#again my memories of any eye contact that night are as follows | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cherryslyce · 2 years ago

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Second Son (XIX) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The Battle of Hogwarts ensues.

Part XVIII / Part XX (Epilogue) / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Only the epilogue remains, my dear readers. Thank you. Final wc: 8.6k

Time seemed to be warping and blurring together frenziedly; day and night pushed out of conscious thought, the passage of days folding together in one reel of memories in your head. The starless sky peered at you like an endless void, indicating that it had somehow already dipped into the corners of the darkest hours again.

Your heart gives a sharp twinge as you find your eyes locked to the tall figure standing at the head of the hall, face ashened, mournful cloak adorning his imposing figure like a blanket trimmed directly from the night sky. Harry lingered ways off from you as everyone stood with tense backs and squared shoulders.

You blink away the detachment tugging at your awareness as your ears seem to become full of cotton, keenly aware of the way your wand poked at your ribs from your robe pocket. Your former Potions Professor flickers his gaze around the swarms of students around you, and your chest almost collapses in on itself when you lock eyes with the stone-faced man. Snape’s eyes widen ever so slightly, but he masks it with a sneer as he raises his eyes to look over your dismayed face.

Your mind immediately spins into overdrive as you grapple with your thoughts. That couldn’t have been your imagination. He saw you, so why didn’t he say anything?

A frown dances on your lips as you revisit your old sentiments about the man. You had always had your reservations about Harry’s inimical attitude towards Snape (though he had them for good reason), and you were beginning to think that you were correct in your assumptions that the man’s interests weren’t exactly black and white.

Harry drifts through the rows of students and makes himself known, immediately pouring out all of his pent up fury towards the man. Snape’s face does a funny thing as it shifts ever so slightly from suspicion to troubled.

The doors from behind you are tossed open, causing everyone to step back towards the walls as all heads dart to survey the intrusion. At the helm of the group, Kingsley Shacklebolt strides in with more assurance and conviction than you’ve seen in any of Dumbledore’s followers since his death.

Stepping out from the belt of students, you unconsciously begin to reach out towards Regulus. The boy’s eyes move through the crowd furiously until they lock onto your drifting figure, his shoulders immediately slacking as he extends his hand out to you.

A smile crawls up your face as you hurry out of the crowd and towards him, unbothered by the burning of eyes on your back as you do so. Once you grasp the boy’s hand, he brings your hand up to his mouth to give it a faint kiss, shooting you a small wink as he tugs you closer to him.

The Order members hold their unwavering stances, faces etched with determination as they gaze at a frowning Snape. The man’s eyes are still fixed on Harry, seemingly unperturbed by the arrival of the Order and the overt breach of security.

Harry grits his teeth as he practically snarls at the man, “Tell them how you looked him in the eye, a man who trusted you, and killed him!” Your friend’s chest heaves with every word, as if the recollection of the events was causing him physical pain.

You edge closer to Regulus as your eyes flicker between the two individuals. It was a stand-off that had been brewing for years, finally sizzling and tipping past the boiling point as your mind takes you back to your very first year at Hogwarts, painted with Snape’s glares and Harry’s innocent confusion. No longer was your friend inflicted by such adolescent hurt, now only rage and fatigue shrouding from his body.

It happens in a flash, you nearly miss it as you blink—Snape draws back and points his wand at Harry, eliciting choked gasps as the crowd of students split further apart in shock. Regulus steps in front of you instinctually, and if the situation were not escalating to such a degree, you would have found it funny that he jumped in front of you despite having no weapon or wand.

As Professor McGonagall pushes Harry aside, firmly drawing her own wand up, you push Regulus behind you as you reluctantly bring your wand up to point at the man you had made so many mental excuses for. Snape falters at the sight of the woman’s stance, but regains his composure and levels his wand to her.

Silence falls upon the hall, tension as thick as molasses as everyone draws in their breaths in anticipation. For a moment, you think nothing is going to happen, that perhaps Snape would magically curl into regret and surrender, but then a bolt of flames soars through the air.

McGonagall is unforgiving in her onslaught of attacks, and Snape merely backpedals from his spot as he deflects the spells. The man’s face falls impossibly further into hurt, and you’re struck with a whirlwind of confusion.

Why do you look like you’re the one who’s suffering, professor?

The one-sided battle recommences and you’re left rooted in your spot as Snape suddenly flees out of the window in a flurry of black swirls. As the glass shatters, a cloud of excitement seems to sprout into the air as shouts and whispers fill the perimeter.

Regulus places his hands on your shoulders as you pocket your wand, your eyes still glued to the broken glass at the end of the hall. The cheering and clapping die almost as quickly as they erupted when Harry collapses, a sudden sharp stabbing in your head accompanying your friend’s stumble. You hiss as you reach for your temple, noting how the hall was now blanketed by a miasma of fear.

Suddenly, a piercing scream slices through the air like cold steel, followed by another and another. Regulus huddles you to him as he peers at you with concerned eyes, his hands moving to trail your arms as the buds of chaos begin to prickle around the room.

A sharp hiss rings from all around you, and you would have feared for your sanity if not for the petrified expressions on many of the other students’ faces.

“Give me Harry Potter…Do this and none shall be harmed.” The words seem to bounce around the room as you guide your eyes to settle onto Harry’s stiff figure.

“Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave Hogwarts untouched.”

You divert your gaze to look at Regulus, and find that the boy is already glancing at you with conflicted eyes.

“Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have one hour.”

The tint of doom seems to lift almost immediately, and you exhale shakily as the foreign pressure around the atmosphere dissipates.

“What’s that look for, Reg?” You whisper, unwilling to raise your voice as confusion stirs the air into silence.

Regulus huffs through his nose and wraps his hand around your wrist, stepping to stand beside you as he looks towards Harry, “Just wondering if it’s too late to leave and go back to Norway.”

You shake your head and go to retort, but you’re cut off by a resounding voice emitting somewhere among the swath of students, “Someone grab him!”

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the outlandish suggestion and your eyes trail about to try and distinguish who it came from. Seeing many of the gazes aimed towards a cluster of Slytherins, you tilt your head as you see an unfamiliar boy pointing towards Harry.

Ginny makes her way in front of Harry, spurring the rest of your friends to crowd around the speechless boy. As your eyes begin to wander, wanting to take note of those who were readily jumping to serve your friend on a silver platter, you make eye contact with an unimpressed Blaise.

The boy’s eyes flicker to look at Regulus before they jump back to you, an eyebrow slanting up in a manner that reminds you all too much of the Contessa. Blaise slowly slinks towards the back of the crowd just as Filch hobbles into the hall, shouting incoherently about students being out of bed.

“You have some explaining to do.” Blaise’s velvety voice sounds from behind you, causing you to jump out of your skin.

Turning around on your heels, you slam your palm against your chest to jumpstart your heart again. Did he apparate? How the hell did he just appear behind you?

Rolling your eyes, you give the boy a brief hug, “Nice to see you too, B. Sorry that I went AWOL, I wasn’t exactly in contact with anyone.”

“Except my mother.” He points out with a sniff, arms crossing.

Coughing lightly into your fist, you sheepishly smile in apology, “Nothing big, just aiding some vigilantes.”

“You are a vigilante yourself, no? And you couldn’t have sent a little slip of paper telling me ‘hey, I’m alive!’, could you now?” He mutters with narrowed eyes.

Shifting from foot to foot, you lightly frown, “Uh, sorry?”

He waves you off before setting his eyes on Regulus, who looks infinitely amused by your friend’s antics. Blaise pauses for a split second before a shit-eating grin plasters itself on his face, “Oh, how prestante! You disappeared and found yourself a pure blood boyfriend, I see.”

You blanch at his words and he snickers, “Merlin, don’t look so surprised. His facial structure just screams pure blood.”

“Okay, that’s enough of you, B.” You hiss, “You absolute menace.”

The boy doesn’t have time to respond as students begin to file out of the hall, someone bumping against your shoulder as McGonagall announces that students would be evacuated, underage students taking priority, while those of age were welcome to stay.

Your eyes widen at the announcement, the reality of your situation crash landing on you all at once. “B, go. And look out for Draco, will you?.” You point your chin forward, eyes flying around the room before you settle them on Regulus, “Reg, go with Blaise.”

Regulus swivels to look at you with wide, disbelieving eyes, “I hope you’re joking.”

“And I hope you’re joking. I’m not letting you run into danger without a wand!” You shoot back emphatically with a sharp tone.

“Dio mio,” Blaise clicks his tongue, gracefully shoving his wand towards Regulus, “Here. If you break it or lose it, my dear Y/N will no longer have a boyfriend.”

You and Regulus pause. One beat of silence passes, then another.

“Blaise, what the bloody hell? Absolutely not! Your mother is going to have my head if she finds out that I left you defenseless.” You sputter, hands flying up and nearly batting into a passing student.

The boy shifts to the side to avoid a stumbling first-year as he keeps his eyes steady on yours, “Good thing she’ll never know then. Besides, I won’t be needing it. I plan to apparate to Zabini Manor with Theo and Draco once we get out of here.” He rolls his eyes impatiently once you and Regulus remain motionless, “Now take it before I change my mind.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” You mutter quietly, eyes trailing towards the dark wand, feeling torn despite your friend’s insistence.

“Well, he’s going to follow you anyway, and I’d rather be temporarily without a wand than permanently without a friend because you jumped in front of a curse trying to protect him.” He muses dryly, eyes quickly shifting to appraise Regulus as the boy reaches for the wand.

He was going about this way too casually, a wizard’s wand was practically their life! But there was no arguing with the obstinate git, especially when he had that determined look in his eyes.

You nod and swallow harshly as your throat wells up with thick emotion, “Thank you, B. Stay safe, okay? And make sure Draco doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“No worries, our dragon is all out of stupid after what happened last year.” The italian winks at you before elegantly spinning around, his robes billowing behind him as he strides towards the exit, weaving his way towards a familiar mop of platinum blond.

Regulus twirls Blaise’s wand around in his hand as he gets used to the feeling. He looks over at you with a warm smile, eyes twinkling brightly as a fire lights in them, “Always a good judge of character, birdie. Indeed, you are proficient at picking friends.”

“Clearly not proficient enough, Crowface. I managed to grow attached to a stubborn bastard like you.” You hum playfully, taking a hold of his wrist to drag him towards your circle of friends.

Though, one meaningful glance from your savior friend was enough for you to understand: split up and haul ass.

Hermione and Ron take off in search of the basilisk corpse in the Chamber of Secrets, while Luna gives you a small smile before darting off towards Harry with a frustrated frown. Professor McGonagall almost breaks her neck doing a double take at Regulus, clearly recognizing him, but says nothing of her revelation as she ushers you with her.

Regulus trails after you both, flocked by Professor Flitwick and Molly Weasley, both giving the boy discreet side eyes.

“L/N, we are going to need to give Potter as much time as possible. I’m sure you have an idea of how you can utilize your skills.” The woman gives you a small knowing smile, and you nod back quickly despite not knowing exactly what she was insinuating.

It is not until she spins back around and braces her hands up that your brain begins to work again.

“Piertotem locomotor!”

Your eyebrows furrow at the foreign spell, but your attention is immediately redirected when a deep thudding echoes from somewhere in front of your willowy professor. Peering around her, your eyes widen as numerous concrete knights begin to march out in streams from the entrance hall.

Ah. We’re Harry’s first line of defense.

Winking at a fascinated Regulus, you couldn’t resist the urge to demonstrate your own magical prowess, wanting to match up to the boy’s level of intellect. Drawing your wand out, you scurry down the series of stairs and drop to your knees, beginning to draw out the most complex shielding runes you knew, tangling the swirls of characters into compounds of symbols that begin to shimmer against the dull ground.

The strings of characters glow brightly before darting off into the sky in a flurry of streaks, reinforcing the growing bubble being patched together by the Order members. You continue to relentlessly draw your symbols, the ache in your wrist being overshadowed by the warmth of pride that lit up in your chest at the sight of your runes chaining themselves to the colossal dome.

Ways off from you, you see Regulus marveling at the sky, eyes dancing around the strings of your runes. Your brain screeches to a halt as you zone in to look at the boy, mouth floating into a faint smile at the way his lips imperceptibly part.

It was paradoxical, how at the height of slaughter and war, you fell into a hum of peace at that very moment. Your drifting thoughts only surge forwards when a procession of wispy blue streams hail towards the near-translucent dome, raining down towards you in mottles of cerulean orbs.

Just as you begin to rise from your position, knees wobbling unsteadily along the way, the feathery streaks crash into the shield and explode into veins of white combustion. The loud crashing of explosions deafen you, and you stumble in blinded shock towards Regulus.

The boy is already making his way towards you, face grim as he strides across the plaza with purpose. You barely refrain from crashing into him as he reaches to hold onto your biceps.

Blisters of blinding white wash over your figures as you grip onto his elbows. Chancing a glance at the sky, you laugh shakily, “Think you still know how to handle a wand?”

Regulus smiles and cups your cheek, “Of course, I have to protect you somehow.”

“Your sense of humor dazzles me, love,” you search his face, opening your mouth to continue your retort, only to be disrupted by a painfully loud explosion, followed by the sound of insistent sizzling.

Above you, your beloved crown of protection withers away like disintegrating paper.

Chaos erupts almost instantaneously with giants lumbering through the concrete knights on the bridge, as arrays of colorful light fracture the structures around you. You catch a glimpse of Professor Flitwick scurrying around the crumbling soldiers, hands gesturing frantically for the students to take cover inside.

The rune weavings that you spelled float listlessly until they gravitate towards the castle, speedily wrapping around a couple of the towers and absorbing into its walls. Regulus grabs your hand and you both sprint for cover behind a pile of rubble, ducking as gusts of apparition soar above you.

Screaming begins to bloom into the air, followed by hurried shouts of curses and spells. You spring up onto your heels, wand at the ready as your eyes dart around frantically, heart virtually beating in your neck.

“Crucio!”

Your neck snaps to the side at the guttural yell, barely muffling a yelp as a red bulb of light zips towards you. Dodging the spell, you feel a symphony of rage tug at your nerves at the sight of a familiar death eater—the man who had grabbed you during the attack at the Department of Mysteries, Augustus Rookwood.

Practically swinging your wand, you hurl your spell, “Reducto!”

The man goes flying across the courtyard, smashing through a cracked archway before landing roughly like a ragdoll. You feel someone press against your back, barely taking note that Regulus and you were fighting back-to-back before another death eater sets their sights on you.

You don’t know how much time passes as you and Regulus weave through onslaughts of killing curses, blasting aside enemies and assisting other students in their duels. Your world of blurry fighting trickles into clarity once you catch sight of an enormous giant swinging down at a familiar trio, all of them sprinting further down the ruinous remains of one of the castle walkways.

“Paxillos Inferni!” Your shout echoes all around you, and your vision tunnels in on the cast of neon orange that darts from the tip of your wand. A wave of satisfaction drenches you as you see the giant drop its weapon in surprise, body jolting in agony before dozens of small razor-like spikes sprout from its body, suddenly expanding in size with a sickening crunch. The giant drops to its knees, a lifeless husk, remaining upright, supported by the flurry of colossal spikes that impaled it from every direction.

A few death eaters in your vicinity stop in their tracks, eyes widening as they take in the sight of the shredded giant and your bright eyes. Regulus swings his arm forward, sending a death eater packing before taking notice of your victory.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” He mutters reverentially, eyes drifting from the carnage around you before settling on the palisade-giant fusion.

You shrug before taking advantage of the wave of shock around you, incapacitating a few lingering death eaters, “In one of the books at Grimmauld Place.”

“I see. Nice work, dear.” He hums, tying up a sprinting death eater before the crazed woman could attack a distracted Hufflepuff.

A sudden chill ensnares the nerves in your spine and fingertips, and you have to suppress the violent shudder tugging at your muscles. Risking a glance away from the enemies in front of you, your mouth falls ajar at the sight of a curtain of black drifting towards you.

“Dementors.” You murmured, unnerved by the sheer amount of the creatures making their way over. The golden trio tumble forward and become struck by the same sight. The dementors drop down towards the bridge, swinging and weaving around fallen bodies and chunks of concrete.

A gust of blue threads tangle into a large sphere before expanding across the bridge, the exceptionally powerful patronus charm managing to ward away a majority of the dementor army. Your eyebrows fly towards the sky as you catch sight of Aberforth, the man’s wand extended out towards the retreating veils of grey.

You had no idea the man was even capable of producing a patronus with how downtrodden he seemed just hours before. This would be the last time you’d judge a wizard by their supposed disposition.

Catching sight of a few stray dementors, you instinctually raise your wand, expertly locating a few specific memories of yours to manifest the spell, “Expecto Patronum.”

The familiar sparrow bursts from your wand and darts towards the dementor, the creature immediately retreating into the sea of darkness as the small bird perseveres in its chase.

“What?” Regulus’ breathless mutter has you directing your attention to him, eyebrows raising at the astonished look drawn on his face.

Feeling bashfulness crawl up your chest, you clear your throat and jump back into battle, only sparing him a small biting remark, “Laugh about it later.”

The boy follows your lead and sends a hex towards a cluster of death eaters, “Laugh about what?” His voice is tinged in disbelief, yet still marred by his previous amazement.

“What do you mean, about what?–” you blast an unsuspecting death eater in the side, “--Obviously about my patronus.”

“Why would I laugh?” He practically yells over the commotion of explosions raining from all around you.

You want to groan, feeling that perhaps he was trying to torture you, “Because! It’s a bird. A little birdie.” The boy glances at you with a minute frown of perplexion before his eyes slowly shift in realization, head snapping back to take down a few more enemies.

Once the mayhem around you quells in just the slightest, he turns back to you, “Merlin, what am I going to do with you?” He mutters with a faint grin. Before you have time to question him, he shifts around and lifts his wand up, “Expecto Patronum.”

The light blue swirls jet out from the borrowed wand and you raise an unimpressed eyebrow as it surges towards a confused death eater, the man watching as the spell flies towards him. You really couldn’t blame him—you too, would be rendered speechless at the arbitrary display.

Just when the spell goes to topple into the man, it morphs into a familiar shape that has you gasping. Regulus’ small patronus sharply shoots up into the sky before it can crash into the death eater, the small bird rounding in circles before dissipating into the night.

You and Regulus don’t miss a beat despite the demonstration, both taking aim at the flabbergasted death eater and sending off your best hexes. Once the man goes tumbling away, Regulus turns towards you, “A finch.”

“A finch…” you echo quietly.

Finches and Sparrows. Complementary birds.

“You-” you can barely comprehend the look on Regulus’ face as he breaks out into a wide smile. Your mouth parts, taken aback by how blatant his fondness was.

“My little birdie.” He whispers affectionately, leaning to rest his forehead against yours.

Your heart stutters on the spot, and you have to close your eyes to try and grasp onto reality. Regulus’ hands dance around your waist as colorful blobs spiral across your eyelids, the stench and discord of war suddenly shoved out of the forefront of your mind.

Opening your eyes, you take a brief moment to peer into the boy’s eyes, mouth pursing once you see the fire dancing in them.

