your back against his chest, holding you up as he continues to fuck you like no one before. You're closing in on that sweet release when his hips stutter a moment. His teeth dig into your shoulder with a sharp bite, holding you there close to him without breaking the skin.

“Are… are you -ah- close?” You ask. Logan only responds with a short and simple - “Fuck!” - before he pulls out of you.

You don't have time to whine about the emptiness before he's flipping you around, kissing you again as he pushes your back to the bed rather aggressively. He's quick to sling your legs over his arms, folding you in half as he sides fully into you in a single thrust. He's hitting you so much deeper in this position, chest pressed against your own as his thrusts continue to stutter.

Logan kisses you again, a bit differently than the last ones have been. These kisses are tender, sweet. A stark difference between his needy, frantic thrusts. There's a line of spit between you two as he pulls away, half-lidded eyes meeting your own. You’re closing in on your peak, and you can tell he is too. The pleasure is too much for you to handle at once, and you can't help but squeeze your eyes shut.

“Look at me.” Logan grabs a hold of your chin, your eyes flying open as he thumbs at your lip and holds your head still. “Don't look away.” His hips stutter some more, the both of you groaning as you clench around him, desperately trying to keep your eyes open as you finally cum around his cock. The fluttering of your walls are more than enough to send Logan over the edge, his cum warming your insides in thick spurts. Logan buries his face into your neck, groaning as you ride out both of your orgasms.

The two of you lay there for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Logan lets go of your sore legs, massaging your thighs as he presses sweet, comforting kisses to your cheek and temple. His hands wander up and down your sides, doing his best to soothe your aches without you even having to ask. -not that he would ever admit to having a soft side. Who would believe you if you told them that The Wolverine was a cuddler after sex anyway?

“Why didn't you just tell me?” You ask after a long moment. Logan hums, his Face tucked into the crook of your neck.

“Tell you what?”

“That you were jealous.” Logan only snorts at that, playfully pinching your side.

“Jealous of what? Your cologne?” He returns. You slap him on the shoulder as he chuckles at you, unable to stop the playful smile on your face.

“You mean the cologne that you thought was a whole-ass guy?” Logan stops at that, instead choosing to cover your mouth with his palm as he tucks his head closer.

“You're a lot prettier when you're quiet. You know that?”

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berberriescorner · 6 months ago

Text

"Late Night Cravings"

Characters: Simon Riley x Black!Reader.

Summary: Missing your deployed husband, you get a late-night surprise that satisfies both your cravings and loneliness.

Warnings: Steaminess, a bit of angst, loneliness, fluff, mentions of phone sex with suggestive language and descriptions, mild swearing, and lighthearted humor. Oh, and if I hadn’t already made it clear at the top of my blog: minors DNI. My content is for the grown folks👏🏾.

Authors Note: Hello my lovelies🫶🏾! I've been toying with the idea of writing for the Simon Riley/Ghost fandom for a while now. Thanks to some awesome encouragement, I finally took the plunge! This story idea wouldn't leave me alone, so I decided to say, "What the hell," and give it a shot. I hope I captured Simon to the best of my ability. Please remember that this is my first attempt at a Ghost fic…and, well, “I’M JUST A GIRL!🥺🥹😩😆” Okay, a grown woman, but a girl nonetheless. I had a wonderful time writing this, and I hope you all enjoy reading it. Word Count: 1,700+.

Inspired By♥️🖤:

The clock ticked past midnight, the silence of the empty house amplifying the sound. In the dimly lit kitchen, the soft glow of the refrigerator illuminated your very pregnant features as you rested a hand on your swollen belly. You sighed, heart heavy with longing for the man you loved, miles away on some unknown continent, carrying out numerous dangerous missions.

You stood there, staring at the array of food in the fridge, a wave of emotions washing over you. Pregnancy hormones wreaked havoc on your mood, and tonight, you found yourself overwhelmed with sadness and longing for your husband, Simon.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you reached for the phone on the counter. Your fingers trembled with emotion. You needed him. His comforting presence, the sweet sound of his soothing voice to chase away the loneliness that threatened to consume you.

"Hey, love," Simon’s voice came through the phone, warm and comforting. His tone was deep and smooth like whiskey on a cold winter's night.

Your breath caught in your throat. Simon’s voice was a mixture of relief and longing washing over you. "Hi," you replied sheepishly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Everythin' alright, angel?" your husband asked, concern lacing his words.

You sniffled, wiping away a stray tear. "I... I just miss you, Si. And I'm so hungry, but nothing in the fridge sounds good."

Simon’s heart ached at the sound of your voice, at the thought of you being alone, in need of comfort. "I wish I could be there with you, angel. You know I miss you more than anythin’."

A sob escaped your lips, emotions threatening to overwhelm you. "I’m sorry, Si. This is probably the last thing you need to deal with right now. I just wish you were home... I need you here. I need you to hold me. To eat junk food with me in the middle of the night. It’s weird not having you with me throughout this pregnancy. I got so used to you being around the first time. It never mattered how late it was. Whatever I craved, you either got up to fetch or prepare it. I miss eating with you. For goodness' sake, I probably sound like a blubbering cow. God I know I sound selfish. I’m sorry, Si."

“That’ll be enough nonsense. No more name-callin’. Eat all you want, beautiful. Vent all you want. ‘S no bother, love. Truly it isn’t.”

A flicker of determination sparked in Simon’s eyes as he listened to your words. "I may not be able to be there in person, but I can still make sure you're taken care of. Give me about ten to twenty minutes, love. I need to sort something out."

You pouted and whispered your agreement as Simon rushed you off the phone, still unsure of how to satisfy your cravings. You plucked a bottled water from the fridge. You waddled toward the living room. Your smile lit up the room as you noticed a pregnancy pillow on the couch. Simon had scattered them throughout the house before leaving. He wanted you to find comfort in any room while he was away.

Your fingers hovered over the remote, drawn instead to the flashing screen announcing Simon’s incoming call.“Babe, that was quick. I’m excited it’s a video call. I miss your f—” Your words came to a pause. He was no longer among his comrades. Your husband had whisked away to his sleeping quarters, all gear removed aside from his balaclava. Some would find it terrifying, but Simon knew that in the depths of your deviant little mind, you found it sexy, arousing even. The shirt and pants he wore underneath were deliciously form-fitting. He watched as your eyes roamed over his biceps. Though you couldn’t see, you were certain there was a sexy smirk underneath his balaclava.

“Eyes up here, angel,” he commanded, voice smoky and sensual.

“Damn it, Si. Now I’m craving both food and you. You cheeky bastard. Did I mention I miss your sexy ass,” you questioned in a teasing manner.

Simon leaned in closer to the screen, giving you a devilish wink. “Miss you more, angel. If you can stay up late for me tonight, I may have time to call you and render some special sleep aid,” he offered, voice smoldering with desire.

“Can’t we do that now?” you whined, mouth forming a slight pout.

“Not now, love. There are more important matters to handle first. I’m afraid my work isn’t done for the night. Can you be patient for me?”

“Yes, but—”

“Atta girl,” he husked, aware of what those two words would do to you.

You tried making a convincing argument, but a knock at the front door interrupted the conversation.

Confusion clouded your thoughts as you heard the sound of the doorbell ringing in the background. Stunned, you made your way to the front door, heart racing with anticipation.

Who on earth could be at my door at this hour?

“Um, Si. Baby, there’s—”

“I know. ‘S alright, love. Answer it.”

As you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a delivery bag from McDonald's sitting on the doorstep. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as you realized what your husband had done.

"Si, you didn't have to..." you began, your voice filled with gratitude.

"Just open it, love," he interrupted, his voice warm and reassuring.

With watery eyes, you opened the bag to reveal an array of your favorite foods: chicken nuggets, a fish filet, fries, and a vanilla milkshake. Tears welled up in your eyes as you realized the lengths he had gone to make you feel loved and cared for, even from miles away. Simon understood that as a grown-ass woman. You could’ve ordered the food, but he knew it was more about the gesture and putting your mind at ease that mattered most.

"Thank you, baby," you whispered, love overflowing for the man who had stolen your heart many moons ago.

On the other end of the line, Simon smiled, his heart swelling with love for his wife. "Anything for you, angel. Now, let's eat together."

You giggled as his hand waved over an assortment of goodies you had sent in a care package.

“Baby, don’t you have any real food? Anything other than snacks?” you questioned, worried he wasn’t eating enough.

“Johnny’s on kitchen duty tonight. Not takin’ any chances. Eat up, love. Tell me about your day. Is the lil’ lad holdin’ down the fort? Papa left him in charge. And the littlest lad you’re growing? Is he still kickin’ you all night? He’ll be a ball of energy once he’s on the outside. You jus’ wait and see.”

As the two of you sat on the video call, sharing a meal, bonding over the love for your children. You felt closer than ever before. Distance may have kept you apart, but with a little FaceTime, all was right in the world.

After thirty minutes of conversation, the time came and Simon had to go.

“Duty calls, angel,” he gruffed, slightly annoyed.

“Go fuck some shit up, baby.”

Though your words were encouraging and playful, Simon saw the worry in your eyes. He did his best to put you at ease. Your husband playfully tapped the skull emblem on his mask. “Always a step ahead. Consider it done, love.” You offered a weak smile and chewed your lip nervously. Almost scared to end the call. Underneath the balaclava, his smirk disappeared. Your reservations could be felt even through the screen. Simon’s eyes darted around for a second before lifting his mask briefly. Your eyes connected as the usually stoic man offered you his most sincere attempt to ease your worried mind. Ashamed of him picking up on your innermost thoughts of panic, you broke eye contact. “Look at me, angel.” The beautiful shade of your orbs landed on his once more. “It’ll be alright, love. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be careful. Get some rest, and do your best to answer later tonight.”

“Jesus. You always know just what to say, and do you have to be so damn sexy when saying it? I just want to eat you.”

Simon dropped his mask back into place, voice lowered. With a hint of a growl, he responded, “Be sure to get that rest while I’m working, love. You’ll need the energy. I don’t care what time it is. When I get back. I want you pickin’ up on the first ring. Have that camera angle ready. ‘M going to watch you ride my pillow until you’re a shakin’, soppin’ wet, messy puddle. You’ll beg me to come. The filth that falls from my lips will be like music to your ears. I’m going to take you apart piece by piece with my words. Just to put you back together and do it all over again. You’ll be chanting the words ‘I can’t. No more, Si.’ How’s that sound, love?”

“Can you leave already? The quicker you depart, the faster you return,” you panted. “Fuck, Si. I’m so achy for you.”

“There will be no playing while I’m gone. Understood,” he asked, voice gravelly.

“Yes,” you purred.

“Yes, what,” he demanded.

“Yes, sir,” you moaned softly.

“Good girl. I have to go now, angel.”

“LT, wheels up in ten,” Johnny shouted from the doorway.”

“ I heard you the first time, MacTavish. Give me a fuckin’ minute.”

“Simon! Be nice,” you bristled.

Your husband turned back to the screen. He rolled his eyes as Johnny leaned in to meddle.

“Hello, dove. When are you going to leave this grumpy bastard for me,” Johnny questioned.

You started to reply with a teasing answer, but Simon cut you off with an irritated grunt.

“Gotta go, angel.”

“Okay, baby. You take care of my man, MacTavish.”

You giggled at Simon threatening Johnny while ending the call.

“MacTavish, flirt with the missus again.” Instead of ending his statement using words, Simon stared Soap down with a cold, emotionless gaze. His head tilted to the now black screen, and his hand moved to rest on one of his now re-holstered weapons. Johnny smirked, slapping a hand on Simon’s back. “That little lady’s got you head over heels LT.” Simon made no argument, just offered a grunt of agreement.

What did you think, my lovelies? Let me know in the comments! And if you enjoyed it, don't forget to reblog and share the love!

Divider: @firefly-graphics

Wasn’t sure who to tag😩…

Tagging a few of my love bugs💓:

@darqchilddaydreamz @thirtysomethinganduncensored @percosim @astoldbychae @theeblackmedusa @johnnyshoe @thabiddie23 @starrynite7114

…

Inner workings of my mind:

*thirty minutes after posting it-> “they hate it!”*

*takes deep breath. must fight the urge to delete it.*

😆😂🤣.

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mother-above · 10 months ago

Text

All the Time in the World

Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel and his family are reminded that even fae don't have all the time in the world.

*I've made some edits! (nothing major)

Warnings: fluff, angst, death, swearing, grief (this is my formal apology to you all)

*masterlist*

Everything happens for a reason.

Those are five words people say to cope and rationalize why bad or good things happen. Azriel, Rhysand, Cassian, Morrigan, and Amren are no strangers to those five words. They thought about it daily, sometimes it was their first thought after waking up. You were always in their dreams, sometimes frolicking in a meadow, they wouldn’t see your face, but they knew your body, how your hair blew in the wind, how your arms lifted to feel the sun's warmth. Sometimes you were the main character of their dreams. So vibrant and full of life while tugging their hands to make them hurry and keep up with you whether it was running errands in Velaris or on a mission.

Sometimes, they would whisper, “Everything happens for a reason” before they slept. They would go about their day and even if it were filled with love, happiness, and laughter there was always a missing piece, a void that could never be filled.

You were an enigma. So powerful, so enchanting, the nobles in Hewn City knew to keep you hidden away. But someone like you could never go unnoticed, especially when you could manipulate the elements. You’d been surrounded by earth and rock all your life. You just knew there was something more, you felt it when you touched the granite walls, the stone told you of the sun beating down, of the wind and water that battered the outer layers of the mountain.

Fae with your powers could never be contained for too long, the Court of Nightmares was a prison you were bound to escape. The nobles trained you like a warrior, Keir hoped to use you to usurp the High Lord, but he acted too late, your power had grown.

When Rhysand became High Lord, he caught wind of your presence, a flourishing beacon of power trapped underground. Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian took it upon themselves to investigate where this power was coming from. When they landed on the mountain, they were met by a female who paid no attention to the Illyrian warriors.

Your head was thrown back as you savored the hot kiss of the sun for the first time. Around you was granite rubble, and when they looked fifty feet to the right, a gaping hole came straight from the mountain's depths. You had dug yourself out and the Illyrians had no idea how.

Finally acknowledging the three brothers, you eyed the male with violet irises. “They told me your name is Rhysand. That I have to kill you.”

Azriel and Cassian’s siphons flared as they drew their weapons and pointed them menacingly toward you.

That was the first time you met the young High Lord and his brothers. All it took was for Rhysand to read your unguarded mind to see what you are and how you’ve been raised. To Azriel and Cassian’s surprise, Rhysand invited you to live with them. Shortly after that, you were acquainted with Morrigan who you’ve seen around before, and this ancient creature named Amren. The six of you became a family that supported each other through thick and thin. Under their care, you developed your powers and could manipulate nature's elements in any way you could imagine.

Your type of power has never been seen before and you were dangerous only when you needed to be. Despite your rough upbringing, you were good, you were the sunshine that graced every room you entered. The only unstable part of you was how your moods could sway the environment around you, like the time that idiotic male cheated on you, and landslides affected the mountains around Illyria. On your 250th birthday, the inner circle threw you a surprise party and you were so happy, the next few days were unusually warm and sunny for the middle of winter. There was also that time Cassian pissed you off during training for pushing you too hard, a bolt of lightning and thunder cracked right above the House of Wind’s training ring. You don’t think you’ve heard Cassian scream like that before.

One would think the High Lords of the other courts hated you, but they didn’t. Yes, you were a threat because you were another powerful individual who was loyal to Rhysand, but they couldn’t hate you, it was impossible to. Amren credited you for being the reason the other courts haven’t waged war on the Night Court, your presence was soothing, and you had a way to compromise like no other. You were such a good courtier that Beron tolerated you. It also didn’t help that your laughter was infectious, Thesan and Helion made sure you were invited to every big event.

You were accomplished, sociable, and a capable elemental manipulator but you always thought your greatest achievement was bringing Azriel out of his shell. At first, the shadowsinger was apprehensive about you living with them but that quickly changed, his shadows found you interesting and you coaxed him out of the shadows. In a way, he felt obligated to help you, all your life was spent in Hewn City and even then, you were more isolated than Morrigan. He knew you were stuck in the darkness, and he wanted to show you the light. At the time, he didn’t know he needed you more.

Azriel loved to replay the memory of taking you on your first flight tour of Velaris, you gripped his neck and shoulders as you shrieked in glee. He would never be able to forget how your scent overwhelmed him that day, pine and cherry blossoms forever embedded in his consciousness. He landed by the Sidra, and you leaped from his arms and headed straight to the water. You slipped the sandals off and dipped your toes into the cool water and a wide grin spread across your face.

“Azriel! Come here!”

He obliged, he found it difficult to say no to you. He stood by the bank and found comfort from the sound of rushing water. All was calm until water splashed his shirt, and his eyes snapped open to see you with a mischievous smile, perfect spheres of water floated above your hands. With a flick of your wrist, they collided with his body, the water sticking his black shirt onto his muscular torso. You had approximately 2 seconds to admire him before a large splash headed your way. Azriel grinned as he watched you stand there in shock.

“Don’t start things you can’t finish,” smirked Azriel.

Then the water fight started and the two of you never gave up, it was elemental magic versus a strapping warrior. You called a truce and both of you walked to the townhouse soaking wet, Mor wouldn’t let you into the house till you stopped dripping so you and Azriel sat on the front steps and watched faeries of all kinds pass by. Azriel caught himself smiling at you whenever you talked, he felt safe with you, like you would never judge him for his scars or dark past. He found it easy to talk to you, you never pressured him to talk like his brothers and Mor would do. Over time, one glance was all it took for you to understand what he needed.

The two of you danced around each other for decades, neither of you brave enough to take the next step. You saw Rhysand and Cassian as your brothers but when it came to Azriel, it felt different, there was unspoken tension, a different love that ran deep and made you blush. Every time he brought a female home, jealousy filled you and the clouds became grey and stormy. Azriel felt the same way when you started dating. No one ever stuck for more than a few months, but he hated every one of the males, they would never be good enough for you. What stung the most was Azriel didn’t think he was good enough for you either.

One day, you and Morrigan were sitting at the table having breakfast. She remembers this day so clearly because she had never seen you blush that color red. Azriel stopped by to eat a banana before training, Morrigan watched you not so discreetly check Azriel out in his Illyrian leathers. When he was done eating, Azriel threw you a wink before he bounded up the stairs to the training ring.

“Have you guys fucked yet?”

You choked on the yogurt causing you to have a coughing fit. “Mor!” you hissed. “Why would you ask that?”

“The two of you work well together, you understand each other.”

You shrugged as you drank water. “He’s my best friend, how else am I supposed to act around him?”

Mor looked at you incredulously. “Do best friends check each other out? Give each other massages after a long mission? Lay their heads on each other’s laps when they read? Kiss each other on the cheek constantly? Fall asleep together on the couch? Do they-”

“Okay!” you exclaimed. “You’ve made your point!”

Your cheeks and ears were cherry red, they burned as you stared at your breakfast.

“The two of you are single right now. I think you should tell him how you feel. Azriel… is Azriel, I think he’s too scared to make the first move, he’s always been more insecure,” said Mor.

“What if he says no and I ruin our entire relationship?”

Mor looked at your beautiful features and softly laughed. “He would be lying to himself.”

A week later, you finally dared to talk to Azriel about your feelings. He was standing on the balcony nursing a glass of whiskey, staring at the distant storm clouds. You leaned against the railing and looked at him, your heart pounding.

“Are you okay?” Azriel focused on you, his eyes scanning for anything amiss.

You breathed deeply and fully turned to him. “Azriel… you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t want to change a thing, but I want more and… I think you do too.”

Azriel stared at you, his eyes wide as he tried to convince himself that this wasn’t a dream.

“Oh, gods. You don’t feel the same way and I just ruined everything, haven’t I?” Your hands covered your face as you spun around to make a run for it.

Scarred hands clamped down on your shoulders and moved you to face him. Gently peeling your hands away from your cherry-red face, he smiled as his hands cupped your cheek. “You didn’t give me time to process.”

Your lips parted in shock. “So you want more?”

Azriel leaned closer to you, his breath blowing across your face. “I want to be with you.”

Going on your toes, you met him halfway. He remembered how soft your lips were, how you tasted like the wine you had been drinking to gather your courage. Your arms wound around his neck to pull him in closer, his large hands grabbed your waist and lifted you to sit on the railing.

A giggle stopped him from kissing you. “I might fall!”

Azriel’s arms wrapped around your body. “Then I’ll catch you.”

You beamed at him and Azriel’s heart felt full, you were the light he had been chasing all his life. He pressed his lips against yours and you melted against him, a small moan of contentment escaped your lips and Azriel grinned. He needed to hear that sound from you again.

“Ahem.”

You leaned to the side to see Amren smirking at the two of you. “Fucking finally. I thought we’d have to wait two hundred more years for this to happen.”

Azriel growled. “Is there a reason why you’re interrupting us?”

“High Lord Kallias sent out a distress message, I don’t know what kind of emergency so be prepared for anything. We leave in 5 minutes.”

Azriel let out a frustrated sigh and laid his head on your shoulder. “Such bad timing.”

Your fingers went to stroke the hairs on the nape of his neck. “I know,” you purred. “We can finish this when we get back. We’ll talk more about our future and what we want.”

Azriel lifted himself and looked in your gaze, so warm and full of life. The pad of his thumb ran over your bottom lip and that’s when he felt it. That golden thread unraveled itself and snapped into place. He was startled as he looked at you, your features oblivious to the mate bond.

He blinked as he realized it had yet to snap for you. You looked at him with so much adoration that for once in his life, he didn’t doubt your feelings. Your eyebrows scrunched when you noticed a shift within Azriel.

“Nothing,” he said as he pecked your cheek and helped you down from the railing. “We’ll talk about it later.”

“Okay, we have all the time in the world,” you said as you tugged his arm to get ready.

How the enemy was able to transport a Middengard worm to Winter Court still made faeries scratch their heads to this day. There were also enemy soldiers to worry about, but Rhysand ordered you to help with the monster. According to Rhysand, it was the largest he had ever seen, and its skin was thick and impenetrable. It was getting closer to the city and no matter what the courts shot at it, it never faltered. You joined Kallias and the other fae with ice-manipulation powers to do anything to get the worm away from the city. You slammed a foot down onto the ground and the frozen earth shot upwards hundreds of feet into the sky, creating a barrier for the city.

Kallias grinned at you, and you threw him a wink, you loved using your powers. Running full force toward the worm, you conjured large razor-sharp spears from the snow and made them jut out in the ground in hopes the Middengard would impale itself. It turned out you all severely underestimated the creature, it grew in height and then slammed itself onto the earth allowing it to burrow and move underground. Your jaw dropped in horror as it quickly made its way to the city, the wall you built would not be able to withstand its power. You looked at the gleaming lights of the city and your heart dropped. There were millions of faeries in danger.

