#WE SHALL RAISE AGAINST THE WORLD

[firemenenthusiast]

me showing all my friends tenochs instagram and his adorable posts (also the naughty ones) to spread tenoch huerta agenda. so far everyone is on board 😈

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP Fanfic idea: Love at first (club) Meeting.

Damian wants to make friends in school. He asked Colin what he should do to get this accomplishment after months of failure.

The friend recommended joining school clubs, affectionately telling him that he was in a sewing club at his own public school.

Damian didn't see how getting into an organization dedicated to some hobby was going to cause friendships, but Colin seemed to have a decent amount of friends when he wasn't running around as Abuse.

He went to check on the clubs available, but nothing really got his attention. There was the art club but only one meeting told him that it wasn't for him. The club was more for his classmates to stand around and chit chat.

None of them actually did any art, seeing as the ussually club advisor was away on maternity leave. The substitute is the baseball couch on off-season, and although he encouraged everyone to draw, it wasn't the same amount of fun as normal activities.

The other kids assured him that they would be painting and sculpting once Mrs. Flor came back, but Damian didn't want to wait.

So he leaves and tries to find a new one. The world history club bored him with useless trivia, and the chess club had no worthy challengers.

Damian decides to try one last time before giving up, when he encounters Daniel Fenton trying to get a second signature for his Ghost Hunting Club.

Fenton is from outside of Gotham. He moved here with his family after Father bought out his family business, having turned their research into defenses against aliens. Damian had seen him around school, but other than the occasional bully, no one paid too much attention to him.

Gotham Academy had four requirements for a student run club. There had to be two members to be officially started. They needed to keep a clear recap of their club minutes, a teacher had to sign as their advisor and, for the first two years, had to be without a bank account.

Fenton held up his pathetic sign-up sheet in front of passing students. He stammers, "Would like to join the Ghost hunter-um if I could bother you for a moment - are you interested in-excuse me"

Damian watches Fenton try over and over to ask for a second club memeber, but no one bothers to even hear his full question. They walk right by him as if though they could see through Fenton. He can't say why but that upsets him.

Before Damian knows what he's doing he finds his feet marching towards Fenton. The boy is staring down at his clipboard with a disheartened expression before he spots Damian.

Fenton's jaw drops, and his eyes grow impossiblely wide as Damian gets closer. He draws his clip board up to his chest, staring at the Wayne as if he was the most fascinating thing he's ever seen.

Surely Damian is not that different looking than any other human. Why is he acting like that?

"Good morning," He says when he finally stands in front of Fenton. The boy's face turns s red "I am Damian Wayne."

"Hi, I'm Danny, um Fenton, I'm Danny Fenton," the other rambles while nervously tapping his fingers on the back of the clipboard.

"Well, met Fenton. I overheard you are requesting signatures for a club?"

"Oh!" Fenton turns the clipboard but in his haste it slips from his hold, landing on the ground with loud thump. Damian raises a brow while Fenton breaks out into a sweat.

Damian leans down to grab the board at the same time, Fenton throws himself forward, and he sees the collusion before it happens, but Damian knows that a regular child wouldn't be able to dodge it without raising questions. He allows Fenton's forhead to slam against his with a hiss.

"I'm sorry!" Fenton gasps out, but Damian heeds him no mind, as he signs the form with a flourish. The harsh strokes of his pen echo in the hallway, informing Damian that he needs to head to class before the second bell.

"I shall see you after school. We can see the famous haunted bathroom in the gym. " He tells the fool, slapping the clipboard into the boy's hand. Damian twists on his heel, strutting away. He throws a hand over his shoulder, calling back. "Ta"

He misses the look of utter awe adoration aimed at his back or the rapid growing infatuation in his clubmates' eyes.

It's the start of Damian's very odd club because he finds he actually enjoys walking around the school trying to find readings for ghosts. He even enjoys following Fenton to abandon buildings, dark sewers and sitting around with childish recordings asking for any signs of the afterlife.

That's mostly due to how nervous Fenton was when wandering into haunted places. He finds great joy in watching Fenton try to put a brave face on despite shaking in his boots when a ghost might be around.

It may be cruel of Damian, but it's highly entertaining.

Danny is not scared of ghosts - that would be a bit counterproductive given his Halfa status. He is crushing hard on Damian Wayne, and when he has a crush, he gets ridiculous nervous around them that it's easier to blame the shaking, the sweating and shuttering on phasmophobia.

But could anyone blame him? Damian Wayne is a walking work of art, so much that when Danny first saw him in the hallway, he was half sure, the surroundings had dimmed.

He wasn't exaggerating when Danny thought Damian had stardust and white doves floating around his head at all times. He was that stunning.

And he had walked up to Danny to join his club, the one he had been trying for almost a week to get started because he was tired of being a friendless loser and took up Sam's advice in a desperate last ditch effort. He is so glad he had that video call with her because without it, he would never have gotten to speak to Damian.

They were in different classes, had different lunch periods, and frankly, Damian was the son of the richest man in the country. Danny was the random kid on scholarship with creepy ghost powers hunting other ghosts.

He wrote poems about Damian's eyes when flying over Gotham, sighing like a pathetic school boy. He also dodges a kuni shoot at him by Robin.

Ugh, he hates that guy. He's so rude and has been trying to hunt Danny down ever sense they arrived in Gotham. He was scary good at what he did, and the only reason Danny stayed free was Robin not understanding that he was after a ghost.

Robin thought he was a meta and had attack because of that. Which, racist much? Danny openly mocked him just to get on Robin's nerves.

Batman let Robin cause after the meta because he could tell from that little smile as he raced after the glowing figure that Damian found the other attractive. It reminds him of his early years chasing Catwoman across the rooftops.

Maybe Gotham wasn't so bad a move after all.

[adoreddestiny]

Hiiiii <3

I love your works sm they're so cuteeee

Can I request a situation of the boys' reaction to having to share a bed with you, and when they wake up the next morning they've ended up cuddling you in their sleep? I feel like Xavier could literally end up on top of you, Rafayel might take your arm captive or have his head on your chest, and I feel like Zayne might end up holding your hand, hehe.

Tysmmmmm, take careeee! <33

ೃ⁀➷ ONE BED? NO PROBLEM — xavier, zayne x gn!reader

"What do you mean there's only one bed available in the room?"

ೃ⁀➷ zayne

zayne doesn't seem to mind when you glance back him from over your shoulder. he raises an eyebrow, silently waiting for you to continue with check-in. you let out a sigh, taking the silver key that the hostess hands you.

after inviting you to a medical conference, you didn't expect to be sharing a hotel room with the stoic man. a fresh waft of steam escaped the bathroom door as you opened it. zayne seemed to be busy with his work once more, sitting at the desk by the large-paned windows with his head buried in his laptop.

his hair stuck to the back of his neck and tiny droplets of water occasionally dripped from the strands. striding over, you hovered over his shoulder a moment. his hands stop their movements and he turns his head curiously.

"are you heading to bed now? we will have to be up early tomorrow," he says.

"oh yeah," you say, glancing to the bed behind you. he follows your gaze before returning to his work.

"if you prefer to sleep on the bed, i can sleep at the desk," he says, tone as even as ever.

you shake your head immediately. sure, you seemed to find him napping in his office more than once, but it didn't seem right to offer him space on such a large bed. "no, i don't mind if you take the bed too."

zayne's fingers stop their animated dance across his keyboard once more and he stares back at you with the same unreadable expression. for a moment though, he seems almost amused with your answer.

"alright," he murmurs, pulling his glasses off his face and shutting his laptop off, "then, let's head to bed, shall we?"

you're not sure how your heart can handle itself so well as you lay in bed. the soft sounds of the city seep in from the closed windows and darkness confines the two of you. the bed is large enough for you both to have your own space but you can't help but find yourself conscious of his presence just mere inches away from you.

does he feel just as nervous? can he somehow hear your heart through the reckless silence? your questions go unanswered as you succumb to sleep.

zayne does his best to keep himself from turning around. his back faces you as he attempts to calm his heart. he's a gentleman and he shouldn't attempt to hold you simply because you're laying beside him.

but as he hears the sound of your soft snoring, he turns around. his eyes settle on your sleeping figure. the soft moonlight stark against your skin as you sleep without a care in the world. zayne reaches a hand out; his fingers grazing your cheek for a second before pulling away. would it be wrong of him to simply wrap his arms around you, pull you close? so close that he could hear the sound of your heartbeat against his and your breath against his neck?

he doesn't have time to rationalize it before he's reacting instinctively. your body feels warm against his. just a second longer he assures himself that he'll let you go and things will go as they always have been tomorrow morning.

but when morning comes, sleep encourages him to hold you a little closer. the sweet scent of your shampoo fills his lungs as he slowly awakens. you're shifting beneath the sheets as well, burying your face in his chest with a satisfied sigh.

ೃ⁀➷ xavier

you stare out the window of your apartment. from the bathroom, you can hear the muffled roar of the shower head. you’re certain xavier had everything he needed. towel, shampoo, whatever else he wanted. but it was the sheer idea that he was here in your apartment of all places to sleep over that was making your nerves twist.

but what were you supposed to do when your poor neighbor had texted you about some issue with his apartment and was literally ready to sleep on the streets? so now you were taking him in like a wet dog in the rain.

your thoughts were interrupted when the bathroom door opened. a seething wave of steam flooded into the bedroom as xavier walked out. he was already wrapped up in his hoodie and sweatpants with a towel tossed lackadaisically over his sopping wet hair. speaking of a wet dog you supposed….

“sorry if i took too long,” he says, voice soft and warm from his hot shower. he scoots over towards you, still not attempting to dry his hair.

“you’re fine,” you say quickly, “do you need a blow dryer?”

he blinks softly before shaking his head. a singular droplet of water cascades down a strand of hair. you raise an eyebrow, patting the spot on the bed next to you.

“if you don’t dry your hair before you sleep, you’ll get sick,” you scold. he doesn’t pause regardless of his answer, plopping down in the mattress. it allows you to each up and peel the towel off his head. “i’ll dry it for you, turn around.”

he doesn’t protest, but there’s an amused look in his eyes when he leans his head forward for you. your hands make quick work of the slowly drying hair. you’re somewhat mesmerized by the sheer softness of it. as you finish, your hand cards through his scalp.

he takes your wrist gently. a gentle thump in your heart resounds. “we should head to bed right?” xavier asks.

and when the two of you are laying in the stillness. the sounds of your breathing intermingle amongst each other and the beating of your hearts sync.

xavier’s eyes are closed. his eyelashes are long. you can’t help but admire them. your hand slowly reaching out to close the distance between you two. it rests against his cheek, soaking in the features of his apparently sleeping expression.

then in his sleepy haze, his arms wrap around your waist as if ushering you closer. pressed up against his chest, you can inhale your own shampoo swimming through his own natural scent.

“xavier… are you awake?”

silence greets you, but xavier’s hold around you gets a little tighter.

ೃ⁀➷ rafayel and sylus coming soon…

[thatbloodymuggle]

MASTERMIND (vii)

SEVEN - THE MANUSCRIPT

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 9.2k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, heavy angst, love confessions, cliff hanger

The afternoon sun filters through the curtains of your new apartment, casting a warm glow over the freshly furnished space. Velaris lays sprawled beneath you, and the fifth story height gives you an incredible view of the Illyrian mountains in the distance. The studio is modest compared to the grandeur of the House of Wind. But despite the downsizing of your bed and the slightly cramped organization of furniture, it holds a certain freedom—one you haven’t known before, one that lets you breathe more clearly.

A soft breeze seeps through the French doors you keep ajar as you settle into a chair by the balcony. You sink into the comfort of the plush seat as you begin sifting through the pile of documents that has accumulated over the past few weeks. Your work as Scholar has become a reprieve during this period of change. The intricacies of ancient texts and political correspondences offer a semblance of normalcy that have kept you grounded since your return to the Night Court. But as enjoyable as your work has been, the golden rays shining through the windows make the pile of parchment in front of you seem like more of a chore than usual. You try to immerse yourself in your work, but you keep finding your gaze being drawn to the city outside. 

“Enjoying the view?” a gruff voice sounds from behind you.

You shriek and jump in your seat, sending papers flying through the air. You whip around, and your frantic heartbeat settles as you lay eyes on the intruder.

Cassian grins back at you with a devilish glint in his hazel eyes. You narrow your own into a menacing glare as you gather the jumbled mess of parchment from the ground.

“Is privacy a foreign concept for Illyrians? Or do you just take pleasure in barging in whenever you see fit?” you grumble.

Cassian chuckles as he leans against the doorframe. His gaze wanders over the mess of documents scattered across the floor, but he makes no move to help you. “Rhys sent me to fetch you. He’s called an urgent meeting about treaty developments.”  

You roll your eyes, “My point still stands. You could’ve knocked.”

The general raises an eyebrow, “Where’s the fun in that?” He pushes off the doorframe and offers you a hand. You reluctantly take it, letting him pull you up from the ground. “I’m just trying to save you from drowning in paperwork. Besides, I heard the new developments are big. Figured you’d want to be there.”

You dust off your hands and meet his gaze, a mischievous smile ghosting over your lips. “How big are we talking? Fate-of-the-world big or just enough to make me question my sanity?”

Cassian’s grin widens, “A little bit of both. It’s not every day we get to negotiate peace treaties with horny high lords with a penchant for trouble.”

You sigh, stretching your limbs, “Fine, I’ll come. But only if you promise to not sneak up on me like that again. I nearly had a heart attack.”

“Deal,” Cassian lies through a toothy grin. “But only if you promise not to screech like that again. I swear you nearly ruptured my ear drums.”

You cross your arms over your chest, “I suggest you keep that in mind next time you decide to barge in unannounced.”

“Noted,” Cassian replies, “Shall we?”

You grab a jacket and head toward the door, with Cassian falling into step beside you. “Lead the way, then. And try to keep your snark to a minimum until after the meeting, okay?”

Cassian chuckles again, his tone light and teasing, “No promises. After all, what’s life without a little mischief?”

As you stroll through the lively streets of Velaris, the conversation flows effortlessly. Cassian’s banter provides a welcome distraction from the glaringly unresolved areas of your life. Most notably, a certain half-sister.

Your return to the Night Court has been smoother than you anticipated. Feyre and Elain have been incredibly kind and courteous, Amren has treated you like you never left, and Azriel and Cassian welcomed you with open arms—literally, they tackled you to the floor. You’ve even found yourself spending more time with Nesta, whom you now regularly exchange books with. All is good—all except Mor.

You know your sister well. You know that she can hold a mean, unrelenting grudge. But you’ve never found yourself on the opposing end, receiving the brunt of her anger. She hasn’t so much as looked at you since your return, evading every attempt you make to talk to her. At first, guilt consumed you. The disdainful look in her eye threw you back into the slew of emotions you felt while you were at Autumn—the feeling that you were committing a grave betrayal to your only family. But as the weeks have passed, guilt has transformed into something more bitter. How are you meant to repair your relationship, when she won’t so much as meet your eye? 

“I can practically hear the gears turning in your head. Penny for a thought?” Cassian’s rumbling voice halts your train of thought.

You tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze. He towers over you, but despite his size, his playful eyes resemble that of a puppy. “Nothing,” you smile softly, “Just thinking about being back here. I missed it a lot.”

His mouth stretches into a toothy grin, “So you missed me?”

You smile turns into a glower, “I didn’t say that.”

“Don’t be embarrassed, Bookworm. I know you’re in love with me,” he drawls, “And although I’m a taken man, I’m sure Nes wouldn’t mind inviting a third into the bedroom.”

Your cheeks flare and you slap him harshly. He doesn’t so much as flinch, but his face pales at your next words.

“Don’t think for a minute that I’m above tattling on you, Batboy. I’m sure Nesta won’t be so amused at your perversion.”

“You wouldn’t.”

You cock a brow, “Don’t test me.”

“Touché,” he relents. 

A proud grin curls onto your lips at the trivial victory. But the smirk is immediately wiped from your face as Cassian lunges towards you. The scream has barely left your lips when he wraps you tightly in his arms and soars into the air. 

“I’m going to kill you!” Your cry is barely audible through the wind whipping around you, but you can feel the rumble of Cassian’s laugh. Despite your anger, you cling to him for dear life. This isn’t your first time flying with him, but the stomach lurching feeling of soaring through the air never ceases to surprise you. You shut your eyes tightly, willing the nausea to stay put in your gut.

The second your feet touch the ground, you lunge at the Illyrian warrior. Much to your displeasure, he expertly avoids your right hook. You send another his way, which he easily catches in his own hand.

“Let me have one,” you grunt, “I deserve it.”

His hazel eyes glisten with amusement. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that, nerd.”

A growl rips through your throat, but before you can throw yourself at him once more, the High Lady’s commanding voice slices through the air.

“Would you two quit bickering for once?”

The stern look on Feyre’s face leaves no room for debate. Reluctantly, you step away from Cassian.

“Sorry, your highness,” he dips his head in apology, but his irksome smirk remains. 

“I’m not,” you glower at him.

Feyre rolls her eyes but doesn’t comment on your obstinance. Instead, she beckons you forward. “Well come on, then. Everyone else is here.”

You fall into step beside her, leaving Cassian trailing behind. As you enter the River House, you run through a million different ways to enact your revenge on him. From the quirk in Feyre’s lips, you know that she is listening to your sadistic thoughts. A delicious smell wafts through the air, eliciting a growl from your stomach. As freeing as living on your own has been, the one pitfall is cooking for yourself—hence, the drool that’s all but dripping from your chin when the doors of the dining room swing open, revealing a full feast of food.

Any lingering bitterness is swept away at the sight. You eagerly take a seat at the table, barely acknowledging the rest of the Inner Circle. Even as the chatter around you dies down, you still can’t take your eyes off the spread before you. You don’t hesitate to pile an assortment of dishes onto your plate: roasted chicken, potatoes, and vegetables galore. But before you can take your first bite, an expectant cough stops you.

“Do you have any manners?” Cassian quips.

You narrow your eyes into a menacing glare. The rest of the Inner Circle watches, eyes wide with surprise at your uncharacteristic behavior.

“I skipped lunch.”

You shove a forkful of chicken into your mouth, nearly moaning at the taste.

“Who the hell thought you living on your own would be a good idea?” Azriel grumbles from beside you, but the playful glint in his eye betrays him.

“Your High Lord,” you mumble through a mouthful of food.

Nesta crinkles her nose in disgust as crumbs fall from your mouth. Regret is painted across Rhys’s face, to which you only shovel another forkful.

“Pig,” Amren chimes in.

You give her a bright, shining middle finger.

You scan the room and frown at the empty spot beside Azriel. “Where’s sister dearest?” you ask after swallowing.

“Not feeling well,” Rhys averts his gaze as he lies through his teeth. Irritation courses through you but you merely roll your eyes, keeping the snide remark to yourself.

“In other news,” Feyre says, “Treaty negotiations have been moving along.”

Rhys nods, grateful for the change in subject. “We’ve made as much progress as possible from afar. It seems that a summit is necessary to solidify tentative agreements and work out the remaining kinks.” 

Although you are still fully engrossed by the food in front of you, your ears perk up at the news. With two years passed since the War on Hybern, it’s about time the High Lords put their egos aside and meet.

“It’s about time,” Amren grumbles, voicing your inner thoughts.

Everyone nods in agreement. Despite the easiness, you can’t help but notice the way Feyre shifts in her seat and Rhys avoids her gaze. You narrow your eyes slightly at their nervous energy and set your fork down in anticipation of what’s to come. 

“In an act of good faith, we’ve offered to host negotiations here in Velaris.”

There it is. A conglomerate of protests immediately erupts. Thanks to the mortal queens, Velaris is no longer a sanctuary hidden from Prythian. But the prospect of inviting a cohort of power-hungry High Lords into it is…daunting, to say the least.

Rhys raises his hand, ceasing everyone’s chattering with the gesture. His gaze sweeps over the gathered members of his Inner Circle with his usual calm authority. “I know it’s less than ideal. But think of it as an olive branch, of sorts. Hosting here in Velaris is not only a display of our transparency, but it also emphasizes the strategic importance of these negotiations.”

The tension in the air is clear. But no one dares to argue, as his commanding tone leaves little room for debate, and much to everyone’s displeasure, Rhys is right. Although the more…disagreeable High Lords were willing to overlook the Night Court’s deceptions during the war, that tolerance can only last so long now that the dust has settled. 

“Who will be attending?” Azriel’s voice is quiet but sharp.

“And each court will be represented?” Amren’s eyes narrow in suspicion.

“Every High Lord and their chosen entourages,” Rhys confirms, his voice steady. “Even Beron has agreed, though I suspect his motives are less than pure.”

You tense at the mention of the High Lord of the Autumn Court. His name leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and your raging appetite suddenly subsides. You push your plate away with a grimace. A contemplative silence hangs in the air as everyone digests the information, weighing the risks and benefits. Before anyone can voice another concern, Feyre leans forward.

“And to the mark the beginning of these negotiations, we thought it might be good to host a ball.”

The room falls silent again.

“A ball,” Cassian deadpans.

Feyre’s lips twitch in amusement. “A ball, gala, soirée, whatever you’d like to call it. A formal event to welcome the High Lords and their families into the city. It’s more than just a social gathering; it’s a statement. A public display of unity for all of Prythian to see.”

A lump forms in your throat. Not just the High Lords, but their families. Which can only mean one thing…

“A strategic move,” Amren muses, nodding slowly, “It could help set a positive tone for the negotiations.”

“It’s risky,” Azriel murmurs, his shadows swirling restlessly as he considers the implications. “But it could work.”

Cassian leans back in his chair with a groan. Nesta gives him a pointed look, silencing any impending complaints.

“Think of it as more than just a celebration,” Rhys folds his hands over the table in a subtle display of power, “It’s an opportunity to control the narrative. It’s a chance to remind everyone that Velaris is not just a city, but the beating heart of our Court—it’s a reminder of what we could build together.”

Any residual hesitation seems to vanish with his rather convincing argument. But despite the positive shift in energy, your mind is racing. The thought of seeing Eris again—of being in the same room, breathing the same air—sends a wave of conflicting emotions crashing over you: anxiety, panic, and dread, tied together by a small sliver of hope.

“As for logistics, we’ll need everyone’s help for preparation—”

“I’ll handle the décor,” Amren eagerly cuts in. A glint of excitement shines in her cold eyes at the prospect of decorating the place with jewels and gaudy, shiny things alike.

“And I’ll manage security,” Azriel adds, his wings flaring out slightly behind him. “With so many powerful players in one place, we can’t afford to be careless.”

“Good,” Rhys nods before turning to you. You can feel his searing gaze, but you focus your own on the half-finished food on your plate. “And you—your knowledge of the Autumn Court will be invaluable in these negotiations. I’ll need you close at hand.”

Everyone shifts at the indirect mention of your…escapade in Autumn. But you don’t so much as flinch at his words. Instead, you nod, the weight of responsibility settling over you like a cloak. “Understood.”

As discussions of the impending negotiations continue, you find yourself mentally withdrawing. Still, the calm façade you’ve maintained so well doesn’t crack. But your heart pounds with the suspense of what’s to come.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Over the past week, a nervous energy has been humming around Velaris in anticipation of the big day. It’s been chaotic, to say the least, with High Fae and citizens alike running around in preparation of the High Lords’ summit. Despite the severe lack of sleep and constant ache in your feet, event preparations have been a welcome distraction. But the day has finally come, effectively ending your temporary reprieve. And as you rifle through the gowns in Nesta’s closet, reality starts to really settle in.

“What about this one?” Nesta pulls out an emerald, green gown that leaves little to the imagination. You eye the deep cut and skin-tight material with a frown. 

“If I want to look like a child playing dress up, then sure,” you quip. You throw your head back with a groan and sit on the edge of her bed in defeat. “I don’t have the boobs to pull any of this off.”

Nesta rolls her eyes and places yet another dress back on the rack. “I really don’t know what you were expecting. Why don’t you just suck it up and go ask Mor?”

You stare at her in disbelief.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she snips, “You know I’m right.”

You grunt in disapproval, but don’t protest. Picking an argument with Nesta is a losing battle, after all. 

“Why couldn’t I be blessed with tits as big as yours?” you recline on her bed with a sigh.

Nesta shrugs, still sifting through the closet. “You could always ask Rhys to work his magic. Or Feyre. If she can sprout wings, I’m sure she can magically grow you a cup size or two.”

You launch a pillow in her direction which she swiftly dodges. “I am not asking for a magic boob job.”

You can’t help but giggle at the notion and Nesta follows suit. As ridiculous as the thought is, you long to see the look on Feyre or Rhys’s face if you did ask them.

“Maybe I’ll just wear a trash bag,” you muse aloud, “Or my birthday suit.”

“That’ll be sure to catch Eris’s attention.”

You throw another pillow in her direction.

“What about this one?” Nesta dodges your attack.

You sit up on the bed, ready to shoot down yet another dress. But the rejection halts in your throat as you take in the gown before you. Like the others, this one has a deep v-cut. But the bodice cinches at the waist before flowing down in a river of chiffon. The deep, sapphire hue is decorated with silver embroidery, delicate threads winding like constellations across the fabric. Tiny crystals are scattered throughout the design, catching the light and shimmering like stars in the night sky. The elegance is understated: a perfect blend of boldness and grace that leaves you momentarily speechless.

“That could work,” you state lamely.

A proud grin curls onto Nesta’s lips. “I suppose the twentieth try is the charm.” She tosses the dress towards you, and you swiftly catch it. “Now that that’s sorted, I think it’s time we play dress-up, then.”

You and Nesta fall into a comfortable rhythm, pinning your hair and dusting make-up over your cheeks in between bits of chatter. Despite her hard exterior, you’ve taken a liking to the eldest Archeron since your return to the Night Court. She never beats around the bush—a quality you deeply admire. Talking to her doesn’t necessarily take your mind off your worries, but rather makes them seem far less daunting. 

Just as you zip up your gown, a knock sounds on the door of her bedroom. 

“Come in,” Nesta calls from her seat in front of her vanity. You divert your gaze from your reflection in the full-length mirror to find Cassian in the doorway. His wings are tucked tightly behind him to fit through the opening far too small for the likes of a 6-foot-something Illyrian warrior. He’s swapped his typical attire of leathers out in favor of a sleek, black suit. His unruly hair is tied back neatly, save for a few strands of hair.

Despite his intimidating stature, he stares at Nesta like a lovesick puppy. “Wow,” he stumbles breathlessly, “You look beautiful. Both of you.”