“Blast me into a wall if you hate this.” You whisper. Regulus merely grins, immediately understanding your thoughts, and looking anything but bewildered.

Giving no time for lingering doubts to fester, you surge forward and crash your lips onto his. He reciprocates immediately, gently nudging you behind a mountain of rubble as his lips dance with yours. Your hands run around his sides, seeking something to ground yourself to as he leans in further, completely pressing himself to you.

His hands press themselves into your back, pushing you impossibly closer to him as if he were afraid you’d fall through the ground and disappear. You both continue to clash together for a dizzying amount of time, only stopping once the burning for oxygen practically imprints itself into your lungs.

Pulling back with a huff, your eyes widen in disbelief. Reality comes crashing into you like a bludger as your eyes jump around every little freckle on his face. Regulus’ chest heaves as he tries to catch his breath, eyes refusing to stray from yours.

“We-” you utter, voice practically a squeak.

Regulus’ eyes flicker with mirth before he drops his head to sprinkle fleeting kisses on your jaw and neck. Your hands freeze against his chest, not knowing how to handle the hot flash of disbelief and giddiness that sinks into your frame.

Your brain was glitching, perhaps even smoking out of your ears.

Eventually, you gently push the boy off of you, eyes already flying around in search of approaching enemies. Flashing the boy a warm smile, you slowly begin to emerge from behind the mass of concrete, “Let’s continue this later, yeah?” Your voice comes out smaller than you’d hope, but you’re just happy it wasn’t shaky.

“No protests from me, birdie.” Regulus whispers lightly, hand ghosting your back as he submerges himself back into battle.

You aren’t sure how much time has passed, but you are vaguely aware of how the sky seems to shed away into a forlorn grey as opposed to its former void of pitch black. When you spin on your heel, you make eye contact with a panicked Harry which has all of your mental alarms ringing.

“Reg!” You call over your shoulder, not glancing back again as you briskly march over to your friend, cognizant of the faint sound of footsteps behind you.

As you near the boy, you reach over to grasp his forearm, “Harry?”

Harry gulps, “Where’s Draco?”

“With Blaise, they evacuated.” Your voice is cautious, watching as Harry’s eyes flicker from you to the battle behind you.

“Oh…Goyle’s dead.”

“He’s what–what the hell? Harry?”

He shakes his head, eyes darting to look at Regulus before he averts his gaze to peer off into the distance, “No time. Come on.”

You share a look of resigned confusion with Regulus before you’re both bounding off after the speeding boy, mind whirring on overdrive as you all duck into the steep shadows and clamber down a vacant stairway. Harry crouches down as you near a building, and you can only silently squawk once you realize it was the Shrieking Shack.

What the hell was the boy up to this time?

Harry leans against one of the walls and peers into a crack in the mosaic glass, eyes wide as he mutely scrutinizes the scene in front of him. You and Regulus huddle together to do the same, but not before you quietly cast a concealment charm to hide your presence.

You’re able to make out Snape’s figure, the man’s face was undoubtedly sullen as he tracks the movements of his companion with a perpetual frown. You feel Regulus tense by your side as you both recognize the other occupant in the room.

Clenching your jaw, you shoot Harry a sharp look that he ignores, the boy becoming entranced by the conversation Snape was having with bloody fucking Voldemort. Craning your head closer to the cloudy glass, you can faintly make out what the tense exchange was about.

The Elder Wand?

Regulus drops his hand down to interlace with yours, eyes shifting back and forth over the lattice of the window as he tries to fathom the topic. A few moments of eerie silence stretch out before you’re flinching back as something tersely slams against the window in front of you.

Your first instinct is to reach for your wand and prepare yourself for confrontation, but upon closer inspection of the glass, you realize that it was muddled by a dark heap. Tilting your head, you hover a finger over the middle of the black shadow, eyes widening once you see the figure move ever so slightly.

Harry’s hands are clenched tightly by his side as he peers on with unblinking eyes.

“Nagini kill.”

The cold voice has you swallowing a gasp, ears prickling with cold needles of dread at the realization of what was happening. A reverberant hissing slices through the air and soon you’re watching helplessly as the figure in front of you slams and struggles against the pane of glass.

Tears stab at your eyes painfully as you remain rooted to your spot, shoulders completely slack as shame wrings your veins unrelentingly. Separated by a mere two inches of glass. You wanted more than anything to be endowed with a wave of courage—to spring into action and save your Professor, but you knew you couldn’t.

Two inches of glass, and Snape didn’t even know such little distance separated him from help. Or maybe he did—yet, you didn’t know if that was worse. If he knew you were all there, and gave no inkling of knowledge to the vindictive Dark Lord. Was he protecting you all?

The banging ceases, eventually.

Your jaw trembles violently as splatters of blood decorate the panes in front of you, dripping bright red, the streaks mocking you. Regulus’ face is completely blank and devoid of any color, but you could see the deep-seated agony flashing in his eyes.

Were they friends? You couldn’t help but want to ask, knowing that Regulus would have been Snape’s junior whilst at Hogwarts.

You hear Snape grapple with his pain, gasping forcibly into the silent air. For a few moments, you wait it out, not wanting to storm into the building just in case Voldemort was basking in his most recent attack.

Harry shoots you a quick nod, and that’s all it takes for you to fly onto your feet, body pushing through the worn door with such force that it slams into the adjacent wall. Your eyes find your Professor immediately, heart flying away into the dusty shadows somewhere as you collapse by his side. Regulus kneels down by Snape’s feet, eyes searching the older man’s disorientated gaze.

“Professor!” Your voice comes out as a thick tremble, hands shaking with adrenaline as you fish out your wand. You begin to try and cast the strongest healing charms you know, but deep in the back of your hazy brain, you knew it would be fruitless. Harry crouches down opposite of you, posture more reserved—guarded, as he swallows harshly.

Snape glances at you briefly, eyes already dimming, before he turns to look at Harry when the boy tries to put pressure on the man’s wound. You refuse to look behind the blood-soaked collar, knowing that his neck was likely a mangled, stringy mess of flesh and muscle.

“Take them…Take them…” Snape utters with a pained groan, small glimmers of tears rolling down his cheeks. Harry, seeming to understand the man’s urgency, whips out a small glass vial from his pocket and collects the tiny droplets.

Snape reaches out with a weak hand towards your frantic friend, fingers ghosting over his face as he smiles weakly, “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Harry barely bats an eye at the man’s words, only peering at him with a mournful gaze. Regulus speaks up for the first time, eyes hard as he addresses your friend without taking his eyes off of Snape, “Harry, go.”

The boy looks over to you in question, and you give him a brief nod.

Harry hesitates before leaning back and nodding slowly, hand gradually retracting from the bloody mess of the man’s neck. Your friend bites the inside of his cheek before capping the glass vial, “Goodbye, sir.”

Without looking back, Harry flees the room and leaves you alone with the dying man. Your hands wander about in the air helplessly, as you grit your teeth, “Professor, you can’t die.”

Snape’s head lolls over to your side, and he gazes at you dully, chest rising and falling more erratically now. You shake your head and furrow your eyebrows, “Do you think you can just drop down and die like this! You still need to apologize to Harry. If you die, I’ll never forgive you. I don’t know what the hell you’ve been up to this whole time–this whole war–but Dumbledore trusted you. And Dumbledore was no bloody fool. So, live.” Your voice, once hard and full of fiery conviction, drops to a low whisper, “Live so I know that I haven’t defended you for no reason.”

The man squints at you and his fingers weakly twitch, lightly tapping your hand once. Slowly, his eyes flicker to meet Regulus’ tense figure.

“Regulus.” The man murmurs, syllables becoming slurred as his eyes droop lower.

Regulus nods and shifts to sidle by you, hands reaching over to pat the man’s arm, “It’s me, Severus. It’ll be okay now, just rest.” Regulus’ soft words of comfort bring a small smirk to Snape’s face, and as you go to say more, your Professor’s breathing stutters to a stop.

“Fuck.” You mumble out with a scrunched face, eyes burning as you press the image of Snape’s still body into your memory. Regulus’ shoulders sag, and he slowly reaches over to button up the collar of Snape’s robes with glassy eyes.

“He might have actually been a spy for the Dark Lord this whole time, birdie.” Regulus whispers, hands drawing back slowly once he finishes his task.

You sniffle and turn away from your dead professor, “I don’t know. I don’t want to believe that. I don’t even have a sound reason for my judgment—I can just sense it.”

Regulus nods and reaches to cradle your face in his hands, “Your senses have yet to steer you wrong, little bird. I trust your judgment, always.”

It was inscrutable. How could you truly mourn, pity, or empathize with a man who most thought to be Hogwarts’ most depraved? It was dichotomic how you wished to understand Snape’s motivations, but simultaneously wanted to spell away any memory you had of the man.

A part of you hoped that he was everything you thought him to be—slightly misunderstood, heavily misguided, and desperately in need of atonement. Another part of you also prayed that it was the antithesis of your feelings—that he was truly an unredeemable, malevolent mastermind that fooled Dumbledore. At least that way, when the public inevitably denounced the man, he would deserve it.

You refuse to shed tears over Snape’s death, but you wallow in the sea of hurt and conflict that threatens to drown you as you and Regulus make your way back to the castle. It takes a few moments before you snap back into reality, immediately tensing up as you scout the area for any signs of life.

Regulus was faring better than you at the moment, eyes set forward, one hand grasping Blaise’s wand, the other, tightly clutching yours.

“It will end soon.” He mutters, voice level and firm with certainty.

You don’t respond, but you feel a pebble of determination fling itself into the empty cavity of your chest. As you both slip into a dark corridor of the castle, wands raised, you hear distant explosions and yelling around the corner.

It was time to gear up for battle again. Throwing yourself into a slight duck, you swing out from the darkness with a hex at the tip of your tongue, a vicious spell rippling through the air and crashing devastatingly into a death eater moments after.

Mayhem befalls the ruined hallway in a matter of seconds, and you catch a glimpse of two ginger mops. Slowly knocking down death eaters, you work further towards the two Weasleys. When you get within a few yards of the familiar individuals, you feel a small smile paint itself on your lips as you realize it happened to be Fred and Percy, fighting side-by-side.

Seems as though Percy made up with the rest of them.

Just as you send two death eaters down the stairs and into the path of a few stray hexes, you see Fred get knocked to the floor in your peripheral. The death eater standing over your friend waves his hand up menacingly, no doubt ready to obliterate him.

Jumping into action, you aim your wand at the man’s back, “Mors Ruinam!”

A large void swallows the unsuspecting man before unceremoniously spitting him out from the ceiling just as Regulus shoots off a particularly nasty hex.

You hoped that the Ministry wouldn’t be checking your wands after the battle.

Fred is still splayed out against the wall when you approach him, face drained of color as he comes to terms with his near-death experience. You extend a hand to help him up, grunting when the boy nearly drags you down in his attempt to rise up.

“What the hell was that?” He exclaims, eyes suddenly wide and bright.

Leave it to the Weasley twins to bounce back at light speed.

“Just a fun little dark spell.” You flash him a small relieved smile.

He grins and claps your shoulder, “Wicked!”

Percy makes his way over to the three of you with a nod, dark circles jumping out from his face as he slowly gestures for you all to make your way further up the castle.

“Have either of you seen Sirius?” You ask, eyes trailing to focus on the wisps of fire that peeked through the cracks of the ceiling.

“Reckon he’s with Remus and Tonks.” Fred supplies, glancing back to give Regulus a confused look. You nod and cough into your fist, eyes avoiding Fred’s as you deign him with an answer of your own, “Uh, this is my…boyfriend…Regulus.”

Fred’s face splits into a grin and he nearly faceplants on the stairs as he shoots Regulus a knowing look, “Double wicked.” You roll your eyes, knowing that the next family and friends meeting would be awkward as you’d have to explain how and why you were dating Sirius’ dead brother.

Regulus raises his eyebrows in amusement before tangling your fingers together. The journey up to one of the collapsing towers was uneventful from then on, but you were deeply relieved to see that Sirius was still up and running.

“Pup!” He grins broadly, turning back around for a split second to blast an apparating death eater out of the window. The man makes his way over to you, giving you a brief hug before ruffling his brother’s hair, “Where’s Harry?”

Just running amuck with your dead professor’s tears, no biggie.

“Off and about. He was fine, last we saw him.” You answer with a hum, eyes catching Remus’ tired ones from across the tower ledge.

“Where is Tonks at?” You wonder aloud.

Sirius hums and twirls to look at his fatigued friend, “Shacklebolt. They’re off somewhere inside the castle.”

Percy steps forward and huffs quietly, “We should make our way down. There’s no telling how much longer this place will stand.”

Before anyone could make a move to clamber down the stairs, a familiar steely voice hissed through your mind, “You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter, I now directly speak to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate…”

A few beats of silence pass and you could hear a few faint pops of apparition echo throughout the perimeter.

“That isn't going to bode well with Harry.” You murmur, and Sirius grimly nods at your words, quickly retreating down the stairs.

The walk down to the bustling dining hall is pervaded by a sense of dread and anxiety, all of you still on guard as if expecting a death eater to leap around the corner at any moment. Just as you reach the heavy doors, Harry comes striding towards your little group from the other side of the corridor.

Your head perks up at the sight of your friend, but confusion washes over you when you see the hard look in his eyes. His eyebrows are harshly furrowed as he stares down Sirius and Remus, both men looking at each other in confusion before starting to walk over to your friend.

“Hey uh, Fred, Percy, I think your family is inside.” You cough out, not looking back as you debate on whether or not you should approach your furious friend. Luckily, both Weasley brothers feel the tension in the air and heed your silent request, Fred throwing an arm over his disgruntled brother’s shoulders as they saunter away.

“What do you think happened, love?” You mutter, peering over to study Regulus’ expression.

He turns to you and hums, “Snape gave Harry his memories earlier, I’m guessing he saw something he didn’t like.”

You raise an eyebrow at the boy and bump your hip against his, “You know something.”

“I know a lot of things, birdie.” He muses, pressing a hand to your lower back as you both watch on.

Harry runs a hand around his lips before he peers up at his godfather and pseudo-uncle, muttering something that has both men flinching back as if he tossed a flame at them. You cross your arms as Harry sighs, seeming to retreat in his tirade, stepping around both men and marching in your direction.

You shift to give him a questioning look, but he shakes his head and grabs both you and Regulus by the arm, pushing in between you both as he continues on his war path, “Later.”

You don’t think you will ever receive an answer from your friend. Your heart feels like it is being ripped from your body as you stand atop of the ruined stairs along with the remaining survivors, watching as a completely still Harry is being paraded over to you by a river of death eaters.

Neville grips the worn sorting hat tightly in his hands, mouth wobbling as he takes in the sight of the approaching forces. Your mouth stretches into a painful line as your eyes zone in on a particularly enthusiastic death eater dancing around beside Voldemort’s strutting figure.

“Neville.”

The boy turns to you as you begin to make your way down to him.

“I hope you won’t mind if I send her to Merlin,” you whisper as you perch beside him atop a hill of rubble.

Neville narrows his eyes at the woman before nodding, “Get to her first. I won’t be able to hold myself back otherwise.”

“Deal. I’ll help you with the Lestrange brothers then.”

Your brief exchange comes to a halt as Voldemort and his forces stop just a few yards shy of you both.

Voldemort shoots a feral grin at the crowd before spreading his arms out widely in triumph, “Harry Potter is dead!”

Ginny shoots out from somewhere behind you with a distressed wail, “NO! No!”

Her father barely manages to tug her back as Voldemort hisses, pointing a spindly finger at her, “Silence! Stupid girl.”

You want to snarl at the man, hand slowly wrapping around your wand. Regulus moves out from somewhere in the crowd behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stares down the laughing death eaters.

Voldemort’s gloating continues for a few more moments before his eyes flit towards you and Regulus. It seems that world tips on its axis in that moment as the serpentine man stills on the spot before his face shifts to one of rage, the man’s change in demeanor spurring Bellatrix to follow his gaze.

“Traitor!” She all but screeches, immediately lifting her wand to aim at Regulus. You react just as quickly, whipping your wand up to blast the woman into the next life, but you’re both distracted by the sound of a few gasps. Reeling over to look at the source of shock, your mouth curls up as you see Harry roll on the ground, standing and firing a spell towards Voldemort’s snake.

Bellatrix whips her head to look at Voldemort before becoming further enraged as death eaters begin to flee by the dozen, clearly petrified by your friend’s ability to dodge death.

“Reggie, cover me!” You yell, taking advantage of Bellatrix’s distracted state. The boy complies immediately, watching your surroundings as he begins to fire spells into the disarrayed crowd of death eaters.

“Flipendo!”

Your spell sweeps the demented woman off of her feet, her hair flying wildly as she bounces off of a broken slab of concrete. Explosions ring from all around you as Voldemort begins to take chase behind a fleeing Harry.

Bellatrix recovers quickly, clambering around on the ground as she tries to find her wand. You almost want to drag out this one-sided duel to a torturous degree, but petty games had no place amidst war.

Pointing your wand at a stone, you swing your arm through the air, “Depulso!” The rugged rock soars through the air before crashing into Bellatrix’s hunched figure, reducing her frantic movements into trembling pulses as she crumbles back down onto the ground.

You pace towards her slack body, heart skipping as your mind races. Fuck, you didn’t kill her did you?

The woman’s eyes bulge in their sockets as she helplessly stares at your looming figure.

“Filthy…traitor.” She mutters with a strained voice, mouth twisting into a repulsive sneer.

You huff and shoot a glance towards Regulus, relaxing when you see him occupied with a duel, “Still have the energy to talk, do you?”

The woman doesn’t answer, and only continues to gaze at you venomously. Her wand had clattered to the ground just a few feet away, and you faintly smile before kicking the curved stick into a nearby fire.

“You brought this upon yourself. And really, it’s a shame for you that I’m not Neville,” you grin broadly at the woman, “he is far more merciful.”

Before the woman can respond, you pace back a few steps before aiming at her, “Anima Redimat.”

The woman gasps shrilly, watching with frightful eyes as the purple spell sinks into her body, “You-”

“You recognize it then? The Soul Ripping spell. I’ve heard you’re quite a fan of soul magic.” You hum as she gapes at you, “You’re not the only one who’s been around Grimmauld Place’s library.”

The woman is unable to reply as the effect of the curse kicks off, a faint purple tinge enveloping her body. Bellatrix begins to twitch on the ground, limbs sliding around in a distressful dance before she completely stills, eyes wide and unseeing as her form freezes in a contorted manner.

You spin on your heel and slide into the mayhem around the courtyard, firing off an endless flurry of hexes as a tidal wave of adrenaline pushes the world into clarity. Regulus joins you by your side soon after, eyes never once moving to greet his cousin’s lifeless form.

As you turn to send off another spell, you still on the spot as you come face-to-face with Narcissa Malfoy.

“Lady Malfoy.” You greet evenly, moving to blast away a death eater behind her.

The woman hardly flinches at your ministrations and continues to stare at you before she finally whispers, “Draco?”