Your mind whirred as you looked at all your options and the only thing you could think of didn’t look too good for you.

Rhysand could still remember the panic he felt when his Daemati talons slammed against your thoughts. You were so concentrated; your mental walls were halfway down.

Please don’t do that! It’s too dangerous, there must be another way.

Rhysand’s fae sight let him see your soft smile, your eyes already lined with silver tears.

That’s a whole city, Rhys. you would do the same. Thank you for everything. Tell Azriel I love him.

Rhysand started screaming your name but that didn’t stop you from sprinting toward the Middengard and getting as close as you could. The moment you could detect the worm underneath you, you let out a strangled scream as you used every ounce of your power. Your arms were lifted and when your hands tightened into fists, the earth around you and the worm caved inwards. The giant earth wall that blocked the city crumbled down as you used all the materials available to bury yourself and the Middengard into the depths of Hel.

High Lord Kallias will never forget the sounds of your family screaming for you, he could still hear it in his nightmares. He remembered Morrigan throwing up and the spymaster dumbfoundedly staring into the soil you disappeared in.

***

Your death shattered the inner circle’s life, they were never able to recover your body making them feel even worse. It was too deep into the earth; the High Lords couldn’t even sense the Middengard worm. Amren had stayed behind to guard Velaris, so she was the last one to find out. No one had ever seen Amren cry but when her family winnowed in without you, looking shaken and pale, she crumpled onto the floor and let out a wail that shook the townhouse. Rhysand built a beautiful memorial for you by the edge of the city, and upon Azriel’s request, it was placed near the Sidra.

Everything had turned upside down. It rained for a whole month, and it certainly helped no one's mood. The day you died became a court holiday, the people of Velaris mourned you, even some in Illyria and Hewn City. Every year on your death anniversary, the High Lords came to visit your memorial, they brought flowers or expensive bottles of wine that you liked. Tamlin never showed up, but he always sent a courtier to deliver an extravagant wreath made of spring flowers bursting with color. You had once complimented the peonies that lined his estate and he never forgot about it.

Every time Azriel opened his eyes in the morning, he wished for sleep because, in his dreams, you were still alive. Your favorite phrase in the world was “Everything happens for a reason”, it helped you cope with your childhood and the inner circle had adopted it as their mantra. Azriel hated it. He refused to believe that what happened to you was written in the stars. He hated that you had to sacrifice yourself. Why you? Why his mate? He had loved you for so long yet so much time was wasted on others when you could have been together. The pain he felt when the golden thread disappeared was unlike anything he had felt before. Azriel thought he was dead until he saw the earth cave in with you in the middle of it. His shadows were screaming but he was numb, he couldn’t believe you were gone just like that.

Azriel swore the birds had stopped singing in Velaris, his family thought he was crazy but then they noticed it too. There were these songbirds that sang every morning and if you heard it, you whistled back and they’d respond. It was like the natural world knew you were gone. Life without you was dull, the stars didn’t shine as bright, and the sky wasn’t as blue as it used to be.

Like most things, time was the only remedy. With each year that passed, the pain slowly became bearable. Azriel was encouraged to see other people after a hundred years had gone by but nothing went past the first date, no one was ever going to compare to you. He couldn’t touch another female without feeling sick.

The inner circle had gone through so much since you died, and like clockwork, Cassian went to your memorial to sit and give you updates every week.

‘Rhys is stuck Under The Mountain. Azriel is being a pain in the ass about going to Illyria. Rhys came back from Under The Mountain. Azriel misses you. Rhys found his mate but she’s with Tamlin. Feyre threw a shoe at Rhysand. He met Feyre’s sisters. We miss you. A war with Hybern was coming. I have a suspicion my mate is Nesta Archeron. The High Lords are having a meeting and we all wish you could be there to contain everyone. I was forced to see Bryaxis, again.’

Sometimes Cassian came with other members of the family but most of the time, it was just him talking to you.

One day, Rhysand brought Feyre to your memorial, and she gasped at how beautiful it was. Using his Daemati powers, he showed his mate his most precious memories of you. You had befriended a beast in the mountains of Illyria. It was a horned creature and Rhysand had almost obliterated the monster but your delighted laugh stopped him. Yes, the beast was running at you but Rhys failed to notice your outstretched arms and bright grin. You were never scared.

Feyre squeezed Rhy’s hand as she admired the fresh flowers and gifts that were placed around.

“She was so beautiful and so kind-hearted. I wish I met her.”

“Me too,” he whispered. “You would have loved her.”

The war with Hybern was brutal. If you were still there, you would have tipped the scale and Prythian would have been winning from the get-go. Amren had to unbind herself from her body to save everyone, she was scared in her last few moments but then remembered how selfless and brave you were. The war was over but then Rhysand passed as well, sacrificing himself for the greater good, your last words to him ringing in his ears.

Feyre begged the High Lords to revive her mate and they did, her anguish reminding them of the loss they all felt when a certain Night Court member had passed. With Rhysand alive, he nodded toward the Cauldron, telling them that Amren was there too. Morrigan and Varian fished her out and Amren came out sputtering and desperately trying to gain control of her body. She kept coughing up water, so she furiously pointed to the Cauldron.

“What is it?” cried out Morrigan.

Silver tears started streaming down Amren’s face as she attempted to crawl. “I saw her, she’s in there!” she said desperately. “Get her out before she drowns!”

Every faerie looked at her like she was crazy. Who else would be in there?

Her head swiveled around until she locked into Azriel’s gaze. “She is in there.”

Azriel’s legs carried him toward the Cauldron and not a second later, Morrigan joined him as they blindly reached in. Morrigan started swearing as she felt a limp arm in there, finding the torso, Azriel helped heave the body out of the Cauldron. The female's body thrashed as she coughed out all the water she had swallowed. The High Lords and their courts burst into chaos when Azriel brushed the female’s hair off her face.

Still dressed in Illyrian leathers, there you lay sprawled and gasping for air.

a/n: thank you for reading! please let me know what thought in the comments! xoxo

Part 2

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fanfiction #azriel angst #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel x y/n #rhysand #cassian acotar #amren acotar #morrigan acotar

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yan-lorkai · 7 months ago

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I've been in a Silver mood lately. And I also haven't had much sleep due to work so I wrote this hehe <3

"Nooo, stay with me," Silver's voice broke the afternoon silence, a soft whine edging his words. It was a spoiled request, one you couldn't deny even if you wanted to.

He looked so cute like this, his sleepy eyes pleading, a vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings. The soft tone of his voice, tinged with the hoarseness brought on by sleep, coupled with his lazy smile, captivated your attention.

Before you knew it, you were back in his arms, where he believed you belonged. His hold on you was gentle yet possessive, his embrace a cocoon of warmth. The slow pace of the afternoon, the serene rays of the sun filtering through the window, made you feel drowsy as well. Silver's curls tickled against your neck, his arms tightening around you, pulling you impossibly nearer.

And even then, he tried to pull you closer. Almost as if he wanted to be one with you, one being with one heartbeat and mind, and feelings and thoughts and everything that he could share with you.

"Wanna see another dream?" He asked, one eye half-open, his gaze piercing through the haze of sleep. His words held a promise, a temptation to dive back into the strange and whimsical worlds he often led you to in dreams.

Lately, Silver had been guiding you through the dreams of others, an odd habit that had become your shared secret. Some were funny, though others, like Lilia's dream, were less pleasant. The memory of being turned into unwilling taste testers for the fae's horrendous cooking still made you shudder. The nightmare of choking down concoctions that defied culinary logic was something you'd rather not revisit.

You could still taste the salt and pepper and sugar on your tongue and it wasn't any good. Far from that, it was horrible. Horrendous, such a crime for culinary that you just know Gordon Ramsay would kill Lilia with his bare hands if he could.

A soft breeze, another soft kiss on left on your cheek, you tried to break free. "I had to go, honey. But it won't take long, I promise!"

He looked at you. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his touch both soothing and dangerous, callous fingers tickling your sides very slowly. "Stay," Silver whispered again, his voice more insistent, more demanding.

You rolled your eyes at that. He was always like this, so adamant of your time and affection, so straightforward about what he wanted. And each and every time you found a way to compromise with him, knowing full well about the extent of his feelings.

There was something in his gaze, a depth of emotion that made your heart race. His eyes, usually so gentle, held a dark intensity for a long second. "You can't go," He confessed, his voice a hushed murmur. "You're mine. Only mine."

But here, in Silver's arms, the world seemed distant. His gentle breathing, the warmth of his body, and the protective way he held you made you feel safe. Amused, you thought how he extended his sleepiness to you - if that was even possible.

Might as well be.

His hold tightened, his grip almost desperate. "Don't leave now, I'II be left all alone and cold."

You snorted, feeling a laugh bubbling on your chest as you shake from a second. In this moment, wrapped in his arms, wrapped in the covers, you were his. Completely, utterly his.

"Fine." You give in, already thinking about the consequences. Though you didn't care too much, too comfortable now, too cozy, laid on his chest. "But you're gonna help with my homework later. Deal?"

He hummed, already drifting to the dream world. "Deal."

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #twst silver #yandere silver #yandere silver x mc #yandere silver x reader #yandere silver x yuu #silver x yuu #silver x reader #silver x mc #soft yandere #tw yandere #lorkai drabble

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citysuk · 5 months ago

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innocence of love | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: Is it too late? Will you forgive him? Are you still in love with him? Remus' mind won't stop repeating those questions in his head. He must find you and hear it from you.

words: 2,1k

notes: i love these babies SOOO much, they're literally my children. i took a little time writing it but it's finally here. hope you guys enjoy it 🥹🥹

warnings: ANGSTYYYY, but so much fluff at the end, i just- ADORE THEM SO MUCH. no use y/n but no oc neither. no proofread.

part 1 | guilt and shame

(could be read as a stand alone too)

As the night progresses, Remus finds himself thinking about your confession. He's spent the evening with his best friends, their conversation and humor managing to lighten the mood somewhat, but he can't shake off the heaviness he feels in his chest.

He finds himself wandering the castle, not quite ready to retire to bed, when he spots you walking down one of the corridors. The sight sends a pang through his heart and he hesitates for a moment, summoning up the courage to approach you.

He takes a breath, steeling himself, then steps towards you. As he draws closer, he takes in your form, his heart pounding in his chest. When he's a few steps away, he calls out quietly, his voice hoarse.

"Hey..."

You look up, surprised by the sound of Remus's voice. As you turn to face him, you see the weariness in his eyes, the struggle clear on his face. He stops a few feet away, shoving his hands in his pockets and avoiding your gaze, unsure of how to start.

He clears his throat, still looking down at his feet as he speaks, his voice slightly shaky. "Can I... Can I talk to you for a moment? I know it's late, but...I just really need to say something."

You notice the tension radiating off him, the way he fidgets, the uncertainty in his tone. You haven't seen him like this before. Nervous to the core, just like you. Curious and a little worried, you nod. "Oh, yes. What is it?"

His gaze finally meets yours, the raw vulnerability in his eyes clear. He takes a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. "I... I need to apologize. I've been an idiot. I know that. I thought I was doing the right thing, sparing you from... from me."

He swallows hard, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture. "But... but I realize now that it wasn't my decision to make. I had no right to push you away like that. I should've trusted you, trusted your decisions, your... your feelings."

He takes a step closer, his eyes begging for understanding. "I never meant to hurt you. I was just... I was just trying to protect you. But I see now that I was really just being selfish, making decisions for you that weren't mine to make. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I've treated you. That's not how you treat someone you..." He trails off, the word ‘love' hanging unsaid between them.

"I don't understand. What are you trying to protect me from, Remus? Your feelings?" You say clearly confused by Remus' words.

Remus hesitates, the truth on the tip of his tongue. He can't bring himself to look directly at you, not yet. "No...No, not my feelings. I mean, yes, my feelings... But that's not all. It's much more complicated."

Remus sighs, rubbing his forehead with the heel of his hand. He knows he has to explain, but he hates the thought of having to lay out all his secrets. "It's... It's not just my feelings. It's everything. It's who I am, what I am. There are things about me... Things you don't know. Things I'm scared to tell you."

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of fear and regret. "You see, there's a part of me that I can't control. A part that... that's dangerous. A part that I'm terrified of could hurt you. I didn't want to put you at risk, that's why I tried to push you away. That's why I thought it would be better if..." He trails off again, unable to say the words aloud.

You come closer to him and grab his face in your hands, looking at him right in the eyes. "What could be that dangerous about you?"

Remus's breath hitches as you place your hands on his face, the warmth of your touch sending a shiver down his spine. He can't help but lean into your touch, the comfort it offers is a stark contrast to the turmoil he's feeling inside.

His voice is barely above a whisper as he finally speaks, the confession tearing at his heart. "I'm a monster. A real, actual, literal monster. I'm not like you, not like any of the others. There's something that... that happens to me. Something that I have no control over." He swallows hard, the admission taking all his strength. "I transform. Every full moon, I transform into something terrible. I can't stop it. I've tried. I've tried everything. And I'm... I'm scared. I'm scared of what it does to me, of what it could do to you, if you got too close."

He reaches up, gently grasping your wrists and pulling your hands from his face. He holds them in his own, his grip desperate, almost desperate enough to hurt. "You don't understand. The thing I become... it's dangerous. It's violent. It's... it's capable of things you can't even imagine. And I can't let it hurt you. I won't let it hurt you. So that's why... that's why I had to push you away. I had to keep you safe from me."

He looks down at your hands in his, the sight of them intertwined a stark reminder of the connection between you. He's torn, pulled between the part of him that aches to be close to you and the part that's terrified of what being close might bring. "I don't want to keep hurting you. But I don't know what else to do. I can't change what I am. I can't change what I'm capable of. And I can't... I can't put you at risk like that."

His voice breaks a little as he speaks, the pain evident in his tone. He looks back up at you, his eyes filled with conflict. "You make me... You make me feel things that I've never felt before. You make me happy, you make me want things I can never have. But I can't... I can't get that close to you. For your sake, for my sake, for everyone's sake. If something ever happened... if I ever hurt you..." He lets out a bitter laugh, a sound edged with despair. "I would never forgive myself. I'd rather have you hate me than risk seeing you hurt because of me."

He lowers his head again, his grip on your hands tightening. "Can you understand that? Can you try to understand why... why I did what I did? Why do I have to keep pushing you away, even though it's killing me?"

He waits for your response, his heart thundering in his chest. He's laid out his secrets, his fears, his guilt. Now it's up to you to react, to accept him, to forgive him, or to turn from him in disgust. He steels himself, bracing for the worst, praying that you'll see past his monster to the boy beneath.

His eyes plead with you, searching your face for any sign that you can see the truth behind his words. But he also braces himself for the worst, waiting for the blow that could shatter what's left of his heart into a thousand pieces.

You are completely silent for a moment as you process everything Remus has told you. Your heart aches for him, in a mixture of compassion and grief at what he must go through. And yet, the love in your heart doesn't waiver, if anything it becomes stronger. When you finally speak, your voice is calm and steady, belying the turmoil of emotions within you. "I... I can't say I understand everything you're going through. But I do understand your fear. I understand your guilt. I understand why you pushed me away." You take a step closer to him, your hands still in his. You look at him intently, your eyes locked on his. "But I also understand this: You're not a monster, Remus. You're scared. And you're hurting. But that doesn't make you a monster. It just makes you human."

He looks at you in surprise, not quite believing what he's hearing. He opens his mouth to speak, to protest, but you shush him gently. "You're not a monster, Remus," you repeat, the voice softer now. "And I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

He swallows hard, the emotions he's been holding back threatening to overwhelm him. A single tear escapes his eye, rolling down his cheek. You grab his hands again. "How can you say that? After everything I've told you? After everything I've done? How can you... How can you still care?"

You sigh, a tender smile on her lips. You reach up, wiping the tear away with your thumb. "Because I love you, Remus. Despite everything, even though you've been an idiot, a stubborn git, and a complete fool... I love you. I'll ever do."

He draws in a sharp breath as he hears the word 'love'. He looks at you, disbelief and hope warring within his heart. "You... you still love me? Even knowing what I am? Even knowing what I'm capable of?"

You nod firmly, gaze unshaking. "Yes, I do. I do. I love you for who you are, Remus. All of you. Even the parts you think are monstrous. They're a part of you, and I love you for that. I love you for your strength, your bravery, and your courage in the face of your fears. I love you for the boy you are, not the wolf you turn into."

He can't stop the tears from falling now, cascading down his face in silent streams. He reaches out for you, pulling you into his arms, holding you close. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his body shaking with silent sobs. He whispers the words into your skin, his voice choked with tears. "I... I don't deserve you. I don't deserve your love."

You wrap your arms around him, the embrace tight and comforting. "Yes, you do. You deserve all the love in the world, Remus. And I'll give it to you, if you'll let me. I'll give you all my love, my understanding, and my support. I'll be here for you, always."

He shivers against you, your words and touch soothing him, calming the storm that has been ravaging his soul. He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes, his own filled with awe and gratitude. "I... I don't know what to say. I don't know what I did to deserve you."

You smile at him, hand gently tracing the lines of his face, wiping away the tears. "You don't have to say anything, Remus. You don't have to do anything. You just have to be here, with me. And I'll do the rest. I'll prove to you every day that you're worth loving, that you're not a monster, that you deserve happiness and peace and comfort and love."

He lets out a shaky breath, his fingers tracing her features in turn, as if he's trying to commit every inch of her to memory. He leans in, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes closing as he memorizes every detail of the moment. "I'm a fool. I'm a complete and utter fool. I almost let you go. I almost let my fears and my guilt drive you away from me."

You pull back slightly, your hands still framing his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks softly. "But you didn't. You're here now. You're here with me. And I'm never letting go. I'll fight for you, Remus. I'll fight your fears, your guilt, your monsters. I'll fight for us."

He smiles through his tears, his heart overflowing with feelings he can't even begin to put into words. He pulls you closer again, holding onto you like you're the most precious thing in the world. His voice is a whisper, a prayer, a vow. "I love you, darling. With everything that I am. With every beat of my heart, every breath of my soul. I love you."

You melt into his embrace, the words you longed to hear since your heart first fluttered with love falling from his lips at last. "I love you too, Remus. With everything I am. With every fiber of my being. I love you now, and I'll love you until the end of time."

He smiles against your hair, his heart so full he feels like it might burst. He pulls you impossibly closer, his body aching with the need to be as close as possible. "Then you're stuck with me, forever. I'm never letting you go. Ever."

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. "Good. Cause I wasn't planning on going anywhere. You're mine now, Remus Lupin. Stuck with me for the rest of your days."

#harry potter x reader #james potter x reader #marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #harry potter #james potter

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sallowsarchives · 5 months ago

Text

Clash and Convergence

Part I | Part II | Part III

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary: Tensions are running high as you continue to grapple with your conflicting emotions. However, with another job thrusting you both back into close proximity, could this new development be the key to easing the tension and mending the rift between you once more? Word Count: 8.2k Warnings/Tags: no use of y/n, angst, gunfights, injury, canon-typical danger, dead bodies (nothing too graphic), not proofread!! A/N: Hey again! Alright so compared to the last chapter, I've taken some creative liberties and sort of deviated from the canon for this one, so I’m hoping this one turns out good. Also, no smut for this part but I promise it’s coming in the next chapter, which I hope to finish as soon as I can. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated!

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A few weeks had passed since that night, yet despite the passage of time, the unspoken tension between you and Arthur remained.

In the first few days after the party, you withdrew into yourself, steering clear of the usual banter and small talk. You went about your tasks with mechanical precision, your movements efficient but devoid of the usual liveliness.

The memory of the events that occurred lingered in the back of your mind, casting a shadow over your usual routines. Your tried to bury those thoughts, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that kept your hands busy and your mind occupied.

Lately, the days had been filled with nothing but the usual activities—scouting for potential heists, tending to horses, helping with chores, and maintaining the camp.

Arthur was rarely at the camp, often off on some job Dutch had given him. Some days, you'd catch him heading to his horse early in the morning, riding out to God knows where and wouldn’t return for a few days. When he did, he'd usually arrive with freshly caught game or extra cash to contribute.

On the days he was gone, the camp felt a little quieter, a little less tense. His absences were a small blessing, giving you the space needed to collect your thoughts and maintain the fragile peace between you both. During those times, you could almost pretend that things were as they once were.

But on the days he was present, you both made a concerted effort to avoid each other. Conversations were brief and strained, and any interaction was kept to a bare minimum.

He often busied himself with tasks around the camp—chopping wood, organizing supplies, and carrying hay bales to the horses as if they weighed nothing.

When he wasn’t working, he’d sit by the campfire, engaging in small conversations with the others or scribbling in his journal. On some days, he’d spend the entirety of his time hidden away in his room.

You, on the other hand, would retreat to the outskirts of the camp until Miss Grimshaw scolded you, at which point you'd bury yourself in tasks of your own, your demeanor just as distant.

You found solace in the routine of chores, focusing on the small, manageable tasks that allowed you to avoid any unnecessary interaction with Arthur.

You missed the days when you'd head into town with the girls or accompany some of the men for small jobs where you’d use your nimble fingers to good use. Blending into the bustling crowds, you’d quietly lift wallets and purses from unsuspecting townsfolk, finding a strange satisfaction in the simplicity and thrill of the task.

But lately, with the Pinkertons breathing down the gang's necks even more, there hadn’t been much in the way of work. The lack of action only heightened the tension, making the days drag on with a restless energy that seemed to seep into every part of your life.

Before long, the unease between you and Arthur became palpable to those around you. The camp was abuzz with quiet speculation, though the mood remained outwardly unaffected.

Conversations with the others were tinged with curiosity as they noticed the stark shift from the usual lively banter to the strained silence that now characterized your interactions.

The frequent arguments and sharp exchanges had given way to a stifling quiet, and it didn’t take long for the gang members to sense that something was off between you two. The change in dynamic was unusual and unsettling, prompting whispered conversations and knowing glances among the camp.

One evening, as you were helping Pearson with the supplies, you overheard Javier and Bill talking by the fire.

“Have you noticed how quiet it’s been without those two at each other’s throats?” Bill said, shaking his head.

Javier nodded, glancing discreetly over at you. “Yeah, it’s strange. Almost miss the excitement.”

Lenny and Karen, who had joined the group, shared their own takes.

“It’s strange,” Lenny said. “I mean, they’d always bicker and fight, but there was some kind of spark to it. Now, it’s just… cold. A whole lot of nothin’.”

“You’d think they’d have worked it out after gettin’ the chance to spend time together. But it’s like whatever went down just left a permanent chill between ’em,” Karen added.

Pearson, catching the conversation, gave you a look but said nothing. You simply shrugged and continued with your task, trying to ignore the growing weight of the situation.