He doesn’t so much as glance in your direction, and you roll your eyes.

“You look less slobbish than usual,” you quip. Nesta snickers, but your insult doesn’t register to Cassian, whose eyes remained trained on his mate. You wrinkle your nose in disgust as you can practically smell his arousal permeating the room.

“And that’s my cue,” you sigh. You take one last glance in the mirror before turning on your heels. You send Nesta a soft smile and pat Cassian’s shoulder on your way out. “Try to keep it in your pants ‘till after the ball, okay?”

You don’t stick around to hear his sounds of protest, swiftly slipping out of the room and down the hallway. Your heart skips a beat as you glance up at the grandfather clock down the hall. 8:06 PM. You take a deep breath before squinting your eyes shut and willing the world to twist and fold around you. Cool air envelopes you as you land outside of the River House. The buzz of Night Court citizens filtering through the front doors fills your ears. You wipe your clammy hands along the chiffon fabric of your gown before joining the crowd. You keep your footsteps steady to counter the frantic beat of your heart. You’re nearly at the steps leading to the ballroom when a hand gently grasps your elbow, pulling you aside.

“Can we talk for a moment?” Rhys whispers in your ear. You turn to find him standing in the shadows. 

“Of course,” you reply, following him to a quiet corner on the side of the house.

He produces a small, green vial from within his tailored jacket. The liquid inside shimmers under the soft glow of the crescent moon. “Angel’s Blade,” he says calmly, as if discussing the weather.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you tentatively take the vial from his hands. You know what it is. You know that a single drop is enough to ensure a slow, painful death. Yet, you still utter the word aloud for confirmation. “Poison?”

“A little something to help Eris with Beron’s assassination.” Rhys speaks lowly, wary of any potential eavesdroppers. “The plan is simple—Beron needs to sign the treaty at the summit. After that, Eris can do as he pleases with him, and our debts to him are paid.”

You’re rendered speechless as you process the implications. There’s been little to no discussion of Rhys’s alliance with Eris since your return to Velaris—probably for your sake. In fact, you’d assumed it had disintegrated entirely once Eris figured out that Rhys had sent you to Autumn to spy on him. And now, here he is, not only acknowledging it, but asking for your involvement. 

“You want me to give this to Eris?” you ask in disbelief.

Rhys nods, his gaze softening as he senses your unease. “Only if you feel comfortable with it. I’m not asking you to do anything you’re not ready for. But I trust you, and I trust your judgment.”

You swallow hard and stare down at the small vial in your palm. “I’ll do it,” you finally reply. Even though it terrifies you, the decision feels right. “I’ll give it to him.”

“Thank you,” Rhys murmurs, squeezing your shoulder gently before releasing you, “Just…be careful.”

You nod, tucking the vial into a hidden pocket of your gown. 

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way,” he smiles down at you. His lips curl into a teasing smirk, “Looks like you didn’t need a magic boob job to fit into Nesta’s dress, after all.”

A flush crawls up your neck, but the embarrassment on your face quickly morphs into irritation. You slap his shoulder, eyes narrowed in a menacing glare as he cackles like a madman. 

“Is Azriel the only male of the house who isn’t a pervert?” you hiss, hitting him again for good measure. 

Rhys reaches forward to tousle your hair, but you swat him away. “Oh, trust me, my little scholar, Az is the most perverted of us all. Don’t let the gentle giant façade fool you.”

You stifle a giggle, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your amusement. You turn on your heel to stroll back towards the crowd. As you part, he calls after you.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You glance at him over your shoulder, “That’s a pretty short list, oh Mighty High Lord.”

Rhys’s laughter fades into the background as you push through the crowd and make your way towards the ballroom. Your jaw all but drops as you enter the large room.

The grandeur of the scene before you is staggering—chandeliers drip with crystals, the tapestries depicting the history of Velaris adorn the walls, and the dance floor is flooded with Fae in exquisite attire. The sweet scent of jasmine hangs in the air, mingling with the soft melodies that drift from the orchestra at the far end of the room. You catch glimpses of familiar faces—members of the Inner Circle mingling with high-ranking nobles and foreign dignitaries—but you’re too distracted to greet them, your mind occupied by the weight of the vial in your pocket. You help yourself to a glass of wine to settle your unease, but to no avail.

And then, across the sea of dancers and courtiers, you see him.

For a moment, the world narrows to just him, and everything else fades into the background. The sight of him hits you like a physical blow, your heart lurching in your chest. Eris stands with a group of Autumn Court nobles, looking every bit the poised and calculated heir. When his amber eyes lock onto yours, time stops completely. 

They say that your life flashes before your eyes just before you die. You haven’t thought much about death, being immortal. But for a split second, you feel yourself teetering on the brink of that quiet unknown. Those amber eyes are like a movie screen, reeling every memory, every fleeting touch, every unspoken confession. Twisted bedsheets in the watermill cottage, healing light engulfing blood-streaked skin, cool silver slipping around your thumb. Looking at him feels like throwing your freshly mended heart into the pits of fire. The alcohol running through your veins suddenly feels scorching, burning every inch of your skin. And for the first time since you fled Autumn, battered and broken, that feeling deep inside your chest transforms from a dull tug into a debilitating yank. Your body moves with a mind of its own. But just as you take a step forward, amber eyes are gone, replaced with the expanse of a broad chest.

The polite smile you force onto your lips immediately falls as you move your gaze upwards. You stifle a gasp at the sight of crimson hair, so similar to that which has plagued your mind over the past three months. But the man before you isn’t him—his face is too narrow, his nose too crooked. 

 “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” his voice is cold, laced with an unmistakable Vanserra edge. His similarity to Eris is striking—but the russet eyes staring down at you hold something more sinister. You involuntarily shiver, but force on a smile which doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“I don’t believe we have,” you dip your head into a courteous nod.

His lips stretch into a vicious grin, “Bastion Vanserra. And you are?” The question, seemingly innocent, feels like a calculated move in a chess game. 

You swallow down the lump in your throat, “Y/N.”

He repeats your name, delighting in the way it rolls off his tongue. Your shoulders stiffen as he grabs your hand in his and raises it to his lips. You fight the urge to pull away as he presses a taunting kiss to your knuckles.

“May I steal you for a dance?” he asks.

No.

“Sure,” you nod, the gesture alone feeling heavy. As he leads you to the center of the ballroom, the music swells around you—an intricate waltz that seems to mock your inner chaos. The dancers around you swirl in a graceful blur, but all you can focus on is the scorching touch of Baston’s hand on the small of your back, the way his gaze occasionally flickers to you with a scrutinizing edge.

“Forgive me if I seem forward,” Bastion says, “but you are truly…exquisite. I’ve heard much about you—Rhysand’s new scholar. What a shame he hasn’t graced us with your presence sooner.”

The words are pleasant, but they feel like they’re coming from a distance, muffled by the pounding of your heart. You force another faux smile, “I’m flattered. I’ve heard much about you as well.”

His eyes narrow slightly with hair-raising scrutiny. Although you know the Vanserra family doesn’t possess Daemati powers, you still double check that the cobblestone barriers of your mind are intact.

“And what have you heard?” he replies smoothly as he twirls you around.

The question hangs in the air between you, a challenge disguised as benevolent curiosity. “Only that you’re a man of considerable influence.”

His lips curl into a feline smirk. But just as quickly as the vicious glint in his eyes appears, it vanishes entirely as a rumbling voice cuts in. 

“‘Considerable’ is one way to put it. ‘Inconsequential’ is another.”

The blood rushes from your face, leaving you ashen and awe-struck. You don’t register the scowl on Bastion’s face or the change in tempo of the music; all you can hear is the thundering beat of your heart. Baston’s hands slip from yours, but all you can feel is that golden thread pulling taut in your chest. The younger Vanserra brother retreats, and a pair of familiar hands slip around your waist. His touch is electrifying, giving life to breath. And when he spins you around, the bustling crowd ceases to exist.

Amber captivates you once more. Eris’s eyes are slightly darker than you remember, and the playful smirk that used to make you swoon is gone. Still, the male before you feels like home. There’s a hundred things you want to say, but the syllables catch in your throat. Instead, you let him guide you across the dance floor, resting one hand on his shoulder and placing the other in his. Déjà vu washes over you as you glide together. There is no wreath atop his head and your red silk has been swapped for a deep sapphire, but just like the first night you met, the pull between you is undeniable, magnetic; this time, accompanied by an invisible, golden string. 

“So, your master has finally freed you from your leash, and the first thing you do is run into the arms of a Vanserra?” Venom drips from his lips. “I would say it’s quite unbecoming, darling, but I suppose you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.”

You take the insult in stride, letting it roll off your shoulders.

“The fox smells his own hole first,” you quip seamlessly despite the storm of emotions brewing just beneath your surface.

He wears a malevolent grin. “I see your sharp tongue is still intact. Nice to know that wasn’t a part of your little act as well.” You suck in a breath as he dips down, his breath tickling your skin as he whispers, “Tell me, Y/N, does Dear Old Dad know yet?”

You nearly lose your footing as your name—not Athena, not Little Bird—rolls off his tongue. You choose to ignore his goading question. Instead, you trail your hand down from his shoulder. The first few buttons of his silk shirt are undone, and you settle your hand on the bare skin of his chest. His eyes are void of emotion, but you can feel the rapid uptick of his heartbeat underneath your palm. 

You dig your nails slightly into his chest, right where you know he can feel the bond. Your lips brush against his ear as you whisper, “You’re so quick to call me on my shortcomings, Fox—so quick to forget that you kept secrets from me too.” The invisible string between you thrums in agreement. “But I digress,” you sink your nails into his skin, relishing in the way he returns the favor around your waist, “It seems we are but two sides of the same coin, after all.”

Ire flashes in his otherwise empty eyes. He tightens his grip around you once before releasing you entirely, just as the song comes to a close. “I’m growing tired of this game. If you’ll excuse me—”

You wrap a hand around his wrist and tug him back towards you, effectively cutting him off. He tries to yank himself away, but your grip is relentless. You stand on your tip toes, and whisper into his ear, “If you want to take care of your Dear Old Dad,” he tenses, eyes widening at your brashness, “You’ll meet me at the close of the night.”

Eris grits his teeth, but doesn’t react for fear of drawing unwanted attention. “Not here,” he mumbles.

“Fine. In the city, then.” You trail your hand over the center of his chest once more, “You’ll know how to find me.” You brush your lips against his cheek in a chaste kiss. While seemingly polite, the gesture only adds flame to his raging fire. “Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra.”

You don’t dare look back as you slip away. You keep your eyes forward and your steps steady to counteract the frantic beat of your heart. The music feels far away as you weave through the crowd, tactfully avoiding all of your friends.  

The moment you step outside the grand ballroom, the cool night air hits you like a wave, washing away remnants of the tension that cling to your skin. The orchestral music fades into a distant hum, leaving only the sound of your own breathing as you make your way down the steps of the side door. You glance back once, but the shadows are empty. Still, you can feel the intensity of Eris’s gaze lingering on you, even from afar.

Your steps quicken as you stroll through the open night towards the Sidra. The sound of the gentle current helps soothe your frayed nerves. You stop at the edge of the water, letting the cool breeze soothe your inner turmoil. 

“Running away, are we?”

You tense at the familiar voice, your skin prickling with surprise. You turn to find Mor leaning against a nearby tree, her expression unreadable. But the tension between you is palpable.

“Just needed some air,” you counter.

She pushes off the tree and approaches. The silky, burgundy fabric of her dress ripples like water with each deliberate step towards you. “I saw you with him,” she deadpans.

You stiffen and rub your clammy hands against the fabric of your own dress. “And?”

“And I’m wondering what the hell you’re doing,” she snaps, her voice low but biting, “Waltzing back into his arms after everything he’s done—after all that you’ve been through.”

The accusation stings, but you refuse to show weakness. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” she steps closer, “Because it looks pretty damn simple to me.”

Your façade of indifference cracks. “You think I wanted this?” you can’t hide the tremble in your voice, “You think I wanted to feel this…this pull, after everything? Do you have any idea what it’s like to fight against something you don’t even understand?”

Her own mask of apathy slips. Her eyes soften slightly, but her lips remain pursed in a tight line. “You don’t need to fight it alone.”

Something inside you snaps. “What the hell do you know about what I need?” The words come out harsher than you intend, but you can’t stop. “You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Mor. Avoiding me like the plague. So don’t you darestand there and act like you care now.”

Her face pales at the blistering truth of your words. You divert your eyes to the Sidra, unable to hold her gaze. You mean every single word, but this is not how you’d envisioned this conversation going.

“I’m sorry,” you finally whisper. You take a shaky breath, trying to recollect yourself. “I don’t know how to do this anymore. I’m tired, and I’m confused, and I just…I just want my sister back.”

A heavy silence hangs between the two of you. The cool winds lick your skin, but you can’t move, let alone wrap your arms around your shivering body. Mor reaches out to touch your arm, but you instinctively take a step back, not ready to accept her comfort. You’re thankful you can’t see the dejection on her face.

“I know I’ve been distant,” she admits. A scoff bubbles in your throat, but you hold it down. “And that’s on me. I was angry when you pushed me away. And that’s something I’m still getting over. But I do care, Y/N—I never stopped caring. And I’m…I’m scared for you.”

The vulnerability in her voice makes your heart ache. For a moment, the animosity between you dissipates entirely, leaving a mutual understanding in its wake. Your throat tightens, and you force yourself to swallow with a wince. 

“I’m scared too,” you whisper, the words bitter on your tongue. “But I can’t let fear control me anymore.”

Mor reaches her hand out once again. You tense at the feeling of her delicate touch, but this time you don’t pull away. “Just promise me one thing,” she runs her thumb over the bare skin of your shoulder, “Don’t lose yourself in the process.”

You nod, though you’re not entirely sure how you’ll keep that promise. “I’ll try.”

With that, the soft touch on your shoulder disappears as Mor steps back, giving you the space you need. You wait until her soft footsteps are out of earshot to release the breath you’ve been holding in. Your shoulders slump as you exhale, letting the cool air soothe the raw edges of your emotions. The night is still, and for a moment, you allow yourself to breathe, to process all that’s transpired. 

The anticipation of what’s to come gnaws at you, a mix of dread and hope tangled together. Eris will come; you’re certain of that. But what will happen when he does? The question hangs heavy in the air, unanswered. For now, you focus on the steady rhythm of the river, grounding yourself in the present.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Velaris is a city of breathtaking beauty. It is a vibrant mosaic of colors: the lush gardens spilling over with exotic flowers, the elegant, domed buildings. From the air humming with creativity to the labyrinth of winding streets, it is full of hidden gems. But your favorite part of the city is how the stars seem to listen—how the intensity of their shine seems to reflect your inner musings.

Tonight is no exception. The twinkling lights are bright—brighter than you’ve ever seen before. They are captivating, whispering to you to come closer. You know it’s temporary, as the night is far from over—but you can’t help but indulge yourself for a little while as you lean against the rails of your apartment balcony nursing a generous glass of wine.

You’ve swapped out Nesta’s dress for one of Azriel’s old sweaters. The cozy material engulfs you, falling mid-thigh and warming your body against the chilling breeze of the city. The deep, burgundy wine is sweet, effectively numbing you in preparation for Eris’s impending arrival. 

A lump forms in your throat at the thought of him. Seeing him tonight was not something you’d properly prepared yourself for. Every fiber of your being longed to pull him close, to hold him tight and never let go. But that disdainful look in his eyes…If only life was as simple as following your heart. You are no longer in the business of suppressing your emotions. Yet, you still take a large gulp of your wine to alleviate the tightness in your throat.

Something in the air shifts, and you blink back the silver lining your eyes. Every inch of your exposed skin vibrates with anticipation, sensing his arrival.

“Drowning our sorrows, are we?”

Your heart flutters at the sound of his crisp tone slicing through the air. You clutch the glass tightly in your hands, keeping your gaze trained on the stars above.

“Something like that,” you mumble before taking another slow sip.

You can hear his soft footsteps behind you, wandering around the small space of your studio. But you don’t dare turn around, because turning around means looking into his eyes. And looking into his eyes means losing your carefully constructed composure. So, you continue to marvel at the stars, wishing them to sweep you up into their sparkling abyss. 

Eris’s voice cuts through the fragile peace of the night again, sharp and unyielding. “Drowning your sorrows won’t wash away the guilt.”

“Misery loves company,” you speak softly to conceal the waver of your voice. Your fingers tremble around the stem of your glass. The wine no longer tastes sweet—it’s bitter now, tainted by the truth in his words. His cruelty has always been a defense mechanism, but tonight, it feels more personal, like he’s trying to hurt you as much as you’ve hurt him.

“Do you even feel anything anymore, or have you numbed yourself to the point of oblivion?” Each word is a deliberate strike aimed to wound. 

Your silence speaks louder than words.

“Or have you finally become what they always wanted—a docile little pet with nothing left to say?” He slices through the thin veneer of composure you’ve managed to hold onto. 

The stars above blur as your eyes fill with unshed tears. “Eris,” you finally say, your voice barely above a whisper, “Can we just…coexist for a moment? No accusations, no blame. Just…be.”

There’s a long, heavy silence that follows your plea. For a moment, you fear he’ll ignore you, continue his barrage of insults. But then, he sighs. The sound is filled with an exhaustion that mirrors your own. He moves closer until you can see him in your peripheral. He mimics your stance, leaning against the railing of the balcony. The heat radiating from his body is two-fold: a comforting warmth that beckons you closer and a searing intensity that threatens to burn you alive.

“You always did prefer the night,” he rasps, his voice softer now, tinged with a note of something you can’t quite place.

You swallow hard, still not turning to face him. “The night doesn’t judge,” you reply, voice steady despite the storm brewing inside, “It just listens.”

 “The stars are far too forgiving,” Eris murmurs, a bitter edge to his words.

You cup your glass with both hands in a futile attempt to hold it steady. “If only people were as forgiving as the stars.”

You close your eyes, letting a single tear slip down your cheek. And when they open again, you finally turn to face him. There’s a storm behind his amber eyes, a battle between the ruthless mask he wears and the vulnerability he hides. He looks both devastatingly familiar and painfully foreign, like a memory you can't quite grasp. And as you take in the sight of him, the ache in your chest tightens.

“It was all real, you know. Everything I said. Everything I did. Everything I felt.” your bottom lip wobbles as you speak. “It was so real it nearly shattered me.”

His jaw flexes, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip around the railing. The seconds stretch into minutes as you wait for his response. Your eyes desperately search his for some sort of tell, but the walls he has built up are impenetrable. Eris abruptly pushes off the railing.

“I didn’t come here to reminisce,” he snaps. The momentary softness of his voice has disappeared. “Do you have it or not?”

 You blink slowly at him before averting your gaze to the stars one more time. You tip the glass of wine against your lips, swallowing the remaining contents. The burning of the alcohol down your throat mingles with the sting of his rejection. You set the empty glass down and wipe the lone tear from your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater before turning back to him. You don’t meet his eyes as you wrap your arms around your frail body and pad back inside to your apartment. Eris follows silently, keeping his distance—as if the air surrounding you is toxic. 

He watches as you round the oak desk in the corner and slide the first cabinet open. You grab the little green vial inside with a trembling hand. But before you slide the drawer shut, you pause. The completed draft of your manuscript sits inside, bound seamlessly thanks to Clotho’s help. You run your free hand over the leather cover. Its pages seem to whisper to you, beckoning you to grab it. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you listen.

Curiosity flashes through Eris’s eyes as you walk towards him, deadly poison in one hand and an equally lethal paperback in the other. 

“Angel’s Blade,” you hold out the green vial, “One drop should do the trick.”

He cautiously takes it from you, careful not to touch you. But his eyes are trained on the leather-bound book in your other hand.

“What’s that?” he rasps.

Your mouth dries, your nerves running wild. But you muster up the courage to hold it out to him with a steady hand. “Something I’ve been working on,” you croak, “It’s only a first draft, but I’d like you to have it.”

He eyes the book with contempt, “I’m not interested in joining your little book club.”

You reach your arm out further, and he takes a step back. “At least read the forward,” you plead, “You owe me that much.”

Ire returns, this time with a vengeance. “I don’t owe you shit,” he snarls. “Thank you for your hospitality. Let’s never do this again.”

Your heart sinks as he turns on his heel and strides towards the door. In an act of desperation, you flip open the book.

“Confucius once posited that wisdom emerges from experience; a notion echoed throughout the annals of philosophy.”

His footsteps halt.

“For centuries, thinkers have sought to distill the essence of wisdom through the accumulation of experiences and the study of theory. Yet, as we delve deeper into the human condition, it becomes apparent that true introspection does not arise from the mere cataloging of experiences. Instead, it is forged in the crucible of pain, a particular kind of pain that sears the soul and leaves an indelible mark on our being.”

For the first time since he entered your home, your voice is steady, strong.

“It is pain that consumes, that reaches into the depths of our existence, touching the very core of who we are.”

You inhale deeply, preparing yourself for the word that is about to roll off your tongue. The word you’ve been so afraid to utter until now.

“It pain born of love—a love so profound that it defies all reason, a love that transcends the boundaries of rational thought and knowledge, a love that has the power to unravel us completely. When love shatters us, it does so in a way that is both devastating and transformative. It is through this pain that the deepest truths about ourselves are revealed.”

Your vision blurs from the tears now streaming freely down your cheeks. The air is deadly silent, filled only by your soft sniffles and Eris’s staggered breath. You approach him on wobbly legs, positioning yourself in front of the door. An unrecognizable emotion swims in his eyes, but the strain on his face is undeniable. You hold his gaze with your own tear-filled one as you finish reciting the forward, the book forgotten in your limp hand.

“In these pages, I offer not just a recounting of my life but a testament to the truth that has been etched into my soul: that it is love—intense, all-consuming love—that paves the way to introspection. It is a truth forged in the crucible of suffering, illuminated by the dim light that flickers in the wake of love’s destruction. And it is through this lens that I have come to understand myself, not as I once was, but as I am now—a being forever changed, yet made more whole by the very pain that once threatened to break me.

For darkness and all its shining stars,

Avicula.”

Your heart lays bare before him—for him to steal, to cherish, to break. For a moment, you think you see the male you once knew, the one who cherished you with everything he had. But then his jaw tightens, and he diverts his gaze to the manuscript in your hands. Finally, he reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he takes the leather-bound book from your grasp. When he finally speaks, his voice is rough, barely above a whisper.

“Avicula…” he murmurs, testing the name on his tongue.

“It means Little Bi—”

“I know what it means,” he cuts you off swiftly. 

You want to say something, to reach out and touch him, but you’re frozen in place. He takes a step closer. You’ve never felt more vulnerable as his eyes search yours. But then, just as quickly as it came, the softness in his gaze is gone, replaced by an impenetrable shield. He pulls back and tucks the book into the inside of his coat. 

“This changes nothing.” 

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. But the dejection tearing at your insides quickly transforms into a fiery rage.

“Why won’t you admit it?” you demand, “I know you feel something.” You place your hand on his chest, right where you feel the bond in your own. 

Eris’s eyes snap back to yours, and he wraps his hand around your wrist in a bruising grip. “You don’t know shit,” he snaps, throwing your hand down away from him.

“I know you better than you know yourself,” you retaliate, inching forward, “I know you put on this façade of a cold-blooded, ruthless asshole to detract from the vulnerability that lives within. I know that underneath all that armor, you’re absolutely terrified—afraid of what this means, afraid of what will happen if you’re honest with yourself.”

His jaw clenches so tightly you think it might snap. “You have no idea what’s at stake here.”

“Then tell me!” you yell, hands shaking with desperation. “Stop being so fucking stubborn and tell me!”

He shakes his head vehemently and runs his hands through his hair, pulling tightly at the roots. Your whole body trembles as you watch him pace before you. “What’s it gonna take?” you shout. “Do you want me to fall at your feet? Plead for your forgiveness? Or did I damage your ego beyond repair?” you cry, vision blurry again with tears.

“You can’t fix this!” he explodes. The trees outside cower at the rawness of his rage. “You don’t belong in this madness. And I won’t let you destroy yourself for some lovesick fantasy you have of me.”

Eris turns towards the door, but you throw yourself at him once again, intercepting his path. “You don’t get to make that choice for me,” you stammer through your cries. You reach your quivering hands up, cupping the sides of his face. You pull him down towards you, resting his forehead against yours. “Please, Eris,” your bottom lip wobbles, “I love you.”

Your confession hangs heavy in the air. His eyes flutter shut, and for a split second you can feel him sinking into your hold. But when they open, amber is once again nothing more than a frozen wasteland. 

“I can’t make that choice for you,” the anger in his tone is gone, replaced by an even more deadly finality. “But I can make it for myself.”

Time stops. And that golden string between you splits, hanging precariously by a single thread. 

You stand there, frozen and heartbroken, as he pulls himself away from your touch. Silent sobs wrack your body as his figure disappears through the door. You want to scream, kick, fight, anything. Not nothing comes out. It feels like drowning—like water rushing in, flooding your lungs, and stealing your life away. Watching him walk out that door with the most sacred piece of yourself is a pain like no other, amplified by the shredded bond in your stuttering heart. You can only watch as the world around you spins on its axis before you crumple to the ground, and it goes black entirely.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Throughout his 500 years of existence in an everchanging world, pain has been the only constant for Eris Vanserra. From the relentless beatings by his father to the countless deaths witnessed in not one but two wars, he hasn’t just experienced it; he’s lived it. Yet in those five centuries of misery, none has rivaled the Earth-shattering pain of walking away from the only thing that has brought him pure, unadulterated joy. 

He knows this is the only right decision. He knows that she deserves more than the legacy of violence that taints his bloodline. And he knows that no matter how hard he tries, he can’t rewrite the narrative of his own tragic destiny. But that does nothing to quell the shards of glass digging deeper into his chest with each step away from her. For he is no more than a hollow shell of a male, doomed to an eternity of perpetual darkness

The lively atmosphere of Velaris seems to mock his anguish as he stumbles along the cobblestone streets. Unshed tears blur his vision, and each slow blink to keep them at bay feels like another nail in the coffin. The little, leather-bound book seems to sink further into his pocket with each uneven step, until he can no longer bear the weight of it. He limps into an alley way and sinks to the cold ground in a heap of agony. Shaky hands fumble through his coat in search of the only piece of her he has left. His heart pounds in his ears as he flips the book open.

Avicula.