“With Contessa Zabini and his friends, I sent Blaise off to take care of him earlier.” You reply, sending a binding spell flying from your wand as you see Rabastan Lestrange sprint across the rubble around you.

The woman nods and peers at you with relieved eyes, “I see. Perhaps we should have tea one of these days.” Without waiting for a response, she strides away and grabs her husband, apparating out of the battlefield in the blink of an eye.

Why did everyone insist on having tea with you? Your stress levels will be off the charts by the end of the day.

“Making your way up high society, birdie?” Regulus chuckles from beside you, a glint of satisfaction flashing across his eyes as he overpowers his opponent.

“A penchant of mine.” You reply, tone glazed with amusement.

Regulus shakes his head as he flings his fallen challenger away from him, “Trust me, the grandeur of it fades quickly.”

The battle ensues for a few more beats before crescendoing as two figures suddenly drop down and roll into the middle of the square, driving everyone’s attention towards the disruption.

It seems that time halts in place as Voldemort and Harry gather their bearings, wands raised up as beams of green clash into red, an overwhelming aura of power mounting up into the air. You faintly feel the magic, Voldemort’s smothering signature grappling with Harry’s light and airy one.

The junction of power twirls into a vibrating ball of light as you see both men shake to push forward. Voldemort suddenly collapses onto his knees as the magic fades, a tense silence dispelling the air from your lungs as you step forward with bated breath. Harry quickly peers back in shock, and his contrast from Voldemort’s stricken demeanor tells you all you need to know: the tide of the battle has changed.

Both men swing their wands forward again, but the power clash is less evident this time as the Dark Lord futilely struggles against Harry’s potent magic. The push-and-pull between the two disintegrates once Voldemort becomes enveloped by his own spell, the green wrapping around his figure like a deflating bubble.

The man crumbles to his knees, body gradually going rigid on the spot as his skin begins to flake off into a wisps of ash. The swirl of flying particles reduces the man to nothingness, and you feel like you can breathe again.

Voldemort was no more.

Harry steadies himself to his feet before smiling shakily, turning on the spot to greet the confounded faces around him. Sirius and Remus come flying from somewhere in the crowd, examining Harry’s condition as the boy stares off in content.

This war was over.

So many years of suffering and struggle finally blooming into a new era, and your friend was at the center of it all.

Regulus inhales shakily before turning to face you, seizing your stiff body into his arms when you glance back at him with disbelieving eyes.

For the second time that day, he joins your lips together, and you can only claw at his enthusiastic figure helplessly as he crowds you against him. Cheering echoes from all around you as more people begin to pool into the courtyard, cries of victory lifting to the skies and blowing away the gloomy clouds.

You cup Regulus’ face as you both slowly disconnect, lips swollen and eyes wide.

“I love you, birdie.” He whispers with conviction, hands dropping to grip your waist.

Your laugh bubbles into the air with a watery edge, and you try to ignore the tender fulfillment that permeates across your chest, “I love you too, Reg.”

Today you would shed relieved tears and hold the untimely losses close to your heart, but with the battle won, tomorrow would be the beginning of a new chapter for Magical Britain. You would have to begin reconstruction, reelections, and rehabilitations—mere band-aids for the decades of emptiness that would scar every survivor of the Wizarding Wars, but it would suffice.

The incalculable change was a never-ending battle—even with Voldemort gone, but at least now you have Regulus by your side. Perhaps if change became too much, you could pay Reine a visit.

A vacation or permanent getaway could be in order now, but that seemed like a worry for tomorrow.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite @elia-the-bibliophile @txorua @xlifexdeathx @trikigirl271 @the-marauders-world @sleepydang @blueberry-thrawn @lestat-whore @chanaaaannel @clockworkherondale @peachyaeger @thegayhoenextdoor @l--absinthe @ok-boke @summer-noir @mikeikax @musically-ambiguous @dittos-blog-dylanobrien @friendly-neighborhood-boricua @randomfaeriechild @misacc08 @that-bitch-bri @littleshadow17 @chocochannie @bl4stonesc @shari-berri @mrs-billyrussooo @pandemicboredom @gojosbucket @brain-has-left @googie-jeon @lovely-maryj @lokifriggason1 @aloramalfoy @godmitski @justanotherkpopstanlol @hpboysslut2707 @coffeehurricanes

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helpbutton95 · 1 month ago

Text

The Tortured Poets Department

Read on A03. Also this is entirely @lucyllawless 's fault.

The road was winding out in front of them. The dark leaves sticking to the soles of her feet. Agatha hated it here. She hated the darkness, the way it warped around everything, clinging to it like tar. She could hear Billy behind her, following closely as if he was about to miss something. He wasn't. They had lost half the coven. Alice was her fault and Lilia. Lilia had sacrificed herself for them. It made her skin crawl. She could remember the one constant who had saved her. Over and over again. Unconsciously, she brushed her thumb over the underside of her ring. She sighed, pushing her hands into her pockets. She could remember every time Rio had come to her rescue. Every time she had given her that smirk and by the Gods, what was she doing on this stupid road again.

Jens sniffle made her pause. Turning, she could see the tears tracking down her cheeks.

“Crying isn't going to bring her back,” wow, way to be sympathetic.

“She wouldn't be dead if this wasn't for you,” Jens anger came through harder than Agatha expected but really Agatha should expect it. Jen was a formidable witch. She always had been. They had once been friends. Kind of. Well, more acquaintances. They had only really crossed paths before once. When Agatha was nine months pregnant and in labour. Typically, Rio, who had gotten her into that situation, was not there to get her out. But now, watching Jens face contort in anguish, it made something stir in Agatha.

“I know,” Agatha admitted. “I know the seven were my fault and I'm sorry that they took Lilia but we can't dwell on it. We need to get to the next trial so we can get out of this forsaken place.”

Jen had paused in front of her. “You're scared too.”

“Of course I'm scared, Jen.” Agatha revealed. “Alice is dead, Lilia is gone and Rio-”

Agatha bit back her emotions. She wouldn't show the fear of her wife on her face.

“What about Rio?” Billy asked.

“Rio's vanished,” Agatha lied. She knew exactly where Rio was. Rio was ferrying bodies to her realm.

Agatha turned, she wasn't interested in listening to them mourn the losses.

“Would she come for Lilia?” Billy's innocence made her feel nauseous and she spared a glance as they walked at Jen.

Agatha couldn't help the words that escaped her lips. “Death comes for us all.”

No one answered. No one made eye contact. Instead they continued walking. One foot in front of another. That was all she could do. All any of them could do until the night grew darker. The air grew colder. Agatha found herself looking around as they came to a large meadow the road widening.

“We should stop,” her suggestion was met by stern looks as she turned.

“Why?” Billy's spite spat around her and Agatha pushed away the hurt.

“Because it's late,” Jen answered for her. “And I'd like a break from this road making my calves into tree trunks.”

Billy's scowl back at her made her lift her hand in a half shrug but then they were moving, collecting wood and lighting a fire. Just like they had with the rest of their coven.

The crackle of the fire was the only sound that filled around them. It made her stomach twist in pain. Agatha wanted to say something, anything to make it better. Instead, she looks down at her hand and twists the dark rock on her hand. Nostalgia itched at her. Memories began to creep into the corners of her mind. A crunch of leaves made her look up at Jen. Jen who stood in front of her. Uncertainty on her face. Dark eyes looked between her and the space beside her.

With a sigh, Agatha waved her hand and Jen quickly sat. The taller woman watched Billy collect firewood and then begin making a makeshift shelter.

“So,” Agatha shifted uncomfortably. “Do we get smores or-”

“Did you mean it?” Jen snapped. Agatha reeled. Her lip curled ready to attack but then Jens question came softer. “Did you mean to take Alice's power?”

Agatha stuttered before clamping her jaw shut. “No,” her genuine words felt odd on her tongue. Just like when she had told the Teen about the Sigil. She had known deep down. Jen waited and Agatha hated that the priestess was determined for more information. But she gave it. “It was an accident. I-I can't control it. For so long it was second nature and then not having it. I think my powers just reacted.”

“Agatha-”

“I know a 350 year old witch who still doesn't have her shit together,” Agatha’s humourless laugh echoed in her chest.

“So you didn't mean it?”

“No, Jen, I didn't mean it,” Agatha swallowed the emotion that threatened to clog her throat. “I didn't even know I was doing it until it was too late.”

“And your coven?” Jen prodded deeper. “Rio said your mother wanted you executed?”

“She wasn't exactly mother of the year material.” Agatha deflected. She looked down at her hands, she didn’t like this. It felt damaging like if she opened up, Jen would see every little imperfection that came with her. Imperfections that she had smothered and hidden over the centuries.

“I’m sorry,” Jen muttered, her face contorting as the words tasted sour. “About leaving you in that trial. I didn’t know-”

Agatha shrugged. “All you know is that I killed my coven. Why would you care that they were the ones who started it.”

“Is that what happened?” Jen prodded and it made Agatha’s skin crawl, she had to get to the end of this godforsaken road and get away from the Spanish Inquisition.

“I wanted to learn,” Agatha pursed her lips. It was Jen. Jen who she hated but also Jen who had handed her her son in the middle of the worst snowstorm in New England history. “But it was above me to know that.”

Jens brow drew tight but it was Billy who asked, “They were going to kill you for trying to learn the craft?”

Agatha’s tight smile made her look away. “It was above my station,” Agatha repeated her mothers words that fateful night.

“Covens are protective of their craft,” Jen explained to the boy. “Especially old ones. There's a hierarchy that they respect.”

Jens pointed look makes Agatha lift a shoulder. Honestly, why was it so bad to learn?

But Billy wasn't stupid, his gaze narrowed on her as she tried to school the memories of her mother finding her with the grimoire. Trying to find out why her magic presented differently. Purple, not blue.

“You were trying to learn about your power.”

“And we all know how that worked out,” Agatha drawled, looking back down at her hands. She had been scared after it first happened, to understand why she had murdered her kin but then she wasn't sure it was such a bad thing. They had never understood her, looked down on her. Her own mother had kept her at arms length for most of her life. Rio had been the one to save her. To pick up the pieces and tell her it was all ok, that she had a unique gift, one that could build empires and burn worlds.

She stared at her palms, now devoid of that power. She turned them over and examined the ring that had sat on her finger for nearly 250 years. The first century with Rio had been fun. They had spent a lot of time enjoying the revolution across the north east. Particularly causing issues with Governors daughters. Agatha had been close a few times, close to getting caught, to being revealed as a witch. But every time Rio popped up just in time. Saving her, being charming to those around them and whisking her away to spend days in each other's company. For the first fifty years, it had been in throws of passion, seeking physical touches to remind each other of what they had found the first time they had met in the forest near Salem. But, like everything, the season changed, things aged and matured like the trees that surrounded her small coven. Her relationship with Rio had changed, it aged, it became something comforting. That’s not to say the passion faded. If anything it got worse. But them, together, it was something Agatha couldn’t put into words. For centuries, she gallivanted around the globe, gaining power like a drug and Rio was there by her side, collecting the dead and then returning to Agatha for their time together.

Agatha turned her hands back and stared at the dark rock nestled between two silver branches. Agatha remembered the day she got it.

“You're ring,” Billy's annoying inquisitive voice broke her thoughts. “Was it your mothers?”

Agatha tried not to snort at the look Rio would have given him had she been here.

“No,” Agatha stated simply and she glanced at Jen who looked down at her own ring.

“What-what do they do?” Teens brow was drawn tight and Agatha's eye caught Jens. Jen who blushed and looked away. Jen knew exactly what they meant.

“What does your textbook say?” Agatha nodded to the leather bound book.

His frown drew deeper and she watched him dig through the little grimoire.

“Will it even be in there?” Jen asked under her breath. Agatha shrugged, it was worth a shot. The fire crackled as he dug through page after page. As he did, Agatha revelled in the warmth of the fire. The temperature had dropped from autumn in New Jersey to winter. The cloud of their breath spilled around them and she could see Billy tightening his jumper around him.

Rio was close.

Only death was this cold.

“Life ties?” Billy's voice broke her thoughts and she saw Jen smirk. “Wait, this can't be right, it says here that life ties bind your soul to that person so that when you perish. They perish too.”

Agatha waited and watched the way his little brain caught up.

“You managed to get a soul tie to Death?” Jens judgy voice beat the kid.

“What can I say I'm irresistible?” Agatha teased.

“It says that you can't harm each other,” Billy voiced. “but she cut you when she was in your house.”

“Harm as in kill,” Agatha explained. “At least not directly.”

“So if she threw you off a cliff?” Jen proposed.

“It'd be allowed,” Agatha relented. “On the technicality it was natural.”

“But she threw you off the cliff?” Billy's frown reminded her eerily of Nickys when faced with a difficult quandary. The similar draw of his brows into a deep frown, the way his lips tilted downwards. “She's the cause.”

With a roll of her eyes, she repeated the same response Rio had given her nearly 315 years ago. “The Living Tribunal doesn't tend to look at it that way.”

Jen opened her mouth with widened eyes clearly ready to go full steam ahead down the track but Billy's questions stopped her. “But stabbing you. Not allowed?”

“Look at you keeping up,” Agatha huffed. She wasn't sure she enjoyed this curiosity but it was better than them asking about her mother. Or Nicky.

Billy's head dipped back down to his little book and then his head snapped back up. “But it says that your lives are bound to one another. That it's sacred.”

Jens voice broke through next, “Keep up Teen, it's basically a witches marriage.”

His jaw dropped as a blush rose in his cheeks.

Agatha looked over at Jen, “Spoil sport.”

“He wasn't going to get that we are all on the rainbow scale.” Jen drawled with a huff, smoothing out the dirty wrinkles of her dress. Billy's brows rose impossibly higher into his hairline.

“You too-”

“Please, you don't live for 150 years and not try something new. No one is that straight,” Jen snapped impatiently. Honestly, she was a terrible teacher.

“I forgot how good your bedside manner was,” Agatha smirked, looking back down at her ring.

“You were a bit busy bringing life into the world,” Jen shot back. Agatha’s smirk dropped. Her hand unconsciously went to the locket. Jen watched her, her eyes widening only a fraction as Agatha tore her gaze away. The taller witch didn’t apologise, she never did for her barbs but Agatha could see the regret in her stance.

“Wait,” Billy asked, oblivious to the tension between the elder witches. “It says that the protection on it is linked as well, that they can always feel where one another is. Is this like some weird soulmate thing?”

Agatha didn’t respond. She knew the stone was something that only Rio had made. An original stone of the universe.

“Does Death even have a soul?” Billy whispered, looking between the two.

“She did,” Agatha muttered. “Once upon a time.”

“What happened?” God, he was nosy.

Agatha glanced around at both of her companions and she saw no malice. This is what covens did, they shared with one another and hell, at this rate none of them were making it out alive so what was the point in keeping it all tucked in. It wasn’t going to hurt her.

“She gave it to me,” Agatha recalled. Her thumb brushed the stone unconsciously, bumping over the sigil within the stone. “You’d be surprised at how many enemies she has.”

“I mean, she literally ferries the dead,” Jen pondered. “So it’s not really surprising.”

“No, you don’t get it,” Agatha muttered, her defences rising. “Even she isn’t invulnerable.”

“But surely she can’t die?” Jen asked. “She’s already dead.”

Agatha shook her head. “It’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicate it,” Jen pushed but Agatha was pushing to her feet. She turned to both of them and thought about it for only a moment.

“No.” Instead, Agatha turned, and walked into the darkness. Her arms curling around herself to keep the heat in. She didn’t want to reveal Rio’s secrets, they were hers to keep. That was the oath they had sworn to one another in the depths of New England, in the home they promised to build together. The home they did build together. The home they destroyed together.

Agatha looked down at the black stone on her finger, the sigil glimmering in the moonlight. “You really outdid yourself this time.”

“I'd say I learnt from the best but we all know it was the other way around.”

Agatha didn't turn at the sound of her voice. At the taunting to get a rise out of her.

“What are you here for?” Agatha asked, looking forward into the darkness. “Me?”

“No,” she could practically hear the pout. “You'll meet your end the natural way.”

“The boy then?”

“He broke the rules.”

“He didn't know.”

Rio's exasperation was clear. “He's not-”

“I know who he is,” Agatha snapped, turning to the dark eyes that watched her closely. She was in her full dark clothing, ready to collect.

“You're protective of him,” Rio observed, stepping closer. “Why? He turned on you the moment you showed him who you really were?”

“He's just a kid,” Agatha wasn't giving Rio more ammunition.

“No,” Rio pouted. “That's not it.” She moved purposefully around Agatha each step crunching the frozen leaves beneath them. “He tugs on those human heart strings of yours. The ones you try to pretend aren't there.” Agatha glowered. “You always were soft when it came to children.”

“You know how I feel about that?” She shouldn't have snapped. She should have kept that card closer to her chest.

Rio smirked. “It’s life, Agatha. The road of life isn't an easy one.”

“You don't get to tell me about that,” Agatha’s emotions reared as her mind went to her son.

Rio had the decency to look wounded for a second before her face became void. “I'm sorry. I've always been sorry. You know that.”

“It doesn't excuse you taking him,” Agatha tried to swallow back the emotion but the softness crept into Rio's gaze.

“You know as well as I do that we couldn't control what happened to Nicky.”

Agatha flinched. It had been so long since his name had been spoken aloud by either of them. Especially in one another's presence. She had to protect herself to stop this line of questioning.

“Yes, well, it's the past.” Agatha huffed, pulling her arms tighter around herself. “So what now? You just go kill the boy?”

“You know that's not how it works,” Rio drawled. “I would have been out of your hair sooner but you're pleading warmed the heart.”

“You don't have a heart.”

Rio smirked, her eyes landing on Agatha’s ring. “Yes, I do. It's yours.”

Agatha curled her hand involuntarily. She shifted her feet on the freezing ground. It was growing colder by the second, she could see her own breath.

“You’re cold,” Rio’s head tilted.

“Well you aren’t exactly a ray of sunshine,” Agatha huffed and Rio stepped closer, her hand sliding up her back. It was automatic. The reaction of her body relaxing into the warm touch.

“I can be exactly how you wanted me to be,” Rio’s breath ghosted across her ear, as scalding arms encircled her.

But Agatha knew the game the witch played. She had played it so many times before. “So I give in and give you Billy?”

Rio stiffened. “Honestly,” she pouted. “He’s just one life that broke the rules.”

“He made a mistake.”

“Like you did?”

It was like a slap.

Rio didn’t flinch, didn’t move as Agatha turned slowly to look at her. Her brow quirked in that perfect arch.

“Goodbye Rio.”