Though the camp had noticed the shift between the two of you, no one had really confronted you about it—except for one person.

Hosea, ever the keen observer, had picked up on the change in demeanor from you and Arthur during the ride back after the party.

That night, as soon as you arrived at camp, you dismounted the coach before anyone even had a chance to offer a greeting and headed straight into the house without a word.

The usual warmth of the campfire and the lively chatter that greeted the return of its members felt distant and muted to you, a stark contrast to the storm of emotions churning inside.

Arthur had watched you storm off with a mix of frustration and concern, feeling a pang of guilt but too wrapped up in his own stubborn pride to approach you. His internal conflict was evident, as he struggled with his own emotions while grappling with the distance growing between you both.

The weight of his own pride and the fear of further complicating things kept him from reaching out. He knew he was part of the issue, yet he couldn’t bring himself to make things right, leaving him brooding by the fire long after you had disappeared into the house.

Hosea didn’t miss the tension in the air as you left abruptly or the way Arthur’s mood had darkened. He watched Arthur’s restless movements, the firelight dancing over his face and revealing a rare glimpse of vulnerability and frustration. The usual calm and quiet confidence Arthur exuded was replaced by visible agitation, a stark contrast to the man Hosea had come to know.

At first, Hosea hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was just another round of the aftermath from the usual quips and disagreements between you and Arthur. But as weeks went by and the tension persisted, he began to sense that something deeper was at play.

Fast forward to now, as you were engrossed in cleaning a rifle— which Hosea had actually gifted you after witnessing your impressive marksmanship on a hunt you had accompanied him on—you caught sight of him approaching out of the corner of your eye.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked gently, settling himself on a nearby log. His tone was casual but his eyes held a deep concern. "I've been meaning to check in, see how you're doin' after the party."

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without betraying the turmoil inside. Hosea sat down beside you, watching as you continued to clean the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your hands almost mechanical.

He hesitated for a moment before speaking, his voice soft and careful. "I, uh, noticed you’ve seemed a bit... off since that night. You've been keepin' to yourself more, and there's not as much of that fiery spirit you usually show. I don't mean to pry, but, well, I reckon somethin' happened, didn't it?"

You looked up, meeting his gaze. There was no judgment in his eyes, only an open, sympathetic understanding. Sighing, you tried to find the right words.

“Arthur and I just had a… disagreement. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.”

“Disagreements are one thing, but this feels different,” Hosea said, his voice carrying a hint of concern. “I’ve seen you two go at it before, but there’s a coldness now that wasn’t there before. Something’s weighing heavy on both of you. You want to talk about it?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone nonchalant. “It’s really not that big of a deal, Hosea. Just a rough patch, like always.”

Hosea’s brows furrowed slightly, but he didn’t push further.

“Alright. Just don’t let it fester. If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”

You nodded, giving him a tight smile. “Thanks, Hosea. I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Just need to keep busy.”

With that, you turned your attention back to the rifle, the rhythmic motion of your cleaning a soothing distraction from the thoughts clouding your mind. Hosea left you to your task, though his concerned gaze lingered a moment longer before he walked away, leaving you with your uneasy thoughts.

You knew his concern was genuine, but you were determined to keep things at a distance and focus on moving forward, despite the emotional undercurrents swirling beneath the surface.

You took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of the rifle and the routine of your task provide a semblance of control amid the chaos of your feelings.

Later that evening, as the campfire crackled and cast flickering shadows around the camp, you sat with Abigail, the two of you enjoying a rare moment of light conversation.

The warmth of the fire was a welcome contrast to the chill in the night air, and Javier’s gentle guitar strumming in the background added a soothing ambiance to the evening, offering a brief respite from the weight of your thoughts.

As you and Abigail chatted, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, the quiet rustling of footsteps and the gentle clearing of a throat drew your attention. Turning around, you saw Arthur standing there, his expression guarded yet earnest.

Arthur had arrived at camp some time in the afternoon, his presence marked by the familiar rhythm of his horse’s hooves and the clink of his spurs as he carried in another fresh load of game. His arrival had been met with the usual nods and grunts of acknowledgment, but he had kept to himself since then.

Arthur’s presence seemed to amplify the quiet of the evening, his stance betraying an unease that matched the tension between you two. The firelight cast shifting shadows on his face, revealing the weariness and frustration etched into his features.

“Evenin’,” he said, his voice rough but steady. “Uh, Dutch needs to talk to us both.”

Arthur shifted his weight, his gaze flickering to the side before meeting yours again. “He uh… said he wanted to talk to us about something,” he added, his tone attempting to be casual but betraying a hint of the underlying strain.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself against the rising unease about what Dutch might need to discuss. Abigail, noticing the awkwardness in Arthur’s demeanor, chose not to comment. Instead, she offered a sympathetic smile and stood up, her gesture a small comfort in the tense moment.

“I’ll catch up with you later,” she said softly, giving your shoulder a reassuring pat before heading off to give you and Arthur some space.

As you watched her walk away, you felt a brief flicker of gratitude for her understanding. You turned back to Arthur, who was still standing silently, his gaze shifting uncomfortably, before making your way towards Dutch’s quarters.

Arthur’s footsteps were heavy behind you, his usual easy stride replaced by a more deliberate, uncertain pace. He cleared his throat, as if to break the silence, but no words came.

The crackling of the campfire and the soft murmur of distant conversations slowly faded, leaving only the sound of the wooden floorboards creaking under your steps as you both made your way inside the house and up the stairs.

You raised your hand and knocked on the door, the sound echoing louder than you expected. After a moment, Dutch’s voice called out from inside, inviting you both in. With a deep breath, you turned the handle and stepped into the room, ready to face whatever Dutch had to say.

Upon entering, you found Dutch and Hosea on the terrace, engaged in a low conversation. The evening light cast a warm glow over them, adding a sense of calm to the otherwise tense atmosphere. Dutch looked up as you approached, a smile etching onto his face.

"Ah, there you are, come on out, we’ve got some things to discuss."

Hosea gave you a nod of acknowledgment, his expression one of quiet understanding.

Dutch gestured for you and Arthur to join them at a small table set up with a few maps.

“I wanted to go over a few things with you both,” Dutch said, his tone casual but authoritative. “Hosea and I have been discussin’ a plan, might just be what we need to get away from here and finally throw the Pinkertons off our scent for good.”

Hosea turned to you, adding to Dutch’s explanation. “There’s another job, particularly concerning the stagecoach details you picked up from the party, actually. You know, the one rumored to be packed with jewels and cash. We’ve gotten word that it’ll be rollin’ through just north of Lemoyne, somewhere in New Hanover, tomorrow.”

You felt a jolt of realization as Hosea’s words hit you. The mention of the stagecoach, packed with jewels and cash, immediately brought back the details you’d nearly forgotten in the whirlwind of recent events.

Your mind raced, piecing together the fragments of information you’d gathered during the party. This was the opportunity that could turn everything around, but it also meant diving right back into the chaos. You could sense the weight of the mission ahead, the stakes higher than ever.

You nodded slowly, absorbing the gravity of the situation. “Alright, so what’s the plan?” you asked, trying to focus on the task at hand despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Hosea glanced at Dutch, who took over the explanation. “We’ve got a basic outline. We reckon the stagecoach will be guarded, so you’ll need to stay sharp. Essentially, your task is to take out the guards and haul that coach right back here for safekeeping,” he said, pointing to a spot on the map.

Arthur leaned in, his expression serious. “Sounds like a plan. Who else is comin’ with us?”

Dutch and Hosea exchanged a glance, then Dutch answered, “It’ll just be the two of you. We’re countin’ on you to get it done.”

You blinked, eyes widening as you begin to feel a surge of frustration. “Wait, what? You can’t be serious,” you said, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Arthur's eyes widened slightly, his unease becoming more evident. “Just the two of us?” he repeated, trying to mask his discomfort with a gruff tone. He looked between Dutch and Hosea, clearly taken aback by the lack of backup.

Dutch looked momentarily taken aback by your reactions, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What’s the problem?” he asked, clearly oblivious to the underlying tension between you and Arthur. “I figured you two would be the best for this. It’s a straightforward job. I know you can handle it. You seemed to do fine back at the mayor's party.”

Arthur fidgeted with his hat, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at you, his face showing a mix of frustration and reluctance.

Hosea, sensing the growing discomfort and understanding the gravity of the situation, stepped in. “Since you were the one who uncovered the details about the stagecoach,” he said, addressing you directly, “We figured you’d lead this one. You know the specifics and what to expect. Arthur here is our best bet to go with you, handle any trouble, and watch your back while you’re at it.”

“And besides,” Hosea continued, his tone softening, “I know you’ve been itching to get out of camp and put your skills to use. This job could be a good chance for you to get out of the camp for a bit and do something you’ve been craving.”

Oh you had been hoping for a change of scenery, but not the kind that would throw you right back into close quarters with Arthur.

This is just fantastic… Just what you needed, no? You couldn’t make this up if you tried. Here you were, thinking you’d get a breather from the endless tension, only to find yourself on a direct collision course with it. Really, the universe must have a twisted sense of humor.

Arthur’s dry laugh cut through your thoughts, and you glanced at him, noting the mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. Yeah, he’s probably thinking the same thing. Didn’t expect this to come with a side of enforced teamwork. We’ve barely been able to keep it together when we're in camp. Now we’re supposed to be a seamless duo out there?

Before you or Arthur could voice any further objections, Dutch cuts in with a firm tone. “It’s settled. You two will handle this job together, and that’s final. No more complaints or arguments.”

The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation.

Arthur let out a deep frustrated sigh. “Well, ain’t this just perfect,” he grumbled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You shot him a resigned glance, both of you silently acknowledging the irony of the situation.

“Now you two get some rest tonight, and we’ll go over the details tomorrow. I trust you two will make it work.”

With that, Dutch gave a nod, signaling the end of the discussion.

As you were about to leave, Hosea approached you and Arthur with a gentle demeanor, clearly aware of the tension between you two.

“I know it’s not ideal, especially with how things have been between you two,” he said quietly, his voice filled with understanding. “But you’re both capable. I have faith that you’ll handle this just fine.”

Arthur shot Hosea a skeptical glance but nodded in acknowledgment, his gruff exterior softening slightly. “We’ll do what we can,” he muttered, though his tone suggested he wasn’t entirely convinced.

You managed a tight smile, appreciating Hosea’s attempt to offer reassurance despite the circumstances. “Yeah, I suppose we’ll give it our best shot.”

Hosea nodded approvingly and patted Arthur on the back. “That’s the spirit. Now, try to get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

With that, Hosea gave you both a warm, encouraging smile before stepping back, leaving you and Arthur to face the uncomfortable reality of the task ahead.

The promise of the job loomed large, and the need to navigate both the heist and your fraught relationship now seemed inescapable.

The silence stretched, awkward and thick as the both of you grappled with the weight of the situation in your own way, the unspoken tension hanging between you like a heavy fog. You could almost feel the gears in Arthur’s mind turning, his usual confidence replaced by a reluctant resignation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. His voice was low, tinged with hesitation.

Arthur shifted his weight, glancing sideways at you before speaking. “Look, I know this isn’t exactly ideal. We’ve had our share of run-ins, and I’m not expecting us to suddenly be friends or anything. But, for what it’s worth, I’ll do my part to make sure this job goes smoothly.”

You studied Arthur for a moment, taking in the sincerity behind his words. Despite the tension, there was something begrudgingly reassuring in his willingness to make the best of the situation. You sighed, trying to keep your tone neutral but not entirely devoid of acknowledgment.

“Yeah, well, I’m not expecting us to be the best of friends either,” you replied, forcing a small, wry smile. “But I appreciate the effort. We’ll both just have to keep our heads in the game and get this done. For now, let’s try to focus on the job and not let our… differences get in the way.”

Arthur gave a short nod, the lines of tension on his face momentarily easing. “Fair enough.”

There was an awkward pause, the silence stretching out between you. Arthur finally cleared his throat, his eyes flickering towards you. “Look, about what happened—”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “We don’t need to rehash it. Let’s just focus on this job so we can continue with our ways.”

The last thing you wanted was to dredge up the emotions and pain that had been bubbling beneath the surface. Revisiting the topic felt like opening an old wound that had yet to heal, and you weren’t ready to face that vulnerability all over again.

Arthur’s expression shifted, a mix of resignation and understanding passing over his face. “Alright,” he said, his tone flat. “We’ll do that.”

With that, you give him a nod before turning heel and walking away downstairs, the sound of your footsteps echoing in the quiet.

Arthur watched you go before heading to his room, the weight of the conversation and unresolved issues hanging heavy on his mind.

As you settled into your sleeping roll, the familiar comfort of the bedding did little to ease the turmoil inside you. The day's events, combined with the strained interaction with Arthur, made it difficult to quiet your racing thoughts.

Despite the brief truce, the underlying tension between you and Arthur was far from resolved.

The next morning dawned crisp and clear, the sunlight filtering through the cracked windows. The sky outside was painted in soft hues of pink and orange, casting a warm glow over the sprawling estate of Shady Belle.

You woke with a start, the unease of the previous night still heavy in your mind. The camp was already bustling with activity as the early risers went about their morning routines, preparing for the day ahead.

You and Arthur had gotten up early, each in your own way preparing for the job that lay ahead. The conversation this morning with Dutch and Hosea had been brief, focusing mainly on the specifics of the job and the logistics of the route. The details were clear, and the plan was set.

With that in mind, you were left to prepare for the task ahead. Preparing your saddle bag, you set about stashing away the essentials: ammunition, a spare set of clothes, and other provisions.

You grabbed your rifle, carefully checking it for any issues before securing it onto your horse, running a final check on your gear and making sure everything was in order.

The horse you were saddling stood patiently, its calm demeanor a stark contrast to the storm brewing in your mind. As you adjusted the saddle and tightened the straps, you tried to focus on the task at hand, pushing aside thoughts of the upcoming journey and the inevitable interactions with Arthur.

Arthur was nearby, working on his own preparations. Though there was no direct conversation between you, the occasional glance or nod indicated a mutual understanding of the importance of the task at hand.

You watched him for a moment, feeling the unspoken words and unresolved feelings between you. The air was thick with the weight of the unaddressed issues, but you both knew that there was no room for sentiment right now.

You let out a sigh before mounting your horse. The two of you had a job to do, and despite the personal issues that loomed, you had to find a way to make it work. This job had to go smoothly, and you needed to focus on that, no matter how difficult this job was already proving to be.

Arthur gave a brief nod, acknowledging your resolve, and mounted his own horse. With a final deep breath, you spurred your horse into motion.

Arthur fell into line beside you, and together, you set out on the journey ahead.

The road stretched out before you, winding through the dense forests and swamps. The sun was high in the sky, casting a warm light over the landscape.

The journey had been relatively uneventful so far, a few scattered encounters with travelers and the occasional wildlife breaking the monotony.

You and Arthur rode side by side, the silence between you still thick and uncomfortable. You focused on the landscape around you, the dense trees and winding paths offering a certain level of tranquility.

Arthur, for his part, appeared deep in thought. He occasionally glanced over at you, but the eye contact was fleeting.

His usual confident demeanor was replaced with a quiet determination, and the silence spoke volumes of the discomfort that lingered.

You had both briefly reviewed the details of the job, and the execution was expected to be straightforward. The plan was simple enough: intercept the stagecoach, secure the loot, and make a swift escape with the coach to a hiding place somewhere near camp.

After a beat, Arthur finally broke the silence.

“You ready for this?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the road ahead.

“Yeah, just like any other job, right?” you replied, keeping your tone steady, though the edge in your voice was unmistakable.

Arthur sighed, clearly sensing the strain in your words. “Look, I know things ain’t been... easy between us. But we gotta get through this.”

You glanced over at him, your expression hardening.

“I know that, Arthur. I’m not gonna let whatever’s between us mess up the job. I’ve got a job to do, and so do you. I intend to see it through without letting personal grudges get in the way.”

Arthur nodded slowly, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and resignation. “Yeah, I know you will. Just... stay close, alright? We need to be on the same page.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Understood. Let’s just get this done.”

The tension lingered, but for now, it was buried under the urgency of the job.

The terrain shifted subtly, the once marshy ground giving way to the rich, green embrace of dense forests, rolling hills, and steep mountains.

The road followed a river that wound alongside you, its surface catching the overcast sky’s light in a subdued, shimmering dance. The rhythmic flow of the water provided a gentle counterpoint to the tension between you and Arthur, a quiet reminder of the natural beauty surrounding your uneasy journey.

Arthur’s gaze remained fixed on the horizon, his focus unyielding. He kept his gaze sharp, scanning the surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite the coldness between you, you couldn’t help but notice the way he took his job seriously, his focus unwavering.

His attention to detail was evident as he navigated the terrain, maneuvering his horse with practiced ease. Each time he glanced over at you, his eyes were a mix of concentration and something softer.

Eventually, you reached a vantage point overlooking the road where the stagecoach was expected to pass. You dismount your horse, feeling the weight of the upcoming task settle heavily on your shoulders. Arthur followed suit, his expression serious as he joined you.

"So, how do you wanna do this? You take the front, and I cover the back?" Arthur's tone was practical, but there was a hint of something less guarded in his voice.

A smile unexpectedly crept up on your lips, a rare break from the seriousness that had defined your recent interactions, as you thought of how you approached these jobs with a different flair when you were with the girls.

Arthur glanced over, his expression guarded but curious. You continued, “Or I could play the helpless lady who needs help while you sneak up on ‘em?”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and a small, begrudging smile tugged at his lips. “Oh, so you’re thinkin’ of dustin’ off the old act, huh? Think you still got it?”

You raised an eyebrow, the tension easing just a bit as a genuine smile tugged at your lips. “Oh, I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve. But you better keep up if you’re gonna be my backup.”

Arthur nodded, his smile widening slightly. “You got it.”

You checked your gear, slinging your rifle securely behind you. Arthur did the same, both of you falling into the familiar routine of preparation.

As you moved into position, the earlier unease shifted into focused, purposeful energy.

The playful banter had served its purpose, bringing a brief moment of levity to the serious task ahead. Now, with the weight of the mission on your shoulders, you prepared for the role you’d play and the action to come.

“You think this’ll work?” you ask, your voice tinged with both curiosity and apprehension.

Arthur glances up at you as you both make your way slightly further down the hill.

“It’s our best shot. We’ll need to time it right. ‘Sides, we’ve got the element of surprise on our side.”

You nod as you stop just before the road, positioning yourselves behind the trees and thick bushes, your eyes scanning the road for any sign of the stagecoach.

The sun was at an angle indicating that sunset was within an hour or two, casting long shadows that merged with the undergrowth, providing natural cover. The sound of the flowing river in the distance had faded into the background as you both waited in tense silence.

Then, amidst the quiet, you both heard it—a distant rumble growing louder. The roll of the coach’s wheels crunching over the road, steadily approaching.

You exchanged a sharp glance with Arthur, the anticipation spiking as you prepared for the imminent arrival of your target.

Peeking over the edge of your hiding spot, you counted around five guards stationed around the stagecoach, each one mounted on horseback with rifles gripped tightly in their hands. They occasionally glanced at each other, their movements synchronized but relaxed, their attention more on the road ahead than on the dense cover flanking either side—rookie mistake.

The impending arrival of your target presented a perfect opportunity. Their lack of vigilance provided a window to implement your plan.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you signal to Arthur with a subtle nod, your heart racing as the time to act approaches.

You step out from behind the tree and move to a position where the road curves, creating the illusion of a stranded traveler in need of assistance.

As you raise a hand to signal distress, you adjust your expression to one of genuine concern before you stumble forward, making sure to catch sight of the approaching vehicle, your movements exaggerated for effect.

The guards notice your presence immediately, their posture becoming tense as they exchange wary glances. The coach begins to slow, and one of the guards shouts over.

“Hold up! What’s the matter?” His voice carries a mix of suspicion and urgency as he strains to see what’s going on.

That’s your cue. You force a shaky voice as you call out, “Help! My horse threw a shoe, and I’m stranded here! Please, I need assistance!”

You stagger slightly, clutching your arm as if in pain, and glance anxiously towards the coach. The guards’ expressions shift from suspicion to concern as they assess the situation.

They exchange a few quick words, and one of them starts to dismount, moving towards you with a wary but reluctant gait.

Concealed by the trees, Arthur remains hidden, his sharp eyes locked on the scene. He watches as the guard approaches, waiting for the precise moment to make his move. Your heart races as you maintain your act, trying to keep your expression a mix of fear and gratitude.

As the guard comes closer, his eyes seem to fixate on something behind your back and his expression shifts to alarm, his hand moving instinctively towards his weapon.

“Hold on a minute,” he calls out, voice now laced with suspicion. The tone of his voice immediately alerts the other guards, who begin to look more closely at the situation. “What’s that on your back?”

Arthur’s eyes narrow as he notices the shift in the guards' demeanor. His movements are fluid and calculated as he positions himself strategically, drawing his rifle with practiced precision. He takes a deep breath and steadies his aim, preparing to act at a moment’s notice.

You freeze, trying to keep your expression composed despite the sudden shift. Your heart skips a beat, and you shoot a quick glance toward Arthur, who’s watching intently from his hidden spot.

The guard takes another cautious step closer, his gaze fixed on your rifle. “Seems a bit odd for someone stranded to be carrying a rifle, don’t ya think?”

As steady as you can manage, you respond, “I— I just needed it for protection. I didn’t expect trouble.”

You can feel the weight of his scrutiny, and you silently pray that your composed demeanor is enough to keep suspicion at bay.

As the guard’s suspicion grows, he signals to the other guards, who start to move in closer, their hands gripping their weapons with increased wariness.

The tension thickens, palpable in the tightening of their grips and the narrowing of their eyes. You can almost see the wheels turning in their heads, questioning the authenticity of your situation.

Arthur’s eyes narrow, realizing that the plan might be in jeopardy. His fingers tighten around the handle of his own rifle, ready to act.

The guards' wary movements signal that they're about to take a closer look at you, their caution evident in their deliberate steps. You catch Arthur's eye, and he gives a barely perceptible nod—a clear signal that the time to act is now, before the guards get any closer or the situation escalates further.

With a deep breath, you prepare yourself, knowing that the success of the job now hinges on a delicate balance between deception and action.

As the guard steps closer, his suspicion hardening into action, the tension snaps like a taut wire. The moment he raises his hand to signal the other guards to move in, the situation escalates rapidly.

The air fills with the sudden sharp crack of gunfire as Arthur’s rifle erupts from the trees. His shots ring true, striking one of the guards and sending him crashing to the ground. The remaining men, caught off guard, scramble for cover as the shootout begins in earnest.

You draw your own rifle, aiming at the nearest one as you move quickly to the side, seeking cover behind a large rock.