Eris watches in horror as a single tear splatters onto the page. He runs his trembling thumb over the name, smudging the ink slightly. He does it again, watching as the ink blurs together. And again, and again, until she is no more than a splotch of darkness on the page. Another tear falls, and he slams the book shut—as if doing so will put an end to this chapter of his miserable story. But memories are far too cruel, for blurred ink is replaced with every vestige of her: fleeting touches between rows of books, big, brown eyes sparkling brighter than the light of a thousand stars, and the sweet scent of honeysuckle lingering like a ghost in every corner of his mind. 

He pulls himself from the ground, nearly losing his footing. He tumbles like a drunkard out of the alley, past the lines of shops, and into the grass where the Sidra lies. Eris clutches the book with a white-knuckled grip. He draws his arm back, but before he can launch that last piece of her into the depths of the river, a chilling voice stops him.

“What have we here, brother?”

Bile rises to his throat as he spins around. He catches a fleeting glimpse of Baston’s wicked grin before pain explodes on the back of his head, and the world goes black.

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[traumxrei-archive]

【 death scares 】

prompt #6: Oh, Great Seven, he thought they were going to die. Please don’t ever scare him like that again (ft. sebek zigvolt, jade leech, leona kingscholar)

gn! prefect (you/yours), drabbles, word count: 1.6k

a/n: hello, i finished my research proposal so i have time before my next deadline to post this >:DD it's angsty asf, but i made sure that it was hurt/comfort so dw i gotchu guys ^^

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek wasn't someone who usually got scared. He knew better than to succumb to such feelings that all but interfered with one's ability to act. It was one of the things he learned when he was training to be one of the Young Master's guards.

But when he saw you dangling from a broom midair, Sebek felt all the hairs on his arms raise. You were barely holding on, and he could see everyone shouting in alarm from where you were.

If you fell, then you would...

Sebek gritted his teeth, "Give me one of your brooms, humans!" His voice boomed over all the commotion, turning heads.

The person nearest to him stuttered, "But brooms are only meant to hold one perso—"

"Does that matter?" Sebek grabbed the broom out of the other's hands. "If you don't do anything, that human is going to fall!"

He hopped onto the broom, flying to where you were before shouting, "Human! You need to let go and get on my broom!"

"I can't!" You cried, your arms shaking with effort. "You'll get hurt, Sebek!"

"Human, I am ten times more durable than you," Sebek said as calmly as he could, bringing his broom closer to yours. "If I fell from this height and got hurt, it'd be an insult to the Young Master!"

"Sebek!"

"What is it?"

"Promise you won't get mad?"

"I can't," Sebek watched as your fingers started to slip. "But I'll promise we won't fall."

It was at that moment when you fell. He felt his broom shift under your weight, and he strained to reinforce it with magic.

But you were here.

You were safe, and that was all that mattered to Sebek. He could feel the pounding of your heart against his back where you clutched onto his uniform.

"What were you thinking?" Sebek ranted, his anger finally surfacing as they made their way to the ground. "Human, I'll have you know that you could've died or been seriously injured!"

"Not only that," Sebek turned to face you. "The fact that— You're...crying...?"

You held on to one of his sleeves, the tears dripping onto the grass below, "I'm s-sorry, Sebek, I didn't mean to...to do that, it just—"

Sebek sighed, resting a hand on your shoulder, "It is alright. You are safe now, human, I was just—" Worried...? Worried? The Sebek Zigvolt, worried about a mere human? But really, who was he kidding? You weren't just a mere human to Sebek, were you?

"I didn't want to see you hurt, is all," He finished lamely. And he could see your eyes sparkling— this time not with unshed tears. Great Sevens, what kind of feeling was currently strangling his heart? Was it...fondness?

Sebek felt his ears warm, quickly brushing off the blooming feelings in his heart, "I-It would be best to get your hands checked out, I shall take you to the nurse!"

You smiled at that. A small smile, but to Sebek it meant the world. He continued on, rambling about broom safety as he led you to the infirmary. If it meant that you were smiling and not crying anymore, then Sebek would more than gladly fill up the silence with his voice.

Jade Leech

Of all the things to happen today, he didn't think watching you put yourself in mortal peril was going to be one of them. Jade swallowed, trying to clear the stuffy feeling that seemed to sufuse his whole body.

He was waiting for you outside of the infirmary, the initial shock after the accident having finally subsided. Still, he couldn't get the picture of your body lying prone on the ground out of his mind.

"It was due to incorrect ratios," The nurse had said. "The alchemy potion had turned into a potent airborne poison. And if you had arrived any later..."

Jade didn't want to think about that part.

But soon enough, the nurse called him in. As he walked up to your bed, he couldn't bring himself to speak first. You weren't watching him, clearly focused on trying to open your water bottle.

"Let me," Jade's voice escaped him, and he saw your eyes widen when you saw him. He opened the bottle, handing it back to you without another word.

"Thank you."

Jade didn't know what else to say, his eyes following you as you drank. His mind brought back the image of you being unnaturally still. It was morbid. The thought made him sick, yet he couldn't stop thinking about it.

"Jade-senpai," You met his gaze and he felt his throat constrict. "Are you...mad at me?"

Jade felt his lips twitch, "Why, pray tell, would I be mad?"

"I...I'm sorry, I wasn't being careful enough," You bit your lip, and he couldn't bear to be upset with you any longer. He sighed, taking a seat beside you.

He very slowly slipped off his glove, talking all the while, "Next time you find yourself having to do an alchemy assignment alone, do invite me."

"But you're busy," There was clear hesitation in your voice, even as his hand tentatively held yours.

"Kind to a fault," Jade said shakily, feeling unsteady now that he could feel the warmth of your skin against his own. "There's no need for that. Your safety is more important, and I would gladly spend time with you. At least next time take one of your friends with you just...just in case." Jade pressed his lips together. He didn't mean to nag. He didn't mean to talk much at all, but the sight of you pried all his feelings out him so effortlessly. He really couldn't win against you.

And like you knew exactly what he wanted to hear, you smiled, "I'm okay now. See?" Your palm cupped over his, bringing his fingers to rest against your neck. And sure enough, he could feel your pulse thrumming under his fingers.

Jade closed his eyes before opening them again, "Right. Now then, I will be overseeing your recovery from now on." He clapped, his magic swirling through the air to tug your blankets into a more acceptable state.

"Wait, what–"

"I'll contact your friends to let you rest for now."

"No, senpai, wait–"

"Surely you aren't objecting to rest, Prefect?" Jade smiled as politely as he could and he watched as you shuddered. "After all you almost di–"

"I'll be in your care then," You huffed, before patting his arm. "Just make sure you don't over do it."

"I won't. I'll be taking very good care of you."

Leona Kingscholar

"The Prefect got into an accident."

Leona couldn't understand how those words filled him with such dread. He couldn't even wait for Ruggie to finish, he was already rushing to the infirmary.

What did Ruggie mean by you got into an accident? What kind of accident was it? Were you okay? Sevens forbid that you were...

Leona gritted his teeth as he arrived. Irrational anger and worry wasn't like him. He took a deep breath, schooling his emotions before knocking on the door.

"Kingscholar," The nurse acknowledged. "To what do I–"

"The Prefect."

"...Right," They nodded before leading him toward where you were. The curtains were drawn and he couldn't...see you. "Don't do anything too rash."

Leona nodded, drawing back the curtain. His stomach dropped at the sight of you, your head wrapped up in bandages, and plasters covering your arms and legs.

You were awake, and you blinked as he stood there, "Leona-senpai..."

Leona heaved out a harsh breath, sitting at the edge of the bed. He didn't know what to do. Not when that ugly mix of anger and worry was bubbling at the base of his throat. Instead all he did was stare, as if any second an ugly red would mar the bandage on your head.

"I, uhm," You spoke first, your head turned downward. "It wasn't anyone's fault. We...had some rain at Ramshackle, and it leaked inside... The staircase, it... Ramshackle's old, so..."

"You're telling me the staircase fell in on you?" There was a surprised look on your face as he spoke. Even he couldn't understand the flatness of his voice.

"I...yeah," You clenched your fists. "Grim's okay, he was at the foyer when it happened, but..."

"So you almost died," At your nod, Leona felt the anger morph straight into fear. Died? The herbivore? You almost died?

He scowled at the thought as he pried your hands from the sheets, "Stop that. You're gonna make your injuries worse." His eyes met yours, and he could see the fear there too— in the way you trembled despite the day being warm.

"Herbivore..." He muttered before moving closer to you. He was mindful of your bandages as he held you, trying to ease your shaking.

"I was scared," You murmured into his shoulder. "I thought that it was the end, and—"

"You're here now," Leona soothed, and he wasn't sure who he was trying to comfort. "You'll be alright, herbivore." You pulled away with a weak smile and it took all of Leona's self control not to pull you back to him.

He sighed, hanging his head, "You...you drive me crazy. Really, do I have to cast protective spells on you to keep you safe?"

Your hand settled over his, "I won't object if you do. It might come in handy sometime."

"That's not the point. And you should sleep," Leona gently pushed you against the pillows. "How are you gonna get better enough to ask Crowley for more budget if you don't rest?"

"And..." Your voice was quiet; inquisitive. "You'll stay?"

"I wasn't planning on leaving," Leona braced his head against his arm. "Now sleep." That seemed to appease you, and soon enough, he could hear the steady sound of your breathing fill the room. And in the quiet of the room, Leona vowed never to let you fall into danger again. Not if he could do something about it.

ty for reading the hurt/comfort !! i hope that it uh, appeased your angst chasing for now, and if you'd like to read more of my stuff, check out my masterlist <3

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Objects in Motion

Part 3

Alpha! Billy Russo x Omega! Reader

Hey, I hit 4k followers! That's pretty cool, thank you everyone!

Part 1 // Part 2

A snip taken from Le Printemps, by Eugène Bidau

.

It takes you too long to pick a dress the next morning. There was an issue with all of them, one was too tight around your chest that you could barely breathe, the other had a hole in the sleeve that you hadn’t noticed before.

You'd ended up picking something you hadn't worn in a while- sage green with little flowers on it. 

Halfway to the museum, you'd noticed a small stain on the skirt, that had made you frown.

It wouldn't lift with the wet wipe you'd pulled from your bag, and you'd have to settle for hoping he wouldn't see it.

Your stomach flips at the thought of him.

You'd worn a dress in hopes that this was a date- you didn't understand why you wanted it to be a date so badly.

Okay, that wasn't true, you knew you liked him, even though you shouldn't.

It probably wasn't a date, why would he be interested in dating you?

I haven't had a clear thought since, he'd said, you knew the sentiment, wondering, if he was just like every other Alpha, nice at first and then demanding later.

The other Alphas you'd been with- you try not to shudder- they'd been awful, love bombing until you let your guard down, and then getting angry when you tried to deny them something.

The last one had gotten upset that after only knowing him for two weeks, you didn't want to share your heat with him. 

The scorn he'd shown you when you reinforced your denial instead of caving, it had made you curl up and never want to see another Alpha again.

This Alpha could be worse, he could be cruel, waiting to get you alone to trick you into something you didn't want because you'd stolen his coat. The thought sent an uncomfortable wave of nausea over you.

You see your seedy reflection in the window, everything moving too fast for you to focus on except your own gaze.

You would not be taken advantage of.

.

There’s that too much feeling again, everyone is so busy around you as you stand outside the art museum waiting. You see children running past, and dogs, a delighted scream in the distance that makes your chest feel like it’s on fire with the too much of it all. 

Why did the world have to be so chaotic? Why couldn’t it be warm and quiet and peaceful with hints of cracked pepper and bergamot-

You blink, realising you’d been thinking about the Alpha again.

Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea. To get involved with someone that made you feel this way, like you wanted to give in to his demands. At which point would he ask for too much?

Your shoulders drop, you check the time, quarter to twelve.

You turn to leave.

Someone says your name.

You raise your head to find the Alpha approaching. He’s wearing a beige shirt, with large threads that look almost knitted, paired with black pants and another coat that definitely costs more than you can afford. 

Too late, your stomach twists.

You nod your head in greeting.

“Hi,” You acknowledge shyly, “You’re early.”

“Hello, I thought I told you to call me when you got here?”

Your chest squeezes in fright. Was he already making demands?

You keep his gaze, trying to show him a braver you than you were.

“I only just got here.” You challenge, wondering why it was such a big deal.

He nods, raising a hand to push his hair back. You watch him scan the area before letting out a soft breath.

“Sorry, I just didn’t like the idea of you waiting all alone here.”

Was he worried about you?

“I can manage,” You inform him, “I come here all the time.”

He studies you for a moment, looks as though he wants to say something, but decides against it.

“My apologies,” He turns to stand beside you, “Shall we?”

Your stomach flips at his words and you try not to focus on it, or him, and definitely not his smell.

You begin walking.

You try not to touch him, keeping a respectful distance, not wanting to take any part of him he might not be willing to give.

As you walk through the museum’s outdoor park, a lot of people glance your way. Men and women alike, want to steal a look at the man standing beside you. It makes you feel incredibly conscious of yourself, and you feel like the stain on your skirt grows ten times its size in that time.

You wonder if any of their staring has to do with the assumption that you were a mated pair- the thought makes you shiver- the idea that you would be mated to a person that looks like him.

“Cold? Want my coat?” He offers.

You shake your head, not wanting to touch this Alpha’s coats ever again.

“I’m alright, I’m overheating anyway.” You reply, hoping he didn’t ask any follow up questions. Your period would be upon you soon.

“Poor thing.” He soothes.

It almost makes you stumble.

Your eyes widen and you feel a sharp pang in your stomach, his easy comfort swirling in your hindbrain, begging you to curl up with this man in a cozy nest- not a man, you correct yourself, an Alpha.

You’d only walked a few minutes beside him and already you were thinking about bringing him into your nest? Had you gone insane?

You refuse to think about it, focusing on the trees, and the people passing by with dogs on harnesses leading the way-

“Did you grow up in New York?” He asks, his voice breaking into the whirlwind in your head.

You swallow, shaking your head before looking over at him.

Damn- looking at him was a mistake.

You tell him where you grew up on a shaky breath, asking him to reciprocate.

He smiles, calmly responds that he grew up here, bounced around the city a bit. Something about his response, the tone of his voice, tells you that there’s a key part of the story missing.

You don’t pry, knowing better than to ask intrusive questions.

You swallow, smiling at him politely when he looks at you, still trapped in the moment when he offered you his coat.

You catch a group of women with their eyes on William, and when their gaze falls on you, you watch their collective expressions switch from interest to disdain.

You drop your head, finding that maybe the floor is safer to gaze at than your environment.

What were you doing here with him? Why had you done this? You should have just stayed home where you were safer.

“What do you do for work?” He asks next, breaking into the din in your head. 

You turn to look at him with wide eyes, unsure as to why he was so interested in you.

“Uh- I’m- I work in customer service… somehow. I have no idea how I ended up there.”

“What do you mean?” He asks, the tone of his voice sounds genuinely curious.

You glance his way, giving him a smile.

“I’m not exactly a person that’s comfortable around people. I like… being alone.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not really, but it’s better than nothing.” You let out a breath, “Can’t complain.” You finish with a mutter.

“Something else you want to do?”

You shake your head sadly. You couldn’t very well say that you’d rather not work at all- it would look like you were after his money.

You think for a moment, trying to make something up, and falling short.

“Honestly, I don’t know, I guess I haven’t found my calling yet.”

He nods in understanding, and it gives you the opportunity to ask about his line of work.

“What about you? What do you do?”

“I'm in security,” he answers, “I handle asset and individual protection, and I even get contracted by the government occasionally.”

You listen intently, nodding along to his words. You'd already looked him up and had some idea of what he did, but it was interesting to hear it from him.

“That sounds really cool. Is there a lot of danger?”

He grins, and abjectly, you feel as though you've asked something stupid.

“It can get dicey sometimes, yeah, especially with protecting people.”

“Right, yeah, sorry, dumb question.” You mutter, looking down.

“I like your questions.” He says lowly, angling his head in your direction so that you hear him.

Like a fledgling omega, your heart skips a damn beat.

His eyes are very dark, you try not to trip as you get caught up in them, pools of obsidian, pulling you into him.

He gazes right back, the soft look in his eyes fills your head with delight, makes you forget about breathing for a few moments.

It's something so primal inside of you, a whisper in your head that this… this alpha, might be special. 

You breathe out a short sigh, inching closer, until you're close enough to breathe him in. You close your eyes, taking a deep, slow breath, bergamot and citrus chasing your anxieties away.

You lean in more, hindbrain in control, desperate for more of his scent, his hand is rough on the back of your neck. 

Your nose almost brushes the scent gland on the side of his neck when someone walking past clears their throat loudly.

You jerk, pulling back, brain restarting as absolute horror fills you.

No way did you almost scent a stranger in a public place.

You make a sound of regret, stepping back, his hand slips from your neck, you glance up at him, the scent of desire heavy in the air.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You vocalise, turning away for a second to catch your breath and calm yourself.

“I wasn't stopping you.” He admits, as you continue to breathe.

This was too much, he had too much of an influence on you. His words make your stomach flip.

It was a very good thing, you decided, that you'd chosen a public place. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what would have happened if you'd been alone. You weren't sure if you had the capacity to stop yourself around him.

He had the hidden ability to somehow switch your brain from rationality to instinct. And that, was the most dangerous thing of all.

“I'm sorry,” you say again, trying not to cry from how overwhelming it is to resist him, “If you- if you want to leave I'll understand.”

“Not at all, omega.” He replies almost instantly, “I want this, don't be sorry.” He reaches out to take your hand in his, giving you a reassuring squeeze.

“Come on.” He guides, taking a step forward to prompt you into walking again.

He doesn't let go of your hand.

.

The sandwich shop has an old feel to it, sitting at the center of the park with lots of seating both indoors and out for dining, the little building looks like it was built at least a decade or two ago. The roof is partially made of glass to allow natural light to spill in, blocked by trees all around except in the direct centre where a large amount of light spills in.

When Billy asks to be seated in the coolest spot, you turn to look at him in surprise, your stomach twisting, heart accelerating as you take in his casual dominance of his environment.

Like other Alphas, he knew how to command a room, though, with him, the assertion was more subtext. He was polite, and yet he always seemed to get what he wanted. It was a dangerous mix, and the implications of what that meant for you scared you a little.

“Is here okay?” He asks, turning to you when the woman at the front guides you to a table.

You blink in surprise. No one had ever-

You study the booth with a little frown, finding it a little too bright for your senses and then your eyes drift two tables down to a darker booth before looking back at him shyly.

“That one?” He asks, already moving.

“Yes please.” You say nicely, following him.

It's nice, you never sit in the booths because it's usually just you when you come here, but the seats are soft, and you can tell the velvety upholstery is clean and has recently been redone.

He slides into the seat opposite to you, his knees bumping yours for a second as he gets settled.

You giggle when they bump you again and he mutters an apology.

“Sorry, it's a little small,” you say, “And you're kind of… not.”

He laughs quietly.

“I'm okay, getting in was the hardest part, and it's not too bad.” You feel his legs extend out on either side of yours, taking up space to get comfortable. 

You can feel your heart beating forcefully as you watch him scan the little paper menu that had been placed on the table before you'd been seated. Finding difficulty in figuring out why exactly he'd taken an interest in you.

“S-so,” you murmur, getting his attention, “You didn't have the coat cleaned?”

His eyes darken, a smile pulling on his lips as he recounts the memory in his head.

“I was curious. I'd deleted the video of you taking it- didn't want to cause unnecessary trouble for you- plus I know that omegas occasionally do things on instinct- so when I got it back, wrapped so tightly, I was… just wondering about you a little.”

You swallow nervously.

“And then?”

You feel the molten heat in his gaze as his eyes roam over you.

“And then I smelled the most delicious scent. It made me desperate, made me lose control of my own thoughts for a couple of minutes. The smell of your heat was wonderful, omega. I knew I had to find you.”

You open your mouth to respond, but your eyes catch movement of a waitress coming your way.

“Hello, my name is Teresa, I'll be your waitress this evening. Are you ready to order?” She rushes out, smiling politely though you notice that her eyes linger on William for a few moments more.

“We're not ready to order yet,” he says, eyes still locked on you, “Can you come back in five minutes?” 

She nods easily, stepping away with a ‘sure thing.’

There's a beat of silence, where you stare down at your menu and read none of the words, head racing with what you know.

“What are you thinking about getting?”

You blink, glancing up at him and then back down to the menu.

“Um, I usually get the turkey on rye, so maybe that.”

“Got any suggestions for me?”

You hum, deep in thought.

“The grilled chicken pesto always smells so delicious, there's some fresh mozzarella in it too. I've never had it, but it's a popular one.”

“You should try it. Mix things up.”

You smile sadly, glancing at the price of the sandwich in question, the fresh mozzarella near triples the price.

“That's okay, I'll stick with my turkey.”

“Don't worry about anything else. If you really want the pesto, get it.”

His eyes are earnest, and you know there's another conversation happening in the subtext of this one. That he was willing to cover the cost, that it was obvious that it was the source of your hesitation.

You swallow, glancing down at the price once again, figuring that one sandwich wouldn't throw him into debt.

A little lump swells in your throat, you wonder if he would expect anything because of this like alphas before. You figure one sandwich did not give him that much leverage over you. You'd done more damage with his coat and he'd overlooked that.

“Okay, I'll have it. What will you get?”

“Steak sandwich.” He answers, with a smile, just as Teresa appears again.

“Ready?” She asks eagerly.

.

“Why did you pick this table?” He asks, studying you.

You glance over at him, having been distracted by some people walking in.

You're beautiful, he squeezes his fists, fighting himself. He wants to provide for you so badly that it tears at him. He can see how defensive you are, how cautious you act sometimes. He knows that you must have had bad encounters with Alphas to be this wary. He wants to learn you, know you better than he knows himself.

“I have a little sensitivity to light.” You respond, absentmindedly, “I can barely see in direct sunlight.”

He inclines his head, noting for later, to avoid anything that would overwhelm you.

“I'm sorry to hear that, sweetheart, it must be so hard to deal with.”

He feels delight fill his body as you give him a wide eyed look, your omega nature appreciating his sympathy to your plights. 

He bites the inside corner of his lip, wanting this sweet, timid omega to be his, very badly.

The urge to have you scent him sharpens, to press your nose to his neck, to have you breathe him in, mix your scents together so that no one would question whether or not you were a mated pair. You'd almost done it earlier, and he hadn't realized how eager he was for it until the moment you'd pulled away.

He had to play his cards right. If he scared you away, he would not get another chance.

.

You talk a lot, about where you grew up, and the schools you went to, and when he tells you about his childhood, you try not to give him any looks of pity, nodding along, eager to listen to everything he has to tell you.

You want to comfort him though, your hands clenching into fists in your lap because you want to reach over and squeeze his hand and tell him you’re sorry but logically you know that you barely know him.

Except that you feel like you’ve known him a very long time. Your face hurts with the amount you’ve smiled, the unfamiliar expression printed onto your face, where you’re usually shy or frightened.

When he asks about you, you feel a little more comfortable revealing personal information. Describing the details of your job so that he understands your day to day work.

“Does it pay well?”

“You know it doesn't.” You grumble sadly, “I would take up a second job if I could, but companies have this rule about how many hours an omega is allowed to work weekly.” You stop talking, waiting to see what stance he was going to take on this. The entire job market was designed to push omegas into the arms of alphas or betas rich enough to take care of them. 

His mouth turns down into a frown.

“They should just pay people liveable wages to begin with. Having a second job would be too much for anyone. At least tell me you get health insurance.”

You make an unsure face.

“For the most part, but there are… big gaps.”

His eyebrows crush together in sympathy.

“You get heat days?”

You nod, taking a few sips of your drink.

“Yeah, they give us three, and I usually have to take two extra sick days because I have longer heats.”

“Wait, they don’t give you days specific to your heat requirements?”

You let out a little awkward laugh.

“No, three heat days, giving more days to some people would be unfair according to them.”

He clicks his tongue, “That must be so hard.” He hums, and something primal sparks inside of you.

Yes, your mind screamed at him, yes alpha, I’m a poor little thing, please soothe me and take care of me and keep me warm and safe and full-

You clear your throat.

“I get by.” You reply.

He shakes his head, deep in thought.

“It’s still not fair.”

.

You let out a slow sigh when you take your first bite of the sandwich.

Eyes closed, you can't believe what you're tasting, that it could be so delicious.

You do your hardest not to take a second bite before finishing the first, determined to savour it.

Across from you, he makes a low hum when he bites into his, and you fight a smile, stomach fluttering, happy that he likes it.

“Maybe you can find another job?” He suggests between bites.

You blink, shoulders dropping.

“I've been trying, it's just not that easy,” You look down at your sandwich, a touch of sadness fills your chest, “Sorry, I don’t mean to complain.”

“It's okay, I want to hear about it.”

You let out a harsh breath, your stomach turning over.

“Why? Because you smelled my heat and decided I was going to be your omega?” You blink, regretting the words as soon as they come out, drawing back into yourself and waiting for him to get angry.

“I'm sorry,” you say when he doesn't immediately speak, “I shouldn’t have- I'm sorry.” You take a shallow breath, feeling the panic grip you tightly.

“Don't apologize, sweetheart, you didn't do anything wrong.”

You don't meet his eyes, still trying to get control of your fears.

You hear movement, and in your peripherals, you watch him slide out of the booth and to a stand. Oh god, was he leaving? You feel your eyes begin to swell with tears. 

You'd done it, successfully chased him away.

Your breath stutters when his plated sandwich slides in beside yours, and finally, you glance up at him.

“May I?” He asks softly, and you automatically comply without thinking, sliding deeper into the booth to give him more space.

He fits himself in, while you grab a napkin to blot at your tears, a little embarrassed now that you realize he wasn't actually leaving.

“S-sorry.” You whisper, trying to apologize for this abundance of emotion. For sure, it would definitely annoy him.

Your breath stutters when you feel the warm press of his palm to your shoulder blade.

“Breathe, omega, everything's alright.”

You suck in a shaky breath, his scent wrapping around you.

He moves slowly in your peripheral, moving his hand to brush the backs of his fingers over your cheek.

You finally look at him when he touches you, the sensation leaving tingles behind.

“One more big breath for me.” He guides, and you obey, feeling your brain respond to his gentleness.

His eyes are warm, chocolate, a feeling of ease settles into the base of your spine.

“When I smelled you on my coat for the first time, I knew I had to find you. But, finally meeting you, and slowly getting to know you, is what makes me want to stay. You're not my omega, and I'm not your alpha… But I'd like to be.”