Agatha turned, stalking past Death as she made her way back to their small camp. Rio didn’t move. Didn’t utter a word. As soon as she made it back to camp, she curled in front of the warmth of the fire. Jen and Billy both curled up, eyes closed. Agatha subtly checked they were breathing before settling. She didn’t close her eyes, instead she watched the road around them. Knowing that Death clung to the darkness. They would wake and continue on the trial and meet Death at the end.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha x rio #agathario #fic #agatha all along spoilers #mcu #marvel #I'm obsessed with the ring

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diejager · 10 months ago

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Hi i love all your stepdad konig and dbf horangi stories🩷 I wanted to ask if you could do a follow up on the pregnancy story where the reader gives births to twins(boy nd girl) and she ends up moving out to this big penthouse with horangi that he and konig paid for,,,,i dont know if thats too much this is my first time requesting,,again you're really amazing and talented🩷💕

Cw: forced pregnancy, DUB-CON/NON-CON, DARKFIC, STEPCEST, child birth, kidnapping, isolation, threat of taking custody, forced marriage, mention of divorce, tell me if I missed any,

Pregnancy was a stressful thing, weighing on your conscience and body, it was a difficult affair for any mother, but yours especially, with your underlying living condition and situation. You provided your baby - babies, you learned after your first ultrasound, seeing two small embryos curled inside your womb - with nourishment, time and energy, your time wasting away to keep them safe and alive, supporting two lives in your womb rather than one. That put a bigger strain on your health, adding to your stress and terror —a bigger risk to your life and theirs.

You doubted your life could get any harder than it was, the constant touching, the fussing, the looming and the shadowing would eventually get to you, but what you hadn’t expected was for König to hold them against you. You should have, honestly, looking back to their streak of cruelty and selfishness, expected that one of them would hold your sweet babies’s custody over you to have you bend to their will.

Who would side with a young and broken mother when she had a strong and more mature father to nurture the kids, retired and respected by his old coworkers and bosses. They would win this battle over their custody, taking away your little rays of sunshine in your dark times, the ones who held your fingers in their soft and tiny hands when you cried at night and their coos making you smile. They were products of rape, a physical proof of your mistreatment, you knew that, but you loved them so, so much.

Your little girl and little boy were everything you would’ve asked for, quiet and easy to manage, they were good kids, even at six months old. You would take care of them on your own if you could, you knew you could be a good mother if you had the chance, but König and Horangi didn’t give you much time. They would take your angels away if you didn’t agree to marry one of them. It was a cruel act of power and sheer dominance, showing you what they could do to have you submit without actually acting on it.

You lost contact with your mom, your last memory of her was her frantic and tearful ramble, locking all doors and trying to do her best to separate the men from you, trying her best to build a shield between you three. She tried her best to protect you and your babies from them, but they had connection, power and a name for themselves, there was little she or you could do against determined men.

That was the last time you saw her, your contacts with the outside world controlled by your two wardens, anything had to go through them in case of dangers towards you and the twin. You lived in a gilded cage, a pretty penthouse and a cabin in the Austrian Alps, a comfortable bed, and a relaxed lifestyle. It was all any person would give to have - a life you dreamed to live - if you weren’t forcefully married to two men, uprooted from your home and taken away to be locked up at the top of a building.

The light in this dark situation was that the twins would have a comfortable life, living a life of luxury without getting spoiled if you taught them right, if you watched them grow up with a strict but fair way. You wouldn’t want them growing up as selfish and cruel as their fathers, your adorable Yoon-Suh with her blue eyes and black mop of hair, and your excitable Leon with his auburn hair and warm, brown eyes. They were your sole priority.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @lucienbarkbark @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @223princess

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ssseashell · 3 months ago

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my newtmas headcanons (because i saw some people posting their own hc's and had to share mine)

these are mostly based on a modern setting scenario, but some can be pictured in canon aswell ^__^ 🐈🐈‍⬛

thomas has dimples, newt has freckles

thomas has brown hazel-ish eyes, newt has dark brown eyes

thomas’ cheeks are naturally red and newt’s cheeks are pale and, sometimes, they turn pink

newt collects vinyls and books, thomas collects comic books and mini figures

thomas’ love language is ‘physical touch’, so he’s always touching newt; holding his hands, massaging his back, playing with the lobe of his ear, temple kisses, love bites, whatever.

newt’s love language is ‘words of affirmation’, so thomas receives ‘i love you’s and any other sweet words like 50 times a day (he also makes sure he says it a lot)

eye contact, lots of eye contact. especially before they were together

small touches

arms brushing against one another

fingers rushing against one another

thomas still is determined to count every freckle newt has in his face

kisses. all types of kisses. smiles between kisses / slow kisses / messy kisses / following a kiss on the lips with a series of kisses down the neck / kisses that were meant to be gentle, ending up in devout passion / long kisses that leave them breathless and flustered

hugs. a lot of hugs. all types of hugs.

they know everything about each other

newt loves playing with thomas’ hair. he cut his hair once. never again

thomas has terrible memory, newt remembers everything

newt likes to draw and paint, thomas likes to make music (he knows how to play the guitar)

newt’s fav color is green, thomas’ fav color is red

they read together sometimes, each with their own book – but thomas is usually the one to get bored first, so he just lays on newt’s lap while newt plays with his hair and reads his book aloud for him

thomas likes to run late at night and when he’s back he just wants to sleep and cuddle, but newt won’t touch him until he’s showered

sometimes thomas comes home with some cut or injury from running and newt takes care of him every time

newt gets sick easily, so thomas had to learn how to take care of him. newt: don’t touch me, i’m all sick / thomas: i don’t care

newt, to thomas: if i hear you sing to heathers in the shower again i’ll join you just to drown you

every time they kiss in a stairwell, thomas makes sure he’s on a higher step so, for some seconds, he’s taller than newt

newt makes thomas trade their food when he likes the brunet’s better

thomas, when cuddling: “i’m hungry” / newt: “i’m not moving”

thomas had this bad habit of biting into his nails when he’s anxious or stressed, newt hates it

when newt is crying because of stress or anger, thomas licks his cheeks to catch his tears and never fails to make the blond chuckle

newt discovered he loves thomas on a random tuesday night. they were dancing and singing with their friends and thomas slipped on air and fell on his butt, and newt was like yeah, he’s so dumb. i do love him

they like to bake their friends’ birthday cakes together as part of their present (thomas is awful at the kitchen, so all he does is basically put the candles on top of the cake once it’s done

thomas is that person to be excitedly yapping in bed about his day and then, in two seconds, is falling asleep mid sentence because he’s so tired. and newt just giggles every time it happens, and kisses his forehead passionately before also falling asleep

sometimes newt feels so homesick it hurts, so thomas does all he can to cheer him up with silly little things, like watching newt’s favorite english movies or listening to songs he listened to when he was a kid, or having a tea party playdate where they pretend they are from the english royalty (yes, it’s so stupid

thomas: damn, it’s like my mom likes you better than me

thomas’ hand is smaller

they both love all rom coms, romantic comedies and christmas classics so, every week precisely, they buy all the sweet treats they want and make popcorn and choose something to watch together (even if it’s not christmas, even if it’s something they’d watched 1000 times already

#this was so fun to write #thanks for listening to my yapping session #i could yap abt them 24/7 #and they are consuming my little brain #maybe i'll write a part two of this someday #the maze runner #newtmas #tmr newt #tmr thomas #newt the maze runner #thomas the maze runner #headcanon #hcs #newtmas au #newtmas hcs

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lunasfics · 3 months ago

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What We Deserve - Tim Drake

summary: Love is a foreign concept to her. Love is transactional. It’s pain and it’s setbacks and she doesn’t need it. Love is not something she is incapable of feeling nor is it something she is incapable of receiving. She does not need it.

pairings: Tim Drake x f!reader

warnings: mentions of childhood physical abuse, alcholism, self sabatoge, angst angst angst, issues of self worth, mention of toxic/abusive relationships, suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, i think that's it

word count: 1.3k

a/n: please read the warnings of this fic! it covers some heavy topics as well as flawed characters. multiple triggering topics are discussed and if any of the above topics trigger you please please do not read! i'm trying to broaden my horizons when it comes to writing, i'm also experimenting with different povs, i hope you enjoy this read, if you or anyone you know are going through anything mentioned in this fic please seek the following resources for help: domestic violence, suicide hotline, drug & alcohol abuse rehab site

reblogs are always greatly appreciated.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

Her memories from childhood had a complicated occupation in her mind. A considerable amount has been blocked off by now. Whether it’s because of the drinking or because of the trauma, she couldn’t tell you. Though if anyone asked, Who gives a shit? The fuckers are dead. It doesn’t matter now.

Love is a foreign concept to her. Love is transactional. It’s pain and it’s setbacks and she doesn’t need it. She’s never needed parental love. She never got it, she’s never needed it. Love was foreign to her because she didn’t want it near her. Love is not something she is incapable of feeling nor is it something she is incapable of receiving. She does not need it.

When she catches herself crying for them, for her father and her mother, she forces herself to look at the cigarette bud shaped scars on her arms, the scars and scratches that litter her body. The only feeling they deserve from me is anger.

She reaches for the bottle so she can forget again.

She remembers the night she met Red Robin. She remembers being buzzed, not a deviation from her typical state. She remembers planning to die. She remembers her feet dangling over the edge, staring down into the dark alley somewhere in Crime Alley. She’s forgotten how she’s gotten there by now. She remembers how she laughed at the thought of what they would do to her body, how they’d probably take her organs and leave the rest of her to rot. Fitting. Shit life, shit death.

“You know, just cause you’re high up doesn’t mean you’re safe out here.”

She didn’t turn around. Her words were slurred. “If that bat fucker sent you you can just fuck right off. Just walk away. I’ll be out of everyone’s hair within the hour.”

“I’m not in contact with the ‘bat fucker’ right now. Why don’t you just scoot away from the edge and we can chat.” His tone was blank. Void of panic. She supposed that shouldn’t be a surprised considering his occupation.

She turned to look at him, eyes narrowing, she was expecting scrutiny, some form of condescension. All she saw were the blank white eyes of his mask.

She’d had a run in with the bat before, the intensity of his gaze, the tightness of his lips and the weaponization of peoples’ fear made her decide she hated them all.

“Maybe mind your fucking business.” She snapped.

“Let me take you home and I’ll be on my way.”

She scoffed. “I’ll just kill myself tomorrow then.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Not here.”

“I’ll find you regardless.”

“Fuck off. Seriously. Go fight Penguin or some shit and just let me die.” She wanted to hit something out of frustration when her voice cracked. She was angry. She wanted to cry. She wanted to feel her feelings and free herself once and for all. She would be damned if she let this bat variant shitface see her cry.

“I don’t care for Penguin right now. I care for you.”

“Bullshit. You don’t know me.”

“I will by the time I get you home.”

She stared at him, in her drunken state she resolved that he would not leave her alone anytime soon.

He walked her home that night.

He checked in on her every day after that, there was no escaping the man.

Of course a friendship grew, despite her many efforts towards resistance. Of Course she patched him up when he came to check on her, despite her constant complaints about the blood stains in the carpet. Of course he came to check on her, injuries and all. She didn’t know why he kept coming back. She decided soon enough she didn’t mind it. Slowly but surely, Tim Drake helped her get her start to get her shit together.

That was until she met him.

Maybe she was finally starting to get her life together. Maybe it wouldn’t last long. Maybe it was just a temporary feel of structure before she reverted back to the bottle like she always did.

Maybe he was her soulmate. Maybe he just gave her the right kind of attention at the wrong time.

Deep down the only person she wanted to call her soulmate was Tim. Tim wasn’t perfect, but he was so, so good. He destroyed himself every day to make the world a better place. She destroyed herself every day to try and cure the anger she carried with her everywhere she went. With him, the suffocating weight on her chest felt just a little bit lighter. With him, she could breathe.

She refused to place the weight of her burdens onto him, not when he already had his own. She refused to delude herself into thinking that someone like Tim would ever stoop to her level, would ever look at her in all her fucked up glory and decide that she was worth it.

Maybe it was because he deserves better. Maybe she just doesn’t deserve him.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

As smart of a man Timothy Drake is, he has never fully been able to place when it all started. The lines of time have been blurred for him for years now. He remembers meeting the guy for the first time. He remembers not liking him at all, he remembers how she looked at him. He remembers how big beautiful eyes admired the sorry excuse of a man that stood in front of him. He remembers going home that night and resolving to silence in favor of her happiness.

He remembers meeting her. He’d been on patrol that night, he’d found her on a rooftop. She was bumming a cigarette, a half empty bottle of jack sat beside her as her legs dangled off the edge. Her eyes were heavy, hair up and in wisps of disarray. There was a breeze that night.

He remembers taking her away from the edge, finding that her risky placement was intentional. He remembers deciding that night that he didn’t want to leave her. He remembers how she accepted him for everything he is. How she didn’t bat an eye when he’d revealed his identity. How she saw both versions of him as one, never valuing one more than the other. How she patched him up and told him to rest because she really did care.

He remembers when he realized he’d fallen in love with her. He remembers hearing her laugh one night and deciding it’d be all he needed for the rest of his life. He remembers every detail of her face but he can never bring himself to look at it when he’s there.

He remembers the first time she called in the late hours of the night. The first time he picked her up and held her while she cried. He remembers how he felt when he watched her pick apart every detail about herself, Why, Tim? What is so fucking repulsive about me? What did I do for him to treat me like this?

He’d always say the same thing. That he was an idiot, a piece of shit. That she wasn’t the problem, he was. Everytime he managed to build her back up again, she’d run back to him, only for him to rip her apart, again and again.

He remembers every time he told her to leave him. He remembers every single broken, “I can’t.”

There are lots of things Tim doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that he’s the only person she is willing to be this vulnerable with. He doesn’t know that deep down all she wants is him. He doesn’t know just how much of her heart he truly occupies.

There are also a lot of things that Tim knows. He knows she deserves better. He knows she refuses to let herself be happy. He knows she doesn’t think she deserves good love. He knows he loves her. He knows he can’t have her.

We accept the love we think we deserve.

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indecenthoney · 4 months ago

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Free-Use Agreement

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

"Mmm... What time is it- Okay...That's not good... Random girl on my chest... Great... Fuck me... How much did I drink last night? Mm... Alright... Hey hun... You awake? C'mon, it's morning, we should clean you u- H-holy shit... You gotta be kidding me... Hey hey hey... Don't you go freaking out on me... What do you mean? I'm just as confused as you are... Well, excuse me... This is my bed... My room... For all we know... Youuuu could have followed me in here and had your way with me... Don't play that card... Men can get touched too... Wow... Really? Who would sleep with me? You! Apparently..."

To catch you all up on this sudden predicament, my roommate and I made plans to spend a night out in the city. A little drinking to ease the stress of the week. One thing led to another and after a couple of brain-numbing shots, everything went hazy. From the looks of it, neither of us had any memories of that night. Days would pass without a word. I mean to wake up with your roommate balls deep inside of you? I don't blame her for reacting the way she did. Surprisingly, we went about our day as usual. There really was nothing to write home about. However, the tension during dinner time was unbearable. I didn't necessarily hate her or anything. It was more of our dynamic. We'd bicker and tease each other back and forth. Then we'd have our occasional pranks. But now, I couldn't even look at her in the eye. The short moments of eye contact would bring me back to her squeezing down on me. Even the sight of her lips would send me into shock hearing her squirm as I pulled out. Fuck. What if it was me? What if I did force myself on her? The guilt was eating at me. And I couldn't even fathom a proper way of apologizing to her. The fucked up thing is the amount of times I've masturbated to that mome-

"H-hm? Sorry I was kind of blanking out... What were you saying? No no... What? I should be the one apologizing... This whole thing could have been avoided if I didn't drink so much... I mean... What if I did do something? You're right... I'm overreacting... Sorry... I just didn't wanna make it all... weird... you know... Both of our faults, huh? Alright alright, I can work with that... Bright side? And what's that? The fact we fucked each other... True... I guess it was better than that fuck boy hitting you up all night... Ain't that right, baby girl? Hahahah! Sooooo you're not mad at me? Good cause I couldn't fucking eat... Hey... I was embarrassed too... But since we're good... We can move past this... I can finally stomach this foo- Sorry what?"

There it was again. That uneasy feeling. My jaw had dropped at the presentation of her proposal. Completely caught off guard from her shy disposition. After knowing her for years, it felt like I barely knew her. I mean she was the type of girl that would blush at the mention of a crush. So to utter such words was completely out of character. I'm sure she was just pulling my leg. Trying to get a reaction out of me. She insisted that there would be days when our "lust" would get the best of us. And that this little arrangement didn't have to end. She then offered me full reign on using her as long as we were in the apartment. To further justify her proposal, she claimed that it was better than fucking some random in a bar. She said all this while never once looking at me. I was not completely opposed to the idea. Just bewildered. She was hot. Believe me. If it were any other guy they would literally jump at the opportunity. But surely, she was just pulling my leg.

"Hahaha... You're joking... This is a test, right? So you can call me a fucking perv... Hahah very funny... You almost got me... Hey... What're you-"

On her knees, she carefully navigated around my sweatpants. Pulling out my throbbing member into the scene. There soft kisses met at every inch of me. Her supple tongue rubbing along the back of my head exacerbated my already breathy moans. The warmth of her mouth enveloped the entirety of me causing my eyes to roll back. Even after steeling myself, her teasing had already stopped, waiting patiently around my cock. Literally forcing my hand, urging me to act if I wanted even a crumb of pleasure. A battle of morality that I was sure to lose. Gently my hands cupped around her face, framing her perfectly before bobbing her relentlessly downward. Spit and tears would soon follow. The gentle touch that I once had quickly crumbled and devolved into such an animalistic instinct to fuck and release. My hand now decorated around a fistful of her hair. A pattern of forcing her down even deeper into me before fucking her mouth with shallow strokes. In my euphoric haze, I had no intention of savoring her lips. And in moments, I was quickly brought to the edge. She kicked and squirmed. Painfully gripping down onto my thighs. Nails digging into me as the cum hit the back of her throat. My body jerked and convulsed; leaving me to lean back into my chair. Exhausted. Without a word, she quickly got up and made her way to her room. I was confused. Was it all just a little prank that gone wrong? A little tease that went too far. That uneasy feeling made its way back into me. Feeling that all the progress had reset once more.

"H-hey... Where are you- Fuck..."

The following day, I would hear little shuffles coming from the living room. In a rush, I got myself out of bed to catch her. But she was already halfway out the door before I could even greet her. Unable to speak of yesterday's happenings. I would then spend the rest of the day cleaning off the apartment. Anything to keep my mind off of our current situation. There was no point in dwelling on something I couldn't fix at the moment. Before I knew it, time would pass. After taking my place on the couch, it was just about time for dinner. What to eat? Dinner. Dinner. Dinner? My mind would soon flood once again with yesterday's events. The rush of blood made it difficult to focus. In the heat of the moment, I thought it'd be wise to deal with it before she arrived home. Stroking myself without regard to being caught. Reminiscing the feeling of the back of her throat. I was lost in it. So much so that I didn't quite hear the unlocking of the front door. The hue of red painted across her face due to my exhibition. The relentless rhythm of slick precum echoed throughout the room. She stood there silently watching my frustration and discomfort; before finally gathering the courage to call out to me.