Your shots are quick and precise, the loud reports of your gun blending into the chaotic symphony of the firefight. The guards on horseback begin to return fire, their rifles barking in rapid succession.

Amid the chaos, you catch a glimpse of Arthur, moving with practiced precision. He’s taking them down with controlled bursts of fire, his movements fluid and efficient. He’s clearly in his element, but even so, his eyes occasionally flicker toward you, ensuring you’re holding your own.

The stagecoach driver, realizing the situation has gone terribly wrong, frantically tries to maneuver the vehicle away from the danger. His hands tremble as he struggles to keep the frantic horses under control.

One of the guards, attempting to flank you, takes a well-aimed shot, forcing you to duck behind your cover. You peer out, seeing Arthur’s form in the distance as he intercepts the guard, eliminating the threat with a single, decisive shot.

As the last of the guards fall, the chaos begins to wane. The sound of gunfire now replaced by the restless snorting of the horses.

You scan the area, assessing the situation, and your heart starts to slow as you see the immediate threat has been dealt with.

Arthur, breathing heavily from the exertion, emerges from his cover, his eyes scanning the scene for any remaining danger. He gives you a quick nod of acknowledgment before turning to secure the stagecoach.

You emerge from your cover and make a beeline for the stagecoach, reaching the vehicle just as Arthur approaches it, his face a mask of focused intensity.

The driver has managed to bring the horses to a halt. Without a moment’s hesitation, Arthur nudges the man with a sharp flick of his rifle. Clearly intimidated by Arthur’s commanding presence, he scrambles off the seat and retreats into the road with a frantic pace.

With the situation now under control, you watch as Arthur focuses on calming the restless horses. He approaches them carefully, his voice a soothing murmur that cuts through the chaos. The horses’ breathing begins to slow, their agitation easing under his calm presence.

You take a moment to catch your breath and collect yourself, observing Arthur’s handling of the situation. His actions are steady and confident, and you can see the familiar ease with which he interacts with the animals. It’s a side of him that, despite everything, has managed to impress you.

Catching the subtle shift in your expression, he glances over at you. His gaze lingering for a moment. For a brief instant, his own hardened expression softens, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in a small, almost self-satisfied smile.

You blink, momentarily flustered. You hadn’t realized how much you were letting your guard down, caught off-guard by the warmth in his eyes and the easy way he spoke.

The sight is fleeting but significant, a silent acknowledgment of the shared success and a momentary easing of the tension that had previously clouded your interactions.

You attempt to steady your voice, but it comes out softer than intended. “Come on, let’s check if this thing has exactly what they said.”

Arthur gives a nod, his focus shifting to the task at hand as you both move to inspect the stagecoach.

As you open the coach's doors, the sight inside is nothing short of astonishing.

Chests, small pouches, lockboxes, and crates are crammed into the coach, each one overflowing with a dazzling array of jewels and cash. Arthur’s eyes widen as he takes in the sheer volume of riches.

Seeing the score, the weight of the day's hostility seems to have dissolved, replaced by a palpable sense of accomplishment and satisfaction.

Arthur whistles, clearly impressed. “Damn, we hit the mother lode, this is more than I ever expected.”

You nod, grabbing a small bag to carefully assess the loot. This one was filled with sparkling rings and ornate necklaces. The sight is overwhelming, and the weight of the haul is tangible even before you touch it.

Beside you, Arthur takes to opening a lockbox with his hunting knife. The contents inside reveal neatly stacked bundles of cash.

“This is a hell of a find,” he says with a hint of admiration in his voice. “Dutch is gonna be thrilled.”

“This is more than enough for the gang,” you comment, carefully handling each piece. “Who in their right mind would only send five guards to accompany this?”

“Seems like they were a bit too confident in their security. Their loss is our gain, though.”

“Let’s get this sorted and packed up. We need to move quick before anyone starts sniffing around.”

You whistle for your horse and begin stashing a few bundles of cash and select pieces of jewelry into the saddlebag. Arthur mirrors your actions, moving with deliberate speed as he fills his satchel with a mix of valuable items from the coach.

You and Arthur quickly secure the remaining loot and prepare the stagecoach for its journey before he climbs up to the driver’s seat, taking the reins with a firm grip.

“Let’s get this thing moving,” he says, his voice low but determined.

You nod, taking your place beside him whistling to your horses once more, signaling them to follow. The stagecoach lurches forward as Arthur cracks the reins, guiding the horses into a steady trot.

With the weight of the haul securely packed and the adrenaline of the heist gradually fading, a sense of accomplishment settles in. The tense moments of the plan's execution now give way to the satisfaction of a job well done.

Arthur glances over at you, a trace of a smile lingering on his lips. “Good work back there. Reckon we make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

You catch his gaze and, despite yourself, feel a flicker of warmth. “Yeah, just don’t get used to it.”

Arthur chuckles softly. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Half an hour in, you continue your journey to the agreed location with the fruits of your labor securely in tow.

The adrenaline from the earlier confrontation has faded, replaced by a sense of accomplishment and relief. The surroundings have returned to their tranquil state, the earlier chaos now a distant memory as you and Arthur ride side by side, the silence between you now more comfortable and less charged than before.

With the sun setting, you keep a vigilant eye on the surroundings, focusing on the road and surrounding area ahead for any signs of trouble.

Suddenly, the faint sound of galloping hooves slices through the calm, growing abruptly louder. The rhythmic pounding signifies an approaching group, and the urgency in their pace suggests they might be heading straight for you.

You glance over at Arthur, noticing his instant shift in posture, his hands tightening slightly on the reigns.

Following the sound, you look behind and see a horde of riders emerging from the tree line, their horses kicking up clouds of dust as they charge forward. The group is sizable, and their intent is clear—they’re coming fast and with purpose.

Arthur’s jaw clenches as he takes in the approaching threat. He adjusts his grip on the reins, his frustration evident but his focus unwavering. “Damn it,” he growls. “We can’t outrun ‘em with this load.”

With resolve, you kneel a leg on the seat, bracing yourself against the coach roof for stability. Your expression is determined as you aim your rifle at the approaching riders.

“You just keep those horses running. I’ll handle the welcoming committee,” you call out to Arthur, your voice steady. Arthur glances over, a flicker of amusement in his eyes despite the urgency, before his gaze sharpens back on the road.

The coach surges ahead, the horses racing faster as Arthur skillfully maneuvers them away from the oncoming threat. The clash of gunfire and the thunderous pounding of hooves create a frenzied soundtrack to the chaos unfolding.

The vehicle sways with the sudden bursts and you brace yourself, focusing on keeping your aim steady amidst the chaotic barrage.

Bullets ricochet off the ground near the coach, their danger unmistakable. You grit your teeth, cursing under your breath as you see both your and Arthur’s horses veering sharply to another direction to evade the attackers, separating them from you.

From beside you, Arthur's curse breaks through the chaos. You glance over to see the road ahead sharply climbing, winding up the mountain with a steep incline.

The horses strain against the uneven terrain, their hooves scrambling for traction as the coach teeters perilously, the situation now becoming more complicated, with the treacherous path adding another layer of danger to the already tense escape.

You turn to see Arthur’s face set in grim determination, his focus entirely on the road. His efforts to control the coach are apparent as he wrestles for control, fighting against the treacherous surface.

“Dammit!” Arthur growls, his knuckles white as he grips the reins tightly. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a getaway route!”

The incline grows steeper, and the coach struggles to gain traction.

You return your gaze to the unmistakable sound of more guards closing in, aiming steadily at those who are getting too close for comfort.

Their pursuit is relentless, and the weight of the situation becomes increasingly apparent. Each shot you fire feels like a desperate attempt to stave off the growing threat, as the gap between you and the pursuing riders narrows with every passing moment.

“They’re gaining on us!” you shout over the cacophony of gunfire and the rumbling coach. “There’s too many of them. We have to leave the coach!”

The sound of men shouting and the sharp crack of gunfire splintering the wood of the coach fills the air, heightening the chaos. The horses, already on edge, begin to panic, their frantic movements causing the coach to lurch.

The coach tilts precariously toward the edge of the mountain, and for a moment, you feel yourself tipping dangerously close to the edge of your seat. Rocks tumble down the steep incline as the coach seems on the verge of tipping over completely.

In a split second, Arthur’s arm shoots out, grabbing you firmly by the waist and pulling you back into place while still maintaining control of the reins. The coach rights itself with a jolt, the wheels crunching heavily on the loose gravel as it stabilizes. The sudden movement pulls you both back from the brink, but the threat of the approaching guards remains ever-present.

“You alright?” he calls out, his voice edged with worry amidst the chaos, his hand still wrapped around your waist as you cling to him for stability.

You nod quickly, forcing a shaky nod. “I’m good… Just keep this thing steady.”

Arthur’s hand slips away as he refocuses on guiding the coach.

You lean back, gripping onto the seat with both hands to brace yourself against the relentless jostling.

You can feel the coach shudder under the strain of the terrain and the impact of the guards’ gunfire. The unstable footing and the increasing danger make it clear that staying in the coach is no longer an option.

Realizing there's no way back, you scan the surroundings desperately for an escape route. Ahead, on a flatter section of the mountain, your eyes land on a bridge spanning a rushing river below. It’s a precarious-looking structure, but it might be your only chance.

“Arthur! That bridge up ahead!”

Arthur’s eyes dart to the bridge, and he curses under his breath.

"That thing looks like it's barely hangin' on," he mutters, a worried frown on his face.

The two of you exchange a worried glance, the urgency of the situation clear. With no other options and the guards closing in, the risk of crossing the unstable bridge might be your only chance at escape.

Arthur takes a deep breath, his expression set with determination.

He grips the reins tighter and steers the coach toward the bridge, maneuvering through the challenging terrain.

The stagecoach lurches and tilts dangerously as it approaches the bridge, the horses straining against their ropes. Every bump and sway sends a jolt through the coach, and the bridge creaks ominously under the pressure of the approaching load.

The guards’ shouts grow louder, their pursuit relentless, adding to the mounting pressure.

Arthur's knuckles whiten as he clenches the reins, his eyes locked on the rickety structure ahead. “Hang on!”

The wheels hit the first few planks with a jarring thud, the structure shuddering violently while you brace yourself against the seat, gripping it tightly. The bridge sways and creaks under the strain, the narrow path making it clear that any wrong move could spell disaster.

The wooden planks of the bridge groan in protest, threatening to buckle under the weight. You can see the river below churning violently, a reminder of the precarious situation.

As you and Arthur drive the stagecoach across the rickety bridge, the relentless pursuit of the guards continues. Gunfire cracks through the air, and the panicked horses struggle to keep their footing on the unstable wooden planks.

“Arthur, watch out!” you shout, gripping the edge of the coach seat tightly.

Arthur's eyes dart to the side, spotting the weak planks giving way under the weight and stress of the coach. The bridge shudders violently, and a loud cracking sound echoes through.

Without warning, the bridge gives way entirely. The horses scream in terror as the entire stagecoach plunges into the rushing river below.

The world blurs around you as you're thrown from the driver’s seat, hitting the icy river with a jarring impact.

Cold water engulfs you instantly, and the current's force pulls you under, dragging you downstream. As you struggle to stay afloat, you catch fleeting glimpses of the stagecoach being smashed to pieces against the rocks and debris.

The river’s powerful current quickly separates you and Arthur, each of you fighting to keep afloat. Your heart races, and every instinct urges you to fight the current. The roar of the river overwhelms your senses, making it difficult to think clearly. You reach out, trying to find something solid to grab onto, while the chaos of the river makes every movement a battle.

"Hold on!" Arthur's voice, hoarse with effort, barely reaches you over the roar of the river, eyes widening in alarm as he sees you being dragged away by the current.

"Arthur!" you scream back, your voice filled with panic as the water pulls you under again.

You fight to surface, gasping for air, the relentless force of the river carrying you further away. The rush of water roars in your ears, drowning out any other sound, and your vision blurs with each desperate attempt to find your footing.

In the chaos, the water pulls you under once more. As you struggle against the current, a sharp pain explodes in your head. The impact sends you spinning, and the world around you blurs into a dizzying haze. Each breath is a struggle, the cold water overwhelming your senses as you fight to stay conscious.

The agony in your head intensifies, and the cold, relentless river drags you further from the surface. The muffled, distant sound of Arthur’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear before darkness engulfs you.

A/N: Alright so not much going on between the two this chapter, hopefully everything is resolved in the next. Stay tuned for the next one which is the final part!

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1800-fight-me · 8 months ago

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Hiiiiiiii. :)

First I love love love your fics.

You’re awesome.

Secondly you have a fic called duty and honor or something like that, where Aemond goes to war and his little wife is pregnant.

In it Aegon makes comments to her that she doesn’t like. I was wondering if you would write a continuation fic where now Aemond is back he over hears his brother and becomes all protective knowing this has been happening all the time he was away as well.

Just love protective pissed off In love Aemond and the way you write him, makes a girl swoon :) 🌹

Of Retribution & Desire

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: M (Mature) (as always - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Violence, reader is a couple weeks postpartum, Aemond being protective

Word count: About 1.3k

Synopsis: Your husband defends your honor and protects you from the hateful words of his brother.

Author’s note: This ask is from the summer of last year lmao my bad,,, I've been going through it lately but hopefully this fic was worth the wait and still makes you swoon! Thanks for the love and support! Hopefully this is also the start of me being more involved in writing and the fandom again! This is part three of my first ever Aemond fic!!

Part one - Of Duty and Honor

Part two - Of War and Longing

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

Aemond Masterlist

“It certainly appears to be true that childbirth takes away a woman’s beauty,” Aegon practically sneered at you as he looked up and down your body.

It was merely two weeks after you gave birth to Aemond’s daughter and your emotions were all over the place.

His words filled you with such anger and self consciousness that your body could not hold in the emotions.

Most embarrassingly, your eyes filled with tears. You were aghast at your reaction. Though Aegon often frustrated you, you certainly did not care enough about his opinion on your appearance for his words to cut so deep.

Though if you were honest with yourself, you were already uncomfortable with your appearance today and wished you could have avoided today’s gathering. Though Aemond had assured you that you looked lovely, it was obvious to you, despite your lady’s maid’s best efforts, that you were exhausted. You felt uncomfortable in your own skin, your body went through massive changes and had not had the time and chance to adjust back.

So there, in front of Aegon and the rest of your in-laws, you began to cry.

Damn these uncontrollable emotions that came on so strongly after giving birth.

You wanted to run and hide, and turned to do just that when Aemond walked in the room.

His brow knitted in concern and his footsteps quickened as soon as he saw you.

He was at your side and pulled you into his larger frame as he looked down at you.

“What is wrong?” He asked, his voice tight. His gaze was on you before his eye darted around the room scanning it for danger or anything that could have caused your distraught state.

You pursed your lips, afraid to speak for fear of more embarrassing tears flowing.

“Who did this to you?” he asked, his voice dark with the promise of violence.

You really didn’t want to be the cause of another fight between him and his brother.

“Aegon was being vile,” Heleana spoke up.

You looked back at her in surprise that she would speak up, stand up for you.

Aemond looked over your head at his brother and his eye narrowed.

“What did you say to my wife,” he practically growled.

Aegon visibly blanched and as quick as that your mood changed. You held back a smile. You were eager to see Aegon finally receive consequences for all the horrible things he’d said to you throughout your pregnancy when Aemond was off winning his war.

“N-nothing,” he said and you scoffed and rolled your eyes.

Aemond glanced down at you. He could’ve asked you but it was clear he wanted to make his brother sweat, make him admit to hurting you.

He glared at Aegon who chose to glare back.

Alicent let out a long suffering sigh and explained to Aemond what had been said.

“That’s not the only thing he’s said too, right?” Heleana asked, her voice sweet and innocent. It amused you that she continued to push the issue, trying to get her husband in trouble.

A horrible thought clanged through you that every vile comment he’d made to you, at least you had Aemond’s protection. Maybe it was worse for her. And maybe getting Aemond to punish Aegon for how he treated you was a safe way for her to get retribution as well.

So you met her eyes, took a deep breath, set your jaw, and turned back to your husband. You told him every awful thing you could remember that Aegon said to you those eight months that Aemond was gone.

You ignored Aegon, looking only at your husband as you spoke.

As you finished, the tension in the room was thick, and it became so quiet, quiet enough that you could hear Aegon take a step back.

Aemond took a deep calming breath, gently brushed you aside, then lunged towards his brother.

“Aemond!” Alicent yelled in protest.

“Aemond,” you murmured, a weak attempt to dissuade him, your heart not truly in it as you protested along with her.

You took another step back, your body still weak from giving birth, not having any interest in getting involved in a physical fight, and watched as your husband punched his brother in the face to defend your honor.

He looked like an avenging angel, you thought, as his white hair flew around, his upper lip curled into a snarl, and the look in his eye promised pain.

You wondered at it, the smooth grace with which he attacked, it caused your heart to pound, and you knew it was not from fear.

He really only got two good hits in before the King’s Guards intervened and pulled him away. But it was glorious to behold.

His assault was so quick and vicious, Aegon didn’t even have a chance to fight back.

Alicent was distraught, but Heleana sidled up beside you and gave you a small smile which you returned.

The fact of the matter was, you were incredibly turned on. Uncomfortably turned on as you watched Aemond be violent to defend your honor.

You were ready to drag him to your rooms and make another baby, but then your aching body reminded you that you were in no shape to do any such thing.

Aemond yanked himself out of the grip of one of the guards and strode to you.

He tilted your face up with a finger beneath your chin so your gaze would meet his own that was filled with fire. And smirked at the desire in your eyes.

He pressed a brief but firm kiss to your wanting lips, you heard Aegon yelling something but ignored him completely.

You slipped your hand into Aemond’s, his knuckles a little bloody, and tugged on him slightly, leading him out and away from the chaos.

As you exited the room you gripped his tunic, and he backed you against the wall.

He placed his hands against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in, and with the heat - the fire - between the two of you, there was nothing you could do but rise up on your tiptoes and press your lips to his.

And these past weeks with your daughter, the nine months before that as you carried her, had been amazing, one of the most joyful experiences of your life. But, you were not only her mother, you were also Aemond’s wife.

And he reminded you of that, reminded you that you are his wife and he desires you, as he kissed you back, kissed you hard, kissed you in a way that made your toes curl.

This was not the sweet, short, gentle way he had kissed you since she was born, no. This was your dragon filling you with his fire again.

His lips moved against yours, opening you up so his tongue could sweep against your own.

His hand left the wall to grip your waist, and self consciousness at your changed body flared up, but was soon smothered by his desire as he pushed his body closer to yours, pushed you further against the wall, pressed against him completely.

He groaned into your mouth and you nipped at his bottom lip in response. Finally, your body sang, like you were shaken awake by the heat.

You whimpered against his lips, and his tongue danced with yours in response.

Your body throbbed with desire… and then pain that reminded you that although your spirit felt ready to be joined with your husband in carnal desire again, your body certainly was not.

You pulled back, your breathing hard, and he smiled softly as he beheld you. His hand grazed up from your waist, slowly and gently, until he cupped your cheek.

“I can’t-“ you tried to explain, but he shook his head, understanding in his gaze.

“I know,” he murmured.

He kissed you again, this time gentle and slow, filled with care and affection rather than heat and desire.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” you said sweetly.

He chuckled and said, “I love you too, little wife. Let’s go hold our daughter before that look in your eyes convinces me to fill you with another.”

You giggled and took his hand and allowed your prince, your defender, your husband to lead you to your daughter.

#aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n

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ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral · 5 months ago

Text

Hello everyone! I've got to say, I'm very pleased that this au won the latest poll! Gwaine's one of my favorite characters, but I don't give him enough love in my writing. So, I decided to really let his character shine in this au alongside some other characters who I feel like didn't get enough attention in the show. Enjoy! :D

Also, I saw that Merlin was trending again today, so I decided to jump in while that was happening lol! I love that this fandom will just wake up on a random day and decide to take over tumblr!

This au is set in the years between season 4 and season 5 (but Lancelot is still alive because I say so), and the story starts with Gwaine's getting a little worried about his friend. Merlin's getting more and more stressed as the weeks go by, and he doesn't smile very often anymore despite Gwaine's best efforts, which usually involve roping Merlin into whatever mischief he's stirred up recently for a little bit of fun.

Gwaine feels pretty guilty about Merlin's worsening mental state, because Gwaine is thriving for the first time in his life, finding a community and purpose among the knights of Camelot. And he owes it all, everything he now has, to Merlin, who is suffering under a burden that no one can seem to help him with.

So, Gwaine tries all that he can to cheer up his friend and pull him out of whatever terrible place his mind is stuck in, but no matter what Gwaine does, he can't seem to lighten Merlin's mood any. Sure, Merlin will plaster on a smile for Gwaine's sake and tell him that nothing's wrong, but Gwaine can see the dullness in Merlin's eyes, he saw it every time his saw his reflection for years before Merlin barreled into his life and showed him that there was more to life than taverns and wandering.

Before he knew it, a year had passed, and Gwaine hadn't made any progress in pulling Merlin out of his darkening mental state. Gwaine felt so frustrated and useless whenever he saw Merlin's smile the drop the second he thought that no one was watching. This was his chance to finally repay Merlin for turning his life around for the better, for giving him a home, a family, a purpose, but nothing he did was helping!

But Gwaine couldn't give up on helping Merlin. There must be a way to help him, to support him through whatever was burdening him, some way to bring that bright spark back to his eyes. Gwaine just had to find out how.

From the on, Gwaine kept an even closer eye on Merlin, determined to figure out what was weighing down his friend and how to ease his burdens. It was because Gwaine was watching Merlin so closely that he noticed them.

Gwaine will give them credit, whoever they were, they were good at stealth, far beyond anyone Gwaine had met before. The cloaked figure was almost always out of sight, right in the corners of his vision. At first, he thought that this nearly imperceivable figure was after him, but it didn't take him long to figure out that the mysterious figure was following Merlin.

As soon as Gwaine realized this, all of the alarm bells in his mind went off. Was this an assassin sent to kill Merlin? A spy trying to infiltrate Camelot? A bandit planning to abduct Merlin for ransom?

Or, Gwaine realized, this might be connected to Merlin's worsening moods. This mysterious figure was clearly well trained, but they had been following Merlin for over a week and still hadn't attacked, so they probably weren't an assassin or bandit. Was Merlin being threatened by this figure into doing their bidding?!

Finally, after tailing Merlin's stalker for weeks, Gwaine manages to get some answers after following Merlin on a late-night rendezvous outside of the castle. When Gwaine had spotted Merlin sneaking away under the cover of night, Gwaine of course had to follow him! Merlin could be in danger!

Gwaine followed Merlin as the other man made his way into the woods with a surprising amount of stealth. After a long hike through the woods, Merlin arrived at his destination, which, to Gwaine's shock, looked strikingly like a druid camp. There were painted tents, campfires, and even magical symbols carved into the tree, and all signs pointed to sorcerers living there.