My alpha?

Your lips part in disbelief, looking into his eyes, feeling hope swell inside of you.

Maybe he would make a good alpha, maybe he would hold you when you were scared, and kiss your cheek every night before falling asleep, maybe he would hold you tightly and talk to you after sex, and not make you feel like a used item to be discarded-

You shudder out a breath.

“I-I'm not interested in finding an alpha right now.” You stutter out, afraid of his response. 

His eyes remain kind, though there's something in them that makes you think that he's sad.

“I understand, sweetheart. I won't bring it up again.” He turns, bringing his sandwich up to his mouth to take another bite.

You follow his lead with wide eyes, surprised that this was all he had to say on the subject.

After a few bites, shoulder brushing his arm every now and again, you can't hold back.

“You're not… mad?”

You hear him exhale slowly.

“I don't think I could ever be mad at you, little one. I like you a lot, and I'm willing to… be as patient as you need me to be.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

“And what if it never happens? I don't want to give you false hope.”

To your surprise, he laughs, low and sweet. It brings a smile to your face though you don't know the joke.

“I'm going to have hope whether I want to or not. That's the consequence of wanting.”

Want.

“You want… me?”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Well, yes, I guess it was, but…” You let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking your head, “I'm sorry, this is so crazy.”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why is it crazy?”

“Bec-” You couldn’t say it out loud.

He turns to you, studying you intently for a moment.

“I mean, well, look at me.” You say softly.

He raises his eyebrows.

“You're lovely.” He murmurs.

You can't help the shy smile that it brings to your face.

.

To no one's surprise, he pays.

You let him, because you were in no position to offer any kind of payment, and he was willing to lose a three thousand dollar coat on a whim. 

When he offers you a ride home, you feel comfortable enough with him to accept, looping your arm around his bicep when he extends his elbow for you to take.

The muscle below is firm, and you simmer with delight at the privilege he gives you.

You look around as you walk together, taking in the scenery around, watching as someone throws a frisbee, and a dalmatian runs to catch it.

“I take it you don’t like me, then.” He says, interrupting your thoughts.

“I do.” You blurt so quickly that your brain doesn’t have time to catch up. There’s something aching in your chest at the thought that he was unlikeable to you.

You take a deep breath, smiling sadly.

“That’s the problem. I like you, and that will cloud my judgement. My past experience has made following my heart almost impossible… and alphas…” You swallow, “Alphas can be scary, and they flip so suddenly sometimes,” you let out a sigh, shaking your head, “It's dangerous to trust an alpha.”

“It hurts me to hear you say that.” 

“I'm sorry.” 

“I'm the one who's sorry. I'm so sorry, and angry that you've had so many bad experiences with alphas. I'm sorry that they made you feel unsafe. I know it doesn't hold much weight right now, but I'd never hurt you.”

You're almost inclined to believe him.

“I guess we'll see.” You say, giving him a meaningful look.

He grins down at you.

“I like the sound of that.”

.

His car is heavy with his scent. You close your eyes, heart racing, breathing in deep lungfuls, feeling your brain go hazy with it.

Your skin gets hypersensitive, the feel of his leather seats brushing your thighs, the way it feels on your fingertips, makes you drunk in a way you've never felt before.

You don't give him your real address, but one that's a block over so that he doesn't see the hovel you really live in. 

It's hard to focus on anything outside of the vehicle, when his engine purrs to life and the sound vibrates your eardrums gently, he makes sure you're buckled in, before starting off.

He doesn't race, takes his time, moves reasonably. It makes you feel safe, settles you. You'd been a little worried he was an aggressive driver, but you had nothing to worry about.

You blink in surprise when he extends his phone to you, unlocked, his hands catching your eye, a work of art you could stare at for hours.

“Pick some music?” He offers.

You nod, fingers brushing his, and you select something soothing, lo-fi, to enjoy.

You get hypnotised by it, the bergamot and notes of citrus, cracked pepper that makes you hum, delighted. If this was what being in his presence was always like, how would you ever leave?

You wanted to press your nose to his neck, breathe him in right from the source, you wanted this scent soaked into your pores until it followed you everywhere. You wanted this smell in your nest, clinging to your things.

You're so needy by the time he pulls over, eyes glassy with want, you notice his hands are gripping his steering tightly.

“Omega,” he says, a slight tremble to his voice, “Do you want to scent me? It'll help you relax.” 

It wouldn't. You knew it from the bottom of your heart, scenting him would only make you want him more. But your hindbrain's in control now, and all you do is nod shakily, fumbling to unbuckle your seat belt.

He covers your hands calmly, doing it for you when you struggle too many times. You look at him shyly when you're both free.

He gives you a warm smile, before tilting his head up, exposing his gland to you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, a thrumming that fills your head, almost too loud as you lean forward, pressing your face to his neck.

He groans, and you reach to fist his shirt tightly in your hands, taking in a deep breath.

This was your alpha, there was no denying it, no other scent had ever took hold of you the way his did, everything else was rotten in comparison, and you were losing grip of your sanity with each passing moment.

You breathe him in, memorizing it, the extra kick, straight from the source, your hindbrain takes full control in these moments, and you're completely helpless to it.

“Alpha.” You sigh into his neck, and you feel him shudder beneath you.

You tilt your head up, lips brushing his gland, he groans loudly, the sound echoing in your ears, drowning out the thrumming of your heart for just a moment.

“That's it, omega," He guides, "Take what you need.”

You whine, if you really took what you needed, he'd already be at home in your nest, ready to make you his.

You tilt your head higher, and he turns to look at you with heated eyes, your noses brush in the quiet of his car.

Someone walking past catches in your peripheral, and you gasp, reeling back, realising where you were.

“S- sorry.” You say, scrambling away, reaching to unlock the door, stepping out and bolting as fast as your legs can carry you, too afraid to look back at him.

It takes you three orgasms in your bed before you begin thinking again.

.

.

.

[inadaydream99]

Rejected Kisses

Enhypen x reader, fluff, the slightest angst (but not really)

A/N - Hello hello! This intended to be some short drabbles but - as always - I ended up getting carried away!

Disclaimer: this does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only. Use of cringy pet names and cliche scenarios. Anything I’ve missed, please let me know!

Heeseung

Heeseung knows exactly what he’s doing when he looks at you like that. With those big shining doe eyes of his guilt tripping you. He’s never failed to get his own way when he does this. It’s his best tactic in getting you to cave into what he wants. So the second he’d approached you, his arms wrapping around your waist from behind in a sneak attack, his body craning around so his already puckered lips could steal a kiss from the corner of your mouth and you’d wriggled away, his eyes had gone wide and glossy and ready to make you feel bad for what you’d done.

You turned to face your boyfriend, biting down on your bottom lip to suppress the smirk that wanted to break out across those oh-so irresistible lips of yours. You aren’t prepared to give into him so easily when you need to leave for work so soon.

“Baby, I just wanted one quick little kiss…”

Heeseung thinks he’s winning when you don’t immediately respond. He’s sure he can see the cogs in your head turning as you try to come up with a way to avoid giving him what he wants.

“But Hee, I’m already going to be late as it is.” You take a step back as he takes one step closer, helpless as he continues to stare you down with those deep, mesmerising eyes of his. “And with you it’s never just one quick little kiss.”

There’s a few seconds of outstretched silence before Heeseung lets out a deflated sigh, his gaze dropping to where your feet are pressed toe-to-toe.

“You’re right.”

You gulp. Damn it. You may have been able to dodge his doe-eyed look, but there’s no way on Earth you are able to leave him looking so defeated and kiss-less like this.

So, set upon letting your boyfriend have his way, you tuck your finger under his chin and close the space between you until your lips ghost. Smiling into him as you watch the successful smirk finally break out across his lips, before delving in without hesitation. You guess being late isn’t the worst thing in the world anyway.

Jay

Do you think he cares? Pft. No way… or at least Jay is certainly trying to convince himself of that.

Except he does. He really really does care that you just walked away from him like that. And with his lips still puckered no less.

“Daggers at 6 o’clock (Y/N). What did you do?” Jungwon nudges you with his elbow as you stand beside him, packing away some of Jay’s things after the end of the group’s practice.

Upon Jungwon’s words, your head raises to look in the mirror, your gaze instantly falling on Jay in the background sending you daggers exactly as you had been told. And despite being informed beforehand, his gaze still manages to send a shiver down your spine.

“Oh Jay’s just goofing.” You try to sound unaffected, snatching your stare away to refocus on tidying the last few items away.

The other members had already up and left by the time you’d slung Jay’s bag over your shoulder and grabbed the last few empty water bottles to put into the trash. Everyone except said owner of the bag you’re carrying.

“Shall we try again?” You almost jump out of your skin from the sudden proximity, your mouth gaping as you take in the way Jay leans up against the door of the practice room. The only door of the practice room. “C’mon (Y/N), there’s no one around anymore. We don’t need to worry about being caught.”

He’s got you there, knowing fully well that you really don’t like PDA. That’s the only reason you’d ever reject his affection the way you did.

“I’m even blocking the door.” And you can’t help but to mirror his smile at that, finally letting your tense shoulders drop as Jay reaches out and pulls your body flush against his.

“I love you.” You whisper-giggle.

“And I love you more.”

Jake

It’s been so long since you’ve tested the patience of your boyfriend that you’d forgotten just how much stamina he has. Running away never has served you very well against Jake because he could out run you in his sleep. But that doesn’t mean you still didn’t try.

“I promise I’m not mad, my love.” You try to quieten your heavy breaths to keep yourself hidden from Jake. “I know you didn’t really mean to reject my kisses… right baby?”

The way he speaks so softly, condescendingly and ever so dangerously leaves you in a hot flush, biting down on your bottom lip and squeezing your eyes shut as you hear him creep slowly closer to the first empty room in his apartment you found and chose to take refuge in. Judging by the soft plushies on the singular bed, you assume it must be Sunoo’s room.

Before you have time to register what’s happening, Jake has easily overpowered your weight leaning on Sunoo’s bedroom door and chased after you as you let out a squeal and dashed to the opposite end of the room.

Caging you between the wall and his lean arms, you’ve got no shot of another escape. Surrendering is all you have left.

“Jakey.” Your voice is weak, but you still continue to try to get him to let his guard down. Raising your hand to caress his cheek, you smooth the pad of your thumb lightly over his soft skin. “I was only messing about when I dodged your kiss. Of course you know that and you’ll let me off because you love me, right?” You give your best pleading smile, finding it harder to hide how his towering stature and devilish grin affect you.

“Y’know, I told you I wasn’t mad.” Jake begins in a whisper, leaning down so his soft words pepper the sensitive skin of your neck. He smirks watching you shiver. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get revenge.”

You breath hitches as Jake’s palms move to hold your waist, squeezing you firmly in his hold as he manoeuvres you away from the wall. You feel the edge of the bed on the back of your legs, allowing Jake to push you down until you’re laying beneath him.

He hovers over you with a taunting smirk, watching the way you watch him. You look so timid. Waiting so willingly for him to make the next move. And so he does.

Without a glimpse of hesitation, your lips connect with his. Melting into his every capture and recapture of his velvet soft lips. And that’s where you stay… at least until Sunoo returns, judging and complaining until you leave.

Sunghoon

He’s strong-willed and stubborn. He will get his own way. You will give him a kiss. Even if that means he has to reverse psychology you into it. Sunghoon is willing to work for your affection. Better yet, he’ll work so hard you’ll want to give him a kiss even more than he wants to kiss you.

You hadn’t realised that your boyfriend had noticed the fact you’d deliberately dodged his attempted kiss that morning. No, Sunghoon had played it off so well that you honestly thought he just didn’t care. And that bothered you all day.

Why didn’t he make a comment? You didn’t even get a grumble, or a huff. Nothing. No reaction what so ever. Does he not really want to kiss you? Does he just feel the obligation because of his boyfriend title? Does he still care about you?

That can’t be it. You absolutely refuse. And so, to dissipate your overworking mind, you decide that as soon as you get back from your busy day of errands, you’re going to prove yourself wrong… or right? Ugh. Whichever means that your boyfriend is still into you.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, can’t believe it actually worked. His reaction-less reaction had actually gotten into your head so much you’d been fawning all over him the whole evening. He’d not been able to get away from your hugs or kisses or touches for more than half a minute max. And he was absolutely loving it, he just wasn’t giving you any indication about it.

In fact, Sunghoon had shut himself in the bathroom for the last few minutes just to try to cool himself down a bit. He was starting to get so hot and bothered by your ever-increasing ministrations. And he is by no means ready to give up his little facade yet. Not when he’s having so much fun.

“Seriously bro, you’ve got to try this out. It’s on another level.” Sunghoon chuckles down the phone to Jake, who he’s been relaying his whole plan to - his ego only boosting with each sound of approval from his friend.

“Hoonie~” he hears you call from the opposite side of the door, excitement bubbling up inside of him as he whispers a “gotta go” to Jake before hanging up and sliding his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

“Yes ba-” he’s rendered speechless when he opens the bathroom door to find you on your bed, snuggled under the covers. “What are you doing?” He chuckles in amusement. You look so adorable. So small. So snug. So so kissable.

“I’m tired baby. So I thought we could make out here instead?”

Sod it. He can’t resist you any longer. So Sunghoon wastes no more time in slipping into bed beside you, pulling you into his embrace and kissing you like there’s no tomorrow.

Sunoo

You hadn’t intended to reject Sunoo’s kiss last night. It’s just that you’d had such a long day and you were so tired that you were practically asleep the second your head hit the pillow and long gone by the time your boyfriend had finished brushing his teeth and gotten into bed beside you. Meaning that Sunoo never got his goodnight kiss.

He knows it’s petty and that you were just exhausted. But without his goodnights kiss, Sunoo was unable to fall asleep. Which meant that he spent most of the night wriggling around in bed because he couldn’t get comfy. Because he couldn’t relax. Because he never got his kiss.

In a bad mood way before the sun rose, Sunoo got out of bed with every intention of just getting his day over and done with. There was no skip in his step or smile on his face. There was no “good morning pretty” or his usual request for a good luck kiss every 10 seconds. No. Sunoo was dressed and gone for schedules before you’d even awoke. And he didn’t even leave a cute little note telling you to have the most amazing day like he usually would have done.

While you were concerned, you brushed it off as him just being in such a hurry that it must have slipped his mind. Not even realising anything could be off until the evening arrived and your precious, beloved sunshine returned to you in a grump.

“How was your day sweetie?” Your attempt to give him a back hug is swatted away as he trudges into the bedroom and flops himself face down onto the bed.

Ah paradise at last. Soft, pillowy bed sheets and silence. Until you come trailing behind him with a million questions about his attitude and if everything is ok? Sunoo knows he’s being irrationally unfair towards you, but no, everything is not ok. Because he got no sleep, because he got no kiss from you.

You’re speechless upon the onslaught of hurtful words that tumble from his mouth. How could he take it all out on you like that? You didn’t intentionally forget to kiss him before bed. And, regardless of you being asleep, he should have woken you for a kiss. You never would have pushed him away. You’d give him a kiss every second of every day for the rest of your life if it were possible. That’s how much you love him. But clearly the sentiment is not returned…

“I think I should go…” your hoarse voice whispers through the pain that is your broken heart, speaking to Sunoo’s back as he continues to lay face down on the bed you shared. He flips over the second he hears your words.

“Where? You live here.” His tone is void of emotion; his version of anger. Sunoo doesn’t shout or rage when he’s mad. Instead he goes void.

“Does it matter?” You shrug, trying to keep the tears from falling. But then you begin to tremble and turn your back to him.

Finally reality hits Sunoo like a ton of bricks. How has he let himself get into this mess? More importantly, how had he allowed himself to treat you the way he has? No amount of tiredness can excuse that. Ever.

“I’m so sorry baby.” You feel Sunoo’s hands hold your waist before turning you around and pulling you into his chest. He clutches onto you as though he’d lose you forever if he lets go. You blubber into him. “You’re the best thing in my life. Please don’t leave me.”

You pull your face away just enough to peek up at him, immediately meeting his remorseful gaze and seeing that he really does feel terrible. You’re not quite up to speaking yet, but you want to start putting this behind you so you can both go back to being loved-up like you usually are. So you move your arms to behind his neck and raise onto your tippy-toes before pressing a loving kiss to his lips.

Jungwon

Your boyfriend is just too cute to say no to. Most of the time, at least…

“No no no no NO!” He shouts, dropping the controller to exasperatedly flail his hands in the air instead.

“Jungwon. Stop shouting.” You glair at him from where you try to read. But you should have known that paying him a visit when he told you that he had made plans to play games with Heeseung and Niki was a bad idea. I don’t mind, I’ll just enjoy your company. Oh how wrong you were. Between Jungwon shouting at the screen and losing another round to Heeseung, you’d not had a single moment of peace since you’d arrived.

“Sorry baby!” He shouts without realising, continuing his game as though nothings amiss. You simply roll your eyes at him before marking the page of your book and standing. Once you have reached your competitive boyfriend you tap him on the shoulder.

“Niki you little shi-” Jungwon’s explosion falls short when he turns to face you. You look pissed. “Everything ok baby?” He plasters on his best smile, hoping it’s enough to pacify you.

“No. It’s not.” This wipes the smile right off his face, instead replacing it with something more akin to fear. “I’m going home.” You state, not giving your boyfriend a chance to rectify your annoyance. Jungwon is so speechless he doesn’t even give a reaction to Niki’s teasing “Sounds like there’s trouble in paradise…”

The next day Jungwon won’t stop pleading and pestering you.

“Baby please come over tonight. I promise I won’t shout, I’ll use my indoor voice only.” Jungwon chases after you as you continue to walk away from him. So it’s clear you’re still miffed from the night before, you’ve not even given Jungwon a single kiss all day.

“Just tell me what I need to do to make things right again.” You’re halted by his hand on your shoulder, allowing him to turn you so you face each other. It’s not exactly like he’s done anything wrong, he did warn you that he would be playing games with his friends and you did say you didn’t mind. You suppose you’re just annoyed because you were unable to relax or read more than a few pages of your book.

With the way he looks so sorry, you feel yourself deflate.

“No Wonnie…” you sigh, “…you did nothing wrong. I just wanted to spend time with you and I was being petty about it.”

His smile melts your heart as he lets out a relieved chuckle.

“I’m sorry for not prioritising you, or for listening to you.” Jungwon whispers as he closes the space between you until you’re impossibly close. You watch as he bites onto his bottom lip while he assess if you would resist one of his kisses. And when he realises that you’re waiting for him to just make the move already, he wastes no more time and closes the space between you completely, savouring every part of you.

Niki

It wasn’t so long ago that you and Niki were just friends. So it’s understandable that you’re both still working out how to cross the line between just friends and something more.

You’ve got hand holding down. In fact, it feels so natural it feels wrong to be waking anywhere with Niki and not be holding his hand. And cuddling was never an issue because you’ve always had quite a cuddly friendship. But kissing is a whole new ball-park of affection.

It’s not that you don’t want to kiss Niki. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever wanted to kiss anyone more. It’s just… it’s a little daunting for you to kiss the guy you’ve been friends with for so long. The very same guy you’ve always daydreamed of kissing.

You’ve been so in your head about it that you’ve been freaking yourself out. To the point where Niki actually tried to kiss you after dinner a few nights ago and you panicked and swerved into a hug instead. How awkward…

Thankfully he’d found it adorable how nervous you were and chuckled into the hug. He’d even teased you the next day about it, telling you that he won’t try to kiss you again unless you kiss him first. Except, now you’re putting more pressure on yourself. What do you mean you have to be the one to initiate the kiss?!

Another 24 hours later and another date comes drawing to an end. This time, you find yourself in the passenger side of Niki’s car, stopped in front of your apartment building. It’s clear neither of you want for the night to end just yet, your hands still intertwined across the middle console that separates your seat from his.

“What’s on your mind pretty?” His voice is soft, lowly questioning you with that signature smirk of his. The way his eyes run up and down your face, sultrily drinking you in shadowed by the darkness of the car. The streetlight just outside casting his features in an insurmountably gorgeous way. It has your brain melting. And you know this is the moment. You’re ready and you can’t resist him anymore.

Niki remains unmoving as you slowly lean towards him, accepting your hand that cups his cheek and coerces him to draw closer until your noses brush. The next thing you know, your lips find his and your eyes have fluttered shut.

You can feel his smile outstretch as he almost immediately kiss you back, allowing him to take over and deepen the kiss. You’re so lost in how right it feels that you don’t realise you’ve been manoeuvred onto his lap until Niki pulls back for some air. Your eyes finally opening to find him already watching you, so loved up.

There’s no words that need to be exchanged between you to know the feeling is mutual. So you dive right back in instead, newly obsessed with the caress of his lips on yours.

[lyvhie]

love your fics so far, maybe you could make some haechan fluff? like, just reader telling that she loves him 🥺

sweetener | ldh

boyfriend!haechan x gn!reader

summary: you just want to show your boyfriend how important he is to you.

a/n: hiii, anon! i'm sorry it took so long, i did not forget about you!!! i hope you like it <3. guys, let's just pretend i'm not late to haechan's bday? thank you vm thank you.

cw: fluff, a huge use of "i love you" bcs... i love him i guess i'm sorry guys, a little tiny bit suggestive at the end, pet names (& lmk if i missed smth!).

you were utterly exhausted, overwhelmed by your job's demanding nature. all you longed for was the warmth and security of your boyfriend's embrace, the comfort of his presence.

a weary sigh escaped your lips as you fished the key from your pocket, unlocking the door to his apartment. "hyuck, i'm home," you murmured, tossing your bag carelessly onto the couch before heading to the bedroom in search of him.

he was there, already clad in the softest clothes he owned and lounging on the bed, engrossed in some amusing videos he had stumbled upon. yet, hearing your voice call out his name, he quickly switched off the screen and sat upright, eagerly anticipating your arrival.

"hey baby, there you are," he greeted, a warm smile spreading across his face as he opened his arms, ready to envelop you in a comforting embrace. you forced a weary smile, your exhaustion palpable. without a moment's hesitation, you gently flung yourself into his arms, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"hi, love," you whispered softly, the vibration of your voice echoing against his skin as you cuddled close.

he let out a hearty laugh, amused by how quickly you came to hug him. he then tightened his hold around you as he effortlessly toppled back onto the bed, his hands gliding gently up and down your frame as he whispered softly into your hair.

"rough day?" he softly inquired, his touch a soothing balm against the weariness that clung to you.

"that would be an euphemism," you sighed, your breath fanning against his neck. "my boss has been a pain in the ass," you continued, nuzzling closer to him. "and being apart from you just adds to the misery," you murmur, your voice tinged with a hint of longing. "seriously, what could possibly be worse than that?”

he playfully tilted his head to the side, his arms cinching snugly around your form, pulling your body tight against his own. then, he released a theatrical sigh, his voice laced with mock distress.

"oh, how shall i ever recover from learning the depths of your yearning for me throughout the day?” he cupped your face on his hands. “what possible remedy could exist for such a woeful separation?"

you let out a lighthearted scoff and rolled your eyes at his words, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "instead of making jokes, you should be helping me recuperate from the long hours we spent apart," you responded with a cheeky glint in your eyes.

he chuckled softly, his affectionate teasing evident as he responded, "oh, how foolish of me to deny such a request from my needy love,” he then leaned in, planting a tender kiss on your lips, making your heart flutter. the kiss lingered for a sweet moment, leaving you blissfully content. "did that do the trick for now?”

you stood there, silently watching him with an adoring smile, as if beholding the most precious treasure in the world. "what?" he asked, his eyebrows raised in slight confusion. "why are you looking at me as if i were a puppy in a box in the middle of the street, and you desperately wished to take me home?”

you couldn't help but burst into melodic laughter, shaking your head gently as you cradled his face in your hands, your eyes drinking in every detail of him.

"i'm just thinking about how much i love you," you murmured softly, your thumbs tenderly caressing his cheeks. "seriously, i love you so much, babe," your eyes glowed with sincerity, a love-filled gaze that seemed to radiate from within. "you make me so happy, make me feel like the luckiest person alive to have you by my side. it's..." your voice trailed off, searching for the right words, but struggle to find them. instead, your thumb continued to gently caress his cheeks as you sighed, "surreal."

he was surprised by how romantic you were suddenly getting for no reason, but he was happy to see that you felt so strongly about him. he wrapped his arms around you and rolled so that he was on top of you, his face inches from yours.

“well, you make me so happy too,” he kissed the tip of your nose. “you make me so goddamn happy, you have no idea… i’m so madly in love with you, it’s honestly insane to me,” his laughter, a joyous sound, filled the air.

you followed him closely, your smile filled with tender affection, your eyes practically turning into hearts. "me too," you echoed softly. "i am madly, uncontrollably in love with you," a sweet giggle escaped your lips as you added, "you're absolutely amazing, my love. i adore every single thing about you. i love you with all my heart.”

he smiled down at your words, loving the way you were looking at him and the absolute sincerity in your voice. his heart was basically melting right then and there, he couldn’t get sick of hearing that you loved him, he needed it to fuel his days.

“baby... you’re not being fair you know, i’m supposed to be the one making you feel like that, not the other way around…” he laughed softly and kissed you once more, trying to get you to stop with all of the compliments

"no, it really isn't fair," you agreed, chuckling softly. "i feel like i don't express my love for you enough, and i should be telling you how much you mean to me every single day,” you sighed softly and gently squished his cheeks, looking into his eyes as you continued, "you're truly amazing, and that's putting it lightly. god, i love you so much it's ridiculous!”

“okay, okay, i get it!” he began peppering kisses over every inch of your face, saying in between each one, "you love me," he moved on to your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, and the corners of your mouth, adding, "you really, really love me,” then, he kissed your lips once more, pausing and grinning before continuing, "i'm incredible. you're in love with me,” another kiss. "you're obsessed with me." another kiss. "you want to marry me.”

he chuckled softly as he finished with a playful grin, leaning in and pressing one final kiss on your lips before you could say something back, this one lingering for a few moments. his lips moved against yours, prolonging the touch before he eventually pulled away, a soft smile still on his face.

this time, it was his turn to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his voice soft and muffled as he mumbled against your skin, "are you okay, love? why are you suddenly so affectionate?"

he had grown used to your sweet, comforting nature, yet he could never quite shake his surprise at how attuned you were to his emotional needs. you always seemed to know exactly when he needed a few kind words to ease whatever worries or concerns he was grappling with.

you let out a lighthearted giggle, gently stroking his hair with your fingers. "of course i’m okay," you reassured him. "i just felt like telling you how important you are to me!" your voice softened even more as you continued, "because i love you so much, and you absolutely deserve to hear it as often as possible!”