"Fuck... Mmph... Huh? O-oh shit! H-Heyyy youuuu... Uhm... And how... long have you been standing there? No way... Really...? Sorry about that... I'm just a little... uhm... pent up... is all... I didn't think you'd be home so soon... I see... Sorry what? Does it hurt? Nooo, just a little uncomfortable... but never mind that... Since you're here... I really think we should talk about yesterda-"

Without warning, it was then she offered up her services once more. Her shaky fingers slowly unbuttoning her worktop. To the drop of her pencil skirt that hugged her waist so perfectly. Revealing her lacy black bra and stockings before placing herself atop the seat across me. Her eyes peering behind her disheveled hair; fixated on a corner of the room to avoid my gaze. The slow march of her fingers, tracing along the center line of her panties. Teasingly putting on a show. Only for her actions to backfire. Maybe to her realization, it was more than showing off her body. She was being watched so intensely by someone she knew. It was embarrassing. Sure. But even so, her slender fingers continued to press along her cunt with more fervor. Spreading herself ever so often as if she was showing me the spot that needed attention the most. Such a lecherous display. Without thought, I found myself standing in front of her. With how little she seemed, it was like a little animal backed against a corner. Trembling. My hand pushing her back against the couch. I leaned in close pressing my entire weight. My cock now throbbing eagerly against her cunt. And the subtle buck of her hips that answered back in response. It was then all reason would be completely thrown out the window.

"Fuck... There you go... teasing me again... What's wrong? You're shaking... Look... See? You did this... so it's only natural... that you fix it, right?"

The tear of stockings. Panties gently pushed to the side. Entering ever so slowly into her depths. Her eyes begin to flicker and roll. An insatiable throb making it all the worse. Never truly easing up despite the time that has passed. And in turn, my patience wearing thin. Slow, yet gentle movements take place causing her to pull tightly on my shirt. Pulling me closer into her embrace; digging her canines right into my shoulder. The sudden sensation causing me to jerk deeper into her. Stifled moans leaking through pierced flesh. Her bite reduced to a slobbering nibble. Despite her pleads, her reactions only brought out the worst in me. Thrusting into her as if my life depended on it. There her legs were propped onto my shoulders. Forcing myself deeper into her. Slamming down. My hands coiled around her pretty little neck. Watching her eyes shoot up as the stimulation reaches its peak. My body failing to support me leading me to slump over her with ragged breaths. A pale liquid now dripping down her holes. Both too cum-brained and tired to actually function. I laid by her side silently, stroking her hair, before inevitably falling asleep. Later, I found myself still on the couch and her nowhere to be seen.

"Mmm... Fuckkkk me... I really have to stop thinking with my dick..."

Having not eaten anything the night before, I would find myself wondering off to the kitchen. The aroma of eggs and bacon soon filled the room. A scent that would make any person's mouth water. There my roommate stood, humming quietly to herself, who was just about done cooking. She sported the same lacey-black panties; paired with an apron whilst still being topless. My caveman brain doing its best to process the sight in front of me. Only for my other head to do all the thinking. I was no better than animal. An alluring doll figure that tempted me so. Breakfast became the last thing on my mind. Eager to ease my dilemma, I positioned myself between her supple thighs. She insisted on eating first, but soon her moans would overtake her logic. Grinding away on her thighs, slightly pressed against her cunt.

"Morning... Sorry I know I know... Breakfast sounds good... and we should totally eat... But after I'm done I promise... Just keep those thighs pressed... Alright?"

And so she pressed. Her thick thighs surround my member. Her cunt slicked with juices dripping down her thigh making it all the easier to fuck her with. My mind gradually slipping from me. Her arm twisted behind her, serving as my handle to further my aggressive motion. Within a matter of minutes, my composure had crumbled. Hunched over her; moaning against the back of her neck. The climax drawing near as the tip jabbed roughly against her cunt. Causing me to release an unholy amount. Once again tainting her poor panties. After cleaning ourselves up, we went on to eat the breakfast she had prepared. Making small talk proved to be difficult as her mind was elsewhere.

"Uhm... Thanks for making breakfast today... I- uhhh really like the way you made the eggs... I can't handle overcooked eggs... Haha... Soooo... Do you have any plans today? No... O-oh okay..."

It would seem that our little situation would only get more and more awkward as time progressed. Talks would be less frequent. Yet our time together never quite dwindled. I happen to catch her at the most unfortunate of times. Sweat dripping down her breasts on a sultry day. Eating and licking a popsicle on some random afternoon. Or even bent over searching for something underneath her bed. All events leading me to fuck her senseless. It had gotten to the point where I would often just pull her to the side, if need be, to satiate my own selfish desires. Even relaxing on the couch would be a trigger to pull her up on my lap before making out with her. Our tongues welcoming one another. Breathy moans, subtle whimpers filling my mouth. Her arms wrapped around my head to position herself into a deeper kiss. My cock throbbing impatiently against the opening. Pushing her down completely to take the full length. A shrill moan escapes her mouth. Having her rock her hips despite her sensitivity. Brought to tears by the stimulation. The buck of her hips as I toy relentlessly with her clit. Her body shuddered. Yet another load fucked into her. My hips pushing back up to plug it all in. She laid against me worn out and weak. Tears running down as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"Dude? You're crying? W-what's wrong? Am I being too rough? Fuck... I'm sorry... I-It's okay... Let it out... I'm here... Just relax and breathe... I gotchu... Not going anywhere..."

Sweet nothings cooed into her ear. Finger tips moving through silky hair. Tracing along her back. Before running up once again, diving deep underneath her locks to scritch and scrotch the roots. Having her melt under my gentle hand. Effortlessly her consciousness begins to dwindle. With her eyes closed, I kissed her forehead, wishing her sweet dreams. Holding her closely throughout the night just as I promised. Not leaving her side. The feeling of dread and guilt seeping into me. Going a bit too far with my desires. Having it take a toll on her. I had to change.

"Ohh heyyy morning sleepy head! C'mon what you waiting for? I made pancakes! Get them while they're still hot... So blueberry syrup or strawberry... We also have Nutella... Did you sleep good? Yeah? Oop- Sorry just let me... Yeah, you have a little schmuck on your face... Prolly cause you were drooling in your sleep... Yeah, it's a lot... I know how much you love them... I don't know... I just wanted make you a little something to thank you... After last night it must've been a lot for you... So I promise I'll stop... I never wanted to make you cry... Ah no... Shush... No need to explain... I made my decision and I take full responsibility... You just sit there and eat your pancakes... Alright? Me? I'm gonna go for a run real quick... I'll see you later!"

As much as I enjoyed living that fantasy, it wasn't worth hurting her. We went about our days as usual any time we could. When she would start to get nervous, I would often take some time away. Her eyes would begin to drift. Or her thighs would begin to clench. Little tells. The poor thing was probably still traumatized. I could only imagine. She probably felt unsafe; thinking I would pounce at her at any moment. The lecherous eyes that once analyzed every inch of her body. Now being completely docile. It is a bit sketchy. But no more. I made a promise to myself. Above all, she was my friend. I planned to restore our friendship as much as I could. And to repent, I refrained from any of my usual pervy activities. A bit troublesome at first. But keeping myself busy usually did the trick. I mean you can't cum if your dead tired at the end of the day!

"Oh? You're home! Was just about to watch a movie... Care to join me? I have popcorn... Hahaha did the popcorn seal the deal? Yeah? Right right... You know... Been a while since we hung out... Ready?"

It went about normally as you'd expect. We made our little jokes, reminisced of old memories, and even poked fun at each other. It was like the past few weeks were a blur. I was happy.

"Probably 7/10... In all honesty I was bit focused on you yapping than the movie... So my rating can be a bit skewed... Not my fault that you're more interesting... You wanna watch another? Still a bit early for us to go to bed... Yeah? Sweet... Let me pick a random one... Hm? Yeah its a bit chilly... I have blanket on me if you wanna use it... No it's fine... Really... Cuddle? Uhm... If you want to... Yeah yeah... I'm comfortable... Hahaha... Here... Best seat in the house..."

Taking place in between my lap, the scent of shampoo filled my head. My huge frame towering over her delicate figure. There she sat awaiting a response, but communication failing me. The movie played yet my mind fixated on tearing this little lamb to shreds. I could push her into couch while I filled her ass to the brim. Have her jerk me off with her leaky cunt. Or even watch her cry and beg as she worships my cock with her throat. And how easily said tasks could be done. Her scolding bringing me back to my senses. Ass pressed against me causing me to groan in pain.

"H-hahahah I-I'm alright... I just.... I'm not... I'm not feeling too well... No no I-It's fine really... I should head on to bed... Get some sleep and I'll be good as new... Thanks for the movie..."

Rushing over to my room, I quickly occupied my desk trying to find something to do. If I could just touch myself I would actually have some solution to this unending throb. Every game was on maintenance. Each friend too busy. And the internet far too slow to stream anything decent. The littlest of things agitated me and I was at my wit's end. A knock at the door resounded into my room. I wanted to chuck my chair at the door.

"Now's not the best time! Can we talk about it tomorrow? And you're in my room... Great... What do you wan-"

There she stood in an oversized band tee; inching towards me. My nails digging into my seat inhubiting all the carnal urge to pin her against the wall. The pacing of my breath irregular and my heart pounding. To my realization, not a single word was said to me after she entered my room. Confused. I took a moment to peer at her face, but not a single thought existed behind those eyes. That overly sized shirt slowly creeping up above her waist. Revealing herself bare and needy.

"U-uhm... D-dude... I think you're forgetting to wear something... H-hey hey hey... What're you-"

This time I was the one cornered; unable to get up from my seat for it would only escalate the situation. Both of her hands planted on my thigh, thoroughly grinding her bare cunt along it. A moist trail tracked along my sweats. Never did she break her teary gaze, pleasuring herself to the rough texture. With how eager she started off, it was suprising to see her slow down. Her movements begin to jitter and shake. A slow lag became apparent. She sat there fidgeting with slow motions. Resisting her own climax.

"And who told you stop? C'mon... If you don't keep rocking those hips... I'll have to do it for you... Understood? Now move... That's a good girl.... Hey hey hey... My eyes are up here... It's rude to look at something else when I'm talking to you... Mhm mhm... You're doing such a good job... Fucking yourself for me... Oh? Is someone close? No? Then why are we slowing down? Keep... moving... Excuse me? "Please" isn't going help you here... You either cum or you don't... You have complete control over it... So tell me... If you wanted to cum so badly... Why'd you stop? C'mon spit it out... Walking in here... Grinding your filthy little cunt against me... Oh? I get it now... You want my permission... That's it, isn't it? All this mess for my approval... God you're such fucking perv... You know what? If you want it so bad... Why don't you take it..?"

It wasn't exactly an easy task to outright pull your roommate's dick out and fuck yourself on it. On the other hand, I was enjoying her reactions. A little hesitant at first, but she managed to pull my cock out. Her hand gently stroking along my member. Something she's grown familiar with these past few weeks. Her ass pressed against the tip of my cock. Guiding it along her slit to position it just right for the opening. Even with all that eager grinding, we found it difficult slide in completely. Hopping off my lap, she quickly got to her knees. Her soft tongue placed on the back of the tip. Her breath hit me causing me to twitch against her mouth. Drool slowly soaking the entire length. Her lips close giving it one final kiss before trying once more.

"Not so fast... Why don't you turn around... Welllll I wanna watch you enjoy yourself, of course... if you're going to be using me then I should at least be able to watch... I mean I'm not some toy you can just hop on for a bit... Unless that's the way you look at me... Right right... No no... I believe you..."

Timidly she crawled onto my lap, hovering over me, still completely anxious of what's to come. Deep breaths fill her chest before easing herself into my lap. Reaching into her depths, her head knocked back from the pleasure. Taking but a moment to claim herself again. Having been fucked all this time, she wasn't quite used to taking charge. She was scared. Yet never once did that stop her. Watching her sloppily shake her hips on my lap. Putting on her best performance. That insatiable throb coming back once again. Making us both moan. My hands grabbed her anxious hips giving way to a more gentle motion. Teaching her but the proper way. Not needing to rush nor having to please me but herself. Despite my provocation, this actually was for her. I found that it would be easier to use me if she saw how much I was enjoying it too. Watching her cunt continuously consume me. And even if I wanted to stay cool, I just couldn't.

"A-ahahaha... Mmm... Mmmpphh... Uhm... C-can you s-slow down a bit..? F-fuck... I r-really... Ughhh.... Mmm.... I-I really can't.... D-dude.... I m-might cum soon... S-slow down will you... Aaa..."

I was close. God, was I fucking close. A sick and twisted smile plastered over my face. Feeling fear. That once small and harmless animal now cornering me. It's ironic. So much so you can't help but just watch. This little thing was riding me like it was her job. Seeing as how I've become a complete mess under her guidance. Her movements became more erratic. Fucking herself on my cock. Getting off on more than just the pleasure, but by my reactions. Milking more and more of those tasteful sounds. Her cunt bouncing on the tip. The final straw. A violent string of orgasms causing me to moan into her mouth. Weeks of not being able to cum, now taking a toll on me. I sat back in defeat. Before I could even say another word, her lips were already locked around mine. Soft kisses meet at my lips. Not another single word was said between us that night. There was no uneasy feeling. Or guilt. I was happy. And she looked pretty damn happy too.

"Morning sleepy... Why so red? You only fucked my brains out and made out with me for half the night... Shut up? Or what? Gonna ride me again? Hahahahah... Oh nooo I'm so scared... Are you sure you don't remember who fucked who that night? I'm starting to think it was you... Ow ow ow okay okay... Hahahaha... So ready for round two? Ow ow okay... Jeez... Breakfast? Cool cool... I didn't hear no though so.... H-hey hey relax-"

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

No Lube, No Protection

Honey

#nsft story #nsft concept #bd/sm community #bd/sm blog #cnc k!nk #corruption kink #degrading k1nk #cnc free use #cnc brat #edging and denial #somno fantasy #intox cnc #intox kink #fr33use #cnc overstim #submisive and breedable #filthy thoughts #risquéhoney

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crystaldivination · 2 years ago

Text

MASQUERADE PARTY🍹

PICK A CARD: your future spouse's physical appearance

Hello cuties, let’s us see what I can get for you. Here come some keywords describing your future spouse’s physical traits. Hope you’ll like it! ♡

꒰ yes or no pac ꒱

☰ masterlist ⋆ paid services ⋆ give me some love!

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

how to choose your pile. take a few deep breaths & look at each pile separately. Take your time to pick out a pile that sparks an interest or a memory in you. Come back later to it again if you can't decide.

The piles

left ⟶ right

Disclaimer: this is a general reading which may or may not resonate with you. Take what resonates and leave out anything that doesn't. Feel free to choose another pile if you'd like.

one

tall with long legs

nice shoulders & collarbones

healthy fit looking

athletic slim/lean with a little muscles

lanky and light on feet

boy-;girlfriend look/ beach boy;girl vibe

casual style

brown/ dark blond hair

young & youthful looking

attractive smile with dimples

pretty & delicate features

sharp jawline & masculine face

blue eyes or very light eye colors

sun-kissed tan skin or warm undertone

groomed fingernails

neat & tidy appearance overall

come off as very charming & friendly

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Looks & vibe that could match your future spouse’s appearance:

Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night!

two

dainty nose, big eyes & fierce look

pale to olive skin

long prominant neck

mid tall to tall

long torso

sporty & strong figure/ physics

might wear contact lenses because I get various eye colors

might dye their hair often

sleek or wet hair

piercings, tattoos or other body modifications

opt for colors that goes noticeable or fit each season

duality in terms of style

likes both classic & tomboy/girl look

simplicity & extravagance

experimental, emo, goth, vampire, futuristic vibe

long pretty hands & fingers

likes to wear accessories & dark makeup

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Looks & vibe that could match your future spouse’s appearance:

Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night!

three

long hair

oval, diamond or heart shaped face

v-line

cute & kind face with expressive or dreamy sparkling eyes

round or sharp features

inverted triangle or rectangular body shape

petite to average tall

stylish & fashionable

fairytale aesthetic

sophisticated style

romantic soft look

often wear pastel colors

dreamy & vintage vibe

old money aesthetic

smile often

playful energy

summer boy/girl/person

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

Looks & vibe that could match your future spouse’s appearance:

Reblogs, likes and follows are highly appreciated. Have a wonderful day or night!

#crystaldivination #pac #pick a card #pick a card reading #pac reading #tarotcommunity #tarot reading #intuitive readings #tarotblr #free readings #free tarot readings #free intuitive readings #pick a pile

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val-cansalute · 1 year ago

Text

PICKING UP THE ———- PIECES -———

ch.2

ch. 1

ch. 3

ch. 4

ch. 5

ch. 6

Doors bound to frames, and patched up curtains drawn over locked windows with rusted bolts.

The silence has lingered in your room since Ellie left, trying desperately to seep out of any gaps, but you’d sealed them all tight, barricaded yourself in, chained your mind and body to the guilt.

A few days must have passed since then. Who knows? They've all melted into each other like you're constantly between the light of day and the dark of night behind those covered windows.

All you've done is lay and think. Nothing more. Appetite and sleep abandoned you, and you retreated into your consciousness, the dark place that started to feel less like fire and more like warmth.

If Soren saw you now - well, God, you can't bring yourself to even consider that.

People came by intermittently and, by people, only the nurse woman and Maria, both of whom were met with an oh so welcoming silence as you ignored their knocks.

Then returned the silence, which happened to be anything but silent for you - the echo of memories hitting the walls of your mind amplifying, screeching mercilessly and bursting your eardrums from the inside out.

The cracking reverberates the loudest - right as his skull made contact with the wall, sending his brains projecting across it. His eyes were bulging out of their sockets, piercing right through you.

His blood - your blood - insidiously crept it’s way into every corner, painting the walls around his deformed figure, dripping down into glistening crimson pools along the floor, spattering across your face, and absolutely drenching your hands in a way that wiped out any possibility of them ever being clean again.

The bat rattled against floor as you let it slip through your trembling fingers and then your mind went blank.

When you resurface, the thoughts still weigh heavy on your mind, and the malicious hiss,

“What have you done?!”

that usually follows morphs into a bloodcurdling cry, begging for your attention.

You can’t stay here. You cannot.

You are safe here, but you have no desire to be.

Alone and trapped in the memory of what happened that day, surrounded by people who only seem to make you feel even more alone in this dark room.

And you knew you had nothing to live for as soon as Soren was gone.

So, you’ll pack up and leave quietly when you can walk again-

BANG BANG BANG

The howling of the beginnings of a blizzard accompanies the sharp thuds against your door, shaking the frame. It almost scares you before you realise it’s just Maria or the nurse bringing food.

You sigh and pull the covers over your face, seeking relief from the harsh cold.

BANG BANG BANG

“HEY! IT’S ME! ELLIE! I KNOW YOU HAVE A CRUTCH! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

…

“HEY! THERE’S A FUCKING BLIZZARD AND I BROUGHT YOUR ASS FOOD! OPEN THE DOOR!”

BANG BANG-

The lock bursts off the door frame and projects across the room, letting the door fly open, in coming a gust of furious winds and snow, and a panicked string of curses from Ellie’s chapped lips as she rushes in and slams the door shut behind her.

You arose from the bed like a fucking vampire, probably resembling one too, and stared at Ellie who was leaning against the door, pushing out laboured breaths, with your jaw hanging open.