Gwaine's anxiety skyrocketed at the sight. Why would Merlin risk coming to this secret druid camp, which Arthur definitely did not know about? Was Merlin being threatened and followed by sorcerers?!

Gwaine crept around the outskirts of the camp, sticking to the darkness. He saw Merlin approach a rather intimidating bald man, who, if the way the others in the camp made way for him as he walked, was the leader of this group of sorcerers.

Gwaine kept his hand firmly wrapped around the hilt of his sword, ready to draw it and run to the defense of his friend at a moment's notice. As he kept watching though, he strangely couldn't see any sign of a threat towards Merlin. While Gwaine couldn't hear much of their conversation, the intimidating leader guy acted almost friendly towards Merlin, and Merlin was relaxed, not showing any signs of fear at all.

As Merlin and his maybe-friend began making their way out of the camp, Gwaine could finally hear some of what they were saying.

"Thank you again, Alator. I'm not sure what I would've done without your help!"

"It is no burden to me or my men, I assure you. It is an honor to assist a man as great as you, Emrys. Morgana's forces are a threat to us all and an affront to all that is good in this world. We will fight at your side as always and ensure that Morgana's spies never infiltrate Camelot again."

Alright, there was... a lot for Gwaine to unpack there.

First of all, the scary bald man's name was apparently Alator, so that was good to know. He claimed to be allied with Merlin against Morgana, which gave Gwaine some relief.

However, as Gwaine's mind put the pieces together, he wanted to scream with frustration. Merlin was consorting with dangerous sorcerers behind Arthur's back in order to protect Camelot! It was a move so selfless yet foolish that only Merlin could pull it off.

Still, these sorcerers didn't seem hostile towards Merlin at all, so Gwaine could work with that. He just needed a little bit more information on them, some way to confirm that they really were on Merlin's side on not double crossing his friend.

So, Gwaine crept closer into the camp, trying to see what they were up to now that Merlin was gone. He didn't see anything incriminating just yet, but that didn't mean that they were free of any nefarious plans.

Gwaine inched closer and closer into the camp, his eyes trained on the men who were probably sorcerers going about their evening chores in the camp. Gwaine so focused on his targets, in fact, that he didn't register that there was someone behind him until he felt blow to the back of his head and fell unconscious.

As Gwaine woke up, his first thought was that the pounding in his head was just a hangover, which was not by any means an unusual occurrence for Gwaine. That idea was quickly disproven as, when Gwaine tried to raise his hands to his head to try and alleviate his massive headache, he realized that his hands were bound. Once again, this wasn't necessarily an unusual situation for Gwaine, but it did cause him to freeze up with alarm as he remembered where he was and what he was doing before everything went black.

When Gwaine was finally able to peel his eyes open, he was greeted with the sight of several angry-looking men, including their intimidating leader whom Merlin had spoken to. What was his name... ah yes, Alator!

Putting on his friendliest and most innocent smile, Gwaine immediately tried to talk his way out of the situation. It had worked for him in similar situations, so why not give it a shot?

"Well, hello there gentlemen! I was just here looking for my buddy Merlin, have you seen him? Lanky fellow, dark hair, always wearing a neckerchief? A great guy, really, you'd know if you had met him!"

Gwaine scrutinized each of his captors' reactions to Merlin's name. Maybe this way he could find out what their intentions with Merlin. However, all of their expressions remained stubbornly neutral, except for Alator, who simply blinked at the mention of Merlin.

After an awkwardly long silence, Gwaine again tried to get some sort of reaction out of these mysterious men.

"I could have sworn I saw him heading this way, and I got worried about him, ya know? What kind of friend would I be if I let him wander around the forest at night all by himself! He's the kindest person I know, but he can somehow find himself in trouble at any time."

Again, much to Gwaine's rising frustration, Alator simply blinked. After another awkward pause, Alator finally responded.

"You are a knight of Camelot, correct? And you hold Emrys is high regard?"

Gwaine frowned at the seemingly random questions, but he figured it couldn't hurt to keep the conversation rolling, especially if it can get him some answers. Admitting to being a knight of Camelot in front of a bunch of potentially dangerous sorcerer might not be the best move, but they were willingly working with King Arthur's personal manservant, so these guys must not have that much of an issue with Camelot, right?

"Why yes, I am a knight of Camelot! Sir Gwaine, at your service! Based on your question, I assume that Emrys is some nickname you have for Merlin?"

In response to his question, Alator merely gave a single, solemn nod. Man, this group really needed to work on their communication skills.

"In that case, I do hold Emrys in very high regard! In fact, I'd say he's the best person I've ever met!"

Finally, that comment got a reaction out of them! As soon as Gwaine told them about how much he values Merlin, the men in front of him started nodding and murmuring amongst themselves. Gwaine hoped that they were happy about having a common friend and not plotting ways to kill him.

After reaching some consensus, the men all turned towards Gwaine simultaneously, which sent a shiver down Gwaine's back. What were they planning?

Alator then waved his hand, and his eyes flashed gold, confirming Gwaine's suspicions that he was dealing with sorcerers. Gwaine flinched back and braced himself for whatever spell had just been sent his way...

Only to feel the chains binding him fall to the ground, leaving him free and unharmed. Gwaine glanced down to check that he was, in fact, still in one piece before staring at Alator in shock.

"I can sense the honesty in your heart as you speak Emrys's praises. Know that any friend of Emrys is a friend to us. We apologize for our previous behavior, as we did not know that you were also an ally of Emrys. Please, join us for a cup of tea so we can discuss this further."

Gwaine, reeling from his host's sudden change in attitude, let them maneuver him outside and give him a seat at their campfire, with Alator and his men sitting with him around the fire.

Gwaine looked around at his hosts, who sat silently around the fire, not even talking amongst themselves. The silence made Gwaine's nerves stand on end, so he decided to fill that silence himself. He might as well get to know his gracious hosts and fellow friends of Merlin, right?

"So, who are you guys? How did you meet Merlin? Hey, maybe we can compare stories of him! Let me tell you, I've got some crazy stories to share about adventures he's dragged me on!"

The men sitting around him shared a silent look at each other before Alator answered.

"We are the Catha, masters of combat and one of the last surviving sects of priests of the Old Religion. I am Alator, the leader of the Catha. I first met Emrys when I betrayed Morgana to follow a better, more peaceful path. Emrys showed us that Morgana's hatred lies opposed to the will of the gods, and we chose to place our loyalty in him instead. What stories do you have concerning Emrys?"

Gwaine nodded, feeling a strange sort of relatability to these intimidating magic-wielding warrior priests. They, like him, were on a path of meaningless destruction and found a better life by meeting Merlin.

"Ah, I can remember meeting Merlin like it was yesterday! There I was, drowning my sorrows in a tavern, when in walks a skinny looking guy and his pompous friend! They got into trouble pretty quickly, and I couldn't miss out on all that fun! I jumped into the tavern brawl to help them, but I got pretty banged up in the process. But, it turned out that it was my lucky day, because wouldn't you know it, I had accidentally saved the life of the prince of Camelot himself!

I didn't think much of prince Arthur at the time, but his manservant sure made a great impression! He brought me back to Camelot on his own horse, took me to the royal physician, gave up his own bed to me for the night so I could recover, and then covered for me after I got drunk off my ass in the tavern, again.

But then some jackasses posing as knights tried to hurt Merlin, and I stepped in to defend him and wound up getting banished by Uther, but then Arthur welcomed me back and even made me a knight when he became prince regent! And I've been lucky enough to have Merlin at my side ever since!"

Gwaine watched as many of the men's eyes widened at his story, unsure of what exactly they were so shocked by.

"You mean to say that you stood up to Uther Pendragon, the mad butcher king, for Emrys's sake? And came back to his side as soon as you could despite the threat of death hanging over your head?"

"Well, I did manage to see Merlin on one other occasion while I was banished, but he sought me out for that one. Apparently Arthur was having some trouble on his big quest to the Perilous Lands, so Merlin called me in as backup."

The Catha started whispering amongst themselves at that, with even Alator leaning forward in interest.

"Emrys specifically sought out your skills on such a monumental quest? You understand the significance of such an honor?"

Gwaine nodded, his expression shifting from a wistful one to a much more serious one.

"Of course I understand. Merlin's such an amazing person, and it shocks me every time that he thinks I'm someone worth relying on. Still, that only motivates me to not let him down. He saw something in me that no one else did, not even me, and he found a way to bring it to the surface. He changed my life, gave me a purpose, and I will never underestimate how much he's done for me."

This time, all of the Catha were nodding their heads in approval of Gwaine's appreciation for Merlin.

"You truly do see the significance of Emrys, Sir Gwaine. I can see your loyalty towards him clearly. For that, I would like to make you an offer.

Emrys's enemies are our enemies, and there are many of them. Morgana's forces grow stronger by the day, and we can only do so much with how few of us are left. Emrys himself faces many dangers, and we cannot always protect him as much as we'd like, seeing as how we cannot enter the city of Camelot. You, however, are at Emrys's side every day.

In working towards our shared goals, will you work alongside us to protect Emrys and keep Morgana's forces at bay? We can provide you with training that will put you far ahead of any of your peers and weapons that shall make you a formidable opponent to even the most powerful sorcerers. Will you accept our offer?"

"Ah, I see now. It was you lot who have been following Merlin around recently! Well, that certainly gives me quite a bit of relief, knowing that he isn't being followed around by someone who'd want to hurt him. I'd be happy to join in on your mission to protect Merlin!"

The Catha started murmuring approvingly amongst themselves at Gwaine's acceptance, until Alator spoke again.

"That is wonderful. It is an honor to be able to work alongside a warrior held in such high esteem by Emrys himself."

As Gwaine shook Alator's hand, accepting his offer, he got the feeling that this was the start of an amazing alliance.

And it sure was. Over the next months, Gwaine trained alongside the warrior priests whenever he could, becoming accustomed to their stoic natures and silent demeanors. They taught him fighting styles that he had never even heard of before and gave him information on people who were trying to hurt Merlin, allowing him to keep an eye on and eliminate threats to his friend before they had the chance to strike.

The Catha figured out pretty early on that Gwaine was rubbish at learning anything about magic itself, but when they placed enchanted weapons in his hands, he could wield them effortlessly and adapt his combat style to whatever the effects of the enchantment were. He even got a sword that could burst into flames!

As Gwaine's abilities to wield stronger enchanted weapons improved, the Catha started letting him fight the powerful sorcerers that Morgana sent into Camelot. Soon enough, he was equipped with indestructible armor armor that could repel spells and curses, weapons with some of the most formidable enchantments that the Catha could muster, and even a growing reputation throughout the land!

Luckily, the helmet that the Catha provided him with obscured his identity, so no reports of a rogue and enchantment-wielding Sir Gwaine made their way back to Arthur, as funny as that would be. Still, reports of the "indominable magic knight" that had defeated some of Morgana's most powerful sorcerers made their way across the land, even into Camelot's court. Some council members wished to capture the unknown knight and kill him before he became a threat, while others saw an opportunity to make a powerful ally against Morgana, and Arthur was constantly on the fence between those two arguments while Gwaine sat at the round table, quietly smug.

Meanwhile, Merlin, checking in with the Catha: What's this I hear about a warrior using powerful magic weapons to fight Morganas men?

Alator: Don't worry, Emrys. He's one of ours, fighting against Morgana in your name. He's one of your most devout followers in fact.

Merlin, not wanting to meet another Emrys fanboy who looks at him like he's a god: Uh, just tell him to keep up the good work and to let me know if he needs anything.

Soon after reports of the magic knight made their way to a very conflicted court of Camelot, Morgana sought out the magic knight, ready to either kill him for being such a nuisance or make an ally out of him. After all, surely a knight wielding such powerful magic would never be on the side of Camelot?

However, when Morgana managed to trap the magical knight and surround him with an army of a hundred sorcerers, the knight managed to defeat her and her entire army before escaping. He rained down fire and lightning upon them, the very elements fighting alongside him, as he cut down her army and left her defeated and humiliated.

Of course, reports of Morgana's defeat travelled to Camelot, where the court was even more incensed over the topic of the magical knight. He was capable of beating Morgana, surely he would be a great ally and could ensure Camelot's protection! But he was also now a magic-wielding threat even more powerful than Morgana! Sure he was now the foremost threat to Camelot!

In the end, Arthur and some of his most trusted knights decided to go on a quest to seek out this magical knight. Gwaine wasn't particularly worried, because how could they possibly find him if he was already travelling with them?

During the journey though, they receive word of a magical beast terrorizing nearby villages. The knights all try to fight the beast, but to little success, and it even managed to injure Merlin's leg before escaping!

Merlin's injury turned out to be not life-threatening, but he couldn't stand on his leg for very long. Unbeknownst to anyone else, Merlin entrusted Lancelot with slaying the beast after his injury, enchanting Lancelot's sword so that it could kill a creature of magic and his chainmail so that he wouldn't be hurt by its claws.

Gwaine, meanwhile, was furious with the creature and, that night, summoned his enchanted armor and weapons to go slay the beast and maybe give its head to Merlin as an apology for being unable to stop it from hurting him. Or maybe he would just treat Merlin to a night at the tavern when they got back.

So, Lancelot and Gwaine both tracked down the beast that knight. When they both arrived at the beast's lair with visibly enchanted weapons, they take each other by surprise. Lancelot is on guard, unsure if he wants to trust the now-infamous magic knight, but Gwaine just laughs and removes his helmet, and Lancelot is shocked.

Lancelot and Gwaine seeing each other with enchanted gear: spiderman pointing meme

Gwaine asks Lancelot where he got that enchanted sword, but Lancelot is tight-lipped about it, just saying he got it because he needed to protect Merlin. Gwaine chuckled and said that he understood.

After they finish slaying the beast together, Lancelot asks Gwaine if Merlin knows that he's the magic knight. Gwaine shrugs and says that he suspects that Merlin doesn't know, but wouldn't mind it if Merlin did know.

Lancelot, as soon as they get back to Camelot: So, did you know that Gwaine is actually the magic knight?

Merlin, spitting out his tea and having flashbacks to his conversation with Alator: HE'S WHAT NOW?!

Things get cleared up between Lancelot, Merlin, and Gwaine pretty quickly from there. Gwaine takes the magic reveal very well, excited at the prospect of going on magical adventures with Merlin and glad that his friend can actually defend himself, because he's rubbish with any type of weapon.

From there though, a sort of friendly competition sprung up between Gwaine and Lancelot, as both of them consider themself to be Merlin's best friend. Soon enough, there's two magical knights running around foiling Morgana's plans, and Arthur's ready to tear his hair out over it.

From there, more knights figure out about Merlin's magic and, if they're accepting of it, they also train with the Catha and receive enchanted weapons. It almost becomes its own secret society within the knights, all united with the sole purpose of protecting Merlin. They eventually have Elyan, Percival, and number one Emrys fanboy Mordred join their ranks.

Arthur eventually finds out approximately where the magical knights are hidden (their meeting spot when they need to meet outside of Camelot), and he sends Leon in disguise to infiltrate them, not knowing that they are knights from Camelot. Being the knights of the round table, they of course recognize Leon immediately and give him the full story, and Leon joins them and just tells Arthur that he "couldn't find the magical knights."

Gwaine laughs his ass off at every round table meeting where Arthur becomes more and more frustrated at not being able to catch the magical knights, and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Merlin having a good laugh over it too.

And I'll cut it off there for now! I had lots of fun writing this, I feel like I should write about Gwaine more often!

Let me know if you would like me to write a continuation for this au!

And, as always, thank you for reading through my ramblings! :D

#merlin #bbc merlin #merlin bbc #arthur pendragon #merlin au #merlin prompts #emrys #lancelot #gwaine #sir gwaine

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dizzyjelly · 2 years ago

Text

Kryptonite(18+)

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: ellie hated everyone, except you. You go out to the bar one night and some guy bothers you, she punched his ass ofc. You get into a small fight but then you guys go back to her place and things get freaky;)

Cw: fighting, drinking, smut, strap-on sucking, strap-on sex, scissoring, rough sex, degrading, praising, spanking, the tiniest bit of overstimulation

A/n: ooh this is seriously dirtyyy! 😭 sorry if I missed any content warnings but I really think that's all. Also, I've been going back to my previous fics and rereading and I just now realize I misspell so much and like forget words, so I'm sorry for all my grammar fuck ups lmao

Ellie Williams was many things, but nice was not one of them. People usually tried to steer clear of her, knowing her mood was negative more often than not. But of course, there was the occasional time when somebody made the mistake of trying to be friendly with her. It typically ended with Ellie cursing them out, or insulting them somehow. And then you'd come around, always calming her down and putting a smile on her face.

Everybody found it odd, from the minute you'd been welcomed to Jackson, Ellie was always so sweet to you. It honestly had jaw dropping, everyone was shocked to say the least. On top of that, it made no sense. I mean, some random girl comes into town and she just happened to be Ellie Williams kryptonite? Absolutely zero sense.

Nobody dared to question it though, and anytime they did Ellie had a lot to say. The main point she'd give was that it was simply 'none of their fucking business', among other things. You, yourself, found it a bit odd. You'd heard stories about Ellie from various people around town, and it was hard to believe she could be so harsh and mean. Was she really as cruel as they'd said? You'd never know, because she was nothing but kind to you.

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

After deciding to get ballsy on patrol, Ellie was sentenced to the unbearable punishment of laundry duty for a week. The only good part of it being that she got to see you, you had been a clothing designer before all this apocalypse shit happened so you knew a lot about clothing. This being the reason for your permanent work assignment staying laundry duty, you'd requested that it be permanent. Maria had no issue doing thst for you, and you were beyond thankful. You and no interest in getting yourself into any kind of danger, doing patrol or something else.

Currently, Ellie was trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with the laundry detergent. She looked at the various bottles, grabbing then to read the instructions on the back. After a minute of trying to comprehend what she was meant to do, she let out a frustrated sigh before slamming the yellow bottle back in its place on the shelf.

"I could help you out, you know?" A brunette boy suggested with a sweet smile, he was younger and very clearly meant no harm.

"Fuck off" She scoffed harshly, "I don't need your help." Her tone was aggressive as she walked back over to the baskets of clothing.

She decided to sort them by color instead, that was something she was capable of. Five minutes or so passed and you came in, late. Very unusual for you, you were one of those people who was either early or on time. But late, you were never late. Ellie's face immediately lit up when she saw you, she smiled from ear to ear as she ran over to pull you in for a hug.

"Oh, hi" You laughed, wrapping your own arms around the girl, "somebody missed me." You joked.

"Shut up" She smirked at you, rolling her eyes, "why are you late? You're never late." She asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Um, I was just talking to Gavin, guess I got caught up." Your cheeks flushed red, Gavin was the guy you had a crush on for weeks now.

Ellie couldn't wrap her head around why, he was such a dick. Not that you'd be able to figure that out by the way he acted. He pretended to be a nice, caring guy. But he wasn't either of those things. And since he had you in a chokehold, for some unknown reason, you'd have to find that out the hard way. Ellie tried to tell you, relaying stories she'd heard from friends who'd been with him. But you were just lovesick.

"Oh, k." Her smile dropped now, and she spoke monotonly as she had no interest in why you were so busy talking with Gavin.

You furrowed your brows slightly at her sudden change in demeanor, but ultimately you ignored it. Smiling, you walked over to greet Samuel, the brunette boy who'd usually help you out with laundry.

"Good afternoon, Samuel! How are you today?" You asked, but he seemed kinda down.

He hadn't given you an answer, just shrugged, so you walked over to him and asked what was up. He motioned for you to lean in, so that he could whisper in your ear. Samuel told you about how Ellie had told him to 'fuck off.' And you let out a dramatic gasp.

"Ellie Williams! Did you tell my sweet bo Samuel to fuck off?" You asked sternly, hands on you hips as you made your way over to the girl.

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed red as she knew she'd been caught.

"Maybe... I'm sorry!" She apologized with a frown, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Do not talk to my sweet little helper that way, he's my friend." You scolded her just a bit more, and she nodded in understanding.

"Oh, hey could you help me with the detergent? I'm not really sure what to use." She asked you, pointing her thumb in the direction of the shelf filled with various laundry detergents.

"Yes, if you promise to be nicer to my dear friend Samuel." You raised your brows.

"Promise..." She smiled with a playful eye roll.

You proceeded to help her with the detergent, making sure she'd remember for next time. Ellie would continue her work duties, bored out of her mind as she prayed to be let back onto patrol early for good behavior. At a certain point in the day, she'd just be eyeing the clock, counting down the hours until she could finally be free from this torture. You, however, didn't mind the job one bit. It actually brought you joy, helped you to relax even. It reminded you of the days before.. everything.

Once it did fall time to clock out, Ellie was quick to rush out of the laundry area, waiting for you outside. You'd chuckle to yourself and shake your head, she was so dramatic. On your way out, you waved a goodbye to Samuel then smiled as you found Ellie leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"Hey, wanna go to the bar?" She asked with a cheeky smile.

You sighed through your nose, hesitant as Ellie was a terrible drunk.

"Fine. But Ellie, please don't get too drunk." You asked, taking her hands in your own.

"Ok... come on." She smiled as she held your hand and walked the two of you to the bar.

Once you got there, you took seats at the bar and Ellie ordered for the both of you. Alcohol wasn't really your thing, but she seemed to know her way around it pretty well. And you trusted her, which was a good choice because when you took a sip of your drink it was absolutely delicious. After another drink and the passing of some time, Gavin had made an appearance.

You saw him and a smile spread across your face, your eyes lit up and your knees felt weak. Ellie took notice to your mood change, following your eyes to see the man himself. She rolled her eyes and let out a small groan as she rested her head in her hand. You turned back around, sipping from your drink and trying to act cool. Then, Gavin had come to sit beside you.

"Hey Y/n, how you doing?" He greeted, the sound of his voice had you giggling.

"Hi, I'm good. How are you?" You asked in return, playing with your hair a bit.

"Oh I'm doing just great. Who's your friend?" He asked, gesturing to Ellie who was now on her third drink.

You sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

"Oh, this is-" Ellie had cut you off.

"I'm Ellie." She answered him with a harsh tone.

"Well, nice to meet ya Ellie" Gavins voice trailed off as he looked at the door, "I've gotta go." He sent a little wave your way.

You waved back with furrowed brows, then frowned as he was meeting a girl who just walked in. She was pretty, long blonde hair and a striking figure. You sighed, dropping your head down on the bar with a groan. Ellie sighed.

"What's wrong?" She asked in a soft tone, bringing a hand to rub up and down your back soothingly.

"I'm a fucking idiot." Was all you muttered, not picking your head up until a minute later.