“god, you are such a cheeseball,” he teased, smiling and nuzzling his face in your neck as you scratched his hair, absolutely relishing your love and attention to him. "i'm the one who's incredibly lucky to have you by my side, even when i'm not being the best partner i could be. thank you for staying, thank you for believing in me.”

his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he nestled against you. "i don't deserve you," he murmured into your skin. "you’ve stood by me through everything, and i’m thankful every single day for having you in my life. i don’t know where i’d be without you, honestly. you make my life so much better by just existing, you know that?”

you pulled him away from your neck and pinched his cheeks. he playfully winced, his voice laced with feigned agony. “alright, alright, i get it!" he chuckled, placing his hands over yours to stop your actions. "and here i thought i was being poetic!"

you laughed and rolled your eyes. "i'm serious, though," you said, trying to keep a straight face despite the smile that threatened to overtake it. “you're everything i could ever want and more. you make me feel loved and cherished every single day, and i wouldn't trade our time together for anything. you're perfect, and i don't want to hear another word about you feeling undeserving. you're mine, and i wouldn't have it any other way.”

he looked at you in silence for a few seconds, a sly smile forming on his lips. then, he spoke up, his voice dropping to a sultry tone. "you know how sexy you sounded right now?" his eyebrows raised, and he continued, a playful glint in his eyes. "honestly, i’m tempted to throw away all our plans for the night and skip straight to the bedroom instead.”

with a light-hearted chuckle, you playfully pushed him away, making him roll onto his back in the bed.

"we're already in the bedroom, you dummy," you teased, still laughing as you climbed off the bed. "and no," you continued, sticking out your tongue playfully, "we're going to stick to our agreement. i'm going to take a shower, and then we'll watch dramas together. no exceptions.”

he whined in protest, making a dramatic show of complying. "fine, fine," he grumbled, rising to his feet and following you into the bathroom. he wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

with a playful smirk, you raised your eyebrows as his lips found your neck. "umm, excuse me, sir," you questioned, a hint of jest in your voice. "what are you up to now?" you inquired, enjoying the feeling of his soft pecks on your skin.

he pressed against your neck, nuzzling softly. "since we're both being so affectionate today," he began, his voice dripping with charm, "why not show you how much i love you? and no worries, i won't be skipping our night of cuddles, dramas, and snacks. instead, we'll simply... take a shower together. nothing more, i promise. just want to keep the closeness going.”

you knew very well that when it came to showers with donghyuck, there was always more to look forward to than just washing up. but who were you to complain, really? and besides, there was no way you could deny the growing heat in your chest or the way your heart skipped a beat at the mere thought of his touch.

you paused for a moment, pretending to consider his suggestion before replying with a playfully stern tone. "alright," you agreed with a mock-serious expression. "but let me make this clear: one wrong move, and i’m kicking you out of this shower. you heard me?” the smirk on your face betrayed your actual feelings, and both of you knew that your threat was an empty one.

he chuckled softly at your warning, his hands roaming over your body with a teasing touch. "oh, really?" he responded with feigned disappointment. "and here i was thinking you'd enjoy some extra attention," he sighed exaggeratedly, acting as if he were conceding. "but i suppose i'll have to behave myself then," he agreed, his voice dripping with playful compliance. either way, he wasn't worried. he knew you couldn’t resist him.

[queenofvelaris]

Worthy

Steve Rogers x fem!reader

Word count: 9.7k (don’t look at me)

Contains: ANGST but with a happy ending, mentions of abuse, self-deprecation, Tony’s stupid quips, fight scenes (its age of ultron duh), tooth-rotting fluff, minor character deaths

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this story. Everyone except for the reader and her family belongs to Marvel.

Author’s Note: hiiii so I wrote this in 2021 when I was going through a really dark time. It brought me so much peace to write it and I figured it was time I share it with the world. Reblogs, likes, and comments are much appreciated and I would love to hear your thoughts (such as if I should post more cause I got more 🫣) anyways I hope you like it!!

***

Worthy. What a ridiculous word. A hypocritical one, too. There are those who believe with everything they’ve got— even to the point of being prideful— that they’re worthy. Others hope that they are. And the rest feel, deep down inside, that they’ll never be worthy.

“I bet it’s a trick,” Clint commented, spinning drumsticks between his fingers. He was sat next to Maria, and on his other side, Bruce and Natasha were deep in conversation. Tony and Rhodey sat on the futon. Dr. Cho was asleep.

Thor chuckled and handed a newly opened beer bottle to Steve. (Y/N) was on the carpet, her back against Steve’s strong legs. Thor shook his head. “No, no. It is much more than that.”

“Whosoever be he worthy shall haveth the power,” Clint mocked in a Shakespearean voice that made (Y/N) snort. “Whatever, man!”

Thor grinned and indicated his hammer, propped up on the coffee table. “Please, be my guest.”

Tony smirked at Clint. “Go ahead!”

Clint raised his eyebrows. “Really?” He leaped to his feet.

“Oh, this is gonna be beautiful,” Rhodey remarked.

Steve leaned down and whispered in (Y/N)’s ear. “Five bucks says he gives up after five seconds.”

“You’re on,” (Y/N) shot back. “I say ten seconds… gotta give the man a little credit.” She smiled to herself as Steve tickled her shoulder. If she were on the same level as him, she’d tickle him right back.

From the very beginning of the Avengers initiative, after that whole mess in 2012, Steve has always been the one (Y/N) was closest to, Clint being a very close second. It was an instant click. They loved the same movies, traded jokes and sarcastic comments, trained together, and even fell asleep next to each other on the couch on days off. Three years later, they are as close as ever.

Clint approached Mjölnir, a swagger in his step. Tony leaned forward in his seat. “Clint, you’ve had a tough week. We won’t hold it against you if you can’t get it up.”

Everyone chuckled at that and Clint ignored them, eyeing Thor. “You know I’ve seen this before, right?”

He reached for the handle and tugged, grunting as he did so. About five seconds later, he gave up, shaking his head. “I still don’t know how you do it!”

“Smell the silent judgment?” Tony jeered at Clint as (Y/N) grudgingly handed Steve five bucks.

Steve made it better with a flash of his perfect smile and a wink from his pretty blue eyes. Beaming, she rolled her eyes and focused on the petty ones in the room.

Clint held out his hand. “Stark, by all means.”

Tony shrugged and stood, earning a chorus of “Uh oh”, “Mmm-hmm”, “Oh here we go.” He practically strutted over to the hammer. “Never been one to shy away from an honest challenge.”

“Yeah, but how often do you win ‘em?” (Y/N) muttered and Steve laughed so hard he choked on his beer. Rhodey and a couple others went “ooo!”

Tony shot her a playful glare and looped his wrist through the loop on the top of the handle. “It’s physics.” He glanced at Thor. “Alright, so, uh, if I lift it, I then rule Asgard?”

Thor nodded benevolently. “Yes.”

Tony grasped the handle and put one foot on the table. “I will be reinstituting Prima Nocta.” He grunted and pulled, but the hammer didn’t move at all. He removed the loop and cleared his throat. “Be right back.”

He stormed away and came back not one minute later with an Iron Man glove from his latest model. “That’s cheating!” Maria called.

Tony put it on and grasped the handle. “And I’m Tony Stark.” He yanked on the handle, but the Asgardian weapon remained unmovable. He turned his hand and little turbines came out of the arm, acting like a rocket. Still, Mjölnir stayed still as a rock.

(Y/N) shook her head, grinning as Tony struggled with the hammer. “Give it a rest, pretty boy, you can’t lift it.”

“I can and will, sugar lips,” Tony retorted good-naturedly. He waved Rhodey over and the latter put on his own hand gear from War Machine. Watching them try and lift it together was hysterical and (Y/N) could barely breathe, she was laughing so hard.

Next up was Bruce, who climbed on the table and screamed when he couldn’t lift the hammer. Everyone stared at him in amusement and he flushed pink, embarrassed.

(Y/N) had her head on Steve’s knee when Maria tried and failed. The former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent turned to (Y/N). “Alright, you’re up.”

She lifted her head, chewing on her lip. “Oh, no. I, uh, I’m not doing it.”

Tony whined. “Come on! After Capsicle and Shakespeare in the Park, you’re the strongest one here!”

He wasn’t wrong. That’s another reason she and Steve were both so close-- they were the only enhanced beings in the tower. Her super strength and cat-like agility earned her the nickname of The Leopard, only she wasn’t experimented on. Her mom had been a chemist for S.H.I.E.L.D. when (Y/N) was young, and one day she came to work with her mom and there was an explosion that resulted from the leak of a new serum designed to replicate the one inside Steve. She and her mom both got struck. The result? She got powers and her mom was killed.

“I’m not lifting it, Stark,” she said firmly. She held his gaze. Normally, she’d sigh at the sight of those puppy dog eyes and grudgingly give into whatever task he wanted her to complete. But this… this was different.

Thor boomed, “It is not about strength, Stark. It is about worthiness.”

And I’m the least worthy person here, she said silently.

Steve petted her head for a second before patting her shoulder. “I’ll try.”

Grateful, she shuffled to the side to let him stand. She took his place on the couch next to Thor and watched as he rolled up the sleeves of his button-up. His blonde hair glowed in the light and his arm muscles flexed as he gripped onto the hammer.

Clenching his jaw, Steve tugged on the hammer… and it moved slightly. Thrilled, (Y/N) stole a glance at Thor’s face and nearly pissed herself. Thor looked so shocked. Stifling her laughter, she watched as Steve pulled on the handle once more before letting go, holding up his hands in surrender.

Thor audibly blew out a sigh of relief, a small smile returning to his face. (Y/N) shoved his arm. “Don’t worry, no one’s coming for your throne, Thunder.”

Steve chuckled at that and sat back down next to her. Everyone looked at Nat, who smiled and took a sip of her beer. “Oh, no, no, that’s not a question I need answered.”

Tony raised his bottle. “All deference to the man who wouldn’t be king, but it’s rigged.”

Clint clapped Tony on the shoulder. “You bet your ass.”

Maria piped up, “Steve, he said a bad language word.”

“Did you tell everyone about that?” Steve demanded, glaring at Tony as (Y/N) buried her face in his shoulder to smother her laughter. Steve wrapped his arm around her instead of pushing her away, and when she lifted her head, she had to look away from Natasha, whose smirking expression was directed right at her and Steve. Nat has caught them curled up together on the couch before, and each time (Y/N) has told her “Steve is my best friend.” Even though I want more.

Tony leaped to continue his previous train of thought. “The handle’s imprinted. Like a security code. ‘Whosoever is carrying Thor’s fingerprints’ is I think the literal translation.”

“Yes, that’s a, uh, very, very interesting theory,” Thor replied, standing with his Asgardian ale in one hand. “I have a simpler one.” He lifted the hammer with ease and flipped it, catching it gracefully. “You are all not worthy.”

(Y/N) shook her head with a small smile on her face, Steve and Clint laughed, Rhodey and Bruce scoffed, Tony groaned a “Come on!” and Maria and Natasha exchanged looks with the now awake Dr. Cho.

Suddenly, a loud feedback whine pierced the air and everyone reacted, some stiffening and the others covering their ears. Tony frowned and pulled out his transparent pad that controlled everything in the tower.

A voice that sent chills down (Y/N)’s spine came to their attention, as well as the clanking of metal. “Worrrrrrtttttthhhhyyyy.” A tattered, roughed-up-looking version of one of Tony’s suits lurched into the living room, leaking oil. It turned to face them. It flourished its hand, and when it spoke next, its voice was clearer, more masculine, and much more sinister. “No. How could you be worthy? You’re all killers.”

At that, (Y/N) stiffened as dread rooted deep down in her gut. Steve let go of her and stood, his stern eyes fixed on the robot. “Stark,” he challenged without looking at the billionaire.

“J.A.R.V.I.S.,” Tony called.

“I’m sorry, I was asleep.” The suit turned his head, the lights in his eyes flickering. “Or I was a dream.”

Tony tapped on the pad. “Reboot. We’ve got a buggy suit.”

The robot in front of them shielded his face. “There was this terrible noise, and I was tangled in… in…” he looked down at the wires and spare parts keeping the frame together. “...strings.”

(Y/N) and everyone else who had been sitting set down their drinks and stood, all of them tense. The suit flourished his hand again. “Had to kill the other guy… he was a good guy.”

“You killed someone?” Steve asked, serious and condescending.

Those words and his tone made (Y/N) feel a little sick, but she willed herself not to react and instead focused on the terrifying suit, which glanced at the floor. “Wasn’t my first call. But… in the real world, we’re faced with ugly choices.”

“Who sent you?” (Y/N) asked calmly.

The suit straightened up as the sound of a tape rewinding filled their ears. “I see a suit of armor around the world,” Tony’s voice came through.

Tony’s face paled. Bruce stared at him. “Ultron.”

(Y/N), Steve and Thor shot a bewildered look at Tony, while Natasha, Rhodey, and Clint all looked at Bruce for answers. Maria cocked her gun and Thor’s grip on his hammer tightened. (Y/N) clenched her fists and exchanged a look with Steve.

“In the flesh,” the suit answered. “Or, no, not yet. Not this… chrysalis. But I’m ready. I’m on a mission.”

Natasha tilted her head. “What mission?”

Ultron jutted his chin out, and if he had a real form, (Y/N) was sure he would be smiling. “Peace in our time.”

Three of Tony’s suits burst out of the wall, concrete and plaster raining down like hail. Almost everyone dove for cover. Steve flipped up the coffee table just in time for a suit to collide with it, sending both (Y/N) and Steve over the couch.

He immediately reached for her, his eyes wide. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” She scrambled to her feet at the same time he did. She ducked as one of the suits flew straight over her head and watched Thor smack it with his hammer.

She hurried over to the bar, where Natasha and Bruce were hunkered down, the assassin using her gun. Maria was also firing her gun, Clint was nowhere to be seen, and Rhodey tumbled through the glass window onto the landing below.

Grabbing a long skewer, she leaped onto the back of a suit that was towering over a terrified Dr. Cho. (Y/N) tried to impale the skewer in between the helmet and neck, hoping to dismantle some of the wires, but it threw her off and into the grand piano with a great crash. The impact barely hurt her, but it certainly knocked the air out of her lungs. She tumbled onto her back, winded, and her eyes widened in fear when the suit faced her.

Unbeknownst to her, Ultron cocked its head and turned his attention toward her. “Interesting.”

Natasha and Bruce hurried up the stairs, Clint barely missed a shot from a suit, Tony hopped onto the back of another one, and the suit looming over (Y/N) got distracted by Maria.

Her heart in her throat, (Y/N) watched as Steve got slammed against the wall on the second landing. He fell to the ground hard, groaning. Thinking quickly, she twisted her head and saw his shield. It was heavy as all hell for everyone else, but for her, it was nothing.

“STEVE!” She yelled, gripping onto the shield.

Steve bolted to his feet and at the same time, (Y/N) threw it to him like a frisbee. Thor dismantled one suit, Tony took down the other, but the third remained. With a spin, Steve threw his shield and it tore the suit in half.

It was over as fast as it had started. It was quiet for a second, the only sound being everyone’s panting. (Y/N) rubbed her neck and gripped onto the wall for support.

Ultron shook his head. “That was dramatic. I’m sorry, I know you mean well, you just didn’t think it through.”

Steve took a few angry steps forward and (Y/N) stiffened. Ultron continued. “You want to protect the world but you don’t want it to change. How is humanity saved if it’s not allowed to... evolve?” He bent and picked up the destroyed head of one of the suits. “With these? These puppets.” Ultron threw down the head and surveyed the room. “There’s only one path to peace. The Avengers’ extinction.”

Thor grunted and threw Mjölnir. The hammer smashed Ultron into pieces against the wall before flying back to Thor’s hand.

The lights in Ultron’s head sparked and flickered. In a sing-songy, raspy voice, the suit murmured, “I had strings, but now I’m free… there are no strings on me…” Then, it flickered and died.

Everyone remained frozen for a second as the tower’s lights flickered. Some went out. Steve rushed over to (Y/N), his intense fury softening as he looked at her. He reached to inspect her neck. “You okay?”

She nodded, though she was far from it. Ultron’s words about them being killers and his creepy disappearance… it unsettled her. She had a feeling they hadn’t heard the last of him.

She was right. Down in Tony’s lab, they realized Ultron had taken all of the Iron Man suits, Loki’s staff, important files, and hard drives. He was in the internet now and was most likely downloading everything he could about each and every one of them. The thought of that robot looking into her file made (Y/N) feel sick. Only Nick Fury had access to her file, but it was clear that Ultron could bypass that.

They also learned that Ultron could access anything he wanted, like nuclear codes. They all figured out that J.A.R.V.I.S. was the person Ultron killed. Tony revealed that he created Ultron because of a vision the female Maximoff gave him when they seized the scepter. He saw what he called “The Endgame,” and he didn’t believe the Avengers would be enough to save the world. Steve assured him that even if they lost the war, they would do it together.

That night, when all was quiet in the tower and everyone was asleep, (Y/N) began to toss and turn. She couldn’t get Ultron out of her head. The monstrosity followed her into the depths of her nightmares and made her feel trapped. Images of him infiltrating her file terrified her to no end.

She sat up and ran a hand through her hair. It was no use. She needed water, or milk. She climbed out of bed and padded to the elevator. It took her to the kitchen.

She was a few footsteps away from the fridge when she heard it. “(Y/N).”

Ultron. She spun around, her fists out, but there was nothing there. Shocked, she lowered her fists. But then, she heard it again, much more sinister. “(Y/N).”

“What do you want from me?” She tried her best to keep her tone harsh.

“Do they know?” Ultron’s voice was quiet and menacing.

(Y/N) stood at attention. “Do they know what?”

Ultron chuckled darkly. (Y/N)’s eyes darted every which way, but she couldn’t see him, only hear him. “What I read in that file of yours… how many years has it been since the “accident”? Or should we call it what it really is?”

She felt her blood go cold. He wasn’t talking about 2012. He was talking about when she was seventeen. Her breathing got more shallow.

Ultron continued. “I’ll ask again… do… they… know?”

“Please.” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper as her mouth dried up. Her hands began to shake.

“It’s the reason you’re not worthy to lift the God of Thunder’s mighty hammer.” The sarcasm in his voice made her heart beat faster. “You will never be worthy. How could you be? You’re a killer. Imagine how your closest friends would react. Just think of God’s righteous man seeing you for who you really are… ”

“No.” She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. “No, no, no.”

His voice, his words… it didn’t stop. Monster… murderer…

The kitchen got darker and more confined, until (Y/N) felt like she was in a cage. The words got louder and louder until she screamed…

Drenched in sweat, (Y/N) jerked upright, panting. Her hands wildly felt around her. She was in bed. It had just been a dream.

But there was a truth to it that shook her to the core, a fear that she hoped and prayed would never come true.

A knock at her door nearly made her jump out of her skin. The intruder spoke up, their voice gentle. “(Y/N), it’s Nat. You okay?”

“Fine, Nat. Just a bad dream,” the girl lied. She fought to take deep breaths and slow her racing heart. “Sorry I woke you.”

She could tell Nat was hesitating so she forced more conviction into her voice. “Seriously, I’m okay. It’s not so bad tonight. Sorry again. Just… don’t mention it to anybody, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As the only girls in the Avengers, they shared this floor together. Unfortunately, nightmares were a common occurrence for (Y/N), and every time she accidentally woke up Natasha, guilt steadily consumed her. She never once let Natasha see her pain, her terror. No one could see. She was the “strong one”, the bold and cheeky (Y/N) that everyone knew and respected. Not the pathetic, shriveling mess that screamed herself awake in the middle of the night.

(Y/N) breathed a shaky sigh of relief when she heard Natasha’s footsteps recede. She was alone. Tears stung her eyes. Always alone.

She curled up in a ball and muffled her sobs, so as not to wake Natasha again.

***

It wasn’t long until they got a tip. Ultron had teamed up with Wanda Maximoff and her twin brother Pietro and were going to make a deal with an old weapons supplier of Tony’s. The rumor was that he had just come into a large stock of vibranium that Ultron wanted to get his hands on.

Pale yellow streams of light poked through the window when (Y/N) woke up. It was the morning of the raid. Silently, she climbed out of bed and suited up. She wore a dark blue leather coat that had leopard print on the inside-- courtesy of Stark. She also wore a blue leather top, black leather pants and boots, and her hair was done in a simple french braid down her back.

She crept into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, like normal. On a regular day, she’d wake up before dawn and go for a run with Steve. Sometimes they raced each other, sometimes they just walked and talked. But last night, she’d barely gotten any sleep, and she had a feeling Steve would skip the run, too.

After she sat at the bar with her mug, Steve walked in, fiddling with one of his gloves. He was in full Captain gear, and the sight of him made (Y/N)’s heart flutter. He always looked handsome, but his uniform and cropped golden hair along with his gorgeous face and eyes always made heat rush to her cheeks. He was just as handsome as he was good and kind. She definitely didn’t deserve him.

Steve wordlessly made his own cup and sat next to her. His thumbs traced the sides of his mug. “You look tired.”

“Thanks,” (Y/N) muttered. She rubbed her temples. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

“You haven’t been sleeping well since Ultron attacked.” Steve peered at her with his signature mom expression. “You’ve been having nightmares again, haven’t you?”

(Y/N) stiffened and met his gaze. “Nat told you?”

Steve shook his head. “Last night I couldn’t sleep so I went for a run in the stairwell. When I reached your floor I heard screaming so I went to check on you, but Nat came out and stopped me. She told me you were okay and to just leave it.”

(Y/N) was quiet for a second. She felt a little guilty for thinking Nat would betray her. Steve covered her hand with his. “You know you can talk to me, right? I may not have gone through what you and Clint did during 2012, but I’ve seen my fair share of horrors.”

“You haven’t done what I’ve done, Steve,” she whispered, her voice hoarse.

Before she joined the Avengers, (Y/N) worked closely with Clint and Natasha at S.H.I.E.L.D. She was the only enhanced agent, and everyone fought to keep that a secret. Then, Loki arrived. He turned his scepter on her and Clint, forcing them under the control of the mind stone. It was then that Loki came to notice (Y/N)’s strength and agility. He used her as his prized second in command and ruthless assassin. A lot of the human lives lost in Stuttgart, on the S.H.I.E.L.D. Quinjet, and during the Battle of New York were because of her.

Steve sighed. “(Y/N), what’s it gonna take for you to forgive yourself? You were under mind control.”

She shook her head. “So was Loki, but everyone blames him.” She interlaced her fingers with his. “Controlled or not, I have the blood of innocents on my hands.”

For a moment, she imagined what it would be like to tell him about the accident, to share the overwhelming amount of guilt of murdering innocent people in 2012. Would he still be here, holding her hand? Or would he hate her as much as she hated herself? No. She couldn’t tell him. Not till she was ready.

Steve said nothing, just kept holding her hand. He changed the subject, much to her relief. “Are your nightmares about Ultron?”

“Sometimes.” (Y/N) took a sip of her coffee. “I don’t wanna face that Maximoff girl. You heard what she did to Tony.” The thought of someone infiltrating her mind again made her want to throw up.

“I won’t let her near you,” Steve said firmly. He gently placed his index finger under her chin and turned her face toward his. “Do you hear me? I’ll keep you safe, sweetheart.”

She smiled softly, transfixed by his baby blue eyes. His gaze flicked to her lips, and for a split second, he leaned forward—

“Lady (Y/N), are there any Strawberry Pop-Tarts left in the cabinet?” Thor called, trudging into the kitchen in full Asgardian armor.

Looking away from Steve, (Y/N) couldn’t ignore the disappointment washing over her. “Should still be a box on the top shelf, Thunder.” She let go of Steve’s hand, but she didn’t see that he looked crestfallen at the missed opportunity, too.

An hour later, they were all assembled on the Quinjet and headed toward the African coast. Everyone was pretty solemn during the trek, the silence only being broken by Thor’s ramblings and Tony’s jokes. But even the God of Thunder and the sass master himself were more grim than normal.

As they snuck into the salvage yard and the hatch of the Quinjet opened, (Y/N) exchanged a look with Steve. He reached for her hand, squeezed it once, and let go. She didn’t need to hear him speak to know he was telling her he’s got her back.

They ran into the building, finding the discarded bodies of workers all along the floor. Tony in his Iron Man suit led the way, followed by (Y/N), Steve, Thor, Clint, and Natasha. Bruce hung back on the Quinjet-- they didn’t need The Big Guy just yet.

They all split up inside the salvage yard just as Ultron yelled, “Don’t compare me with Stark, he’s a sickness!” He had forged a new suit for himself. The robot was now about seven feet tall with red eyes and a shiny metal body. His back was turned to them.

“Aww, Junior,” Tony called, his voice filtered through the Iron Man helmet. “You’re gonna break your old man’s heart.” He landed down with a clunk on the metal bridge, facing his creation. Thor and Steve were behind him. Natasha and Clint were sneaking in from the sides, and (Y/N) was coming in from the back. Their goal was to box the enemy in.

Ultron turned to face them, flanked by Wanda and Pietro. (Y/N) allowed herself a brief moment of wariness before putting her game face on. She was armed with batons about the length of her arm, coincidentally made of vibranium.

“If I have to,” Ultron drawled, his voice powerful and menacing.

“No one has to break anything,” Thor warned.

Ultron and the Maximoffs approached until they were a few feet away from the three Avengers. “Clearly, you’ve never made an omelet.”

Tony tilted his head. “He beat me by one second.”

(Y/N) shook her head at his almost proud comment. She delicately ducked behind the door behind the Maximoffs and Ultron, peering out at them.

“Ah, so this is funny… Mr. Stark,” Pietro remarked, his Sokovian accent thick. “It’s, what… comfortable?” He glanced down at the missiles and other weapons. “Like old times?”

“This was never my life.” Tony sounded much more serious now.

Steve took a step forward, his eyes on the twins. “You two can still walk away from this.”

Wanda cocked her head. “Oh, we will.”

Steve didn’t back down. “I know you’ve suffered.” They’d heard about the twins losing their parents and nearly dying themselves in the process.

“Ah… Captain America.” Ultron gazed at Steve condescendingly. “God’s righteous man.”