“Fuck, I can fix this- Damn- Shit, I just need… like… Fuck! Why’s this fucking lock so flimsy anyway?! And why the fuck didn’t you just open the door?!”

You ignore her rambling, “You broke my lock?”

“… Sorry.”

“Why are you here?”

She holds up a small stack of containers,

“You haven’t been opening the door so they sent me.”

“To break it open?”

“Hey, I said I was sorry, okay? I’ll fucking fix it… I just… need to check it out first…”

You sigh and let your head fall back against your pillow,

“Ellie, it’s almost midnight, and there’s a fucking blizzard outside. This couldn’t have waited till tomorrow?”

She walks towards where you’re laying and looks over you before setting the containers down on a nightstand.

“I know you haven’t eaten in days. People worry. Don’t be an asshole.”

“They’ll cope,” you grit out disdainfully, though it’s unwarranted, to which Ellie scoffs, seemingly losing her patience with your jarring change in character since she last saw you.

“You’re a fucking dick.”

“I’ll cope.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, Ellie glances around the shadowy corners of your decrepit room.

“Damn.”

“What?”

“Feels like I’m in a coffin, you got a candle or some shit?”

“Uh, I think there’s one on the desk. But I’m going to sleep anyway.”

“Looks like you’ve been sleeping for days. Want me to neaten this place up for ya? You’re not allowed to say no, by the way.”

“How about ‘not really?”

“Oh, you getting smart with me?”

“Fuck off.”

“In a minute.” She trudges around the room, kneeling stiffly to retrieve discarded trash littering the floor with little strained puffs.

For some reason, you’re annoyed that you can’t get back to the silence. You’re annoyed that she interrupted your thoughts so violently. Now she’s cleaning, trying to crack open a window to let out the stale air and smacking it down as soon as a flurry of snowflakes enters, and you’re sitting there, watching her, unable to get back into your head.

A giggle itches at your throat but you swallow it, glancing over her and the way the tip of her nose is tinged pink from the cold.

Cute.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“Uhh… Fuck. I don’t know, just close my eyes and run fast as I can.”

“Are you serious?”

“I mean, yeah, not much else I can do.”

“…You know, you can stay if you want to. Just for the night.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about want to, but I might stick around just to check up on your ankle, you know, do you a favour.”

“Pssh. In that case, you’re more than welcome to leave, dude.”

“No, I'll stay, since you practically begged me.”

“Mhm. That’s what I thought.”

A few moments later, the room is brighter, clearer, fresher, and Ellie forced you to eat under her beady-eyed, scrutinizing gaze. You shift your leg, staring down at the swell beneath the bandage as Ellie stands awkwardly at the foot of your bed, having stripped off a few outer layers.

You look over at her, not really sure what to do other than gather all your willpower to not stare at the way her nipples poke through the fabric adorning her.

Fucking cold in here.

You rub your eyes furiously, as though you want to push them back into your skull, and throw yourself back onto your pillow.

"Jesus. You trynna go blind or something?" she chuckles, a rasp laced in her voice.

"Shhhh. I'm sleeping."

"Oh yeah? You asleep?" You can hear the smirk in her voice and the floorboards creaking beneath her step as she closed in on you. You crack open an eye to give her a bemused look, even though her words made your insides turn.

"Yes."

"Uh-huh, right."

"Right."

"So... You got a sleeping bag or some shit?"

"Nope."

"Blankets?"

"No."

"Wha- I- So are you expecting me to just huddle up on the couch when it's, like, minus a bajillion degrees outside?!"

"I don't know..." You open your eyes and think. It's genuinely cold. There's a blizzard so she can't get home. There's no blankets. You know you're going to regret what you're about to propose, but you spit it out before nerves restrain you.

“You cool with sleeping on the bed?”

She scratches her neck, a torn expression on her face.

"I mean... Isn't that... You know?"

“No, I don't know. Look, it's not weird, just don't think freezing to death seems like an attractive option. Just for the night.”

She scoffs, more so out of shock than mockery, “Okay.”

“Yeah, just a suggestion but if you’re uncomfortable with that then I’ll-”

“No… Why would I be…? Plenty of room for us to share the bed."

“Yeah.”

After a few minutes of awkward shuffling around, Ellie pulls the covers back and settles on the outermost edge of the bed, almost rolling right off, with her back turned to you.

You're not much better, laying close to the other side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a body stiff as a plank of wood

"You... uh, you okay over there?" she asks hesitantly

A quick,

"I’m okay, thank you," rushes past your lips as you try to settle your heart rate. It's this time of night that the thoughts start flooding in. You know there's no point in bothering to try to sleep.

The covers rustle beside you as Ellie, courageous as ever, turns to face you, eyes raking over your figure curiously.

"Good... Just checking," she says softly, quietly, words coming out soft as cotton. Then she turns to face the ceiling and silence blankets the room.

After a few hours, your eyes are bloodshot and fixated on the same crack in the wall that they had been for a while now. The glass is starting to overflow, and you don't know that you'll be able to hold back the tears even just for one night.

You can only hope Ellie's asleep when the restrained sound of your sniffles tears through the heavy silence every now and then. Your chest tightens when you hear Ellie start to make some soft grumbling noises, her eyebrows furrowing as she turns back over to face you.

"Hey," she says, her hand hovering over your shoulder,

"Let me see that ankle for a sec."

You squeeze your eyes shut and groan, hoping she can't make out the slight quiver in your voice, "Why? Why can’t we just sleep?"

"Just... wanna see how bad the swelling is," Ellie mumbles, sounding annoyed.

"I know your dumb ass wouldn't tell me if it was hurting.

You sit up shakily, the darkness casting a shadow over your glistening eyes, and lift your leg to your chest. Ellie reaches a hand out and gingerly runs it over the bandages, tugging them away and feeling the area for swelling.

"See? It’s fine."

She gazes up at you, her eyes lingering for a moment before she nods.

"Yeah, looks okay, I guess," she sighs.

"Can't be sure with you... But, fine, whatever, go to sleep."

You rest your head back against the pillow with a sigh and close your eyes.

However, sometime later in the night, you feel Ellie nudging your already awake figure.

"Hey."

She's speaking very quietly, but there's something urgent in her voice. You rub your stinging eyes, somehow annoyed at her for pulling you out of your thoughts.

"What?"

"I need to check your ankle again."

"No, it feels fine, go back to sleep."

Ellie stays silent for a second before letting out a long sigh.

"Yeah, well, I'm checking it anyways," she says.

"Just roll over."

From her tone, you can tell that Ellie isn't asking this time, so you do as she says and show her your wound, though her eyes are yet again focused on your face for a little longer.

"Okay... It looks fine. Again."

Ellie shakes her head for a moment before lying back down. She watches you shuffle around before muttering,

"Damn it."

"What?"

"I... You know what? I can't sleep, so talk to me."

"You were just sleeping th-"

“Yeah, well, it’s gone, so talk to me,” she hissed, to which you rolled your teary eyes, trying to gain a few crumbs of composure before speaking.

“About what?”

“I don’t know. Anything. I mean, I don’t know anything about you.”

“That’s cuz there’s nothing to know,” you mumble. You know that’s not the truth.

“… Just… Look, what’s your favourite colour?”

You raise an eyebrow skeptically,

“Favourite colour? Are you serious?”

“Yes! Just answer the question, asshole.”

“Fine. It’s purple. It’s the most colourful colour.”

“Purple… Huh, didn’t expect that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just don’t… I don’t know, you don’t exactly seem into colourful stuff. Kinda expected you to say black or something.”

You snort indignantly, turning your head to meet her heavy, mesmerising eyes.

“Says you… I would never.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?! I’ll have you know that I, also, would never.”

An easy chuckle bubbles through you as you look up at the ceiling. Easy. Simple, all the things she said and the way the conversation slowly diffused into something more balanced, ridden of the initial obvious strain on Ellie’s part to get you to stop feeling whatever you were feeling when she saw your shoulders quiver in the moonlight.

Your head tilts to look at her for the first time after a while, skin dry of the tears that evaporated off your skin as you grinned, telling her the pun you claimed was better than hers and waiting for a response with a mind miraculously clear of the thoughts that polluted it up until a moment ago.

Ellie’s bottom lip is tugged between her teeth to hold back her own smile, though the creases beside her eyes give her away,

“Oh, was that supposed to be a joke?”

“Uh, yeah, it was. Don’t act like you didn’t find it funny! Not after how much you laughed at your shitty ones!”

She raised her eyebrows playfully, feigning a somber tone, “I don’t know, bu- OW! He- What the hell?!” as her face hit the pillow you launched at it. The sight of her face suddenly full of confusion draws a laugh from you - a real one. You hadn’t felt that familiar warmth for so long.

Caught up in the lightheartedness of the moment, you meet her gaze with a grin, holding up the pillow menacingly,

“Sorry, been wanting to do that for a while,”

Ellie grabs onto your wrists, a pure grin adorning her lips as she desperately attempts to fight your hands away from her through laughter and muttered “fuck”s. You give into her struggle with a groan and she pins the pillow and your hands back against the bed.

There’s a shift - both of you can feel it, neither of you expected it, as Ellie looms over you, loose auburn locks dangling close to your skin.

Your stomach turns. This is bad. This is wrong. This feels uncomfortably right.

Play it off, you tell yourself, unable to decipher the thought behind Ellie’s slightly furrowed brow, before you let out a laugh you hope sounded natural and playfully push her back onto the mattress.

Your heart is racing; you can feel the beat in your thighs which twitch every now and then, but you do a good job at hiding it, allowing the conversation to lull into that comforting silence like before, kindly putting you to sleep after hours of trying.

Those thoughts never stopped racing though, outrunning the thoughts of him…

a/n: boring ass chapter again, this is gonna be slow asf but it gets more eventful after this, i promise 😩 prolly some smut later too… creds to cafekitsune for dividers

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runariya · 25 days ago

Note

girl i hope you know my notifs are on and i'm so excited to read what you post next 😭 any spoilers for ccl? 👀💜

Nooo that’s so sweet of you 😭 day4 isn’t rly that intense (day5 will be tho 👀) and I fear it’s a lousy spoiler but alas lol

Thanks for enjoying and cheering me on 💕 lysm angel

~snippet below the cut~

❄️🏂🏔️♥️

“There’s nothing left to talk about. But I appreciate your concern.”

Hara just nods, staring down at the floor, rubbing her hands together between her knees while you pull on your coat and tuck your phone safely into its case.

“It’s a nice case. Did you paint it yourself?”

You glance at your phone, rubbing your thumb over the faded paint that was once so bright. You couldn’t bring yourself to get rid of it after the breakup, even though it reminds you of everything good about your time with Jungkook. Maybe there’s some masochistic streak in you that wants to punish yourself for everything you did and didn’t do. Maybe it’s time to let go of all the memories that keep pulling you back to a time that’s long gone.

“No.” You sigh, tucking it away in your coat pocket with your purse and heading to the door. You pause with your hand on the handle, checking to see if Hara’s following, which she is. She’s right behind you again, and this time, you just let out a startled scream internally, hoping you don’t flinch too visibly.

Opening the door, you let her pass first, just to keep her in your sight this time, but as soon as you’re near the entrance to the main area, she stops, raising a hand. You give her a puzzled look, but she only points to one of her ears, so you lean in, trying to make out what’s being said.

First, you catch the voices of Taehyung and Namjoon, Taehyung’s voice too loud and distinct not to notice. But when you listen a bit harder, you pick up Hope and Jungkook having a different conversation, probably a little further from the others.

“I know! I know you’re a good driver. Just…”

“Just? C’mon, what’s going on with you, C?”

“Just… take care of her, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re acting like I’m some boy who’s just got his licence and can’t be trusted—”

The rustling of your coat drowns out the rest of their conversation as you step into the room, deciding not to eavesdrop any longer. You glance around briefly, and of course, Jungkook’s eyes find yours again, but you quickly turn towards Yoongi, resting your hands on his shoulders from behind where he’s still slouched on the one-seater. He wraps his hand around your wrist, his thumb gently brushing over your pulse.

“Why was my case out in the snow?” you murmur into his ear, which earns a lazy laugh from him. He peeks over his shoulder at you, his voice still raspy from his hangover as he murmurs back.

“You thought you could yeet it away and be done with it.”

Your cheeks go warm again; drunk-you is really ridiculous in every possible way. You’re just grateful it was only Namjoon and Yoongi who saw your breakdown, and no one else.

“Right.”

“Stay safe, yeah?”

He gives your wrist a gentle squeeze, and when your eyes meet again, even though his are still glassy from last night’s antics, there’s that quiet care in them only real family can have.

“I will. Thanks for being there for me, Yoongs.” You press a quick kiss to his head and give him a brief squeeze around his shoulders, only for him to dramatically fake his own demise.

Straightening up, you meet Hope’s eyes, give him a quick nod, and head towards the door. Jungkook moves with the two of you, holding the door open without taking his eyes off you. His gaze is so intense that you can’t keep eye contact, mumbling a quiet, hurried “thanks” and “bye” as you follow Hope to his car.

#fic: CCL #anon ask #Ari answers #ly

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lovelykhaleesiii · 10 months ago

Note

Omg the prompt!! Stalker!aegon w 7) Please don’t leave me. 🙏🙏

monster writing prompts

Companions

PAIRING: Stalker!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS:

WARNINGS: dark themes, stalking behaviour, manipulation, reference to Stockholm Syndrome, swearing.

His handsome face had grown familiar, although an eery chill coursed through your body whenever you passed by. He never missed a beat.

He was at your local park in the late evenings on the weekdays, as the glorious sun set itself into darkness. It was the only possible time you could go for an outdoor walk, considering you worked 9am-5pm, on the dot. And you initially thought not much of it, considering he too could be in the same position…

Although it grew even more odd, as you found yourself constantly in his presence. Whether it was at the local mall, your gym, or some cosy cafe tucked away into the corner of a street… He would always find you, and you him.

You naturally felt weary, anxious of the blonde man, as he often was alone and yet, paid no mind. At times, you caught fleeting glimpses of him, and occasionally exchanged a friendly smile. Although, as you grew more sensitively anxious of his intentions, you were desperate to avoid any contact even by means of eyes.

You soon tried to take unexpected turns and twists to your routine. Avoiding the park after work, you would remain in the confines of your home, only to feel the undivided attention of stern, hidden eyes embracing your figure through the clarity of the window.

Immediately blinds shut close. You could scarcely sleep… You would awake to a sudden creak in the floor, and yet as your eyes lurked and vigilantly scanned the dark corridors of your hallway, with only the beams of moon and streetlights aiding your vision, you were convinced it was merely the floorboards acting up. Little to know, a stranger was in your home.

You wanted to move, you no longer felt safe nor secure in the prior comfort of your humble abode and soon after, a blatant “for sale” sign stood proudly on your lawn.

The same creak followed that night, although this time heavier. Even your footsteps did not bear the same effect on your wooden boards.

As you hesitantly yet ever so slowly wandered the corridor, mindlessly and sleepily convinced you were once again, alone. Just as you had turned in defeat, intending to drudge back to bed, you were met with a sturdy force that stopped you from taking another step forward.

A few, crucial seconds had passed, as your mind had awoken in a bolt, fathoming that a stranger… Although, the stranger had trespassed into your home. Before releasing a chilling, ear aching scream only for a sheer second before the man forcibly drowned your screams of help, with the large palm of his hand.

“Don’t you fucking think to scream. I mean no harm at all, Y/N, just listen—”

Petrified, the hot tears began to swell in your eyes, blurring your vision before they shed themselves against your flushed cheek and the man’s hand. His other hand gripped your side tightly, embracing your body against his, you felt feeble against him, as you tried to squirm your way out, with no luck.

“Please don’t leave… Don’t ditch me now, this can be our chance together. Don’t take that away from me… I’ve been pursuing you from the start, and you never stopped me… I won’t fucking let you. Has my devotion not been enough? And you used to smile… What happened?”

How he knew your name you could scarcely say… and yet, your mind had plunged into a sink of memories (as you scoured for a name to fit his face, and immediately, “Aegon” had sprouted into your mind [hearing it being called out a dozen of times from the coffee shop].

“A-Aegon” your broken, muffled voice rejoiced. And immediately, a spark of relief tinged across his unnerving eyes.

“Y-You’re Aegon—”

“You-You know my name… My beloved knows my name, she does of course…”

His grip felt tighter around your bicep, as his hand covering your mouth loosened, your warm breath dampening his fair skin. You hadn’t realised just how close the proximity was, until you felt a twitching sensation brewing against your lower stomach, a bulge pressing into your soft tissue, in turn… Igniting an unfamiliar feeling in you.

“I-I promise… Your life will be better… I will make it better.”

#aegon ii targaryen #tom glynn carney #stalker!Aegon ii #house of the dragon #hotd #Aegon ii imagines #Aegon ii imagine #Aegon ii fanfic #Aegon ii fanfiction #aegon ii x fem!reader #modern!Aegon ii

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maggie-margret-blog · 9 months ago

Text

Friends with Tattoo Benefits

Mingi was one of those guys you just couldn’t replicate. he had a sort of passion for life that was kinda hard to find in people.I had been seeing him as an artist for a little over a year now, slowly but surely filling my arms and mid section with ink. He was talented and enthusiastic about each new project I threw his way, may it be big or small. Mingi himself only had a handful of tattoos littering his milkish skin,but claimed he was in it for the arts, not the personal experience. I had a theory he was just a bitch about pain or needles, nevertheless I never bothered him about it during our sessions. And he couldn’t lie about the money either. It was good fucking money.

Mingi had become somewhat of a best friend, mixed in with all the other things that come with being in close contact for so long.

We had first met that one fateful morning, 2am to be exact, when I had decided that drunk tattoos would be a hilarious idea. In hindsight it was a wonderful memory and honestly I was better for the experience. My young, college ego had been inflated and a stupid decision was just what I needed to keep my head on my shoulders. The night had just begun for me and my friends, bar hopping and partying at each frat house we could bare to see the inside of. All the ones I had seen prior were rat nests, and yet I chose to place myself there. A few of my friends had tagged along one Friday in search of some of my famous shenanigans. Modesty forbid I ever keep my thrills to myself.

“C’mon let’s dip, this place sucks.” Renel quoted as she threw down a pink solo cup onto the frat house floor. We had only been there about 30 minutes and already we were feeling the effects of poor party planning. A dozen or more drunk college girls stood in a tight circle, grinding on any available guy, and in some cases other gals as Salt Shaker boomed from the shitty stereo system. Since the Ying Yang twins weren’t the vibe for the night, I wholeheartedly agreed- “Let’s get the fuck out!”

“I’m barely drunk! Give me a fucking minute!” San hollered over the loud music, grabbing onto Renel’s ponytail and stopping her from moving any further towards the door. “There’s smoke in my eyes, this drink taste like dog shit and my thong is literally splitting my asshole in half, San.” Renel growled as she swatted his hands away. “That’s your fault. Just take it off and sit down.” He laughed, knowing he was only egging her on. “Fine, here-“ Renel said smuggly as she reaches under her sequined skirt, pulling the lacey garment down her legs and stepping out of it. “Woah Ren-“ I began, on my for her to grab the thong and shove it in San’s pocket. “I’ll go sit down.”