You turned around and honestly felt like you could cry when you saw the two of then dancing together, he had his hands on her waist and pulled her unbelievably closer. She laughed as her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. You turned back to look at Ellie, the pout on your face more evident than anything.

"Oh, come on, he's an asshole anyways" Ellie rolled her eyes, glancing over at the dancing pair, then she stood and reached out a hand, "come on baby, dance with me."

You smiled, placing your hand in hers and letting out a small laugh as she pulled you to stand with her. At first, you just held hands and bounced around to some faster songs. But then about two songs later, a slower song came on. Your cheeks flushed red and you took a step back, only for Ellie to snake a hand around your waist and pull you closer.

"Ellie.. what are you doing?" You whispered as she held your waist and pulled you in tight, so that you were practically hugging.

"Dancing." She whispered in return.

You giggled and brought your arms around her shoulders, leaning in so your head rested on one of them. Ellie smiled as her eyes fell shut, your perfume greeting her kindly. You sighed as you relaxed under her touch, nobody could make you feel the way she did. Her hands found their way to your lower back, rubbing small circles onto it. You'd nuzzle your face in her neck, smiling as you brought your hands to play with her hair.

"Fuck Y/n.." Ellie groaned under her breath.

You giggled, lifting your head to meet her eyes. She looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. You looked down at your feet, then back at her. Your breath hitched as your eyes couldn't seem to focus on hers anymore, but rather on her slightly chapped lips. She had to have noticed because a smirk slowly formed on her face. Before you'd do anything you would regret, you stepped back from her. The loss of her touch left you feeling empty, but you would ignore it and just smile as you excused yourself.

"I have to use the bathroom." You simply said, and she took a seat at the bar once again as you made your way to the restroom.

You didn't actually have to go, so instead you washed your hands underneath cold water. And you splashed some on your face for good measure, you'd been getting unbelievably hot during your dance with Ellie. Once you could no longer feel your heart beating in your ears, you left the bathroom to return to Ellie. Unfortunately, there had been someone waiting for you outside.

"Hey, you know you look really good tonight." Gavin spoke smugly as he leaned against the wall.

"Yeah? Thanks." You scoffed, "shouldn't you be getting back to your date?" You spoke matter of factly, trying to push past him.

Your efforts didn't get you much of anywhere, his hand now finding a tight grip on your forearm while the other went to hold your face. You rolled your eyes with a frustrated sigh.

"Ok, come on Gavin I'm really not in the mood." You spoke coldly, willing him to just take the hint and leave you alone.

He tsked, leaning down to whisper in your ear,

"Come on angel, just let me show you a good time." You shuddered at his words, disgusted.

That was your last straw and you found the energy to shove him off of you and into the wall with a hard thud. Then, you saw Ellie turning the corner, her fists balled at her sides as her brows knitted together with anger.

"The fucks going on here?" She asked gruffly.

"Ellie, it's nothing. I'm fine." You placed a hand on her chest, trying to convince her.

Of course it didn't work because the next thing you knew you were watching as she punched Gavin so hard he'd fallen over. Her knuckles were red, and his face began to bruise.

"Ellie!" You screamed as your hands went over your mouth in shock.

Before she could get any other hits in, you'd held her by her shoulders as you dragged her outside. She yelled at the poor guy the entire time. Sending a good amount of threats his way.

"What is wrong with you!" You shouted at the girl as the two of you now stood outside in the chilly night.

"Me? He deserved it and you know it!" She'd shouted back, gesturing with her hands, something she did often when she was angry.

"Yeah maybe, but still! You can't just go around punching every guy that bothers me, I can take care of myself you know?" Your hands were on your hips.

"Oh god, this again? I can't keep having this fucking conversation with you, Y/n!" She gritted her teeth.

"What conversation? The one where I have to constantly remind you that I'm a full grown adult, and I am entirely capable of taking care of and defening myself? I mean seriously Ellie, what's the problem? Do you think that I can't take care of myself?" You asked with a frustrated sigh.

"What, no! Of course I know you can, but I just- I care about you a lot and you shouldn't have to take care of yourself. It makes me feel good to defend you, I don't know why it just does. And I'm... sorry." Sge struggled to get the apology out.

"It's ok. Let's just go home, sleep it off." Your suggestion sounded good, but Ellie stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

"Wait." You looked at her with questioning eyes, wondering what else she had to say.

Turns out, she didn't have anything to say. Instead, she had brought one hand to your waist and the other to the back of your neck. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips. After a minute or so had passed, she just couldn't resist. She pulled you in and connected her lips with yours, kissing you like it was the end of the world.

"Ellie~" You whined as you parted from the kiss for a moment, immediately diving back in.

This time, you pressed your tongue to her bottom lip. And she gladly let you in, opening her mouth wide so she could taste your tongue on hers. It was something from another world, you'd felt dizzy and giddy, and there was something else too. There was this heat between your legs, it almost hurt. You whimpered into her mouth at the unfamiliar feeling.

"What's wrong baby?" She asked, her forehead resting against yours.

"I don't know, 's all achy down there." You admitted, embarrassed as you'd only dare to stare down at her shoes.

Ellie let out a sinful chuckle,

"Well, I think I could help with that." She gave you one last kiss before taking you to her house.

You stood in her living room, your hand coming to scratch the back of your neck awkwardly as she rushed upstairs to grab 'a little something special' from her room. You'd wondered what she could be grabbing, but not for long as she returned swiftly without her bottoms now and a large black strap tightened around her hips. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, and you knew you wanted it inside of you. Your mouth watered at just the thought of her fucking your brains out.

She walked over to you with a smirk, pulling you in for yet another kiss. You smiled into it, letting out small moans here and there as the taste of her tongue felt so good against your own. You'd sighed as she pulled your top off, now placing kisses along your jaw and neck. It wasn't long before she was placing feather light kisses to the top of your boobs, then palming them roughly as she watched your face contort with pleasure.

"Get on your knees." She ordered after a minute, and you were quick to oblige.

Getting down on the floor, you looked up at Ellie with lustful eyes. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, taking a step closer to you as she held her strap in the other hand. You licked your lips before chewing slightly at your bottom one.

"Open that pretty little mouth of yours for me baby." She cooed, her hand tightening in your hair as you'd opened wide.

She chuckled as she pushed her cock into your mouth, watching with nothing but joy as she shoved it as far as it could go. You'd gagged, unable to help it, then you let out a small whimper which was muffled by her large cock. She groaned at this, tugging your hair a bit, which brought a lengthy moan from your lips.

"Fuck baby, look at you being a good little slut. Taking my cock down your throat so well. Good girl." The praise she'd given you had gotten you even wetter, if that was even possible.

Ellie would continue to move your head up and down for a bit longer until she was satisfied, carefully she removed her hand from your hair and let you pull back. Your lips left her cock with a satisfying pop sound and she smiled sinfully as she pulled you to stand. She brought a hand to your chin, wiping your saliva that had dripped down your chin while you were kept busy deep-throating her.

She'd snaked her hands around you now, gripping at your ass before giving it a harsh smack that made your body jolt with pleasure and excitement. Another kiss was brought to your lips by her, but not for long as you'd pulled away quickly.

"Ellie, please." You whimpered, she only let out a small chuckle.

"Please what? Use your words baby." She kept a finger under your chin.

"Please," another moan, "fuck me. Fuck me good and hard, please I need you." You were begging shamelessly now, and she loved it.

"Well, aren't you cute. Your wish is my command, princess." She smiled as she backed you up to the couch, lying down before pulling you on top of her.

You sat straddling her for a minute, she rubbed your thighs with her hands soothingly before ridding you of both your jeans and panties in just one motion. You bit your lip as she held your hips, lifting you so the head of her strap just grazed your dripping hole. She'd continue to tease you for what felt like ages, before you just couldn't take it anymore so you'd taken it upon yourself to lower down onto her cock. You threw your head back with a loud, pornagraphic moan as you felt the burning stretch inside of you.

Ellie scoffed,

"Did I say you could do that? Eager little slut, you're gonna regret that." She groaned as you continued making the sweetest sounds as she gripped your hips harder.

She'd waste no time, immediately thrusting into you roughly and at a fast pace that had your head spinning. Occasionally, she'd bring a hand up from your hip to place a firm smack against your ass, in the same spot every time. You were sure there'd be a mark, but you didn't care because it felt so fucking good. Then, she'd angled herself just ever so slightly differently and began to hit a spot that you didn't even know existed.

"Oh, oh god! Fuck yes, right there Ellie. Fuckk." You moaned as you called out her name, your hands finding their way to her chest as you began to grind your hips down against her.

"Oh yeah, you like that slut?" She asked, using the rather vulgar name that only got you hotter.

You nodded, feeling as if your vision went hot white at the pleasure you were feeling. It was so phenomenal, you almost thought you mightve been dreaming. But then, she stopped and held your hips tightly so you couldn't move an inch.

"Fucking answer me." She commanded.

"Yes yes. Yes I love it. Please keep going. Please." You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes.

"That's my girl." She smiled as she resumed her rough thrusts, loosening her grip on your hips so you could rut against her as well.

She bit back a moan as the strap had been hitting against her clit just right, that and the sight of you was more than enough to make her cum. The way your tits bounced underneath your scarlet red lace bra, and how beautiful your face looked as you moaned loudly. And oh the way you said her name was just so fucking sexy.

"Ellie- I'm gonna" your breath hitched with a gasp, "fuck 'm gonna cum." your moans got even louder somehow.

"Me too baby, come on cum with me. Come on baby." She'd finally let out a small moan and that sent you over the edge.

However you didn't just cum, you were gushing all over her beautifully long strap as well as her thighs. Ellie moaned louder at the sight of you squirting all over her cock, and then got her own release. She didn't stop pounding into you as she rode out her own high, and it didn't take long before you were feeling overstimulated. But you'd do anything to watch as her eyes squeezed shut with the pleasure of her orgasm.

"Mmn- fuck." She let out a small groan as she removed her cock from your hole, a small string of your slick connecting it still.

You let out a small sigh of exhaustion as you layed against her chest, smiling as her hands came to rub up and down your back. You lied there together for a minute or so before she finally spoke.

"Let's go to my room." She whispered, and you didn't say anything in return.

You'd just followed her upstairs and watched as she removed her strap, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to her. You joined her and sat with your back against the headboard, leaning forward as she came to kiss you. You'd pulled at her shirt and giggled a bit as she ripped it off, revealing her black sports bra. Then, she'd used one hand to spread your legs before getting into position.

One of her legs straddled your hip, a hand on your shoulder and the other on your waist. Her eyes fell shut as she let out an airy moan when she'd ground her throbbing clit against your own, and you'd let out a similar sound.

"Fuck, baby. Your pussy feels so good against mine." She bit her lip, letting out more moans as she thrusted against you.

Sure, the way Ellie had pounded into you earlier was amazing and beyond pleasurable. But there was just something so euphoric about her sopping wet pussy gliding against your own. The feeling of your slicks mixing together just drove you insane. Apparently it had the same effect on Ellie because she was louder than ever, moaning and whimpering with great pleasure.

Your breath quickened as you felt yourself getting close again, and began to move your own hips against her as well. This made Ellie let out a guttural groan.

"Oh yeah, just like that baby." She said in an almost whisper, her eyes falling shut with pleasure.

And with a few more thrusts, the both of you reached yet another release. Now you weren't the only one making noise, Ellie was moaning while also letting out "thank you's and 'fuck's. After fully riding out your highs, Ellie lied down next to you. She brought a hand to wipe her forehead, it dribbled with sweat and her hair stuck to it a bit.

You felt your eyes vetting heavy, snuggling against Ellies side as you let them fall shut. She'd hold you for a minute before standing up.

"Don't fall asleep yet, baby. I wanna get you cleaned up first." She placed a kiss to your forehead, going to the bathroom then returning with a wet rag.

She wiped you down gently, placing soft kisses along your body on the way. Once she finished that, she'd given you a t-shirt of hers to wear to sleep. She climbed back into bed, pulling you to lay on her chest. You snuggled your head into the crook of her neck, bringing your hands to wrap around her shoulders.

"Goodnight Els." You said sleepily.

"Goodnight baby." She responded with a kiss on top of your head.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader

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shirefantasies · 11 months ago

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Hi!! I just found your blog and I love the way you write your headcanons! I was wondering if there's anyway you could write how each of the company in the hobbit would cuddle? or how they'd show physical affection? If not, that's fine, just thought I'd ask! (sorry if this is a bit weirdly worded I don't actually request things often lol, I've just been in such a the hobbit mood and found your blog and loved it immediately.)

Thank you sweetie and I'm so glad you love my headcanons 🥰 but this imagine YUS YUS YUS!!! My Hobbit mood has been coming in big ol waves of late heck yeah 🫡

Thorin’s Company + Physical Affection

Balin

✧ If you fall and he catches you, you may notice the way his hands wind around your waist and keep you for just a moment longer than absolutely necessary.

✧ Always the one who does your fastens for you and helps you into your coat, lingering touches therein as well.

✧ Sometimes his hand will just creep over as he listens to you, taking yours and drawing encouraging circles upon the back of it.

✧ Pulls you closer into his chest in the cold, whispering that it's alright, don't be shy as you melt into him.

✧ Almost always at your side with a hand placed gently but firmly upon your shoulder, half guiding, half guarding.

Dwalin

✧ This guy...is not very physically affectionate. You're going to have to coax it out of him like a stray cat.

✧ He enjoys sparring with you if you're down and you may notice he prefers pinning you or wrestling you down to, say, literally any other member of the company, but that feels like something beyond affection...

✧ "Are you hurt? Let me see." For the strength of his hands, he cradles your head, your arm, whatever it may be, so gently and warmly.

✧ Acts exasperated when you show up at his side to cuddle, accepts only “because it’s so cold, I suppose it’d be right”, then wraps his arms around you and holds you against his chest as tight as he can.

✧ Seated at a table, Dwalin will keep an arm draped over the back of your chair at all times.

Thorin

✧ His hands go to you first after any sort of danger, holding you back initially then laying a hand on your shoulder as he checks you over, ensuring no harm came to you.

✧ Asks for your hand, taking it in his when your travels get difficult so as to lead you along the safest path he can find.

✧ Wraps you up in his coat, his hands sliding down your arms after he drapes it upon you, staying like that for a moment with his chest to your back.

✧ Big spoon. That feeling of care, of presiding over your warmth and safety and everything Thorin can give absolutely translates to your sleep, your solace. It means the world to him if he can be your comfort.

✧ Even in idle times, Thorin tends to stand with a hand wrapped around your waist, not grasping you tightly or restricting you in any way, but simply enough to keep you near and make it clear that you are his.

Oin

✧ Offering massages is basically a love language for him. The others are always asking him and sometimes he gets annoyed or just does it grudgingly, but when it is you? He takes his time, uses your favorite oils, savors the connection between you two and your hums of pleasure.

✧ Oin loves asking you for help just as an excuse to have you near, your hands darting beneath his to grab supplies or holding down his work, his own coming to cover yours as often as he can spare them.

✧ In the moments you get to sit next to each other, his hand will gingerly rest over yours. If you tense up at all, you can feel his grip tighten just a little bit, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

✧ Likes loose cuddling, simply your arms draped over his side as you rest alongside each other. Also not-so-secretly enjoys being the little spoon- indulge him every now and again!

✧ Has been known to give your cheeks the occasional affectionate pinch or squeeze, just smiling and chuckling giddily to himself at the sight of you before he leans in for a kiss.

Gloin

✧ Always fussing over your hair, whether it's getting things out of it or even knowing its entire care routine and performing it for you if you let him, his hands dressing it practically reverently.

✧ Gets bored, forgets himself and plays with your hands. If you wear rings, he probably slides those around or spins them a bit. He enjoys intertwining your fingers again and again and keeping both of your hands in his as he peers at you.

✧ When simply standing around, he sometimes will stand behind you and drape his arms over your shoulders as if claiming you.

✧ Will practically wrestle you into position if you try to make him little spoon. You have to get him tired enough before he’ll accept not being the one to hold you.

✧ Grabs you up into the biggest, bone-crushing in the best of ways, bear hugs you've ever had the pleasure of being swept into.

Bifur

✧ Speech can be so difficult, the feeling of trying without success so frustrating that a meaningful touch is simpler and infinitely more calming. A favorite of his is a simple hand on the shoulder, a gesture of care.

✧ He also loves teasingly elbowing you to get your attention, whether it's to show you something or just to say hello!

✧ Tracing each and every line and curvature of your face is his guilty pleasure; it is as though he is at work silently memorizing your every feature.

✧ Looser with cuddling, the feeling sometimes suffocating, especially if he has a nightmare. Rather than cage you in or be caged in, Bifur prefers the simple feeling of your hand upon his chest or your head leaned against his while you sleep.

✧ Absolutely loves decorating you, feeling like an attendant to royalty as he slides rings onto your finger, bracelets and necklaces he made around your neck or wrist. Such moments are some of the most tender between you, the way he looks at you afterward and the way his hands caress you after each beauty is set to magnifying yours.

Bofur

✧ Has a little habit of just taking your hand and twirling you when you stand together, almost as if you're dancing in place.

✧ When you truly are dancing, you know Bofur will be dipping you down for a kiss nearly every time!

✧ Cuddling is all over the place. Snakes his arms around you and pulls you into his lap when he’s feeling particularly merry. Lays facing you before sleep, your legs tangled together in the most wonderful mess.

✧ Bofur has this little habit of falling onto you when you’re laughing together, playfully shoving you before his hands fall into your lap or grab your knee.

✧ Hugs from Bofur often turn into him picking you up and spinning you around!

Bombur

✧ As I've mentioned, he is the best with a partner who has anxiety, basically becoming a living weighted blanket atop you.

✧ Though shy and subtle he can be with his initial affections, Bombur is very cuddly. The greatest cuddler, in fact. Your shared bedroll is the coziest one of the whole lot.

✧ Has been known to, upon being in a bolder mood, turn his head when you lean to kiss his cheek, capturing your lips instead! Has the biggest smile upon success, so you can never be upset.

✧ Pulls you into a hug the moment you say or do something cute.

✧ Great acts of service fellow as he is, Bombur will often offer things like scratching your back or rubbing tension from your neck as a means of getting closer while still providing for you.

Dori

✧ Small, subtle touches, like letting his hands cover yours when you accept the steaming mug of tea he hands you.

✧ He also loves running a thumb over the back of your hand when you sit side by side, sharing that one point of connection between you two.

✧ Always does a cute little tap to your knee after he laces up your boots for you, a little wink topping the endearing gesture off.

✧ The type who loves to lay with your heads against each other, cheeks brushing, especially as you look at the stars, discussing everything beneath the sun and very well likely some things not beneath it at all.

✧ Shocks you when you sit at a table and you feel his hand on your knee, and again when it moves up and down, tracing a little pattern on your thigh.

Nori

✧ I still maintain that Nori would be the main perpetrator of the classic yawning or stretching as an excuse to put an arm around you. Once you're pulled in, though? Good luck getting back out! You are nothing if not secure in his grasp.

✧ Cheekily sliding his hand into your pocket, especially if you have a back pocket, is his favorite.

✧ If there is any possibility of him not being able to hear you, Nori will lean in as close as he can, possibly even drawing you forward with a hand beneath your chin, grinning if you get flustered.

✧ Ideal cuddling position, you ask? Why, with him on top of you, obviously! Enough said.

✧ When it isn’t in your pocket, he nearly always has a hand at the small of your back when you walk. He occasionally uses it to guide you, but mostly he likes to run it up and down your spine, occasionally running his nails down too, giving you a cheeky look when he does it.

Ori

✧ Oscillates between being too shy to show physical affection and a natural propensity to misunderstand personal space. For example, he'll probably not want to kiss you in front of his older brothers lest they tease him, but when he gets excited about his latest drawing he practically throws his arms entirely around you to show you his sketchpad.

✧ Shares his scarf with you, winding the two of you both into its long, thick warmth and flushing as you lean in closer and closer beneath it.

✧ The kisses you share in private are almost desperate, hands clinging to whatever fold of fabric they can reach to draw each other in.

✧ Enjoys pretty much any way you lie together, facing each other, back to back, you name it, Ori is eager for it!

✧ Rubs your hands between his own to keep you warm, straightens your clothes up for you, little tending touches that lead to kisses upon your hands or head.

Fili

✧ Gives amazing hugs, pulling you into his arms and soothingly, lovingly sliding a hand up and down your back.

✧ So sweet, he loves swinging your joined hands between you both if you are granted the opportunity for a leisurely stroll.

✧ Always wants to be the big spoon when you guys cuddle, that position feeling much more protective of you, secure as he can hold you.

✧ Sneaks up behind you to cover your eyes, asking ‘guess who’ and chuckling at the way you startle if he catches you by surprise.

✧ Offers you his arm when you walk together and smiling when you link yours with his and rest your hand upon his upper arm.

Kili

✧ In love with physical affection. Who cares who sees you? Not this dwarven prince, that is certain! Completely unafraid to pull you into his lap and hold you, pride crossing his face.

✧ Pulls your joined hands into his pockets as you walk side by side.

✧ When he teaches you how to shoot, he guides you smoothly by the hips, hands running down your sides and along the length of your arms until you reach the proper stance.

✧ His favorite way to cuddle is you lain upon his chest, your head against his heart and right there for him to place kisses atop.

✧ You two are a tangled mess at fireside, someone’s legs always thrown upon the other’s lap.

Bilbo

✧ Rather than show you over-the-top affection, Bilbo is the sort to just stay glued to your side, joining you at the hip for even the most mundane tasks even if it’s under the guise of “getting a break from all the dwarves”.

✧ Similarly, he’ll offer to hold your hands “because it’s quite crowded” or “just so you don’t fall, it’s a bit steep here and all”.

✧ When you sit together at the fireside, he may get flustered but he absolutely loves it when you lay your head upon his shoulder.

✧ He also favors being little spoon, not that he would necessarily tell you that out loud, but you can feel the way he relaxes, hums in contentment against you.

✧ Bilbo gets surprisingly protective, though, shifting you behind him or moving you aside by your waist when danger strikes.

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festivalsofmargot · 2 years ago

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hi!!!! i love your writing style, it’s so beautiful! when you have the time, could i request Ominis x reader where they have a really bad fight and Ominis says something really mean like totally out of pocket to where their relationship is cracking so he has to win her forgiveness and love back 😭 i love angst it hurts me so good

The 3 Boys & The Hogwarts Champion

{Garreth Weasley/Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow x GN!Reader}

Introduction: The TriWizard Tournament was a tournament that promised glory, but also a tournament with a death toll so high, just surviving it would be the accomplishment of a lifetime. Your significant other had begged you not to put your name in the Goblet of Fire. You told him you wouldn’t, but you've done so anyway in secret. These are the reactions of Garreth, Ominis, and Sebastian when they not only realize you put your name in behind their back, but that you’ve also been chosen as the Hogwarts Champion.