At that, (Y/N) flinched. Ultron had called him that in her nightmare. However, when she saw Steve’s familiar haunted look appear, her fear turned into anger. She withdrew one of her staffs from its sheath.

“Pretending you could live without a war,” Ultron continued. “I can’t physically throw up in my mouth, but-”

“If you believe in peace, then let us keep it,” Thor cut him off.

Ultron took a step closer. “I think you’re confusing peace with quiet.”

Tony was over it. “Yuh-huh. What’s the vibranium for?”

“I’m glad you asked that because I wanted to take this time to explain my evil plan,” Ultron drawled.

Suddenly, he pulled his metal fist back and the energy sucked Tony forward. Ultron blasted him back against the wall and everyone sprung into action.

Tony and Ultron went head to head as suits-- clearly designed by Ultron-- came pouring out of a doorway. Pietro was a blur as he went around, trying to attack the Avengers. His sister was more successful and managed to blast Steve back.

(Y/N) launched out from the doorway and used her strength and one of her batons to knock the head of a suit clean off its body. She leaped over the railing and landed on the bottom floor. A small grin worked its way onto her face as two suits came down to meet her, tall and strong.

She swept the legs out from under one and started to attack the other, but it dodged her heavy blow. She was grabbed by it but twisted her body, ran along the side of a crate, and flipped up and over the suit, tearing its head off.

Meanwhile, Natasha and Clint took down a lot of the weapons dealer’s crew, who were shooting at both the suits and the Avengers. Steve forced Pietro to the ground a little ways away from (Y/N). His eyes flicked over to her, watching her battle Ultron’s minions. He’d been keeping his eye on her, and he was relieved and proud that she was holding her own. He smiled and went back to fighting.

Then Wanda struck.

It was Thor who went down first. A quick tendril of magic infiltrated his mind and turned his eyes red.

“Thor! Status!” Steve barked.

Nothing. He saw Thor falter and freeze in place on the second level as if he was frozen in time.

Immediately, he knew it was Wanda. He spun around, eyes wide and filled with worry. Before he could warn his girl, he was knocked backward by Pietro and witnessed his worst fear with a flick of Wanda’s wrist.

(Y/N) had no idea what was happening. She was easily taking down suit after suit, barely breaking a sweat. She heard static crackling in her earpiece but figured that was just a result of everyone’s efforts.

She was about to deliver a fatal blow to the largest of Ultron’s creations when it spoke. “Were you this talented of a fighter at seventeen, Agent (L/N)?”

(Y/N) froze in her tracks, her baton raised over her head. The suit climbed back onto its feet, its eerie eyes peering straight at her. When it spoke again, its voice bore a significant resemblance to that of Ultron’s. She felt like he was directly talking to her.

“That was your first kill.” It wasn’t a question… the suit knew. Ultron had examined her file.

(Y/N) swung at the suit, but her nerves made her sloppy. The suit grabbed her baton, locking her in place. “Did you enjoy your first kill as much as you enjoyed taking the lives you took in the Battle of New York?”

With a shriek, (Y/N) twisted her wrist and tore the baton free. She attacked the suit with both batons, her viciousness masking her vulnerable state of mind. When she’d backed the suit into a corner, she finally let up on her onslaught, panting. “I didn’t enjoy it. I didn’t enjoy it then, and I didn’t enjoy it in 2012. I’m not a killer. I was under mind control.”

“Not the first time. You became a murderer of your own accord.” The suit stood again, looming over her.

“Stop it.” (Y/N) shook her head violently.

The suit took a step forward. “How did it feel, watching his life slip away? How did it feel, realizing that you took a life and it was all for nothing?”

(Y/N)’s hands tightened around her batons, trembling. “Stop it.”

The suit was relentless. “How did it feel to be completely and utterly alone?”

“I SAID STOP!” (Y/N) screamed and lunged, but she never reached the suit. A flash of red was all she saw and then the room shifted.

She stumbled and dropped her batons, trying to grasp onto a crate, but she grasped onto a railing instead. It didn’t feel metallic; it was sleek and smooth. She turned her head and realized she was gripping a wooden railing.

She looked up, expecting to see the metal landing and the rest of her friends in the midst of battle. Instead, she saw a carpeted staircase with walls on either side.

Instantly, she felt cold, like someone dumped a bucket of ice water on her head. She was back home, back in the memory that haunted her sleep without relief.

She could hear the thumps from where she stood, tears already springing to her eyes. “No. No,” she choked out and sprinted up the stairs.

Even though she already knew what she would find at the top of the stairs, she still screamed. There was her dad, hovering over her baby brother, beating him bloody. It was obvious that Bobby was having trouble breathing. He was practically lying in a pool of blood.

Dad hated both (Y/N) and Bobby, but once (Y/N) got her powers, he couldn’t take out his aggression on her like when her mom was alive. Instead, he turned his attention to Bobby.

“Stop, you’re gonna kill him!” (Y/N) screamed, echoing the words she spoke when she was seventeen.

“Stay out of this, freak!” Dad roared, giving her a snarl that looked like a dog baring its teeth.

As if on autopilot, (Y/N) gripped onto his shoulders and ripped him away from Bobby. Unlike how it happened all those years ago, she was forced to watch his stumble in slow motion. She stood with her jaw dropped as he tumbled down the stairs and straight into the wall, his head colliding with the plaster so hard that a loud crack split the air. Blood seeped out of the wound, and he lay perfectly still. He was dead.

(Y/N) stared at her hands in revulsion. But tears began to fall when she realized what would happen next.

She whirled around and knelt next to her baby brother, whose chest was heaving and shuddering. This. This was what she saw almost every night, the image that never seemed to escape her. “Hey, hey, Bobby, please. Please. Stay alive. Please, don’t go. Don’t leave me alone!”

Bobby’s innocent eyes met hers briefly before closing. His chest rose once more, but it did not fall. He, too, was still.

“NO!” (Y/N) screamed, scrabbling at his body.

Bobby’s body disappeared in a cloud of smoke, and (Y/N) covered her face with her hands as she cried. She was too late to save him. She tried, but in doing so she killed her dad. He was a menace, but she’d never wanted to hurt him. She never wanted to hurt anybody.

But the nightmare was far from over.

“(Y/N)?” A familiar voice spoke. However, instead of the normal softness and affection in his voice, this time his tone was laced with disapproval and disgust.

(Y/N) leaped to her feet and turned around, wiping her eyes. Steve stood there, his helmet off. Behind him was Tony, Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Bruce. They all looked horrified and furious.

“You just killed your dad,” Bruce said in a hushed voice.

(Y/N)’s hands began to shake. “I didn’t mean to. It was an accident. I-I just-”

“No, no, no, you don’t get to justify what we just saw,” Tony snapped, holding up his finger.

Tears burned (Y/N)’s eyes. “I was a kid. My powers weren’t under control yet! You have to believe me!”

Natasha and Clint looked disappointed. The former Red Room assassin shook her head in disbelief. “I was trained to become a killer. You became one on your own.”

“I didn’t mean to kill him.” (Y/N) couldn’t stop the stream of tears as they steadily dripped down her cheeks. “I was just trying to save my brother.”

“And how’d that work out for you?” Clint scoffed. “How many more dads did you kill in 2012? No wonder Loki chose you-- you’re wicked, just like him.”

(Y/N) couldn’t breathe. She clutched her ribs, desperately forcing air into her lungs. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t my fault. Guys, please.” She looked at the people she saw as her siblings. “Clint? Nat?” They’d said they understood about 2012… but they were looking at her with pure venom.

One by one, her team turned their backs to her and walked away, disappearing into vapor. The only one who remained was Steve, whose head was lowered.

“Stevie?” (Y/N) tentatively approached him, reaching for his hand.

He ripped it away like she’d burned him and she recoiled. Steve fixed her with a cruel glare. “Now I know why you refused to pick up Thor’s hammer. You’re not worthy, and this is why.”

(Y/N) felt her heart shatter into a million tiny pieces. “Steve-”

“I thought the world of you. I wanted the best for you. I wanted a future with you.” Steve’s voice was low and dark. “Now… I don’t want anything to do with you.”

A sob escaped her lips before she could stop it and she fell to her knees. “Stevie, please!” She grabbed his hand and he pulled it away, walking away from her.

“Stevie, please, come back!” (Y/N) begged and pleaded, but she received no response.

Convulsing with sobs, she curled up on the floor, crying her heart out. Her worst fears had just been realized. The Avengers hated her as much as she hated herself for what she did, and Steve, her Captain… he hated her, too.

“It wasn’t my fault, it wasn’t my fault,” she whispered brokenly, wishing she could turn back time and reverse everything. “It wasn’t my fault.”

And that’s how Steve, the real Steve, found her.

When his vision cleared, he hauled himself up. Clint gave him the status report that he took Wanda out of the running, at least temporarily, and the archer went to look for Natasha.

Steve’s mouth went dry. Where was his girl? He reached for his earpiece, ready to command her to tell him where she was, when he heard it. The sobs.

He ran faster than he ever had in his life. It took him only a second to find her, curled up on the floor and crying.

He fell to his knees beside her, tearing off his helmet and setting down his shield. “(Y/N)... hey, hey, hey.” His hands fidgeted, longing to touch her but afraid of how she’d react. “Sweetheart, look at me. Open your eyes and look at me.”

(Y/N) obeyed him, but her mind was still trapped in another world. Her eyes darted lazily around, the flow of tears never ending. She met his gaze and he flinched when he saw the raw brokenness in their depths. “It wasn’t my fault... it wasn’t my fault.”

Steve frowned and this time, he touched her. He ran his fingers through her hair, which had fallen out of its neat french braid. “What’s not your fault, sweetheart?”

“Please, you have to believe me,” she cried. “It wasn’t my fault, Stevie. You have to believe me. You have to believe me.”

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s okay. I believe you.” Steve’s tone was soft and gentle as he cooed to her, trying to calm her down. Frankly, he was freaked out, too, by her state and what he saw in his own vision. And he was angry. He’d been complacent. He promised her he would keep her safe, that he wouldn’t let Wanda infiltrate her mind. But he was careless, and now his girl was a wreck.

(Y/N) locked eyes with Steve, a bit of hope returning to her (e/c) depths. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve confirmed, forcing a smile.

Clint’s voice comes in on the earpiece. “All the tin men are down, but the Maximoffs are gone. So is Ultron. Tony said the Big Guy escaped and he’s fetching him. I think we need to head back to the jet. Tasha’s in bad shape.”

Steve pressed his own earpiece, looking down at the sweet girl who was crying silently next to him. “So is (Y/N). We’ll meet you at the jet.”

He placed his shield on his back and gathered (Y/N)’s weapons, placing them in his belt loops. He gently worked his arm into the crook of her knees and wrapped his other arm around her back. He stood, cradling her in his arms. “C’mon, sweetheart. Let’s get outta here.”

She curled into him, and even though her tears had stopped flowing, she was still looking around blankly, like her mind was still adrift.

He carried her out of the warehouse, through the salvage yard, and onto the Quinjet. Natasha was slumped in a corner, pale and trembling. Thor looked tense and bewildered. Clint was unaffected vision-wise, but he was pacing the floor of the jet and scratching his head.

When Steve entered the jet, Clint turned and stiffened. “Oh, shit.”

Steve ignored his comment, clueing the archer into how worried Steve was. He followed closely as Steve sat down on one of the seats, arranging (Y/N) so she lay comfortably across the seats with her head in his lap.

“What did she see?” Clint asked quietly.

Steve shook his head, his eyes trained on (Y/N)’s face. His fingers gently combed through her hair, and his other hand traced light designs on her hand. “I don’t know. She wasn’t making much sense. She kept saying something wasn’t her fault. I’ve never seen her like this.”

Clint’s gaze was soft as he looked at her. “I was with her when Loki’s spell lifted. She barely spoke after.” He glanced at Steve. “Actually, it was you who got through to her. You got her to talk again. What Loki’s magic made her do… it damaged her. Being mind-controlled once is no joke, but twice?” He sighed. “Poor kid.” He stood and walked over to the pilot’s seat.

Steve’s heart was heavy, but at the same time filled with warmth. Had he really been the one to help (Y/N) come back to herself after 2012? As he gazed down at her, he decided it would be his job to bring her back this time, too.

So he kept stroking her hair, whispering to her. “(Y/N). Come back to me, sweetheart. It’s me, Stevie. If anyone can fight back against the power of that vision, it’s you. You’re strong, so strong. Stronger than all of us. I’m here. Your family’s all here. Just come back. I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go. I promise. You’re safe with me.”

Though (Y/N) didn’t respond, her eyes flicked to meet his gaze and he could’ve sworn he saw a sparkle of recognition return to her eyes. Encouraged, Steve kept talking.

He lost himself in his quiet affirmations and gentle words to her, so much so that he didn’t notice Thor, Clint, and even Natasha watching. Thor and Clint smiled slightly, and Natasha, as shaken as she was, felt emotional watching the tender display. It was really obvious to everyone except Steve and (Y/N) that they had fallen for each other.

The three of them were so moved that when Tony and Bruce returned, Clint went out to meet them and warned them to keep their voices down and not make any comments-- with that bit being directed at Tony-- about what they were about to see.

All Tony said when they walked onto the jet and saw Steve with (Y/N) cradled on his lap was a grumbled, “Finally.”

***

They decided that it was too dangerous to return to the Tower. Ultron was everywhere, and after the whole Hulk incident they needed to lie low. Clint guided the jet toward a location he refused to tell the others about, and spoke quietly with Tony. They were the only two who hadn’t been hit with a vision at the salvage yard.

Thor was acting a little gruffer than normal, Natasha was quiet, and Bruce was weary, but the one they were really worried about was (Y/N). For the entirety of the Quinjet ride, her head rested on Steve’s thigh as she slowly came back to reality. It was Steve’s gentle touches and grounding words that eventually brought her back. But even then, she was uncharacteristically quiet and withdrawn.

“We’re almost there, sweetheart,” Steve whispered. “Just keep your eyes on me. Don’t slip back into your head.”

She nodded once, her face lined with sadness and a hint of fear. It made Steve’s heart ache. He kept his blue eyes locked with her (e/c) ones. “Do you remember Clint and Natasha? They’re like your brother and sister. We’re your family. You’re safe with us.”

He kept having to repeat these statements in order to keep her present. He did so without complaint and with a heart full of affection and concern for his girl.

At the mention of Clint and Natasha, the fear grew on her face and Steve moved his hand from her hair to her face. He gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears. “We’re not gonna hurt you. We all love you. I-” He swallowed. “… care about you so much, (Y/N). You’re safe with us, okay?”

“Okay, Stevie.” Her voice was small and quiet, reminding Steve of his mom after getting her ass handed to her by his dad. He hated it, and wanted nothing more for (Y/N)’s smile to return. So, he kept forcing a smile for her sake and continued anchoring her with his words and touches.

After a few hours, Clint landed the jet next to a farmhouse. Steve stood and held out his hands to (Y/N). “Can you stand for me, pretty girl?”

She nodded shakily and stood, taking his hands. He wrapped his arm around her protectively. The other Avengers watched with a mixture of worry and awe on their faces.

He and (Y/N) trailed behind as Clint helped Natasha walk and led Bruce, Tony, and Thor inside the house. When Clint’s pregnant wife appeared, who the Avengers had no idea about (except for Natasha), they all were stunned. Laura and Natasha caught up and Clint introduced them all to his kids and explained why he kept their location a secret.

(Y/N) tried to smile and hesitantly shook Laura’s hand. The yelling of the kids and the chatter of the others made her tense up. Steve rubbed her arms and made eye-contact with Clint.

Having seen (Y/N) go through something like this once before, Clint strode over to them and kept his voice low. “Tasha’s gonna sleep with Laura. Me, Tony, Thor, and Bruce will sleep in the living room. You two can take the guest room.”

(Y/N) was too in her head to fully process what he said, but Steve’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to question why he and (Y/N) should share a room and protest that it wasn’t appropriate, but Clint rolled his eyes. “Just take the damn room. Go. You’ll thank me later.”

Wordlessly, Steve took (Y/N)’s hand and-- after hearing Clint’s directions-- guided her upstairs. He entered a small but quaint room and shut the door. (Y/N) silently sat on the bed, her eyes on her hands.

Steve exhaled deeply. He walked to her and crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. She met his gaze, her expression clouded. Steve squeezed her hands lightly. “Talk to me, sweetheart. What did you see? I want to help you.”

“You won’t once I tell you,” she whispered, tears pricking her eyes.

Steve’s tone was gentle but firm. “Try me.”

(Y/N) took a shaky breath. “Did… did I ever tell you how young I was when I joined S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Steve frowned, concentrating. “You said you were seventeen. You were one of their youngest recruits.”

(Y/N)’s hands fidgeted in his grip. “Did I say why I joined?”

“You said you didn’t want to go to college, that you wanted to work there to honor your mother.” Steve sounded puzzled.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. “That-that was-um… it wasn’t the whole truth.”

Steve looked at her encouragingly, and that just made it harder for (Y/N). She swallowed. “After I-uh… after I got my powers and my mom died, my dad… he became more violent. He was violent before, but losing Mom just… it just made him snap. He knew he couldn’t hurt me anymore, so he started taking it out on my baby brother. He was only twelve.”

“Go on.” Steve’s eyes were narrowed, but he made an effort to keep his voice soft.

The stinging tears made it difficult for her to see. “One-one day I heard my dad beating my brother, and when I found them, my brother was barely breathing. I yelled at my dad to stop, but he wouldn’t listen.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, one by one, and Steve let go of one of her hands to brush them away. “I eventually grabbed his shirt and shoved him away, but… but I-I shoved him toward the stairs.”

Steve closed his eyes and (Y/N) shook her head. “I couldn’t revive him. The fall killed him. I killed him.”

Steve’s eyes opened and he stared at her. “(Y/N), that was an accident. You didn’t kill him.”

“Stevie, I was too strong for him,” (Y/N) cried. “I should’ve-”

“Stop, stop, stop.” Steve cupped her face. “Sweetheart, you were a kid. Your powers weren’t under control yet. You didn’t mean to hurt your dad; you were just trying to save your brother.” And that monster doesn’t deserve your guilt and shame, he added silently.

(Y/N) sobbed once and Steve moved to sit next to her, pulling her onto his lap and encasing her in his arms. She cried into his shirt, staining it with her tears.

They sat like that for a minute, and he quietly shushed her and whispered words of reassurance. Once her sobs had died down, she pulled back a bit to look at him. “You… you believe me?”

“Of course I do.” His tone was matter-of-fact. Steve cupped her face again. “What happened to your brother?”

(Y/N) shuddered. “He broke a rib and it punctured his lung. I tried to give him CPR… but he was already gone. He’d lost too much blood.” The streams of tears continued to pour down her cheeks. “He was twelve, Stevie.”

Steve’s soul hurt for her, for that little boy he’d never gotten the chance to meet. He gently wiped her tears with his thumbs and kissed her forehead before pressing against it with his own. “I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N)’s small hands grasped onto his wrists as if they were her lifeline. “After that, I found Fury. He’s the only one who knows the whole story… other than you.” Her tone wobbled. “I asked him to lock me up. He gave me a job instead. He took a chance on me.”

Steve pulled her to him and his nose brushed her ear as (Y/N) continued to shake. “I’d managed to redeem myself in my mind. But then 2012 happened. When I realized what I’d done, what I’d been made to do… I was back in that house, with blood on my hands.” She gave a broken laugh. “It’s ironic, really. The girl with super-human strength and agility is weak in the head. She breaks everything she touches. She makes a fucking mess wherever she goes.”

“Stop, stop,” Steve pleaded, pulling back. “You’re strong, (Y/N). So strong. You’re stronger than me, that’s for damn sure, both mentally and in your heart. You don’t break everything you touch; you bring light to the darkest places. You gave a lost super-soldier a reason to smile again, inspired him to be the best hero he could be, which would never be half as good as you. When you make a mess, you own up to it. But you’ve never once willingly put someone in harm’s way. You’ve never once willingly allowed an innocent person to suffer. You love everyone around you with your whole heart.” Steve’s own eyes were brimming with tears now. “Everyone but yourself.”

(Y/N) stared at him. Steve took her hands in his and pressed kiss after kiss to her hands. “You’re a good person. It hurts me to hear you talk like you’re not.” He made eye-contact with her. “I have a feeling I know what you saw in that vision. You saw your dad and brother dying, right?”

“That’s… that’s not all.” Dare she speak the cursed words aloud? If she did… would that make it real? She covered her mouth briefly, looking anywhere but Steve. “You and the others hated me for what I did. You looked at me with pure disappointment. You-you told me… you told me that-that you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

If it was even possible, Steve’s heart broke even further. “Oh, sweetheart.” He lifted her chin with his index finger, gently forcing her to look at him. A tear rolled down his cheek. “I could never hate you for what happened. Neither could the others. I’m sure if they found out, they’d all feel nothing but compassion for you. What happened? It wasn’t your fault. We’d never blame you. We all love you.” He moved his hand up to run the backs of his fingers against her cheekbone. She unconsciously leaned into his touch. Steve’s tone held sincerity when he said, “I love you.”

(Y/N)’s breath got caught in her throat. The flow of tears slowed, and Steve noticed. A small, watery smile tugged at his lips. “I love you, sweetheart. Have for a while now.” He shook his head. “And you don’t have to say it back—”

(Y/N) cut him off with a gentle whisper. “But I want to.” She wiped her cheeks and moved to cup his handsome face in her little hands. “I love you, Stevie.”

Steve gazed at her with softness and adoration. He leaned forward and kissed her chastely. The kiss was delicate, but for both of them it felt as if sparks were flying. When he pulled away, (Y/N) pouted and Steve laughed. He rubbed his nose against hers. “Trust me, sweetheart, when you’re feeling better, I’ll give you all the kisses you want. But I don’t wanna take advantage.”

(Y/N)’s heart fluttered. Whether it was because he was from the 40s, or because he was just a true gentleman, he was the most considerate man she’d ever met.

She scrubbed her face, stifling a yawn as she did so. Steve noticed. “I think someone’s tired. Lie down.”

She could hear a tiny bit of his Captain voice as he spoke, and that made her smile. She was exhausted, it was true. Barely sleeping for the past couple weeks on top of the emotional baggage of today was more than draining.

She climbed under the covers of the queen-sized bed, and before she could ask Steve to stay, he shuffled over to her. “Scoot over, big guy coming through.”

(Y/N) laughed softly and did as he asked. Pretty soon, her back was against his chest and his big arms were encircled around her. He sighed, content.

She felt herself falling asleep already, but curiosity nagged at her. “What did you see in your vision?”

Steve sighed again, but this time, she could practically hear the resignation in it. “I saw myself going back to the 40s and dancing with Peggy.”

A bolt of jealousy and unease struck her. “Why did Wanda show you that?”

Steve buried his face in her hair, lightly brushing his lips against her ear and making her shiver. “Because she wanted to show us all our biggest fear.”

The unease faded to confusion. “Why was dancing with Peggy your biggest fear?”

“Because she wasn’t you,” Steve said simply. She felt his embrace get a little tighter. “I still care deeply for Peggy, and I try to visit her as much as I can, but I stopped dreaming about a life where I had been with her once I realized my dreams were now about you. I stopped loving her the minute I fell in love with you. Dancing with her… it was a picture of the life I don’t want anymore. It was empty and lifeless because you were gone. You’re my best girl.”

Tears sprung to (Y/N)’s eyes once more. He seemed to sense this and moved his lips from her ear to her temple. He kissed her hair and brushed his nose along her cheekbone. “Let’s go to sleep.”

(Y/N) nodded, and when she spoke she was half teasing, half serious. “Dream of me?”

Steve chuckled. “Always, pretty girl.”

They fell asleep minutes later, the super-soldier holding his girl securely to his chest. They didn’t hear the door open a crack, nor did they see Natasha peek her head in.

She smiled softly when she saw them and shut the door. She turned to face Tony, Clint, Thor, and Bruce, who all eagerly awaited the report.

“They fell asleep cuddling in the bed.” Natasha grinned at Clint. “They finally exchanged their “I love you”s.

Clint had a huge smile on his face, and he turned to Tony and held out his hand. Tony grumbled and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. “You rigged it by giving them the same room.”

“Hey, I did that so he could comfort her in private.” Clint smirked and pocketed the money. “Them finally admitting their feelings was just an added bonus.”

Bruce glanced at Tony. “So if Clint betted they’d admit their feelings, what did you bet?”

“That the Leopard and Capsicle would break the bed,” Tony muttered nonchalantly.

Natasha thumped him and Bruce facepalmed himself. Thor beamed. “No, no. The Captain is far too chivalrous for that. The courting ritual back in Asgard--”

“We can hear you guys,” Steve called, his tone a mixture of tiredness and amusement.

Natasha grabbed the boys and shoved them away from the door. She apologized to Steve and (Y/N) and walked away, muttering, “I swear, men are idiots.”

***

Thanks for reading!!!

[evilminji]

So, I was reading some Percy Jackson fic stuff today and....I had a Danny Phantom thought.

And thought you might vibe with this at least a little bit.

Anyways, you know how the Phandom frequently has Clockwork be Kronos, or at least a piece of Kronos that regrets his actions towards his children?

Now, Danny being adopted by Clockwork. Who keeps bringing him little pieces of clouds and stars to bake into cookies and turn into marshmallows, and always has a pitcher of fresh rainwater for Danny to drink from if he feels thirsty.

Danny is very much vibing with this. He gets to Eat Space!!! The Sky is a part of him now, and he can FEEL that final frontier so very much at hand. He can close his eyes and See.

Earth below him, kept safe and warm under him, like a mother duck with an egg.

Looking up, Space is right there. It rolls against his back like a friend. The Sun bears down on him, as if bearing witness to him.

And then Danny...Dreams. He dreams of a Time that is not his own, but yet is, all at once.

Time's sickle takes him apart. Methodically, but as painless as he can make it. Kronos his son weeps, even as he and his siblings his babies reach for their Father's pieces and carefully, lovingly, place each and every single one amidst the sky.

"Forgive us" they say.

"We did as we must. We could not let you continue" they weep all over again.

"We will take care of the world you leave behind" They promise.

And so, Ouranos watches. Even with the weight if a Prophecy, and Fate upon them, his children would forever love their parents. He could've been stuck underneath the ground, where that detestable Tartarus was locked away.

But every child of Sky and Earth took the care to place their Father amidst his element. His pieces became the very Sky itself.

And then Danny wakes up.