“San you asshole.” I laugh lightly, never quiet getting over those two’s battles. “Remind me to give this back to her. If Yunho ever finds out I have his girlfriend’s thong in my pants, he’ll kill me.” He chortles. “I don’t think I will. You deserve a beating.” I joke.

“Tryna get rid of me?”

“Maybe.”

“He’s twice my size. I’m dead.”

“You’re a good guy, you’re fine.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m heading out. I’m meeting my friend downtown.” Hongjoon, another one of chipper friends, said as he pushed past us towards the exit. “Who?” I called out as the sixth drink I had been nursing finally began to hit me. Whatever this shit was was weak, and disgusting. Yet, I was still drowning my weekend stresses in it.

“Mingi. You know that tattoo guy I was talking about.” Hongjoon enthused. This guy was always so happy for some reason. “Are you getting a tattoo?” I asked again.

“Yeah why? You wanna come?”

“I’ll go. Anything to get me out of here.” I agree hastily as I set the solo cup I had been drinking from down. “I’m drunk enough I’ll go.” San called, as if he hadn’t been complaining of the opposite just minutes ago. “Go tell Renel.” I bark as I follow Hongjoon out into the yard.

Once San and Renel had caught up to us, we were already halfway downtown, passing bar after bar and collectively agreeing that we should all go to each one. “If we keep this up I’ll literally never make my appointment.” Joon whined as he threw back one last shot. “Fine, okay let’s go.” San gave a unionized answer for us all. “Mingi’s gonna kill me. He’s supposed to be closing and I’m already 20 minutes late.”

“We’re almost there Joon, calm down.” San said with a hint of a slur. With that statement we came up upon the shop. The neon light was already off, but a man sat at the counter with his head down to scroll on his phone.

“Hey Mingi! Sorry I’m so late!” Joon said sorrowfully as he brought his hands together and bowed shallowly. “Hey, no don’t worry about it. I was just chilling out.” The man spoke as he raised from the counter and reached out for Hongjoon’s hand. The whole place reminded me of a mechanic’s shop. Sort of industrial and gray, but art was strewn across the walls and a few neon light had been added to spruce up the place.

The size of this man had me speechless, though my drunken stupor may have exaggerated it. Mingi was maybe 6’0 and broad in the shoulders and chest. I could tell by the way his black compression shirt stretched over his muscles, rippling in their definition. With the buzz already prominent in my head, this man looked like a playground to me. All I wanted to do was climb him. I could feel a flush flooding my cheeks as he and Hongjoon giggled and joked over sketches and last minute ideas. I could just play it off as a liquor blush, but I knew it was because of him. Fuck he was attractive. He was just so big and handsome.

“Shouldn’t take too long. Maybe an hour.” Mingi said softly as he looked over the small design. It seemed to be just a simple spiderweb with a few intricacies.

As soon as Hongjoon laid down on the sterilized bed, he was snoring. Joon had never once been awake during a session. Either this was a result of the alcohol, or the pain was a sickening comfort for him. Either way he was out. I spent m my time, however, inspecting the artist and the way he did every little thing. His gloves were blue like they had at a doctor’s office, tight and defining over his veined hands. The tips of his thick fingers were gripping the gun firmly with a controlled pressure. His focus and precision were evident in both his work and how he carried out his task. Why was everything about him so alluring?

“Joon? Are you good buddy?” Mingi asked after working on the piece for a good hour. It was swollen and puffed, but I could already tell it would heal beautifully. “Yeah, I’m cool.” Joon said groggily.

San and Renel were sleeping across the waiting room chair at this point, San’s jacket draped over Ren’s legs. That’s small detail made me chuckle. Sure they had their differences, but if she was naked from the waist down in public, he’d protect her. “Dude sick, thank you.” Joon said as he looked over his Achilles heel, now inked and decorated. “No problem man. Now pay me and go home.” Mingi laughed lightly as he pushed Joon towards the front.

“How much?” I asked as an interception. “Hm?” Mingi cocked his head to the side as I stood from my seat, still a little wobbly from all the alcohol in my system.“How much for a small tattoo? A really little one.” I asked. I hadn’t known how I would get close to him, but this was the perfect opportunity. This way I really inspect him up close. Stare deep into his concentrated expression and analyze his eyes. Oh fuck, those eyes.

“Uh, all depends I guess. Why, do you want one?” He questioned as he handed Hongjoon a pen to sign his receipt. I nodded vigorously as I popped up from the plastic chair. I had no clue what I was doing, or why I just agreed to get a tattoo on the spot, but here I was. “Cool, give me a minute.” Mingi said with a smile, showing off his row of beautiful teeth. They weren’t straight but who cared? Not me! He was so cute!

“We’re gonna head out. I’ll get her back to Yunho.” Hongjoon said as he shook Renel awake for a minute or so. “Okay,” I said shortly as a twinge of turmoil erupted in my stomach. Sure this was kind of what I wanted, to be alone with this new hunk, but now I was alone alone? My body shivered involuntarily, spine tingling and adjusting at the thought. “Where’re you going San?” My voice was timid, a gleaming ray of hope in eye as i asked. I was praying that he could be talked into staying with me. “I’m going home so I don’t die. You know how Woo is if I’m not in before sunrise.” I only nodded at the statement as the unsettling feeling began to sober me. But I couldn’t pass this up!

“This way m’lady.” Mingi’s voice broke my illusion of loneliness as all my prior thoughts raced back in. He was the reason I stayed anyway. “Thank you.” I punctuated with a head nod as we walked back to where Hongjoon had just been napping. “Now, what’s going on? What’re we doing?” Mingi asked as he sat back against the counter, arms crossed to expose the few tattoos he had. Though not plentiful, they were big and loud. The one he sported on his left forearm was a colorful mural of what seemed to be hyper realistic squid. The body was red and luminescent with a somewhat manly aura somehow. It was an interesting choice for sure, but it was executed beautifully so I had to admire it for that reason. His right arm was detailed in black and white, a few odd and ends tattooed on his skin, probably to represent certain things. I did notice a small KQ prominent on the first knuckle of his index finger. KQ had been a music club hosted on my campus for years.

I laughed internally at the thought of this big, beefy man singing in a choir, or performing The Newsies at the campus theater. He didn’t seem the type. “Anything I guess. Maybe something coquette-ish.” I babbled, unable to tear my eyes away from Mingi’s form in front of me. I stood sheepishly in front of him, a facade of confidence saving me face, but only a little bit since I was still kind of drunk. “Coquette-ish? Like the frilly bows and Victorian shit?” His voice reverberated is low bass over the air. I watched his mouth and nose as he repeated what I had said, then nodded. He nodded along and choked down a chuckle.

Mingi drew up a tiny little design, detailed with a small, pink ribbon tied into a bow with a pearl accent. It was actually very cute and even my sober mind loved it. Something tiny and coquettish. I was so happy with it.

“You know I don’t usually do walk ins.” He said as he etched a stencil. “Oh? Why start tonight?” I asked, looking over his shoulder, feeling the heat rising from his body. “If I’m being honest I thought you were cute. And I’d rather you get a good drunk tattoo instead of one you’ll regret.” He chuckled lightly, but my face turned red at the mention of his attraction. He thought I was cute? “Now where do you want it?” Mingi asked as he turned to look at me, now just inches from my face. I had practically been his shell for the last 15 minutes as I watched him sketch, so the sudden movement surprised me. I stumbled backwards a bit, and was sure to fall of Mingi hadn’t gripped onto my belt, pulling me back to stability. His hand was nestled between our two bodies, now practically sandwiched together. I couldn’t help myself as the moment dragged on, but I looked forward at the chest I was now level with. Traveling upwards, my eyes met his. They pooled with a twinge of worry and one other emotion I couldn’t quite express. “Sorry,” I mumbled briefly as I stepped back, only for his hand to stay firm on my leather belt. “No, no it’s okay. Are you alright?” He questioned, unmoving from his position. “Y-yes I’m fine.”

The air was thick and heavy around us. The room wasn’t too big so that might have had something to do with it, but probably not. It was more likely the tension between us that simmered. His hand stayed on my belt, even going as far as to tighten his grip. “How drub are you?” He asks suddenly.

“I’m, I’m practically sober.” I answered.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“N-no I don’t.”

“Do you know where you are right now?”

“Tattoo shop.”

“Be more specific.” He hummed lowly as his hand pulled me closer, my hip flush against his thigh.

“Flaming Ink, downtown Astoria,” I answered again, quieter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked finally, lowering himself to my level so he could see my expression clearly. My face was burning as it was, so for him to face me directly turned me to mush. And to kiss him? Oh fuck I could’ve vomited with how nervous I was!

I nodded slowly as the larger man braced my jaw in his palm, gently pulling me forward and pressing a hunger pained kiss to my lips. I was taken aback by the way he was already desperate for the contact. To be fair, so was I. The kiss only lasted about 3 seconds before he pulled away, lips parted and eyes droopy. The flecks of his dyed hair fell into his line of sight. The image in front of me was borderline erotic to say the least. I could tell by the look in his eyes that we were nowhere near finished.

Hastily, my arms found perch on his shoulders and I reconnected our lips, lapping at the pillowy petals and melting as he returned the favor. He tugged me closer, hands finally leaving my belt and landing on my waist, pulling my hips to his own. This was all too much yet I couldn’t (wouldn’t) stop myself. I had only wanted him for an hour or so, but that was an hour too long with out him.

Our lip lock progressed into something else entirely, and what that was I didn’t know. Something primal. Something languid and wet. Before I could count his teeth with my tongue, his hands were burrowed down the back of my jeans, fingers gripping at my ass haphazardly. The hum of the overhead lights was enough of a lullaby to keep us in the moment. Soft murmurs from the radio entwined around us and took the lead. “Mingi,” I said hushly, placing a hand on his chest. Oh finally I got to feel it. The muscles tensed under my touch and I watched the nipple harden from under the shirt. “Hm?” He acknowledged my plea and stopped himself. “I’m sorry it was all so fast, I-“ he began to explain himself, hands leaving my behind.

“No, no keep it there. I’m just— kinda you know, worked up.” I heaved as I kept eye contact with him. Those eyes, those honey brown eyes. Somehow the orange and yellow tendrils of hair complimented his eyes perfectly, encasing them in a warm, golden light. He was beautiful.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” His breath fans over neck slightly.

“Yeah, just not used to it.” I admit.

As far as sexual experiences went, I was dim in the subject. Yet, this was fueling a fire I never knew I had.

“Do you wanna stop?” Mingi asks as he’s pulling away.

“No! No I don’t want to!”

With that answer, Mingi was back to exploring what was exposed of my skin. Hands, finger tips, nails. I could feel everything as he lit each of my nerve endings on fire. Each swipe of his tongue left a burning trail in its path. “Fuck-“ I whispered internally, somehow finding my hands curled in his hair, entangling in the locks and pulling at the roots. The feeling of his lips on my neck made my stomach turn and twist with excitement.

How could this happen so fast? How was this really real? Was I dreaming?

No I couldn’t be dreaming. I could feel Mingi’s curious hands pushing up my shirt, folding the fabric upwards and letting it pool onto top of my breasts. Mingi pressed open mouthed kissed on my chest, tugging cheekily at the lining of my bra, teasing the nipple as he let it free. “Pretty.” Mingi’s voice vibrated against my skin, sending shivers down my entire being. Never in a hundred years could I explain myself and my behavior. I hadn’t been this kind of girl. Sure I partied and went a little crazy sometimes, but I had been strict with dating and sex. I never fucked on a first date. Hell, we had just met, never even went out. Renel would never believe me if I told her what was happening.

My brain was fuzzy as we continued in some sort of soft foreplay. His thick fingers had found their way down the front of my jeans, rubbing generously on my stiffening clit and entrance. My breath hitched as one found its way inside of me, petting at the spongy g-spot. I couldn’t keep my knees from buckling under that sort of pressure. I remembered stumbling around in an attempt to find something solid to hold onto, or at least steady myself on as he rid me of my clothes. I could remember removing his skin tight shirt and finally getting an eyeful of his sculptured physique. He was carved artfully as if by a woman with taste and experience. My hands explored his torso, slowly but surely making their way down my boxers. I ran a polished nail down the shaft of his throbbing cock, only to grab the entirety and grace it with a few passing pumps. His belt and jeans found themselves on the floor along with mine.

I had no time to feel the inevitable embarrassment. “Mingi-“ I moaned as he took the initiative to set me on the table, lips now working down my stomach and hips. A strong hand pushed gently on my chest and gestured for me to lay back and I followed with no hesitation. The icy sensation of the vinyl coating made me shiver, but I recovered as soon as his fingers hooked to the hem of my panties. My breathe caught in my throat, Mingi dragging the garment down my legs and letting them fall where they may.

“You’re sure you’re good with this?” He asked once more, looking down at me from his standing position. His eyes were soft and concerned but I could tell he was barely hanging on. His lids sat halfway across his iris, cutting off the light to his eyes. He looked dark and sexy, but alluring. The tattoos that weren’t apparent earlier were now proudly on display.

I only reeled back slightly at the sight of his miniature. Well, you could hardly call it miniature, but you know what I meant. The dick held itself proudly, the tip a dark pink and mushroomed, while the rod was stained a lighter hue, coursing with a few deliciously placed veins.

With as tender of intentions as possible, I reached to caress the decorated man’s chest and feel the heat emitting from the skin. He was as soft as satin, the feeling becoming addictive against my fingertips. His hands traveled to meet mine, bringing the appendage to his lips and leaving a few short kisses on the palm before holding it above my head. Our fingers intertwined as his other hand cradled the soft underside of my knee, pushing it upwards.

“I’m sure.” I said finally, eyes meeting his and he came closer, pressing gentle and reassuring kisses to my cheek and neck.

“Good,” he hummed.

Another blurry moment flashed as he said a few sweet things then continued to move his body. Soon enough I was in a comfortable position with a hand in his and one helping him push inside. My head fell backward as a silent sigh left my lips. Oh shit. “Oh Mingi-“ the words fell fluidly as he breached past my entrance. The stretch alone brought me back to reality, only to be pulled back into whatever sensual scene this was as he began to adjust. His breath was low but not indistinguishable, I could tell he was already feeling good. A second or so passed in silence until the pit in my stomach had grown twice it’s normal size.

“You can move.” I say, slight circling my hips. A pained hiss left Mingi’s plump lips. He takes the bottom in between his teeth and nods as his hips break their isolation

I felt as though my lungs had been palpated, deprived of air and squeezed to the brink. I felt like I was drowning but I couldn’t stop this. This was all too good. Mingi moved with a steady rhythm and intensity. His hands roamed my chest, poking and prodding at my breasts and using them for leverage for his powerful thrusts. I almost felt ridiculous as lewd noises leaked from my throat. My body shook with excitement and my voice was shaky with adrenaline.

“So cute. I can’t fucking stand it.” He growled next to my ear as he punctuated each word with a particularly sharp thrust. I couldn’t believe I had come here to accompany Hongjoon on a drunken tattoo venture, and ended up fucking the artist.

His motions grabbed me as wild, someone with experience in pleasure. Mingi’s body was following a natural progression as the bulbous head of his well endowed cock nestled against my cervix with each violent bash of our hips. A slight shake wracked my muscles and joints as the pressure and endurance of our position grew tiresome. I was exhausted but so ready to reach a peak with him. Coils tightened in my abdomen when Mingi’s voice sounded, moans and small grunts of praise echoed from him.

“Fuck-so good-“ he panted into my neck as his body curled around mine, encasing me in a lustful embrace. Mingi’s toned arms wrapped around my shoulders and waist while his forehead dropped to my collarbone. I could feel the change in angles as he hoisted my torso upwards to meet his, somewhat suspended in air. The erratic pace and movements of his hips reminded me of some crazed animal in heat. I felt the same way though. My body was craving each and every thing Mingi would give to me. His now harsh grips left marks on my skin that I wild find later; they’d bring back me memories of this night and how desperately I would be chasing a feeling like this again.

Creaks and screeches wailed from the legs of the table, yet Mingi couldn’t have cared any less. My arms gripped around his waist, in a way, propelling him forward. “Mingi!” My voice grew weaker in the moment. I was coming close.

“Mmm- fuck…” Mingi groaned against my skin, lips flattening to my chest and hair falling messily over my shoulder. I let my body speak for me as the intensity of his movements and brought me higher and higher. My walls closed around him, clenching in an effort to warn him that I was there. “Mingi! Uh! Gonna cum-“ I moan directly into the man’s ear, hoping to affect him the way I wanted to. “Mm- go ahead baby. You can cum.” His breath was hot as he lifted his head to face me, pressing a kiss to my lips as he quickened his pace. I couldn’t stop the chorus of moans, colored in shock as he pushed me over the edge.

I lay in waves of bliss. One surge after the other. If I was being honest, I had never cum first in any of my previous encounters. This was a once in a lifetime experience for me and I wasn’t going to lie, it was beautiful.

Mingi stalls briefly before sighing in satisfaction as he pulls out of me. My body immediately misses the weight of him inside of me, closing around nothing but air and slick ejaculat. My chest is heaving as I caught my breath, warm fuzzy feelings filling my body. Never had I ever had an orgasm quite like that.

It was soon interrupted at the sound of Mingi’s hand sliding over his still hard erection. I had been so caught up in my own pleasure that I forgot that he hadn’t cum yet. I peak downward at the beautiful man, his face scrunched a bit as he leans over my body. Without much thought I place my smaller hand in his. I can see a smirk forming on his lips as he allows me to help him rub his moistened dick. His eyes open slightly as we make contact, gazes holding intently as waves of pleasure flood his system. I never break eye contact as he reaches his final breath, our hands slow and a loud cry erupts from the man.

“Oh shit- oh fuck-“ Mingi mumbles quietly, forehead nudged to mine as he unloads on my stomach. I was quick to find Mingi’s jaw and yank his sight forward, our eyes meeting once again. “You’re so pretty.” I kiss him before he can answer my statement.

“Me?” He huffs confused. His string brow bone dips in concern of the comment. “Yes, you. You’re very pretty.” I reply, pulling him in for another kiss. “Thank you.” He says genuinely as heaves and tries to catch his breath.

——

“Soooo…. Do you still want that tattoo?” Mingi jokes as he holds the collar of my shirt open above me, placing it down over my head and resting it on my shoulders.

“I might have to take a rain check on that. I’m kinda tired.” My voice was hoarse and losing volume by the minute. A mix of drinking and calling his name for an hour would do the trick.

“Anytime, really. I do actually do tattoos. I swear. I’m not just a whore.” He laughs, looking down at me as I finish dressing myself and heave a sigh.

“I believe you.”

“Good. Do you think you’ll be back?” He questioned, flicking the light switch and opening the door for me. It was almost 5 am and I had no alibi for when Renel inevitably asks what kept me out so late. My cheeks flushed as I thought over the details. I might just tell her, just to see her reaction. If I knew anything about Renel, it was that she’d flip if I told her I fucked the tattoo guy.