Word Count:

Garreth: ~ 2,200 words

Ominis: ~ 1,700 words

Sebastian: ~ 2,400 words

Warnings: Kissing, Angst

Author’s Note: Thanks for the request, anon! And I'm so happy you enjoy my writing ❤ I hope you don't mind I got Garreth and Sebastian in on your request haha. You can go ahead and jump to reader and Ominis' fight, there aren't any rules here. 😉 Sorry for taking so long on my fanfics! Work has been nuts lately, I've fit in writing whenever I had the drive and wasn't mentally burned out from my job. Hope you enjoy and have fun with it guys, got some good ol' angst written up for ya 😚

Songs (if interested):

Garreth’s song: War of Hearts (Acoustic Version) - Ruelle

Ominis’ song: Granite - Sleep Token

Sebastian’s song: Is It Really You? - Sleep Token, Loathe

Garreth:

When Garreth heard Headmaster Black announce your name, his blood went cold, the entertained smile vanishing from his face. But - we agreed you wouldn’t… No. No, this isn’t fun anymore. Stop this. Stop all of this now.

He watched you as you made your way up to stand with the other champions. You were smiling, happy, proud as can be that your name was chosen. But he caught the guilty look in your eye when you glanced his way. You lied to me.

The room seemed to be spinning while he sat still in his seat, looking Headmaster Black’s way but not listening to what he was saying about the tournament. His ears were ringing, he was starting to feel sick.

As soon as everyone was dismissed, Garreth shot up from his seat, wanting to get out of the Great Hall as fast as possible. You wanted to chase after him, explain yourself. But you could only watch Garreth’s form walk away as you were guided with the other champions out to discuss the tournament expectations.

Garreth had gone numb. The one he loved most had lied to him, deciding some dangerous, unnecessary tournament was worth more than him. Without thinking, he had gone to Professor Sharp’s empty classroom and started brewing whatever came to mind. He wasn’t in the mood for experimenting, he wanted to put together ingredients that made sense, he couldn’t take anymore surprises.

You had been watching him silently from the doorway for a few minutes, trying to think of what you could possibly say to him after what you had done.

Feeling someone’s presence, he turned to see who it was. He shook his head and scoffed humorlessly seeing it was you, turning back to his potions.

I deserved that welcome. “I -” You began but stopped short, not knowing how to continue.

He took a step back from his potion brew, resting his hands on the table, looking at the ground because he wasn’t quite ready to look at you. “I just want to know why. Why would you look me in the eye, promise me you wouldn’t put your name in the running, and then go off and do exactly that behind my back?” His voice was hard, his words direct.

You had never heard him be this stern with you. You didn’t think you’d ever heard him this stern with anyone. Way to go, you’ve managed to make the most fun loving, easy going person you know livid. “There’s no good excuse, Gar.”

“Don’t.” He said through gritted teeth. “You are not allowed to call me that.”

Your heart broke, but you knew you brought this on yourself.

He took a steadying breath, trying to push down his temper. “Either tell me why you did it or leave me alone.” His tone sounded like he was already done with you.

You nodded your head, quickly trying to find the words. “I… Natty put her name in.”

Garreth squeezed his eyes shut. He had heard Natty throwing the idea of entering around but he hadn’t realized she’d actually done it. If he had found out before you did, he would have done everything in his power to keep it hidden from you. Although, he didn’t know how successful he’d be when Natty was your best friend. “If she wanted to compete, that's her choice.”

“And this is mine. I’m not letting anything happen to her.”

He stood up straight then, looking at nothing in particular. He shouldn’t have expected anything different. You were the most capable person to compete for Hogwarts, and the only one in ages able to wield ancient magic, you both knew if you entered your name you’d get chosen. He had begged you to promise him you wouldn’t put your name in. But of course, it still ended up like this.

All it would take was one misstep, and you’d be taken from him forever. The thought had brought back the sickening feeling he had earlier. Wishing he had felt numb still, he sighed and rubbed at his brows with his thumb and forefinger. “Why do you have to be the hero every bloody time?” He grumbled, just loud enough for you to hear.

You looked down, feeling horrible seeing him this way. It was a new low knowing you had caused it. Garreth was always bright and full of good humor, and your betrayal seemed to wash that all away like it never existed. “I’m so sorry. I never… never wanted to hurt you.”

He finally turned your way and looked over you solemnly for a moment. You held his gaze as he walked up and cupped your cheek. “I just had to go after you, didn’t I? Why couldn’t I have gone after someone dull? Why’d it have to be you?” He gave a small shake of his head as he mused to himself. “It’s cruel being in love with you.”

It hit you then that you could lose him over this. “I know.” You whispered.

With a disappointed sigh, he released you and went back to his potions station. “You can go now.” He said with no emotion, as if he were dismissing you.

You stared after him a moment longer, then took your leave.

He poured some of the wiggenweld potion he brewed into a flask. Just as he was about to cap it, rage coursed through him and he threw the flask against the wall.

He wasn’t planning on attending any of your challenges, but he found he couldn’t keep away. He needed to keep an eye on you or he’d feel worse than he already did. He remained near the back of the audience, pacing back and forth, anxiously running his hand through his hair throughout the whole thing. The sick, nervous feeling never dissipated, he could have sworn the sensation was burning a hole through his insides.

He nearly collapsed when the challenge was over, breathing easier with so much relief washing over him. He ran down to the champions’ tent to wait for you to leave. He called your name as you walked out and you quickly turned in the direction of his voice, eyes wide that he had not only shown up, but approached you first.

He closed the distance between you two and pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you like he never wanted to let go. You wrapped your arms back around him, nearly crying at the collision.

He pulled back just enough to cup your cheek and look over your features. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?” His stomach dropped seeing all the gashes and bruises on your face.

“I’m fine.” You tried to reassure him, but his eyes darting all over you told you your words hadn’t done much reassuring.

He took your hand in his and pulled you urgently along with him. “I’m getting you to the hospital wing, and I’m going to make you some wiggenweld potions.” He stopped briefly to look you dead in the eye, no nonsense. “And you’re going to drink every single one I put in front of you.” He turned and began tugging you along again.

You smiled to yourself, not daring to disagree with him. “Yes, sir.”

On your way to the hospital wing, you walked by the wall where the Room of Requirement would be. It never showed up when you were with someone else, but that day it did. Garreth slowed to a stop, furrowing his brows as he watched the door form before him.

“What’s happening?”

“It’s the Room of Requirement. Looks like it believes we both need it now.” You tugged him in with you and his eyes went wide at it all before him.

“You’ve had all this to yourself since fifth year?” He was in awe, how could you ever want to leave this place? As his eyes explored the room, they landed back on you, and he remembered in a panic what he was originally doing. “Sit down.” He commanded. He turned and scanned the room for your potions station. Spotting it, he strode up and began on some wiggenwelds. While those took a moment to brew, he looked around for some bandages, anything to patch you up with.

“Right here.” You held them up as you sat on the couch and began working them onto yourself.

He snatched them from you, sat down, and started doing it for you. You watched him as he fixated on your scrapes and bumps. Being this close again, you wanted to kiss his freckles more than ever before. He had been avoiding you since you last spoke, you were convinced you had lost him. You probably had and this was only a moment of weakness on his part.

“I love you.” You found yourself saying. “I’d do anything for you, I hope you still know that.”

He seemed unphased by your words as he continued cleaning you up. “You’d do anything but keep your name out of a burning goblet, it seems.”

You closed your eyes and sighed through your nose. He had you there.

He stopped his movements suddenly and shifted away from you, sighing himself and leaning his elbows on his knees. “You broke my heart, you know.”

Tears stung at your eyes. But you refused to let them fall, you weren’t the victim here. All you could do was nod your head even though he wasn’t looking at you.

“You promised me you wouldn’t put your name in that damned goblet.” His voice was strained. He went silent for a moment, taking a steadying breath. “You got me thinking about life outside of Hogwarts.” He began again. “It’s only going to get worse once we leave here and we’re out there. You’re going to put yourself in worse and worse situations for others.” He rubbed his hand down his face roughly at the thought and let out a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to bear it.”

You sat up straight, trying to keep your composure as your nerves went into a stomach-turning frenzy. You knew what he was getting at.

“I don’t want to be in love with you… I don’t.” He admitted. He looked up to the potion pots and saw the wiggenwelds were done. He stood to his feet to grab them and bring them over. He knelt before you, holding up one of the flasks. “You’re to drink all three of these.” He looked up at you with a face of you don’t have a say, drink it.

You took the first one from him, downing it, then did the same for the following two. Once you finished he got up and discarded the flasks. He returned to your side on the couch and took your hand in his. He looked down at it in his lap, tracing shapes on your skin lightly with his thumb. “What I do know is that being apart from you feels so much worse. Now that… that I know I can’t bear.” He looked at you then, his face told you he was upset with himself for feeling this way, for choosing to stay by your side.

You had caused this. You had done him wrong. And he was right, things were going to get worse after Hogwarts. You really were a cruel one to love.

“I don’t know how long I'll be furious with you, but I’m thinking it’ll be a while.” He let himself get lost in your eyes for a moment. “Glad you’re okay at least.” He released your hand and got up to leave.

You were going to let him go, but you stood to your feet and stormed after him. You grabbed at him to face you and then crashed your lips onto his. You cupped his face and he shot his hands to your waist, his fingers digging deep into your sides.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes narrowed at you and he exhaled, frustrated. He was beyond exasperated with you, but he still craved you like no other. Furrowing his brows, he returned his lips to yours, moving his mouth against yours to satiate said craving. His hands slid up your back as he wrapped his arms around you.

He hadn’t realized how starved he was for your taste until he had you there in his arms again. He licked at your bottom lip, wanting to get more of you, and you gladly granted him access. Anything he wanted, you’d give it to him. He could feel your compliance, and he was tempted to see just how sorry you were.

But his hands slowly moved up to yours and removed them from his face. He tore his lips from yours and looked over your flushed features, wanting more but not allowing himself more, then he released you. “Nice try.” He turned and made his way out. “Stay sweet and I might let you call me ‘Gar’ again.” He called over his shoulder.

Ominis:

“You what?!” Ominis was fuming now, you had seen him angry with you before, but never like this.

“I thought,” You exhaled in frustration, “I thought it would help your family approve of me.”

“My family should be none of your concern!”

“I’m not a pure-blood, Ominis, you know they would never approve of me. Being the Hogwarts Champion has to mean something. If they ever find out we’re together, they’d arrange a marriage for you like that.” You said with a snap of your fingers. “This tournament could help prove my worth.”

He shook his head, pacing back and forth. “And you’d think I’d just roll over and let that happen?! This was not the answer, I’ll never understand why you thought it was.”

“There’s no need to get this upset. I might not even get picked anyway.”

His pacing came to a sudden halt, his eyebrows shot up in incredulity. “Is that supposed to be a joke? Of course your name’s going to get picked!” His fury turned into something with a bit more worry then. “I can’t help you when you're out there, you’re going to have to do all those challenges on your own.”

“Whatever they throw at me, I’ll be able to handle it. I’m sure I’ve already survived through worse than what they’re planning.”

“That’s just it! You had no control over everything that’s happened and you survived through it! This? You’re actively seeking out danger now, it’s pointless! When did you become so dim-witted as to not see that?!” Ominis regretted his words immediately, desperately wanting to take them back but unable to do so.

You were stunned for a moment he had actually spoken to you in such a way. A petty smile formed on your face. “Seems we’re done here.”

Ominis called your name in a panic as he heard you storm out of the undercroft, but you ignored him. He dug around frantically in his pocket for his wand, holding it up and having it guide him to follow where you had gone. He knew his wand didn’t work as a tracker, but he had the slightest bit of hope that if it sensed how much he needed to get to you it might help him out. But no such luck.

It had been a week since you and Ominis fought and the dreaded day had finally arrived to announce the TriWizard tournament champions. Every now and then his wand would sense you were in the same room as him, but he didn’t need his wand to be able to tell you were keeping your distance.

How could I have spoken to you the way I had? Every time he thought back to it, he wanted to ask Sebastian to punch him, just bash his face right in.

Even though Ominis knew it was coming, he was still hit with an overwhelming sense of dread when Headmaster Black announced your name. He didn’t clap with everyone else and he hoped you noticed.

He left the Great Hall with everyone else and his wand sensed Poppy was near him. An idea instantly formed in his head. “Excuse me, Poppy?”

Poppy turned her head in surprise hearing Ominis call to her. “Y - Yes, Ominis?”

It was a relief hearing your best friend’s voice still sound so friendly to him. You must not have told anyone about how he spoke to you, which only made him feel worse. He was the villain here. “I need your help with something.”

He was leaning against a tree in the woods behind the beasts class stables, hands in his pockets and tapping his foot anxiously. He heard your footsteps crunching the leaves on your way over.

“Poppy? Poppy, I’m here with the feed, what’s happened to High Wing?” You asked in a panic. When Poppy didn’t respond, you looked up from the feed in your arms and Ominis stepped forward.

You groaned and turned on your heel to leave.

“Please - just wait -”

“Want to insult me some more, do you?” You snipped without looking back at him.

“I’m going to have my family speak to Headmaster Black.” Ominis blurted, and you froze. “They’ll get you out of the games.”

He could hear you drop the feed to the ground. “Don’t you dare.” A chill went down his spine at your warning tone but he stood his ground.

“You don’t have a say in the matter. You’re not competing.”

He could hear you stomp up to him, could feel your presence, and you were close. His breath hitched when he realized you were close enough for him to feel your breath against his skin. It had hit him all at once how he hadn’t been able to touch you for a week, and he didn’t know if he was able to keep himself from closing the distance between you two right then and there.

“Back off, Gaunt. How about you sit down and shut up while I show this entire valley what this ‘dim-wit’ can do?”

Ominis’ lips parted slightly. Oh...

He fisted the fabric of your shirt and shot his lips in the direction of where he felt your breath and heard your voice. It was all too perfect getting your lips on the first try, especially with you having riled him up, speaking to him as you had.

He nipped at your lip and it drew the softest of moans from you, but he caught it. He always heard every little noise he could get out of you. Your hands went up and ran through his hair, you had missed him too, he could tell. Remembering where the tree he was leaning against was, he walked you back until you were pressed against it.

He released your shirt and brought his hands to your waist. His kisses turned less ravenous and more apologetic. He slowed and deepened his mouth movements. “I’m sorry.” He whispered against your lips. “I’m so sorry. I had no right speaking to you that way.” He said in between kisses. “There’s no excuse. I’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you.”

“Ominis, stop talking.” You sighed, greedily taking his lips again. Though his body weight was against you, keeping you trapped between him and the tree, he was the compliant one.

Ominis pulled back, as much as he wanted to keep connected to you, you two had unfinished business. “I won’t go to my family… if it’s what you really want.” Ominis said, still a bit breathless from your kiss. “Just… don’t do it for them, I beg of you. They aren't worth it.” Ominis leaned forward to kiss at your neck tenderly as he waited for your answer.

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. “It’s what I want. If not me, then who?”

His mouth on your neck stilled. As much as he hated to agree with you on this, he did. If he sent his family to speak with Headmaster Black to have another student take your place, he’d practically be sending that student to their death. You were the most capable person he had ever known, and you didn’t even need dark magic to accomplish all that you had. If anyone was going to survive this thing, it was you.

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a loving embrace. He nuzzled his face into your neck and took in your scent, reveling in this moment you had together. He thought he had ruined everything after your fight.

More than anything, he wanted to go back in time and do everything he could to stop you from ever entering your name into that Goblet. But in the end, it was always your choice, not his.

The days leading up to your first challenge, Ominis kept close to your side, constantly asking you questions on how prepared you were.

“Did you brew enough wiggenweld potions? How about we start on some thunderbrews for you as well?”

“I know how effective the chomping cabbages are, but let’s get some mandrakes and venomous tentaculas grown to be on the safe side.”

“Were you able to put that enchantment I showed you on your competition robes?”

The day of the challenge, he was able to keep his composure, but only because you asked him to. You were anxious as well, and him being sick with worry for you would only add to the frenzy of nerves within you.

He asked Sebastian to narrate everything that was happening while you were out there. Hearing Sebastian’s depiction and the blasting sounds of spells from the arena unraveled his calm exterior more and more by the second. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, leg bouncing up and down rapidly. He didn’t know how he was going to have to sit through two more of these.

Use the Unforgivables if you have to, I don’t care. He found himself thinking. Whatever it takes, just come back to me.

The sound of the crowd cheering and the feel of Sebastian roughly patting his back in excitement told him you had completed the first challenge. He immediately stood to his feet and took out his wand, his legs were jelly but he pushed through and went straight for the champions’ tent. As soon as he arrived you had run up and thrown your arms around him.

He didn’t hesitate to drop his wand to the ground and wrap his arms around you. He closed his eyes, holding you so close to him he had started to lift you off the ground a bit. He was beyond thankful to every little thing in the universe that aligned to help him get back to you.

“If you still believe my family would be able to tear me from you, you might actually be a dim-wit.”

He could feel you chuckle against him. “I’d like to see them try after what I just accomplished back there.”

Sebastian:

Sebastian had let his emotions get the better of him again. It was his fault you had been avoiding him for days now, and he couldn’t bear it any longer. He tried giving you your space but he needed to at least let you know how sorry he was. As soon as the TriWizard champions announcement ceremony was over, he’d find you and apologize. He needed to be better, he knew that.

But then your name was called.

Wait, that can’t be right. You didn’t even put your name in so how…? His breathing grew a bit heavier. No, no Professor Black read the wrong name. You told each other everything. And he specifically had you promise him you wouldn’t enter.

He watched for your features to see if you were just as confused as he was, but you weren’t. You were smiling, happily receiving congratulatory pats on the back as you walked up to stand with the champions already chosen, not glancing his way once.

He mentally willed you to look his way as you stood up there. Give me something, give me anything. Tell me with your eyes why you did this. But no use, you were up there looking as if you had no reason not to be.

When everyone was dismissed he stayed back a bit, wanting to go up to you. But you and the other champions were escorted away to discuss what was to be expected going into this tournament.

Sebastian waited outside the Great Hall until you were done. Once he saw you walking out, he pushed up off the wall he was leaning against and came up behind you, calling your name.

“Did you enter because of me? Is this my fault?”

You stopped in place, taking a moment to turn and face him. You had some trouble meeting his gaze. “You weren’t the main reason, but I’d be lying if I said you weren’t a part of it.”

“Then why? Why else would you do this?”

You looked over his dispirited features in silence for a moment. “Since the moment I arrived at Hogwarts, I felt as if I’ve been running around taking care of everyone else. And after our last fight, I… I don’t know. Something in me snapped, Sebastian. Putting my name in that Goblet, it -” You exhaled, feeling like he wouldn’t understand but you decided to tell him anyway, “it was the first time I felt like I was doing something for me.”

Sebastian looked down, it seemed you didn’t tell each other everything like he once believed. How could he have not known you felt this way? He was the one seeing you and he didn’t even realize something had been off with you.

“I know I made a promise not to do it. And for breaking that promise, I apologize. But… I don’t regret doing it.” You were ashamed at the admission, but you wanted him to know.

He realized it then when he met your gaze, he had lost you. You had been slipping away from him for a while, and he had been so blinded by his own issues he hadn’t noticed until it was too late.

A nasty, stomach turning feeling hit him all at once. “Is this… Are you ending things between us?”

His heart constricted painfully when you didn’t answer him right away, didn’t reassure him that he had it all wrong and you would never part from him. You were looking at him like you knew the next thing you were about to say would make him feel terrible.

“Sebastian, I’ll always be around to help you with Anne -”

He huffed in disbelief and turned on his heel to get out of there, as far away from you as possible. He didn’t want to hear you finish that sentence, how you had started it had already broken him enough.

He fell back onto his bed, throwing an arm over his eyes. He couldn’t stop the tears from stinging at them but he could sure as hell keep them from falling. It hurt more thinking back to the conversation and realizing that not once had you called him ‘Seb’ like you normally did. How long has it been since you had? Even more indication of how far you had drifted away. How did this happen?

When was the last time you asked him to help you with anything? There were a few times in fifth year you had asked for his help getting the triptychs, but those outings had benefited him as well in trying to get a cure for Anne. Was there ever a time he had helped you with anything that was purely for you? He was disgusted with himself, not being able to name a single time. No wonder he lost you.

And now you were going to compete in a tournament famous for being so dangerous, it was common for the participants to die. Throwing yourself into jeopardy like this, you hadn’t asked for his help. No. You had banished him from your side. How could you expect him to keep his distance in circumstances such as these?

The tears were overflowing, escaping out of his shut eyelids and he pressed his arm over them tighter. Just come back. I need you back. I’ll be better, I promise.

Ominis had advised Sebastian to give you your space, if you wanted his help you would ask for it. But all these horrifying scenarios kept popping up in his head, scenarios where you die and he could have done something to prevent it. He didn’t care if you ignored him, didn’t care if you hated him, as long as you were alive, you could feel however you damn well pleased about him.

He had scoured the library for any enchantment you could put on your competition robes, any herbology methods to make your carnivorous plants more vicious, anything to make your potions more effective.

He lost sleep over it, he didn’t mind. He’d much rather sneak into the restricted section late at night than face those nightmares of your corpse he’d been having the past week. Once he felt he had enough notes written out of all these things that could help you, he decided to find you.

He waited for you to come outside of the Room of Requirement with a notebook of everything he had researched for you. It was late but there was still a good amount of time before curfew. As the halls were getting darker and emptier, he sat on the ground, head back against the wall until you came out.

He startled a bit when the door finally formed. He sprang to his feet and straightened out his clothes as he watched you walk out. Your eyes met his and it pained him that you looked uneasy to see him.

“I um -” He cleared his throat, a bit unsure of himself now that he had your full attention. “I have something for you.” He held out the notebook to you.

You glanced down at it in his hands, then eyed him as you took it. “What’s this?”

Sebastian moved himself to your side, looking over your shoulder, opening the notebook as you held it in your hand and gave as brief an explanation as he could. He pointed out where you could find the herbology notes, the enchantment notes, and the potion notes. As he explained, your eyes drifted gradually up from the notebook to his face.

After a moment, he noticed you looking at him and not the notebook. “What?”

“Nothing.” You looked back down at the notebook. “Thank you for this.”

Sebastian didn’t say anything and stayed where he was next to you. You looked back up at him, wondering if there was something else he wanted. He hadn’t been this close to you for weeks. He missed your scent, your warmth, your lips being this close to his. He wanted to claim them again, but he knew he couldn’t. You weren’t his anymore.

Rather than pulling you close, he kept his hands to himself and gave a single nod of his head to you. Then he turned on his heel and left.