His hands shake, and his everything aches with fleeting memories. The Infinite Realms are home to dead Gods and Titans. Who's to say, the Father of the Titans could not be spawned with it's embrace?

The next time Clockwork hugs him, Danny knows. His very skin sings with love and joy, that at least one of his children did not forget him.

But no matter how many pieces of the Sky he may eat, no matter how many memories of Old Man Ouranos Danny regains, that has passed.

Time greets the Sky once again, Father and Son reunited, but this go around it falls upon Kronos to be the Father, and Ouranos the Beloved Son.

In the back of his head Danny hears a song. One that Ouranos and Gaea used to sing for their little ones. He knows where the other half of the melody is. Soon, they shall be reunited.

(Hope that's at least halfway coherent? I know some people are gonna be mad that I'm making Danny more than Just Some Guy again, but is that not the spirit of fanfics? To take your specialest blorbo and Put Them in Situations?

Anyways, TL,DR: Danny's Space Obsession is in part his previous life as Ouranos, the Sky, Father of the Titans. Kronos, as Clockwork, is raising his Father's reincarnation and returning his pieces to him, now that pesky Prophecies aren't in the way.

They decide that letting Clocky be the Dad this time around suits them just fine.

Danny hears the song he and his wife, the Earth used to sing, and will answer her call soon, ((who Gaea is is up to interpretation, although I the show itself practically tosses Sam into this role)) once he's NOT a mess from the split memories)

Oh THIS? This is lovely! I DO vibe. Honestly can't think of anything I want to add, but I SURE DO WANNA MAKE SURE EVERYONE SEES IT.

Look at it! o/ *smacks it on your dashboard*

[etheries1015]

We all always do General Lilia with Human Reader but NEVER

General Lilia and Fae Reader

What you gon do? Spit out another angst right in my face? Come fight me coward

My first thought to this was to raise an eyebrow and inquire: "How could that possibly be angsty? Fae Lilia falling in love with Fae reader, they could live their lives out the way they want, and have ample time to bask in one another company! Doesn't this sound like the perfect win-win scenario?"

But then it hit me like a truck.

General Lilia X Fae! Reader - The fae with a dream

General warnings: Gender-neutral reader, angst w/ no comfort. Not proofread. slightly rushed ending..? let me know if you have suggestions and I can update and edit accordingly.

TW: Morbid descriptions of Death, emetophobia. Please make me aware if I missed anything and I shall update this section.

General Lilia was used to seeing death all around him. Humans and fae alike fallen into the fire of war losing their lives for...what? Power over one another? A battle of whose race is superior? Seemingly meaningless in the end, for why should the fae fight to prove their worth to live equally in a world where humans simply feared their magic and mystery? That's what made Fae beautiful, after all. And if the humans could just come to understand that their magic isn't all that heinous, perhaps they could find peace with their existence.

That was what you had said, at least.

"All this fighting is just so...pointless," You sighed to the general in your shared camp, "If all they fear is our magic, don't you think we should have some sort of civil conversation to-"

"(y/n)." Lilia sternly said, a scowl on his lips telling you all you really need to know with his displeasure of the topic, "Humans will never understand us. They fear us, and that's all the reason they need to kill our people. Do not try and speak words of peace when they obviously have no interest in hearing us out." You bit your lip to hold back the words of disagreement, something so like you. Always a peace maker, not wanting confrontation, especially not with him.

But he also knew better than anyone just how reckless you can get to obtain that peace, every day that passes by he wishes you spoke to him first before jumping into the noble idea that ultimately took your life.

He noticed the way you fought became sloppy, he could tell you were holding back your magical abilities in some sick and twisted mercy for the humans. He admired how strongly you dreamed of a world where the two races could live in peace, but he was disappointed in how naive and stupid you were to hold back during a battle for your life and the lives of your comrades. The general made certain to make you aware your actions had consequences, breaking your heart in the process.

The long-haired male looked down at you in distaste, blood red eyes squinting in authority and lips tilted in a disgusted frown as he grabbed you by the back of your hair and roughly pushed you into the tent. You let out a feeble cry mix of shock and pain, tears pouring down your mud-stained cheeks as the rough force of his push left you plummeting to the ground.

"Your actions as of late have been incredibly foolish and put the entire army at risk, (y/n)," He growled, "What were you thinking? Sneaking off with a human?! Do not think I have not noticed this past month what you have been up to," His voice raised in fury, a low growl the back of his throat, "Why can't you understand that they don't-"

"They do care!" You cried out, "Lilia, please! T-they just need-"

"They need to back down from the war and stop slaughtering our people. If they cannot do that, then I need you to fight by my side, as my subordinate. Do not forget who your leader is here. I am your general, and you abide by my orders. If you continue to deliberately go against what we stand for, I have no choice but to remove you from this battle and banish you to scullery work. Humans do not care about peace, they do not want peace, and they have no intention of doing so. What in your right mind makes you think you could change that outcome? You are nothing but an easy target for them to potentially squeeze information out of. Nothing less, nothing more. Do you understand?"

Lilias heart broke at the sight of you remaining on the ground, slowly sitting up and nodding with the light in your eyes fading. He felt a knife twist in the pit of his stomach and thought back to a conversation he had with Baul the previous night.

"You give (y/n) far too much leeway! I'm sure you've noticed, but the past month they have been participating in sneaking away to talk to some...humans.

"I'm aware, Baul. I've been following them and listening in on their conversations from afar." Lilia grunted, prodding away at the fire. His companion scoffed at this revelation, raising angry eyebrows and pointing an accusing finger towards the General.

"You were aware of this?! Why have you not stopped it sooner? Are you agreeing with their silly fantasy of changing the hearts of humans and making peace with those...things?" His voice raised in agitation. Lilia avoided his gaze, for he knew Baul had a point.

"I understand your concerns, however, They truly have the intention of changing their hearts, and if anyone could, I want to believe in (y/n). They are very persuasive, and perhaps this war..."

"Will never end until the humans surrender. Lilia, You are allowing your feelings for (y/n) to severely cloud your judgment! We both know that stupid fae is too trusting for their own good. This could compromise our position, and I don't trust them to keep their mouth shut."

"I have it handled-"

"Do you?" Baul interrupted, standing up, "Because it seems to me you are failing your duty as the general of the fae army right now. Failing our queen, failing Meleanor. Have you forgotten which side you are on? How many of our people died by their hands? And you wish to believe a singular fae with silly dreams could possibly persuade them to put this war to an end?" Lilia kept his mouth shut, staring at the fire before him, hunched over as his partner walked past him.

"The general I follow does not show mercy for humans, nor allows his heart to be swayed by such drivel. I sincerely hope you take care of this issue before I handle it myself."

Lilia had told himself it was better this way, to straighten you out with harsh words in hopes to dissuade you from becoming overzealous and taking advantage of his obvious favoritism towards you. He had to draw a line; you were an important part of his army and to him. He couldn't risk losing you, someone who has stayed by his side from day one.

Sighing with frustration for himself and the situation, Lilia walked up to your silently crying figure and bent down, pressing his forehead against yours attempting to pull your gaze towards his own.

"I can't lose you," He whispered, eyes peering into yours wide with concern, "Please, please understand where I am coming from. You are the only family I know. Think of Levan, and Meleanor. Think of the Valley. Think of our home, our people, and...our future together," His voice trembled slightly, coming out almost in a begging tone. You bit your lip and swallowed a sob, taking a shaky breath in and reaching your hands up to cup his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," you whispered back, a moment of silence reigning.

He knew something was wrong the second you said that. You apologized, not as if you were guilty for your actions, but as if you were saying...goodbye. He could feel it deeply in the pit of his stomach that if he let go in this moment, if he allowed you to leave, he would never see you again. in a final desperate attempt he breathed in sharply before in a boost of confidence roughly pressing his lips against your own, ignoring the yelp of surprise escaping your mouth. You soon found yourself kissing him back with equal force, the sob that you held back coming to the surface as you cried into the kiss and salty tears pouring down your eyes and mixing with the passion. Lilia pulled away and pressed his forehead against yours once more, interlocking his fingers with yours. You continued to cry.

"We're going to make it out of this war together, right?" His voice cracked, "We-we're...we're going to live the rest of our lives together and happy in the valley with Levan and Meleanor, and we're going to meet Malleus together, right?" When you didn't reply and simply dug your head into the crook of his shoulder, the general held you tightly with his rough embrace and simply allowed silence to overcome. There wasn't anything left to say.

It was inevitable for him to let you go and return to his duties. He was general, after all, which meant plenty of meetings and strategy planning had to be done, as well as updates to the queen. You had said your goodbyes, stars had completely painted the sky and the sun fully set to rest. While returning to the camp, Lilia had a strong uneasy feeling as the events that transpired prior to his departure left his heart in a state of unrest and beating frantically, as if trying to tell the General something.

That unsettling feeling was confirmed when you were nowhere to be found, and you hadn't been seen for the past few hours when he had left. Angered at the lack of information and of the unknown variables, Lilia barked orders for everyone to disperse and try and find where you might have wandered off to. Many disagreed with this; stating that fae wandering off was not uncommon, that you were able to protect yourself, that perhaps in the morning they would search. Baul, in respect of Lilia, had been the only one to agree although reluctantly to involve himself in the search of where you had gone.

Light touched the forest before you were found.

dead.

I could go into gruesome detail, but I shall spare the details. All you need to understand is how it stood; a truly disgusting and unruly sight. The way you were placed was almost as if they were being taunted, and mocked. You were almost used as a morbid warning from the humans, it was a disgusting and disrespectful way to die. Baul and Lilia stared in absolute horror at your lifeless body, jaw ajar and heart racing faster than it ever had before. He thought about how mere hours ago his lips were upon yours, you were safe in his tight grasp, nodding in understanding as he listed off the ways in which you would live your long life together, making it past this horrible war.

Even the General could not hold back the urge to vomit, doubling over in pain and anguish as his throat burned and eyes blurry with tears. Baul had to look away, tears pricking the side of his eyes and biting his bottom lip to prevent himself from sharing the same fate Lilia had. You were gone, and there was nothing else to do but scream.

The second to worst part of this was returning to the camp, without you following him as you normally would. The generals eyes were truly dark and empty this time, heading directly to his tent. The same tent he had chastised you in, hoping to avoid this exact situation. He kept repeating in his head the ways in which the two of you would have lived together. He was supposed to propose to you after the war ended, he was supposed to build a home for the two of you to share your lives together, you were supposed to stay by his side and experience new places together, you were supposed to die together. There was nothing to explain just how badly his heart yearned for you in the many years you had known each other, the way you accepted him while most fae turned him away, you were a part of his circle of most trusted people in his life. And now you were gone, and he could not stop seeing flashes of your smiling face soon replaced with your lifeless display. A truly revolting truth of war, a war he was determined to end.

He then noticed on his bed, a letter. With shaking hands and blurry vision, Lilia weakly picked up the paper with penmanship clear as day to be identified as yours, and read it carefully.

Lilia Vanrouge,

I presume if you are reading this letter at this time, it means I failed to return from my mission. I'm sorry. I understand this is the part where you tell me "I told you so" and chastise me for being naive, and maybe so. Nonetheless, I have to do this. I plan on meeting with knight of dawn, the human I spoke to said he would be able to get me an audience and plead our case.

"that fucking idiot..." Lilia muttered, tears dripping onto the letter.

I know you are probably thinking to yourself; "that stupid idiot." And I suppose you wouldn't be wrong, even I know the high possibility of not returning. But I like to believe the good in humans, and believe that their fear could be placed at ease if we simply...talked. I understand not everything can be solved that way, but how are we to know the outcome if we do not try? You have your way of fighting, and I have mine. With my words. I love you, Lilia Vanrouge. I truly do. I wish we could spend the rest of our lives together, but I cannot see that happening if this war does not resolve with a peaceful ending. I implore you to find love in your heart for all- and love others the way you loved me. Give them your blessing, for I know you have a lot of good in your heart and room for growth. As the years pass, remember my sacrifice was for the pursuit of peace for our people, and you continue on that mindset. I believe in you and trust in you, Lilia, you will go on to do amazing things.

your love,

(y/n).

You soon became the foundation of what he believed in and continued to live on doing. After the war had ended, losing his dearest friends and beloved, Lilia stood strong in his resolve to make your sacrifice worth something. From hatching Malleus, to even becoming a father and giving the blessing to a baby human. Something you would have surely smiled at him for. With every milestone you were there with him; guiding him, parenting with him, and placing those very values you trusted into everything he had done. He had come far and liked to believe it was your words that strongly influenced him. You were right, your choice of fighting was with your words rather than your magical abilities, and it worked wonders.

Thus, there he was... Lilia Vanrouge, vice housewarden to Diasomnia of Night Raven College, watching as his three underlings sat at a table in the cafeteria enjoying a meal with a mix of races. He felt a surge of proudness and pride fill his heart with sentimental joy, sitting in the shadows re-reading that same hundred of years old note from someone he cared for deeply.

I believe in you and trust in you, Lilia.

A voice interrupted his thoughts, the short-haired fae folding the letter and tucking it safely back inside his pocket. A familiar figure walked towards him with excitement and a comforting twinkle in their eyes.

"Lilia~!" The curious human called out, The red eyed fae smiling in return and flashing a toothy grin.

"Ah, why if it isn't our precious prefect from Ramshackle. To what do I owe the pleasure?" He chuckled, floating upside down.

"I'm doing this project-" You said, holding up a notebook, "And I have to interview a few students about who impacts their lives the most. Can I interview you?" Lilia raised an eyebrow and floated down to meet your gaze, a gentle smile planted on his lips.

You were always a curious soul to him, and in many ways, he found solace in the way you spoke so cheerfully and hopefully that he had almost deluded himself into believing perhaps the fae he had once known had come back as the thing they held credence in the most; a human. That you had come back to give him a second chance to have confidence in you, come back to see what the world has accomplished in your absence, to give him peace of mind that the world has truly progressed and you were there to witness it flourish. Perhaps it was the shared name or the same sparkling eyes, but he couldn't help but have a soft spot for this human who had come into his life.

"I'd be delighted to assist you! Now, where to begin...? Ah! I know,"

"There once was a fae with a heart as noble and pure as gold, with a beautiful dream for peace across all nations..."

[marvelmymarvel]

Not Special

Kakashi Hatake x NarutoMotherFigure!Reader

Synopsis: Before Naruto, you were a feared kunoichi who killed thousands before the age of 14. Naruto didn't know any of this, which is why you weren't anything special to him. But that all changes after the Hokage asks you to pick the sword up again to protect the village against an impending threat.

Naruto Masterlist: Here

“My mom isn't anyone special. She's just normal!”

Kakashi’s eyebrow shot up at that, eyes landing on the blonde as he talked adamantly to Sakura about how cool the other kid's parents were - and how uncool you were. He pursed his lips, fighting back the urge to spill the truth about you and your past, but he knew you wanted to keep it a secret. You weren't proud of it; it was much bloodier than his was. You gave it up for Naruto when he came along. Your time in the ninja world was short, yet many feared you.

All things Naruto didn't know.

But Kakashi couldn't stop his questions from coming out, wondering why Naruto saw you as a ‘weakling’ in the first place. “You say Y/n isn't special? How come?” Naruto stopped in his tracks, eyes narrowing at Kakashi. “Well, she’s not a shinobi, first off. Secondly, all she does nowadays is help out at the daycare-”

“So that makes her not special?”

“Come on Kakashi-Sensei. You know what I mean! She's just not as strong as we are… Ya know?” 

The silence that hung in the air made Naruto shift on his feet, unnerved by his Sensei's sudden change in attitude. It was almost like he was challenging him to say another word. But Naruto knew better. “You don't know anything about who she was before you came along, Naruto….” 

“Wasn’t she 14? Kakashi-Sensei, I’m not sure she could have done much damage by the time she had turned 14-”

“That's enough” Kakashi’s sharp tone had Naruto shutting his mouth from fear; he didn't know how or why, but his statement cut deep. Kakashi wished you would have told Naruto about your past, why you stopped fighting, and why you kept it hidden. He wouldn't have to continuously hear about how ‘weak’ you were if you had just told Naruto everything.

“Now, let's begin our mission, shall we?”

Days had passed since Naruto left for his mission with the rest of team 7. You made Kakashi promise to keep him safe, which allowed you to focus on other ways to help the community. You had just handed off the last toddler to their parent and headed into the daycare to clean up your room. A figure in the middle of the mess caused you to jump in your spot - “Lord third! You scared me.”

He hummed at that before leaning against a bookshelf, pipe in between his teeth as he took in the chaotic room. The Third Hokage was against the path you chose; he’d have you as his personal guard if it were his way. He respected your wishes and respected them for 12 years, but now, as the threat of an enemy loomed over the village, he was coming back to you with a new offer.

One you simply cannot refuse.

“It is quite a shame that you gave up the Jonnin life at 14. You were a fine student, almost, if not better than Kakashi was,” He started as he moved through the room, his old eyes scanning over the arts and crafts drying on the tables. 

Your lips pursed at the sound of the Third Hokage’s words. You’ve heard this rant before; it was his specialty. He’d build you up with praise and acknowledgment, making you feel like you were the only person who could save the village before throwing an offer for you to return to the ninja life. You couldn't deny you missed it but didn't miss the blood. Didn't miss the death. Raising Naruto was more rewarding than killing hundreds of people for the village's sake.

Yet, you listened. Soaking up every word he told you as if you needed to hear them. He continued, recounting all of your successes before stopping to look at a particular picture on the wall. It was of you and your classroom, all in the picture, smiling. Did he want to do this? You sighed before bending down to pick up the toys on the floor.

“You don't just give praise without a request. Get on with it, Lord Third. I have a classroom to clean up.”

His eyes flicked to your figure. Your tone alone told him that your walls were up, and you wouldn't let him easily throw his suggestion over them. You would put up a fight, but maybe if he added Naruto into the mix, then you’d listen.

“You care about Naruto’s well-being, yes?”

Your body froze as your fingers hovered over a toy, your heart lurching in your throat as you braced yourself for this new approach. This was a sick, twisted way of getting what he wanted. He’s done this to you many times before, and while you know it's a trap, you always walk into it. You don't answer him, but your silence does.

“There's a threat looming over the village… I’ve gathered my best men, but I’m still missing the greatest one of all….” You sighed at that, eyebrows crinkling in pain as you felt the guilt creeping up your neck, practically strangling you with its cold bony fingers. “Naruto won't be safe if you can't help protect the village.”

There it was. 

Your e/c eyes flicked to his as you stood up straight. He was right in a sick, twisted kind of way. If you were involved, the threat would be easily avoidable. But how would you tell Naruto? You never once told him how many you’ve saved and never how many you’ve butchered in the name of the leaf village. He didn't know of the nightmares you shared with Kakashi or the vomiting due to the stress your young body was under.

He didn't know any of it. 

To him, you were just a daycare teacher. But to the village, to your Hokage, you were more. 

“I would like you to join the ANBU. When the threat passes, I will let you decide if you want to stay in the ANBU or return to this lifestyle.”

Your eyes brimmed with tears, and you fought the panic in your chest. You’ve been on a couple of missions with the ANBU; they were more ruthless than you were. Your teary eyes drifted to the picture beside the Hokage, lip pursing as you took in the smiling faces of the children you cared for daily. It wasn't just about you or Naruto; it never was.

“What do you say?”

You looked back at him before nodding slowly, “I will join the ANBU, but once this is over. I will never be picking up a Kunai again.”

Naruto bounded back into the village as their mission got cut short. The news spread like wildfire that a threat was coming down on the village, and all ninjas had been requested to return for backup. He raced to the daycare despite Kakashi’s yells. He had to get you to safety. You were the only person he cared for the most in this entire world. If anything happened to you, he would lose himself.

Naruto screamed your name as he ran up to the daycare, flinging open the doors as he flew down the hall. The lights were off, and a cold breeze flew past him as his eyes landed on the sight of your daycare room. Bodies lay everywhere, causing his eyes to widen at the sight of the enemy ninja strewn along the floor with jagged stabs in their chests. He backed out of the room; breath growing labored as he thought through where you may be. Naruto wasn't thinking clearly as he flew out of the daycare building. He would have known that the trap was set just for him if he were thinking clearly.

And he walked right into it.

A bag was shoved over his face as he was tackled. He called out for help, kicking and screaming for the men to get off him. The sound of slicing filled the air, and warm liquid splattered all over him; bodies were shoved off him one by one. Before long, he had freed himself from the group and ripped off the face covering. The sight before him made him stare in awe - A female ANBU officer was slaughtering the ninja one by one without breaking a sweat. It was as if they were nothing to her, almost as if she could take a hundred of them all at once and never falter in her movements. Finally, her sword drove through the chest of the last remaining ninja.

Naruto’s mouth hung open as she ripped the sword from the man's chest, sighing as she looked down at herself. She was drenched with blood. It was on her uniform, on her mask, in her hair, on her hands. The only thing she could wipe off was her sword. 

“Wow! That was, uh… Thank you” 

Her head snapped to the side to look at him before she once more let out a sigh. She slid the blade against her pant leg, trying to wipe off the blood she had accumulated in the past couple of hours. She put the sword back in the sheath on her back before storming towards him; reaching down, she hauled him back onto his feet.

“Why are you here?! Where is Kakashi?!” 

Naruto’s eyebrows furrowed at her words, the voice sounded familiar, but his brain refused to connect the dots. “You know Kakashi-Sensei? You’re starting to freak me out, lady.” The woman froze before him, realizing she had made a deadly error and there was no going back. She sighed before lifting her hand to her mask, “You can't tell anyone, Naruto.”

Naruto’s jaw dropped at the sight before him, “Hey… What the hell?!”

You shot a warning glare, silently scolding him for his language, but he didn't care. You were the ANBU lady??? The one he just saw brutally murder the 20 men lying around you. His eyes wandered around your face, brows crinkling in confusion as his brain caught up to the fact that you were in front of him, wearing an ANBU uniform and covered in blood. Lots and lots of blood.

“But, you’re not a shino-”

You sighed at his statement before he even finished, “A shinobi, yes I haven't been one for years” Naruto grew more confused at your confession. “For years? You were a shinobi before?” A small laugh flew from your lips as you face-palmed yourself. The blood on your hand smeared onto your face, making you cringe at the feeling and smell. Your heart started to race as you brought your hand from your face, eyes wide as you took in the crimson staining your skin. It made you feel sick; you didn't miss this at all. 

“Didn't I tell you to stay by my side Naruto?” Naruto jumped at Kakashi’s words as he landed beside you, slowly approaching you as if not wanting to spook you. “God, I hate this, Kakashi,” you whined out as you tried to look away from the blood on your hands. Kakashi quickly wiped it away with a small rag, reassuring you that you were doing something good, even if it meant killing people. There had been many nights where he’d have to reassure you in such a manner. The guilt you felt drove you mad; in a way, you were thankful for Naruto, who gave you a way out.

“How many did you kill, Y/n?” Kakashi whispered as he looked around the daycare. He was trying to gauge how many angry men would come after you. “About 70” 

Naruto gasped at the number, eyes widening as you turned into Kakashi. “So we should prepare for 100 more coming your way?” 

You nodded as your lip quivered - “I don't want to kill them. I can't do it anymore. I’m so tired.”

Kakashi nodded before starting to take off your vest. If he could get you out of the recognizable outfit and away from the fighting, he could quickly finish off the 100 angry men for you. “I can handle them; it's fine-”

“70?!” 

Your eyes shot to Naruto’s, and you froze at his awe-struck face. You didn't know if he was amazed or disgusted, but both reactions would have made your stomach churn all the same. Kakashi felt your sickness by the way you swayed in his arms, “Naruto, now is not the time-”

“I mean, how badass are you!? And you didn't even tell me?!?!”

Your eyes grew wide as you scanned the tree line for incoming intruders; suddenly, your fear-stricken face turned hard. Snatching up the mask from the ground, you shoved it on before drawing your sword. Kakashi held his breath. Your hearing was much sharper than his ever was. Before you knew it, 100 ninjas surrounded you three. You’ve fought more in one go; it was a simple task compared to other things you’ve had to do.

But doing it in front of Naruto made you falter. 

Did you want him to see the beast inside of you? The beast you hid from him as best you could. You let him believe you were boring to conceal that you were a kunoichi feared by many nations. You killed many men without mercy because you were instructed to, just as a good soldier does.

One of the ninjas looked toward Naruto, causing you to jump into action. You screamed for Naruto to run before slicing your sword to kill them quickly before they could get their hands on him. Naruto, for once, listened and ran to hide behind the building wall, far enough from the fighting to stay safe but close enough to watch you fight through the group. Kakashi did help a little, but you did most of the work. He was amazed and felt slightly guilty at his previous assumptions about you being weak. The display before him was anything but weak.

Within minutes, you had thinned down the group until the last one remained. Naruto expected you to kill him, but you did something else entirely. Your fingers gripped the bleeding man's collar, ripping him up so he was face-to-face with your ANBU mask. “Who do you take directions from? Who was the leader of this attack??” Your words were icy and full of hatred, not full of the warmth and love Naruto was used to. A shiver ripped down his spine as he watched you cock your head at the spluttering man. “Who. Is. In. Charge.” your snarl made the man break as he screamed out the name of the person in charge of the entire thing. You scoffed at him before driving your sword slowly into his chest. It was deliberately pushed in at a location that would  ensure a slow and painful death. It was then that Naruto realized this was the same ninja that looked his way at the beginning of the fight.

You ripped out your sword, letting the man fall to the ground as you watched him gasp for breath. Blood bubbled up from his throat before spewing from his mouth, he wouldn't die from internal bleeding, but he would die from drowning in the blood pooling in his lungs. Your head turned to the side, and while Naruto couldn't see your eyes, he knew your gaze was locked on him. You scared him and amazed him at the same time. He was amazed that you had taken down so many men without a worry in the world, but he was also scared at how fast you turned off your emotions when you went into killing mode.

You weren't the same. He didn't like this side of you.

A sigh flew from your lips as you read him like an open book. He was always so easy to see right through. You saw the fear radiating off him, causing you to drop your sword and rip off your mask as if trying to show him it was still you. That you were still the mom he loved so much. 

That you were nothing special.

But that wasn't true anymore; at least the last part wasn't.

You stepped towards him, head cocking as he cowered behind the wall. “Naruto, honey, I won't hurt you.” He didn't budge, didn't dare to, as you walked closer to him. “You aren’t my mom. I don't know who you are, but-”

“You’re right. I’m not your mom,” you stated firmly as you dropped into a crouch feet away from him. He jumped in his spot, flying back as you startled him. You smiled at his jumpiness but knew that this reaction was warranted. His lips trembled at your statement, and you realized your mistake. “No, no, that's not what I meant. The mom you know is not the mom in front of you. The person standing in front of you is someone that hasn't existed for 12 years. Naruto, I hate this person more than you would ever know. I let this person go so I could raise you, and after tonight, she will never come back.” You moved to sit cross-legged before him, hoping the childlike position would reassure him that the one he was talking to was his mom. 

The old you was far gone.

Naruto’s blue eyes flicked from you to Kakashi, who stood quietly behind you, hands in his pockets as if all this was old news. Because it was. Kakashi was the one that got you out of this mindset, and it silently terrified him just how easy it was for you to slip back into it. He knew he needed to bring it up later but now was not the time.

Seeing that his Sensei was calm and collected, Naruto nodded at your words before crawling towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed as he approached you, but they soon relaxed once you realized what he was doing. Naruto climbed into your lap, forcing your arms to wrap around him and cradle him in your embrace. You bit back a chuckle and pulled him in more, the blood smeared all over his clothes, but he didn't mind. He just needed to be reminded that you were his loving, carefree, warm-hearted mom. He didn't want a mom that was special. He didn't want a mom that was a renowned shinobi. He just wanted you. As you held him close, you decided then and there that you would never pick up a sword again, because caring for Naruto was more rewarding than wearing a mask and protecting the village. 

And nothing would change that.

[solbaby7]

Make You Feel My Love

pairing: azriel x reader

[ part 2 to Make You Feel Something ]

warnings: sexual tension, possible sexual descriptions, not intended for readers under 18, swearing, best friends who fuck, possible typos

summary: Late nights and dim lights with a Shadowsinger who bares it all when it comes to you.

[part 1 ]

—

Practice makes perfect.

At least that’s what you told yourself every time the sun would set and Azriel came strolling through the doors of your bedchamber. He’s grown rather confident as a muse, such perfect features translating on dozens of pages in your sketchbook and countless canvases with him draped over the throne or laid out in a field of flowers. Two of them were a set, a close enough depiction of the shadowsinger in a spring, water up to his chest and inky hair dripping over his forehead—he looked peaceful, like the world hadn’t yet taken a piece of his soul. Most were divided between the two of you; stolen slices of sunshine and bargained bits of darkness hung proudly on his walls, even the nude one had its own home in his closet. “Where do you want me?”

“On the bed.”

He raises a brow, a smirk growing in the corner of full lips but he obeys. “Skipping right to the fun parts, are we?”

“Not this time,” You state firmly, arms crossing at your chest and putting your foot down. “I have three sketchbooks filled with half-finished pieces because you and that silver tongue of yours.”

“You’ve never complained about it before.” Azriel plops onto your bed face down, arms curling under the same pillow he was burying his face in. “Why don’t we do this in your room more often? I’m sure sitting for hours will be much more bearable with the smell of you surrounding me.”

“We stopped doing that because you kept falling asleep.” You’re not even facing him, bare feet smacking against the hardwood floors as you dragged over a chair and the small side table beside it. The soft blue book you pull out is far more intricate than any of the others he’d seen you use before, a special set of charcoals were pullout and sharpened. Stained fingers smear at the page, giving a rough base to sketch upon and Azriel finds he falls in love with the messy ponytail you pull your hair into each time before you’d started.

Azriel made a little noise, humming into the comfort of your sheets after shrugging off his shorts; no underwear this time. Just endless miles of hard muscles and giant wings that settled into the soft fabric of your duvet. “Even better, I’m quite handsome when I sleep.”

“You snore.”

“That’s a lie.”

“Is it? Shall I ask Rhys to join us? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind poking around in my head to help confirm.”

It was a harmless taunt; one he probably still wouldn’t have laughed at even when you were just friends. But now—this. The late nights and early mornings laughing about nothing, fingers smeared in whatever medium you’d chosen to use that time. Sometimes it would lead to more; feverish mouths molding against one another, your fingers tracing at bare skin while Az’s greedy hands tug off your clothes. Soft promises branded at your flesh each time your bodies connected, shadows in a frenzy, touching the places his hands couldn’t get to but he swallows every moan, every blissed out whimper until he was full off you and the air you breathed.

Other times were softer, two friends bonding over something they didn’t have to share with others. A reprieve from expectations; a place where Azriel bared his body and allowed another to find a beauty in him he had yet to see. “You wouldn’t dare—you’d get too jealous having someone else looking at me the way you do.”

“Maybe, I’ll just think of a different memory; of me before a mirror with my hands between my thighs.”

It’s too easy to push the right buttons; amber irises peering at you over the plush pillow beneath him, wide shoulders tense and body half covered by the sheets. “That’s not funny.”

You’re already sketching the outlines of the bed frame, the mattress and the crinkled pillows. Rough outlines of a figure beginning to form before your very eyes as you continued, fresh linen sheets, a thick duvet that smelled of you bunched low at Azriel’s waist. “I wasn’t laughing.” He shifts in bed, hair messy and gaze darkening when taking you in; giving you time to change your words. “You moved.”

“Take it back.”

“Why?” You poke harder, amused grin plastered on your face. “You jealous?”

To your surprise, Azriel nods; just once but it’s enough to have your stomach doing flips. “I don’t like the thought of someone else seeing you like that—someone that’s not me.”

The movement doesn’t alter the direction of the sketch too much and the way he rests on his side, upper body propped up by one strong arm while the other rested over his stomach and he’s not as awkward with his hands anymore—allowing them to just be. You don’t dare look in his eyes, fearful of the secrets he’d lure out of you and you linger around areas that have already been completed. The strong lines of his waist, the dark trail of hair, the muscles of his abdomen that seems to flex slightly when your stare lasts a beat too long. “That your way of telling me not to be seeing other people?”

“Have you been seeing other people?”

You try to ignore the fire that burns in your belly at the jealously he openly displays and your hand pulls away from the paper, a brow raised in question. “Have you?”

It’s difficult to maintain eye contact under the intensity of such a rich gold and you’re fairly certain he can hear the way your heart thuds in your chest. This was the closest either of you had gotten to verifying what it was you were doing and suddenly the warmth from the fire is entirely too much. A finger hooks under the neckline of your shirt, tugging gently in a motion that Azriel doesn’t miss, tongue darting out to wet his lip. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

True.

It wasn’t like he had the time to juggle another woman between all of his responsibilities and spending every spare second sneaking off into whatever room was empty for a few minutes of skin on skin, mouth to mouth and tongue sliding over tongue. “Maybe, I want to hear you say it.” It comes out a little shy, head tilting to the side to rest against your hand and shadows twist up your ankle, around your calf and over your knees. They stop at your thighs, the cool sensation almost resembling the pressure of hands when they tease at the hem of your sleep shorts. “Az—“

“You have to hear the words?” The shadowsingers voice goes devastatingly low, unbearably taunting; luring you in and daring you to bite. Play with me. His shadows seem to croon, tracing letters in your skin too gentle for you to decipher but the heated stare greedily feasting on your reactions is a big enough clue. “Can you not feel it in how I touch you? How I handle you?” The cool pressure creeps past the silk of your shorts, fleeting touches grazing spots that needed more before they dart off to the next. “Is it not clear when I look at you?”

“Azriel—“ It comes out breathless, bones melting to nothing in the cushions of the couch. “The drawing.”

“Who’s stopping you, sweet thing?” The shadows do the work for him, raising the charcoal back in your grasp while the other extends out your sketchbook. “I’ll keep still while you finish.”

A double meaning in the best case.

No doubt, this was his payback for making him spill his load in your hand like some teenager still learning their bodies.

His shadows are relentless, memorizing every curve and branding their touch in their wake. Focusing is near impossible, hands shaky and breathing choppy when forcing yourself to relax; to continue drawing the tortuously beautiful body before you. Az smirks when you pause, throat bobbing with a swallow when you feel the cool caress graze your chest, teasing over peaked nipples. You can feel him following your every move, every drag of pencil to paper; a few of the lines are less than neat but you can’t find it in you to care when Azriel’s attention on you is so addictive. “Can you feel it now?”

“I’ve always felt it, Az.” There’s such vulnerability laced in your tone, eyes trained on your paper; copying the furrow of his brow, the straight line of his nose, the plush of his mouth. “Just need to hear you say it.”

There’s a brief pause; enough time to sign the page and neatly put your utensils away but instead of tearing the page free like usual, you shut the baby blue book and tie it tight. “I want you,” He confesses when you stand, your back is to him and the words come out so quiet you barely hear it. Your body stills and your soft inhale of breath is encouragement enough for him to keep going. “—as more than just friends.”

A slow glance over your shoulder, book still in your grasp and now you’re definitely sure he can hear your heartbeat—everyone in the whole damn city probably could. “Yeah?”

He nods, a smile creeping in the corner of full lips at the way you’re looking at him and Azriel shifts to make room when you move closer, hands and knees sinking into the mattress when you sit yourself on top of him. “I want to kiss you in front of people,” Warm palms dips under your shirt, strong hands gripping at your sides with the most perfect pressure when explores the shape of you. Az lets a pleased sound rumble in his chest at the way you fall into him, allowing him access to a body he’d laid claim to long before he’d ever even touched you. “And have a cheesy picture of your face hanging up behind me in my office.” A blush fans, soft laughter filling the room but inside your screaming; on top of the world with no plan on how to get down. “Just want you. Only you.”

His hands keep trailing higher, pausing at the curve of your breasts and his pupils go wide when you grind down on him, pulling the shirt clean off and throwing it somewhere behind you. “Then have me, I’m yours. Only yours.”

[themissinghand]

Can i please request a fic with secretive plotter with constellation wife reader? 🥺🥺 just a fluff (or maybe angst mhagghmg) fic of them spending time together while watching the stream and all. Thanks in advance!!!! ❤❤❤

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Stars, Kisses, and Kkomas

Summary: In which Secretive Plotter fell in love with his favourite constellation, you.

Or, snippets of your domestic life with the all powerful Secretive but Tsundere Plotter and their “kids”.

Pairing: Secretive Plotter x F! Constellation! Reader

Note: Hey Anon, thanks for your patience! I always had a crush on Secretive Plotter (if you know, you know) and this is my chance to show it. After writing many energetic reader fics, I wanted to try one that is more relaxed and gentle. Hope you enjoy!

Warning: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE NOVEL, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

★・・・・・・★

"He's doing better than I expected," Secretive Plotter remarked, his eyes fixed on the stream showing Kim Dokja Company’s success as they plowed through scenarios.

While the stories of others were fascinating, Kim Dokja’s story was the most interesting, and thus, Secretive Plotter mainly donated and watched his stream.

He felt a hand resting on his arm, but paid no mind to it as if it was natural. 

"He's grown so much. But sometimes, he still needs your support." Your mellow voice reaches his ears as you sit down next to his throne, and leans over to watch. 

Secretive Plotter doubts that, after all, Kim Dokja is quite popular and successful without him. Perhaps you have grown fond of him too.

He eyes [41] and many of his kkomas sitting on your lap, also watching the stream and donating coins on behalf of his name.

“[41].” The kkoma jumped slightly, below slowly raising his head to meet his eyes. 

“Great Plotter…” 

Your gentle squeeze on his arm, made him look towards you who gave him an relaxed smile. 

You always do this to spoil the kkomas. He knows that you know all of them are him, and yet, you treat them like they are your children ("our" children). 

“Let him be. If anything, he can use my probability-” 

“It’s fine.” He immediately counters, before looking back at the screen.

He briefly heard a little whisper of a “thank you” from [41], and felt more of his kkomas came to join them on your lap. 

He heard a little giggle, making his heart beat just once, before he sighs beneath his breath. 

In essence, weren’t you spoiling him anyway?

Life on N’Gai’s Forest was peaceful. 

Secretive Plotter leaned back against a tree alone for a bit, getting some space from his kkomas, and watched the world slow around him. Very soon, he felt a presence near him, and he opened up, allowing you to nestle in his arms. 

He’s not an affectionate person, in fact, he was told many times by his comrades (long long ago), that he was quite terrible at it. 

(Was it Lee Seolhwa? It’s been so long since he remember her name) 

Hence why, he lets you do it while he initiates it. 

The streams of light around them dimmed, casting a soft glow over their faces. 

"Sometimes I forget how beautiful this place can be," you murmured, her fingers tracing patterns on his chest. It’s soothing he thinks, feeling another kind of touch with kind intentions. 

Sometimes, it makes him feel human. 

A wishful and useless thought, but nonetheless welcomed in his eternal life. 

She smiled, and didn’t mind the silence. She closed her eyes and savored the warmth of his embrace. 

"Let's stay like this a little longer."

He responded with a tighter embrace and a squeeze of assurance. 

Life on N’Gai’s Forest was peaceful. At least when it was just the two of you there. 

“Great Saintess, Kim Dokja is sacrificing himself again.” 

He felt his brow twitch in annoyance, an instinctive reaction, before shooting [666] a look. 

“Oh dear.” You patted his chest to calm him and turned to greet [666], and [999]. But of which now latched close to you while hiding from his glare. 

“Shall we, dear? We can’t let the hero of our story stop here, after all, he is the one you believe will reach the end of the story.” 

Without any response, you take his answer as confirmation, and try to sit up. 

Try being the key word, as he pulls you right back to his chest, and you feel a rumble in his chest. 

“Oh dear.” 

Secretive Plotter remained impassive as usual, despite his kkomas staring at him, bewildered. 

“I’m surprised, I thought you would attend the Constellation Banquet.”

Secretive Plotter sat on his throne watching the star stream as usual. 

Kim Dokja seemed to be looking for someone, probably him considering he seemed happy counting his loyal supporters, and confused that he couldn't find the last one.

“It’s not time yet.” He didn't want to reveal his identity to himself of this round or to the star stream as an Outer God anyway.

With a hum of acknowledgement, he heard you approach him from behind. 

“A shame. Archangel Uriel invited me and a plus one to attend.” You sigh, though he knew you didn’t want to go regardless. 

Somehow, you and Uriel had become pen pals, and was very much curious of your identity, though you had no means of revealing any of that soon. 

When he saw your classy gloved hand reach over to tap the screen, he immediately turned around.  

“A shame truly, I came dressed for the occasion.” 

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped, and the Secretive Plotter immediately rose from his throne. 

It was rare for you to dress outside your usual casual wear (Constellations need not to worry about food, and the same could apply to clothing), so seeing you in a formal black silk dress with stars adorning your figure surprised him.

You extended your hand, snapping him out of his trance. 

With a snap, his veil disappears, showing his true uncovered appearance, and black suit with elegant stripe patterns replaced his white trench coat. 

He bowed slightly, brought your hand to his lips for a gentle greeting, while his eyes captivated yours like a sea of stars. 

There was no need to be this formal or traditional, but he knew once in a while, it pleased you when he played along. 

"May I have this dance?" Secretive Plotter asked, and he saw you returned a shy giggle. 

"I thought you'd never ask." He pulled you in closer, and snapped his fingers, a small orchestra appeared in the background.  

As they danced under the stars, their movements in perfect harmony, the world around them seemed to fade away.

Secretive Plotter twirled you around and watched you smile lovingly towards him. He thought that his dancing skills earned in one of his past regressions would no longer be of use (he learned it for the same constellation banquet after all). 

But here he was, dipping you gently before stealing a little kiss. 

“Now, I feel happy that we did not go to the Banquet. Many would gawk upon your handsome appearance and be surprised that the Great Plotter is so capable and gentlemanly.” You teased as you leaned closer to him, and rubbed his broad shoulders.

Secretive Plotter didn’t comment on that, though he squeezed your waist, and with his intense look, one could wonder what he was thinking. 

When the music finally ended, the two of you still held onto one another in silence, just admiring each other and having a conversation with your eyes. 

“Great Saintess.” Until [999] pops up. “And Great Plotter.” He quickly added, sensing murderous intent thrown his way. 

“We’ve prepared a meal for both of you.” You squeeze his hand gently, before letting go, and perform a little curtsy. He matched with a gentleman’s bow. 

“Thank you [999] for informing us. Shall we?” 

Secretive Plotter extended his arm, ready for you to be escorted to the dining room, but to his surprise, [999] did the same. Eyeing himself from the 999th regression in his full human size in his regressor black outfit and eye patch, he felt the urge to fight him.

[999] dare to challenge him?

After all, [999] was a far cry from his current standing, smaller and less influential than him.

His memory may be lacking, but he didn’t think [999] was so daring. 

He ought to show him-

“Dear.” When he felt your arm link with his, Secretive Plotter broke out of his trance and feel you pat his arm a few times to calm him. 

Though, it was not completely successful as you also patted [999] on the head as you would to a child. 

In an instant, [999] returned back to his kkoma form and nuzzled in your gentle touch. 

“While I appreciate the gesture [999], that would be disrespectful of me to my husband. Please do not repeat such an action again.” [999] seemed defeated, and that did make Secretive Plotter feel better. 

[999] nodded cutely, and you smiled, giving the little kkoma a little kiss to his head. 

[999] flushed and quickly disappeared while you chuckle at his cuteness. 

When you turned your attention back to your husband, he stared at you intently, and you immediately knew he wanted one too.

“Oh dear, jealous of yourself?” 

You tease, but despite that, you give him a kiss on the cheek, making him satisfied and finally lead you to the dining room. 

Much to Secretive’s Plotter chagrin, many if not all of his kkomas were waiting for you two (but he knew it was really just you). 

Apparently, now all the kkomas want to be acknowledged by you in some way or form, and unfortunately, knowing you, you would do so as you adored him and his kkomas. 

He pulled out a chair for you to sit in, which you thanked him for, before taking a seat himself. 

Letting out a sigh, he knew he couldn’t stop the kkomas from trying, so he gave a nod. 

Before he knew it, you were surrounded by children (“our” children) and had to entertain them somehow. 

It’s fine, he tells himself. 

Secretive Plotter knew he would get you back soon, and would make sure his kkomas paid for taking your attention away.

After all, it was in his name. 

[999] shivered when he felt The Great Plotter’s eyes on him, and mentally prepared for what’s to come. 

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Love it when characters casually reveal some insane childhood trauma with a nostalgic smile on their face because this is just a normal part of their childhood how fun! to the absolute horror of those around them who are very much in the 'that's not normal what the actual fuck' boat

Okay but here's what makes me tear up:

This conversation happens in a devilgram where Diavolo is picking apples for Barbatos to make an apple pie for him and it cuts to a flashback that shows Diavolo wanted an apple tree to impress his new angel friend and excitedly tells this to Barbatos. Barbatos then helps Diavolo plant an apple tree in the forest

Isn't that rattling your brain!!!? Aren't you foaming at the mouth!?!?!

The Demon King enchanted this forest to be full of things that could hurt and kill his child, all in the name of preparing Diavolo to be a better king

Then Barbatos helps Diavolo plant apple trees in it, because Diavolo wants to share it with their enemy, a gesture of friendship and good will that would eventually bring peace to the three worlds* which in turn helps Diavolo grow towards becoming a better king

Diavolo's father created a deadly survival course for a child so he wouldn't get bored, something that would keep Diavolo away from him, and the man who actually raised Diavolo spent time with Diavolo helping him grow apple trees in it

A labour of love grown and tended to for years, if not centuries, just so Diavolo could give his friend apples (another gesture of love) built upon the soil of something that was meant to push and punish Diavolo into being the ideal ruler

*(over a series of meetings Diavolo & Lucifer become friends -> Lucifer starts questioning things in the Celestial Realm -> Lucifer, pushed by the sentence against Lilith, starts a war in the Celestial Realm -> Lucifer seeks sanctuary in the Devildom -> Diavolo helps Lucifer + reincarnates Lilith -> Lucifer pledges his loyalty to Diavolo + through Lilith's line MC is eventually born -> through MC & the brothers' fates being tied Lucifer accidentally picks MC for the exchange program -> MC showing that people from all three worlds could not only be close friends but family starts mending bridges + MC wanting to stay in the Devildom permanently gets everyone actively pushing for peace leading to them becoming part of the student council/government and challenging the views of the older/more conservative demons -> all this eventually kickstarts both Diavolo & Lucifer's character & relationship development -> Diavolo learns to be a more considerate ruler & person who listens to others instead of immediately jumping in with his own plans & ideas + Lucifer learns to actually push back against Diavolo & not just be his 'Yes Man')

Also this Devilgram is called "The Seven Apples"

and with lines like,

"Still...I hope that all this effort bears fruit, someday"

"With enough care and attention, I'm certain that it shall."

"Ah, well. Good things come to those who wait, and all that."

And talk about the future of the Devildom and how they pick exactly seven apples, the whole tree talk/metaphor is 100% about gaining the friendship & trust of Lucifer and his brothers by putting in the effort, care and attention to one day, years in the future, have seven shining apples with you

BUT, EVEN WITHOUT THAT DOUBLE MEANING,

It's not just a tree.

It's all about love, isn't it and the things we do for the people we love.

[trynafindbarbiee]

VOID SUCCESS STORY <3

TW : Abusive family, bullying, suicide attempts!

Before I go straight into my success story I wanna THANKYOU from the bottom of my heart you are my fairy Angel and I love you more than anyone else bestiee :)

I'm sharing this here so everyone can see this

It's been so long since I've joined loa community but I always failed to manifest Consciously , I would constantly look for the 3D to change and I literally wasted years to learn how to manifest when it's the most easiest thing in the whole universe. Then luckly I came to know about the void state but I kept on failing I was unhealthy obsessed with the void with this my mental health became even worse I started to feel like not living anymore. I felt anxious very often, then one day I decided to end my life because things were getting terrible everyday. I attempted suicide and it failed and then the very first thing someone told me after this was "it failed because you deserve to live, you deserves the best, you deserves the world" And guess who it was! SHE WAS MY FAIRY ANGEL 🥺 YOU! MY BESTIEE <3 I'm very thankful to have a friend like you

What I've learnt over time is that these feelings are definitely not permanent and this too shall pass YES it hurts and survival feels difficult but the hope I got from my bestie (Barbie) throughout my recovery process is just unmatched, unexplainable especially for someone like me who keeps thinking that things will never get better. At the same time I was living in a abusive household I was being hated by my parents, friends, neighbours And one day IT'S nowhere near as bad as what you'll get, but my mom had a small amount of narcissist in her. SHE HELD MY HAND OVER A GAS STOVE because as an 15 year old I wrote something that she disagreed with in my journal. I experienced violence with my mother and father beating each other. Seeing drugs being used and knowing that there was something bad and wrong. I also seen my mother having sex with other men and once heard her having sex and I thought she was being beaten.As I got older, I began questioning her medieval methods. Whenever I brought it up, She would always say that she did it for my own good, or that she was showing me how the real world was like. As a baby, I was ferberized. I was sent to a daycare from the moment I could walk. My mother would often punch and slap me in the face, and so I developed a reflex where I put my hands near my head in defense if anyone raises their hands. I have been bullied and ridiculed.

I have overconsumed info to a point where I even started doubting bloggers and loa but then I met my fairy Angel, my life, my bestieeeee 🥺💗 Everyone, let me tell you all of you one thing that she's a real life Angel I swear! She was there with me when my own family was against me, she helped me through my toughest times, she never let me down, she took care of me like a big sister. I'M BLESSED TO HAVE A FREIND LIKE YOU CUTIE PIE <3! we started journey together and she entered the void but I was still struggling. When she messaged me telling that she did it I literally jumped out of my bed and cried, cried and cried I WAS SO HAPPY FOR HER. I got superrrr motivated after that so I took her advice and tried to enter the void once more but I still failed, I didn't enterbut she kept me motivated . She showed me the things and her mansion that she manifested so that I don't doubt void anymore and I'm so grateful to you for that . She told me to try to wake up in the void instead of entering I again listened her and tried and guess what! SHAMEFULLY I again failed , I was giving my power to a method, I didn't realize how powerful I AM.

After all the failed attempts I called Barbie and talked to her for 4 hours straight I told her all the things that were going on in my life and I cried a lot and even Barbie got emotional too and she cried for me I can't forget that day ever 🙂 she told me "Don't worry honey! It's never too late, I'll enter void for you and after that you will be free of all this bullshit" THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY LIKE I WAS NOT EXPECTING THISSSSSSS :) she already did so much for me and still she wanted to help me out, this is why I call you my Fairy Angel <3

And next day she did enter for me and affirmed that I'll wake up in the void but in the morning nothing happened I realized that I didn't woke up there I GOT SO DISCOURAGED and I told this to her and she said that I have to assume that I'll wake up in the void unless it will not work 🙁 I literally Slapped myself for doing such a stupid thing Not assuming that I'll wake up in the void :( But she again entered for me and again affirmed for me Like? How can someone be so nice?

AND THAT NIGHT I DID WOKE UP IN THE VOID 😩💗 I felt so relaxed there, I was in a whole dark space I manifested everything that I wrote in my journal , I was beyond happy that morning when I woke up in my dream apartment the first thing I did after seeing myself in my dream house was that I messaged barbie that WE DID IT 🥺 !!

Y'all are very lucky to have my bestie here , I love you honey, ily so much <3 God literally sent you for me

Sending you so much love, hugs and wet kisses 🤭

~ your beloved 🎀

The most beautiful SUCCESS STORY I ever saw !

Thankyou bub for sharing your story here too ♡

My eyes got wet while I was reading this :) like you are so sweet and strong! ily too and I always will and no need to thank me..Your life was exactly like mine bef I entered the void , I also experienced all this bullshit so I could understand your situation that's why I helped you so, no need to thank me 💗 You should thank yourself bc everytime u felt like ending ur life , everytime u felt like giving up YOU made it through... so thank youself honey ! <3 I'M SO PROUD YOU MAHH BESTIEEE

You also played a vital role in my journey !

I've been through a lot. I have been through things that I didn't even told u . I have been through things that I haven't told anyone . Because of the things that I've been through, I used have an EXTREMELY hard time trusting people. I used to overthink abt how to talk to you and share my feelings without making you feel bad or you thinking I'm dramatic. I don't know how to talk to you without it being awkward but not only u listened me but motivated me also even when u r going through the toughest time in ur life.... Yes I have so many friends But you r someone special , I love you differently than I love my any other friend. Yes we've been through hell. And it's been insane. But still we are together! ily ♡

Idk how do I put my happiness into words :) I'M JUST SO PROUD OF YOU

Enjoy ur life to the max <3

Want me to manifest for you too?