You watched him walk away in silence. You were expecting him to ask for something in return, help with some cave that had some book that mentioned some untapped magic. Just like he had always done. But he had just given you the notebook and left it at that.

Where was this Sebastian before? Truth be told, you always felt like he could walk out on you at any moment. Especially if he ever felt like he no longer had a need for your ancient magic, there were many nights you’d be up wondering if that was the only reason he was with you. This along with the way he would snap at you whenever he was frustrated, taking it out on you. He had gotten better about it since fifth year, but it still occurred.

Whether he was doing this to get you or your ancient magic back, only time would tell.

The day of your first challenge arrived, and Sebastian hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the night before. He debated not turning up at all, but the idea had made him feel nauseous. He needed to stay close to you throughout this whole thing.

Whether or not he actually watched was still up in the air. He stood behind one of the wooden beams in the audience stands, arms crossed over his chest tightly in hopes of keeping himself from throwing up. When it was announced you were up next, he squeezed his eyes shut and the blood drained from his face. This could be it, these could be your last few moments alive. He could hear you start the challenge below and sweat began to form on his forehead.

“Sebastian, you've got to see this!” Lucan Brattleby shouted to him over the crowd’s cheers.

Sebastian’s head snapped his direction, and he noticed the crowd’s faces. They weren’t biting their nails or covering their eyes in horror, they were ecstatic, brows raised and eyes wide in awe. Sebastian came out from behind the pillar and looked down into the arena below.

A rousing sensation coursed through him as he watched you. You’re glorious. He always knew you were capable and talented. He’d caught glimpses of your skill with a wand when you competed in Crossed Wands or fought side by side on your outings together. But he had never just… watched you. His worry for you in this tournament was fizzling away the more he witnessed you practically dance through this challenge in the arena below. Your footwork was clean, your defensive reflexes quick, and your offensive casts brutal.

He could watch you do this all day.

When the challenge ended, you had placed first with a sweeping victory. He couldn’t help it, he wanted to run to you and congratulate you, tell you how amazing you were himself. Even if you only gave him a fleeting glance, even if you ignored him.

His nerves went into a frenzy seeing you come out of the tent. You had spotted him right away, and you seemed genuinely pleased to see him. He was taken aback and thought his heart would burst out of his chest.

You made your way up to him and he stuttered trying to get his words out. “I - I just wanted to come by and tell you -”

“Come here.” He was silenced when you grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. He was stunned but quickly shook himself out of it, wrapping his arms around you to keep you on him like this.

You were in complete control of this kiss, and Sebastian had no complaints. Your hands moved to cup his jaw, holding him in a way that you could move his head so his mouth was right where you wanted it at all times. His heart was racing in anticipation while yours raced with adrenaline. His body was turning into a furnace for you. He knew this wasn’t a makeup kiss, this was a passionate, emotions are high kind of kiss. But he’d give it to you all the same, anything you wanted, it was yours.

You had never felt so on top of the world in your life. The sound of the crowd cheering you on so loudly the arena began to shake, completing the first challenge like it was nothing, and taking charge of Sebastian Sallow’s lips, it was all unbelievably intoxicating.

“Thank you.” You said breathily, breaking from him. “For that notebook, it helped more than you know, thank you.”

“It’s nothing compared to what you’ve done for me.” He shook his head, then placed his forehead on yours. “You deserve so much more.”

You stroked his cheek with your thumb, taking in his freckles, soaking in this short moment where you two were close again.

“Can you see yourself coming back to me?” He found himself asking.

You took a moment to answer as you kept your hold on each other. “I don’t know… I still love you. I think I always will. But -” You thought on your words carefully and Sebastian stiffened, tightening his hold on you, afraid of letting you slip away again. “I don’t know if I have anything more to give.”

“I’m not asking you to give anything.” He said quickly, voice just above a whisper. “I don’t care if you never help me with finding a cure again. Just… Please, don’t tear yourself away from me.”

You looked into his eyes, not wanting to break this moment, unsure of what was supposed to happen next. “I need more time.”

He closed his eyes briefly at that answer, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t what he wanted you to say, but there was still hope in it. He’d wait, as long as it took. And he’d continue helping you in this tournament whether you liked it or not.

#sebastian sallow imagine #garreth weasley x mc #garreth weasley x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow fanfiction #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley imagine #garreth weasley fanficiton #ominis gaunt x mc #ominis gaunt fanficiton #ominis gaunt imagine #ominis gaunt x reader #ominis gaunt x you

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inkspiredwriting · 1 month ago

Text

The Empty Chair

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I've decided to only post on Mondays. I just think that makes a lot more sense at the moment. I hope you aren't disappointed because of this.

Warnings: none

The Hargreeves dining room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, a soft and inviting ambiance created by flickering flames that danced across the walls. Plates and dishes were carefully arranged on the long wooden table, the aroma of a lovingly prepared meal wafting through the air. It was a rare occasion when the siblings managed to gather together, a break from the chaos and unpredictability of their lives. Yet, despite the warmth and togetherness, a somber note lingered in the air, manifesting in the empty chair that stood starkly at the table.

Y/n Hargreeves sat quietly, her gaze constantly drifting to that vacant chair, its absence a glaring reminder of who was missing—Five. The table was bustling with chatter and laughter as his siblings tried to maintain a semblance of normalcy, but Y/n’s heart ached for the man who should have been sitting beside her, his sharp wit and wry humor adding his unique flavor to the evening.

Luther was at the head of the table, carving the roast with his usual precision. He caught Y/n’s eye and offered a sympathetic smile, but it did little to alleviate the heaviness in her chest. Diego and Klaus were bickering playfully, their voices overlapping in a spirited debate about who had done the most daring thing that week. Allison and Viktor were discussing a new movie, their faces animated with excitement. Ben was teasing Diego, he chimed in with a sarcastic comment.

Yet, despite the lively conversation and the efforts to keep the mood light, there was a palpable tension, an unspoken acknowledgment of the empty space that haunted the room.

Diego leaned back in his chair, waving a fork at Klaus. “You can’t seriously believe that fighting a bear with a switchblade is more dangerous than defusing a bomb!”

Klaus snorted, taking a sip of his wine. “Oh, please. You just want to be the hero in every story, don’t you? Besides, the bear was huge. And I didn’t even have a switchblade. It was more like a really angry squirrel.”

“More like a hallucination,” Ben quipped, rolling his eyes. “You probably imagined the whole thing.”

Allison chuckled, shaking her head. “Let’s just agree that both of you are equally reckless and move on. How about that new movie we watched, Viktor? What did you think of it?”

Viktor nodded, his eyes lighting up. “I loved it. The storyline was so gripping, and the cinematography was stunning.”

As the conversation flowed around her, Y/n forced a smile, trying to engage, but her mind kept wandering back to Five. She could almost see him there, his usual scowl softening into a rare, genuine smile as he made some sarcastic remark about Diego’s bravado or Klaus’s outrageous stories.

Y/n’s gaze lingered on the empty chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her wine glass. She couldn’t shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at her, a void that the evening’s laughter and chatter couldn’t fill. Five was out there, somewhere, caught up in his work with the CIA. She knew it was important, that he was doing what he had to do, but that knowledge did little to ease the loneliness she felt in his absence.

Luther, noticing her distraction, cleared his throat. “So, Y/n, how’s work been lately? Anything interesting?”

Y/n blinked, snapping out of her reverie. “Oh, it’s been busy,” she replied, her voice soft. “Nothing too exciting, just the usual stuff.”

Allison leaned forward, her eyes filled with concern. “You know, Five will be back soon. He always finds his way home.”

Y/n nodded, managing a small smile. “I know. It’s just… I miss him. We all do.”

Klaus reached across the table, placing a hand on hers. “Hey, we get it. That little bastard is a pain, but he’s our pain. And he’ll come back with some ridiculous story about how he saved the world single-handedly.”

The table erupted in laughter, and for a moment, the heaviness lifted. Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

As the evening wore on, the laughter and stories flowed more freely, the family finding comfort in each other’s company. They shared memories, recounted old adventures, and teased each other mercilessly, the bonds between them growing stronger with each passing moment.

Y/n found herself relaxing, the warmth of the evening seeping into her bones. She laughed at Klaus’s antics, rolled her eyes at Diego’s bragging, and joined in the playful banter with Allison and Viktor. For a little while, the emptiness seemed to fade, replaced by the love and camaraderie that filled the room.

But as the candles burned low and the conversation began to wind down, her gaze inevitably returned to the empty chair. The evening’s laughter had been a balm, but it couldn’t completely erase the ache of Five’s absence.

As the others began to clear the table and gather dishes, Y/n stood and walked over to the empty chair. She ran her fingers over the backrest, her heart heavy with longing. She could almost feel his presence, a ghostly echo of the man she loved.

Luther approached, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He’ll come back,” he said softly. “Five’s always found a way to return to us.”

Y/n nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I know. It’s just hard sometimes, not knowing where he is or when he’ll be back.”

Luther squeezed her shoulder, his expression filled with understanding. “We’re here for you, Y/n. We’re all in this together.”

Y/n smiled, wiping her eyes. “Thanks, Luther. That means a lot.”

As the family began to disperse, Y/n lingered a moment longer by the chair. She took a deep breath, steeling herself against the wave of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her. She knew that she had to be strong, not just for herself, but for Five as well. He needed her to be his anchor, to keep the light burning until he could find his way back to her.

She walked to the window, lighting a single candle and placing it on the sill. Its warm glow flickered against the glass, a beacon of hope in the darkness. She knew it was a small gesture, but it felt like a way to reach out to him, to let him know that she was waiting, that she would always be waiting.

As she watched the flame dance in the darkness, she whispered softly, “Come home soon, Five. We need you here.”

The night outside was cold and silent, the stars distant and indifferent. But the candle’s light burned bright and steady, a symbol of the love and hope that would guide him back to her.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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m00nsbaby · 1 year ago

Text

Clumsy II.

Marc Spector + Steven Grant x F! Reader. Next part to "Clumsy." (Or Already Over IV)

Tags & warnings. You already know the deal lol + Marc is still a jerk. (Sorry btw) This is the last part of the mini saga. :)

Word count. 2.9k

Summary.

I let you down, I've been clumsy with your heart again, I guess you figured me out, Now here's a taste of my own medicine. Caught at the end of the lifeline, The catch of a lifetime. Oh, we were destined for danger, Familiar strangers.

Everything you had done for the past 2 years had been for Steven, reaching the point of having him as motivation to get out of bed.

Unfortunately, this day was no different. If you had managed to muster the courage to stand up and accept Jake's unusual invitation, it was purely for him.

The part about choosing a nice dress was a personal choice, though.

"So, then…?"

"4 o'clock sounds perfect." His voice was soft on the other end of the line. Not quite like Steven's, but Jake's voice had something… special.

Something that could make your cheeks blush just by hearing it.

"4 o'clock at your apartment then."

"Steven is excited." The mention churned your stomach.

Truth be told, you had been on autopilot for quite a while, even before Jake made his proposal. There were small details that brought you back to reality, even if it was just for a few seconds—seconds in which you physically felt the consequences.

"I'll see you in a bit, Jake." You hung up. You couldn't set his expectations too high. This wasn't going to be a romantic reunion or your way of saying, 'Everything's okay, it was just a misunderstanding.' Instead, it was your way of bringing closure to things with Marc. If it weren't for Jake, he would still cling to the idea that he doesn't need you in his life.

Knowing that at least more than one person was on your side had given you the strength to face it, and to question whether maybe you weren't the one who was wrong in this situation.

"It won't be long, buddy." You told your cat as he nudged his nose towards you. He meowed back. "Take care of the house, okay?"

Marc had been inconsolable for about two weeks now, and the news of Jake's arrival weighed heavier on him than any of the three would have liked.

It was just another way of reminding himself how messed up he was. If getting used to Steven had been an ordeal, this would probably be World War II.

He would scream at himself in the mirror or break anything that could show his reflection, depending on his mood. Meanwhile, Steven felt like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He stopped being the one who took care of Marc, at least for a few days, and he had time to experience his grief as it should be.

Jake was compassionate towards both of them. He somehow understood what they were going through.

"I don't want her here!" He drank from his whiskey, savoring the burn in his throat.

It was 11 in the morning. His hand moved on its own, throwing the bottle to the ground, shattering it into a million pieces.

"Idiot," he growled.

Steven said nothing, only chuckled to himself at the mere idea that Marc probably looked insane.

He'd let him argue with Jake as much as he wanted.

"It's for your own good." It was the only thing he heard back in his head, and Marc had to put both hands over his face as a way to console himself. He was drunk, with a terrible headache, and a strong urge to give up on life, although lately, that was nothing out of the ordinary. "Give me the body."

He accepted it without protest, and even the strongest of the three groaned at the sudden dizziness and the awful state in which Marc always left the body whenever he had it in his possession.

He showered, cleaned up. Did everything the other two hadn't been doing during these sick days, even answered your call.

And when he was done, his leg trembled up and down as he stared at the clock on his wall, which showed the exact 23 minutes left until your arrival.

And despite being the most prepared of the three, he nearly jumped in fright when you knocked on his door. Exactly three times to let him know it was you, something he learned from your secret techniques with Steven.

When he opened the door, both of you exchanged smiles, which was unusual. Yours was nervous, shouting 'I'm glad to see you but I fear what might happen,' and his, on the other hand, seemed quite excited.

Even more so when you hugged each other as a way of greeting, even if the contact only lasted a few seconds.

"I'm glad you came," he whispered as he closed the door behind you.

"I told you I would."

"Yes, I… yes." He cleared his throat; he could feel the burn as if he was still drinking whiskey. "Come in, let's go to the bedroom."

You filled your lungs with oxygen, enjoying the scent of Steven before nodding slowly.

"Is Marc going to…?"

"Yes." He interrupted instantly, biting his lower lip as if he was hiding something. He directed you to his bedroom, although you already knew the paths within his house perfectly well. "I need you to listen to me and trust me."

You frowned.

"Huh?" You entered his room slowly. And he closed the door behind you.

Your expression became even more confused when you saw him lock the door.

"Sorry, there's no way he won't escape if I don't do this."

"Jake?"

"Sorry," he repeated, stepping back.

Forcing the switch between them was always uncomfortable, especially when he had to put in double the effort to get Marc out, as he clung to hiding. Unfortunately for him, Jake was stronger.

You noticed the change in his expression almost immediately. You would recognize that furrowed brow anywhere, and while it looked slightly puzzled, he didn't take long to place himself.

When his gaze settled on you, Marc could swear his heart stopped.

He had spent so much time dreaming of you that he completely forgot certain details about you that were undoubtedly better in person.

"Marc?" You whispered shyly, almost fearfully. You hadn't seen him since he cruelly broke up with you.

Your heart raced, even after all the damage he had done to you.

"I have to… Uh." The air got stuck in his lungs. After several seconds of staring at you, he averted his gaze, stumbling clumsily over his feet to the door.

He tried to open it but it didn't give way. Jake had done his job well. He gave it another tug and grew even more nervous.

"Marc!" You called for his attention, your brow furrowing. Barely 3 seconds together and you were already losing patience.

This wasn't going well.

"What?!"

"Stop it!" Finally, he looked at you, and in a matter of seconds, it seemed like his eyes had welled up with fear. Did he fear you? You, who had to tilt your chin up to look him in the face because he was noticeably taller than you. "Stop it." You repeated, this time in a low tone.

"I don't want to talk to you, I won't."

Ouch.

"Either that or you'll have to break down the door, and Steven won't…"

"Steven doesn't even talk to me!" The sudden way he raised his voice made you jump slightly, and you pressed your lips together at the news.

Would it be wrong to admit that this was something you were expecting? You remained silent for a few seconds, and you swore you could hear his ragged breathing, as if he had the right to be angry with you.

"Jake won't let you out unless we do this now." You cleared your throat as you crossed your arms over your chest.

He cursed internally at how adorable you looked in that gesture.

"You and I have nothing left to talk about."

His words sent a wave of heat through your whole body.

"What did you say, Marc?"

"That you and I do…"

"You're an idiot," you whispered with a sarcastic laugh, and he finally fell silent. It had been so long since his ego had been hurt that he almost felt good about the slight pain in his chest. "You hurt me. Like no one ever did before."

He fell silent, waiting for you to continue, but he didn't let his guard down. You could see it in his irritated expression.

“You blamed me for… You blamed me for loving Steven. You let me live with the burden of thinking that I had destroyed your life.”

"You did." He whispered. It was visible how tense his body was, and you laughed sarcastically again at his words.

"Don't give me that, Marc Spector." You spat his name out with resentment. It was the first time you allowed yourself to be angry with him after forcing empathy for him for so long. "You got what you wanted. Layla? Your life made out of lies? Pushing Steven away from you?"

His expression finally wavered, even if it was only for a few seconds.

"Layla left me."

The news hit you like a bucket of cold water.

That made everything make more sense. The sudden appearance of Jake, his insistence on you talking to them, coming back. They were using you as a second option now that they had nothing left, trying to get you back as if nothing happened.

After all, you had always been the foolish one at Marc's service, willing to give up everything for him whenever he asked.

This wouldn't be one of those times.

You gathered all the strength you had in your small body to push him with both hands. He barely stepped back, stumbling in surprise at your sudden attempt to attack.

"I hate you!" Your voice broke.

His heart raced as if he had run a marathon, yet he didn't say anything.

"I hate you, Marc!" You sobbed, giving him another push. This time he didn't even move.

He stood still, and his hands trembled.

"Why are you doing this to me?" You were still the only one speaking. You sounded devastated, even more so than the day when you almost begged him for a chance. "Why?"

And, as usual, you got no answer. In fact, you got nothing; Marc wasn't even looking at you.

The truth was, despite having to deal with Steven and Layla telling him these kinds of things, coming from you was… worse. It was like a doubly more horrible shock therapy. The pain in your voice was something he had never heard before, and the truth was, he never wanted to hear it again.

You were choking him without even laying your hands on him. The words wouldn't come out, and his feet were rooted to the ground; he couldn't even look at you.

"You're killing me, Marc." You whispered as if the strength had left you. After receiving nothing from him, you knew it wasn't worth fighting, not with him. "You don't want to be with me." Admitting it aloud left a bitter taste in your mouth. "But you won't let me go. Don't you realize what you're doing?"

It was you, as usual, who crouched down. You sought his gaze, regardless of the mess you were in.

He looked back at you, and you waited.

You waited, and you waited.

When time passed, you knew what his answer was. Marc would never take a risk, or at least he wouldn't do it for you. He was too stubborn, and you doubted that he would ever lower his eternal guard.

The day Steven begged on his knees not to leave hurt, but somehow it was worse to receive silence from Marc. Knowing how little you mattered to him based on his actions.

"I understand," you whispered, wiping your tears with the back of your thumb. "Jake? Can you let me out?"

You reached out to grab the door handle, and he grabbed your wrist.

"Let go of me."

It sounded like a threat.

He, once again, didn't respond; he tugged on your wrist and almost made you let out a shriek as you collided with his chest.

Marc was so quick that you didn't even have a chance to react when his free hand positioned itself on your chin, pressing it between his fingers and holding it firmly.

Yet, you didn't protest; you let him guide you until his lips met yours. There was your answer.

When they finally kissed, tears welled up in your eyes again. In fact, you suddenly felt like you were drowning against his mouth, as if you wanted to groan but refused to break the contact between you two.

"I hate you," you said with difficulty against his mouth, trying to convince yourself of what you had said. He just made a small 'hmm' sound against your lips.

Apparently, neither of you trusted your words.

He let go of your wrist when he made sure you no longer wanted to touch the doorknob, but he continued to hold your chin. Eventually, he also took you by the waist and brought you even closer if that was possible.

His kisses were rough, so forceful that for a moment you doubted this body was the same as that of your ex-partner. Steven had never been like this. You also wondered if this was just a result of pain and desperation, or if his kisses were always like this.

With just two steps, your body was squeezed between his and the wall.

"I love you."

Your stomach turned.

"I love you." His kisses didn't allow you to respond. You wouldn't know this, but his fear wouldn't allow him to hear what you might say about it. "I love you." His fingers tightened their grip on your chin. "I love you." He sounded desperate. In pain.

You responded to each of his kisses, and you noticed that he needed a few more seconds to find calm.

"She left me because she knows I love you." He said quickly when he finally gave you a chance to breathe. His forehead rested against yours, and those big brown eyes were fixed on you. "S-She knows… She realized that…" He stammered. There was nothing more horrible for Marc Spector than expressing his feelings, giving explanations. "S-She…”

You were worth it.

You were worth throwing his pride to the wind.

"You took my heart when you left. You took everything." He admitted in a whisper and didn't receive an answer by his own choice.

He kissed you again as if his life was slipping through his fingers.

You didn't talk for the rest of the afternoon. You received all the kisses he had to give, and he allowed himself to feel your delicate hands on him. Massaging his shoulders at times or stroking his curls as you used to do for Steven.

His heart skipped a beat when he realized that you were doing it for him this time. You were taking care of him.

"Did you miss me?" His voice was so sweet that even with your face flushed from crying, you managed to smile.

Everything was so easy with Steven.

"I already told you I did." You laughed like a little girl who was recovering from a scolding or perhaps a tantrum. You even felt lightheaded, just like in many childhood instances when you had cried until your throat begged for a break.

"How much?" His fingers traced your waist, and you sighed at the familiarity of the sensation.

"With all my heart."

His eyes lit up at your words. Poor Steven had been through so much that he could swear this was a mirage or an illusion from his brain. There was no way you were really there in front of him.

As beautiful as ever.

"I bet I missed you more." You laughed again, specifically because you knew he meant it. You missed that smile so much that you decided to agree with him. You placed a hand on his cheek and nodded.

"I bet you did, love."

Steven could have burst with happiness right then and there.

"I have to go home, Steven." You spoke again, your thumb gently pressed against his cheek, right where his smile ended.

The news hit him hard. So much that you almost wanted to laugh.

He was terrified that you wouldn't come back, that you would consider this just a momentary mistake and nothing more.

"B-But I…"

"Sekhmet is alone." You corrected him with a slight smile, trying to give him the confidence he seemed to urgently need.

He nodded silently, looking like a sad puppy.

"Do you want to come with me?" Ah, there it was. His eyes were on you again as if he couldn't believe your offer.

No wonder you had never doubted Steven's love. The guy looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing his eyes had ever seen, even after everything that had happened, not to mention the 300 times he had apologized to you for something he hadn't done.

"Can I, love?"

"You can spend the night there."

Silence. Seconds of silence before he nodded so quickly that his curls fell onto his face, making you laugh.

A genuine laughter that lit up your entire face, much like the one he had caused on your last date when he lifted you up in his arms and Sekhmet entered their lives.

Steven felt his heart skip a beat and his cheeks turn rosy.

"Let's go!" He gave you a little nudge, and you laughed again. "Jake can drive."

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