“I’ll be back. For that tattoo and also… you know, if you ever wanna…” I led the the statement, looking down at my hands as he walked along side me towards the dorms. “I’m down. You know for tattoos… and… yeah.” He agreed. It was barely dawn, but I could tell his cheeks were as red as mine.

As soon as we reached my dormitory, I turned to face the man who had just made my night. I craned my neck upwards to face him. Gosh he was beautiful, especially in the light of the rising sun. “Thank you so much for tonight Mingi. And for walking me home.”

“Of course. Anytime, really. Have a good night.” He said gently.

“Or I guess morning. Have a Good morning.” He repeated. I chuckled slightly, placing a hand on his chest gingerly and pushing myself to stand on my tiptoes. I was hoping Mingi would get the idea and thankfully he did. His strong hands embraced me one last time as we shared a kiss. Nothing lustful or suggestive. A light, sweet, tender kiss.

“Have a good morning Mingi.” I said finally as we broke the kiss and I ran off towards the dorm doors.

“Tell me EVERYTHING!” A shrill voice echoed throughout the whole room as Renel surprised me at the door. My heart nearly burst out of my chest.

“Girl, sit down. You’re gonna love this!”

~The End~

#SoundCloud #song mingi #mingi #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez smut #ateez x reader #Ateez tattoo #Mingi’s a tattoo artist #fanfiction #smut #mingi smut #song Mingi smut #the song of from Alpha I’m sorry but I just really love this song for sexy situations I can’t help it #it’s just sex #fluffy #this is really only for Lisa

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bradshawssugarbaby · 10 months ago

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Could you do, "They told me you left." With captain syverson, please? ❤️

of course babe! xo

You heard a deep, gruff sounding Southern accent drawl out your name, causing you to spin around on your heels, turning to face the man the voice belonged to. You raised an eyebrow upon realizing it was Luke Syverson, the last person you ever expected to see here. "They told me you left. Yesterday morning, actually," you said softly, your eyes fixated on him, committing his face to memory in case this impromptu reunion is the last of its kind. "I did, sort of," Luke nodded, taking his sunglasses off and resting them atop his head. He looked around outside, frowning as he noticed the expression on your face, "I figured you'd be happy to see me though." "I would be under any normal circumstances, but the fact that you're not on the plane to Iraq right now tells me either something is wrong, or you didn't get medical clearance to go back over." "Something is wrong, I'll give ya that much." "Care on sharing it with the rest of the class, Luke? Or just gonna keep it to yourself and let me guess?" Luke's lips curled up into a mischievous grin. He shook his head with laughter as he looked at you, his blue eyes meeting your gaze for a split second before breaking contact. He shrugged his large, burly shoulders before continuing. "I mean, it's not like anyone's gonna die over it serious. Just...I needed to tell ya something." "I'm listening." "Look, Sugar, I like you. I don't tend to like too many people, I'm sure everyone's told ya. But, I like you. I don't go handin' out nicknames to just anyone. I've been callin' ya Sugar for months now. Don't ya think that means somethin'?" "It means you like me enough to give me a pet name, so what? My best friend and I call each other "babe" all the time." Luke let out a frustrated, strangled sounding groan as he shook his head again. He held out his large hands in front of him, gesturing for you to stop for a moment so he could recollect his thoughts. "Let me try again, ok? I like ya, Sugar. I want to see where things go for us. I managed to extend my leave by a few weeks. I'm not needed over there just yet, and when I found out, the first thing I wanted to do was see ya, see that pretty lil' face of yours and hold ya close, that kinda thing. That's not how I normally am with people, you know?" "Luke, are you trying to ask me out?" "Trying and not succeeding, yeah." "Yes." "Yes?" Luke raised an eyebrow in confusion, "Sugar, I'm not following ya." "Yes, I'll go out with you, Luke," you said with a laugh, shaking your head as you wrapped your arms around his neck, gently pulling him down for a kiss. Luke wrapped his strong arms around you tightly, his lips finding yours in a hungry, passionate kiss. His beard tickled your lip as your tongues became entangled with one another, the fiery heat between the two of you burning brighter and hotter with every passing second. You'd been wanting this, longing for it and dreaming of it for weeks since you were introduced to him by a mutual friend at a barbecue earlier this summer.

Luke had come home on leave, and not having a family to come home to, his high school best friend, who had married your own best friend while Luke was deployed overseas, had invited the two of you over for dinner one night. Drinks were shared, stories told, and sparks flew instantly. Luke, to his credit, had been nervous about starting anything with someone, unsure how long of a stay stateside he'd get to have before being called back. However, the chemistry between you both was too much for anyone to deny. You'd let him go, not wanting to create issues for him while he was away, but knowing that you'd spend every day waiting for a friendly teasing email from him, signed off with a flirty little salutation at the end. Now, however, Luke was yours. You had a few weeks to prepare yourself before seeing him off, but, you knew that you'd savour every moment together - making it impossible this time for either of you to leave without needing to say goodbye.

#captain syverson #capt. syverson #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson x you #capt. syverson x you #capt. syverson x reader #henry cavill characters

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bldhrry · 4 months ago

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The Brute and The Scholar

Chapter Five | Treacherous Cassian x Fem!Reader Previous Chapter | Next Chapter Series Masterlist | General Masterlist

word count: 9.0k

warnings: cursing, blood

author's note: my fav chapter so far i fear... let me know what you think!!

Cassian didn’t see you for a week and he hated every second of it. He couldn’t wait to see you again and work on the same bullshit for hours.

He wondered what you had done when he dropped you off at your house on the night of the Winter Solstice and the following week. He imagined you were skating every morning and working in your mom’s store, leaning over the counter with a book laid out in front of you. Despite your clear explanation of the moments you two had shared while at the Autumn Court, he wondered if you thought of that night on your doorstep and your reason for tilting your head towards him, your face and lips inches from his own.

He wondered about it all, so much so that he lost the snowball fight, too lost in the memories of you hunched over the desk with a pen in your hand or giving him a look for suggesting an idea that wasn’t horrible but that you didn’t like.

“Distracted much?” Azriel laughed as they sat in the sauna after he had won, once again.

Cassian just shrugged. He was; he hadn’t heard a single thing Azriel or Rhysand had said since they had entered.

“Too busy thinking of Y/N I bet.” Rhysand laughed and Cassian rolled his eyes.

“Busy thinking about work, actually.” He smirked and the other males scoffed.

“You’re too much of a romantic, brother.” Rhysand laughed and looked at him.

Cassian was clearly head over heels for you. He looked like a lovesick boy, unable to stay away from a female who clearly wanted nothing to do with him. You were aloof, with eyes too sharp and analytical and a face that, despite your best efforts to be courteous to everyone, revealed you thought very little of what they had to say.

“We are just friends.”

“Colleagues more like,” Azriel grunted and Cassian shot him a look.

Cassian wouldn’t share the secret of your intimate moments; he knew you would be mortified if anyone knew anything about you that you hadn’t told them. Azriel and Rhysand were his brothers, yes, but this needed to stay his little secret. He needed to be the only one to think about the possibilities of what would happen if you two got closer.

“She is beautiful and smart. What’s not to like?”

“The fact that she looks like she’s going to kill you every time you speak.” Azriel shot back with a laugh and Cassian laughed even louder.

Azriel was more than right on that. You seemed to hate everything that Cassian said even though he never thought any of his ideas were that bad but you made it a point to lecture him on how wrong he was and how flawed his thought processes were. He really didn’t mind because maybe you were right, he really didn’t know or care, but he liked when you talked to him, especially when you made eye contact with you. Your eyes were always serious and fierce and he had memorized them already and their million shades of emotions and colors, but looking at them again never hurt.

“She’s good, though.” Rhysand mused. “She’s made more progress than Feyre and I have in the past few years.”

The group nodded in agreement.

You had been able to do the impossible: reunite Prythian through treaties and contracts and diplomatic discussions. The Autumn Court was growing stronger with the help of the Night Court and Eris’ paranoia had simmered down with you being the mediator with him and the rest of the Courts, especially the Spring Court. Tamlin had stopped being as defensive about accepting help in his territories and rebuilding alliances across the region. How you managed to do it, nobody really knew but they were grateful for it nonetheless.

Azriel was especially grateful because it lessened the work he had to do. With the High Lords on the same page as everyone else, he had to interact with his spies less and focus more on the Human Queens with Rhysand.

Cassian was giddy Monday morning, waiting on the porch of the River House for your inevitable arrival. He was excited to see you and ask what you had been doing this past week and jokingly, but not jokingly, ask if you’d missed him.

He saw you round the bend and trudge up the pathway to the house. You were looking down but he could see that your brows were tight on your forehead and you were scowling to yourself.

There she is.

“Good morning!” Cassian shouted and your head snapped up and you frowned and looked him up and down.

He was dressed warmly with a thick black jacket and sweatpants and his hair was messy, probably from the high winds that morning.

“Morning,” you grumbled as you walked past him and into the house.

You sighed at the warmth and took off your gloves and coat and sniffed.

“You have a good break?” Cassian asked from behind you as you walked to your shared office.

You glanced over your shoulder and he was very close to you, so much so that you drew your shoulders in to create some resemblance of space. He seemed to notice because he sped up and came next to you which really wasn’t any better.

“Yes. Did you?”

“Great,” he beamed at you and you gave him a skeptical look.

He was being too weird.

“Did something happen?” You asked slowly as you turned a corner and kept walking.

“Not anything particular.” He pondered the question and spoke again. “I went to the cabin and we had a snowball fight and then we all hung out.” He shrugged.

“A snowball fight?” You turned to him and to his surprise you were smiling.

“Every year.” He grinned.

You chuckled and kept walking and Cassian followed you.

Gods, he had missed you so much.

“Did you do anything?” Cassian asked as you entered the office and you shook your head.

“Just the usual.”

He nodded his head and sat in his desk chair and started to rock back and forth.

“You miss me?” He asked with a smirk and you frowned at him.

“No.”

He pouted. “I missed you.”

You rolled your eyes but you were smiling. “You see me all the time.”

“I didn’t see you for a week. It was horrible.”

You exhaled, your smile growing and it was so genuine it made his chest warm. “And yet you survived.”

Cassian laughed and you started to open the letters that had piled up on your desk during your vacation.

“You really didn’t miss me?” Cassian had made his way to your desk across the room and sat on it, his knee touching your arm.

You cringed away and gave him a look. “No. I particularly enjoyed our time apart.” Lie.

A flash of hurt flitted across his eyes and he gave you a lazy smile. “You’re a horrible liar Y/N.”

You frowned. “I’m not lying. Now leave me alone.”

You were lying. You thought about him too much during that week apart and it frustrated you immensely. You hated how much he had consumed your thoughts and how much you ached to see him and feel his touch again. You had never felt this way before and never thought you would; you had always believed you were not built for any type of romantic feelings, that maybe you were too good for it but here you were with an odd sense of pining that made you ball your hands into fists and grumble to yourself how stupid it was, how stupid you were, and how stupid he was.

Cassian had uprooted your senses even if he didn’t know it. He left you in a daze every time he left your presence and you hated every second of it. How he was able to make you melt just by looking at you was beyond your comprehension. You had said it clearly, you two were victims of your circumstances; stuck in Autumn for weeks and were confusing platonic with romantic feelings. Cabin fever, you had said.

So how was it that he was able to do it to you again weeks later? How was he able to make you want him to kiss you and take you on the doorstep of your house? His ability to make you act like a teenager was incredible. Maybe it was because of the wine or because you were so emotionally vulnerable. You really weren’t sure and you weren’t sure if it happened again you could resist that innate pull you felt towards him. He was a beautiful light that you felt compelled to be near and touch even if it hurt you.

He was ruining your life. You were losing focus on your goals and priorities. You should be focusing on getting your plans together for your trip to the Spring Court but instead you were daydreaming of what could’ve happened all those times he had invaded your space.

You should be scared of him. And you were in a sense. You were scared of how big he was and the size of his wings and the trauma they reminded you of, but yet, if you took those pieces of him away, he was borderline something you wanted and like Cassian had said during your argument that day, he was something that you needed even if you didn’t want to admit it.

Cassian just chuckled, taking half the stack of letters and went back to his desk. He put his feet up and started sorting them from high priority to low priority like you two had been doing for the past few months.

It was routine at this point. He annoyed you first thing in the morning, you sorted and responded to letters, had lunch, he annoyed you some more, met with Rhysand and Feyre, and then went home.

It was a welcomed routine and it lessened your anxiety about working here a great deal. You used to show up with sweaty palms and a racing heartbeat, but now you strolled in without knocking and said hello to everyone and started working.

Cassian’s easy going personality helped a lot too. He never seemed to care about anything and you envied him for it. You wished you could not think about anything like he did. Instead you thought about everything and it took over your body like a plague that you couldn’t fight off.

Cassian knew this and knew it well but had no idea how to quell your worries and anxiety so he let you be for the most part except for the few times he offered to be someone you could talk to but you turned him down every time.

“Do you think,” Cassian’s voice rang in the otherwise quiet room.

You titled your head towards him but kept your eyes on the letter you were reading.

“Do you think that I could help you with your fear of my wings?”

You shot him a look and he was already looking at you with a thoughtful expression.

“Like, work on desensitizing you to them.”

You tilted your head and couldn’t help the look of rage that flickered on your face. The rage was simply a mask of the fear you were feeling and Cassian could feel it.

“Why would I need to do that?” You finally asked.

Cassian pursed his lips and shrugged slightly. “I think it could be helpful. Maybe make you more comfortable around me and Az,” his voice was quieter, more soft now.

You let out a breath through your nose. Would it be beneficial to work through your trauma? Yes. Would it be beneficial to feel fully relaxed in your workplace? Yes. Would it be beneficial to do it with Cassian? Unclear. Would it be beneficial for him to know? Probably not.

He looked hopeful but somber at the same time and you rolled your neck, trying to look nonchalant despite the fact that your heart was hurting from how hard it was beating in your chest.

“Sure.”

It was a cold, windy, but sunny day as you walked out onto the back lawn of the River House. Cassian was already waiting, his back turned to you as he looked out to the skies and mountains.

He knew doing this type of exercise would be too much for you so he opted to work with you outside so you had space to step away and relax if need be.

You approached him from the side and he turned to you with a smile.

“Ready?”

You took a deep breath and frowned, looking around. You really weren’t if you were going to be honest with yourself. This was the last thing you wanted to do with him or with anybody. You did not want to reopen those wounds and unlock the memories you had tried so hard these past few years to bury.

But you needed to. You would never escape the guilt and shame, but you had to escape this particular fear at some point; four members of the Inner Circle had Illyrian wings and if you were going to work here and avoid offending them you needed to do this.

So you crossed your arms and nodded.

“I was thinking we just stand here and you work on getting close to me.” He said as he leaned on one foot and flexed his wings.

The movement made you flinch and you took a step back.

“I don’t know about that.” You mumbled as you eyed the shining talons at the top of his wings.

“Do you want to talk about why you feel that way?” He took a step towards you.

“No,” you snapped. “Don’t ask me that ever again.”

While you were abrasive with him often, you had never gotten that tone with him before and it made him jerk back, like you had physically hit him.

“I’m sorry.”

Your hands were shaking and you were staring at the snow, the light reflecting off of it blinding you.

You looked up at him, tears brimming your eyes. Already it was too much. He was too much. There was so much space around you and yet you felt like you were suffocating, the edges of the world coming in on you. His wings loomed over his shoulders, taunting you and you let a whimper and Cassian’s eyes shifted.

“It’s okay,” he took a step back, his hands outstretched towards you.

With each step you felt better, like you could breathe again, like he wasn’t about to pounce on you and tear you apart.

He was about ten feet when he stopped and he just looked at you. He could feel it; he could feel you so clearly like he was the one in a panic stricken state. He hated that you felt this way and there was little he could do about it and it wasn’t like his presence was much help given he was the one with the wings; he was the one with the pieces that had done something so terrible to you that you froze like a deer, unable to move or think.

You let out a deep breath and stretched your fingers and nodded. “Okay. I’m okay.” you sniffed and looked at him and Cassian relaxed at the determined look in your eyes.

This went on for a few hours. He kept his distance and you paced back and forth and then in a semicircle around him, finding the courage to approach him. He flexed his wings every now and then, earning a curse and a jump from you that made him laugh.

Desensitization at its best.

“Do you feel better?” Cassian asked you as you entered the house, kicking his boot on the doorframe, getting the snow off.

You shook your head. You were even more scared. He kept them tight and tucked into his back so often that you forgot just how massive they were and the see through skin made you so nauseous you had to bend over a few times to gather enough strength to keep going with the exercise.

You didn’t want to insult him and tell him that. You didn’t want to tell him that the wings were even worse than they were before; that they were no longer brown black, but rather the milky white that had torn through the city, that screeched with delight as they killed everyone around them.

“We’ll keep trying,” he replied.

You left after with Cassian in tow after he insisted on walking you home.

“I don’t want you to slip on the ice,” he had said and you scoffed.

Ridiculous excuse.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you said as you opened the gate and Cassian leaned over you, placing his hand on yours.

“I really did miss you,” he whispered.

His face was so close to yours that you could smell his cologne and you fought the urge to close your eyes and sigh at its scent. Such sincerity filled his face and you admired it. He was so open about his feelings; he let it be known with no shame and you also envied that about him. He was proud of who he was, inside and out, and didn’t care what anyone thought of him. He was firm in his beliefs and defended them and those around him, too. You wanted those qualities; you wanted to be carefree and happy, but that simply was not a luxury you could afford or deserve.

You weren’t going to say the same. You couldn’t. You couldn’t cross that line again; it had been three times you two had done it and three times was enough. You needed to work and you needed to do it well and a professional relationship was the only way.

Platonic feelings often get confused as romantic ones, you reminded yourself. Two people who spend almost every minute of every day together are bound to be confused in the true nature of their affections, you told yourself. It was like a prayer at this point, something you recited and clinged to. It was the truth but what if you allowed it to grow into something more? What if you allowed him to be more than your partner?

You squashed the thought down. That was enough. You were a grown adult with responsibilities and a life outside of wanting a male, especially this one: a stupid, Illyrian brute. You were better than that. You had thrived thus far rejecting advances and desires so you could succeed and you would do it again. You didn’t need this; you didn’t need him.

“I missed working with you too, Cassian.” You gave him a smile, attempting to make it genuine and slipped into your front yard.

Cassian found it difficult to breathe as he flew back to the House of Wind. He hated your constant rejection of him despite the times you had allowed him to be close. He only kept trying because he was sure you felt the same. He would be a fool to feel such a natural inclination for you and you didn’t even harbor the same sentiments.

The “therapy”, if you could even call it that, went on for the next month and you made little progress. You started being able to float closer to him but you couldn’t engage in conversations during it despite his best efforts. You were too engrossed in making sure he didn’t make a move that you weren’t ready for.

You were growing more paranoid about him and the wings. You started having more frequent nightmares; this time they were more vivid now and every time you woke you could smell the blood that had covered your body for hours and your scars burned like the first time you were impaled. You hated every second of it and started to hate being both awake and asleep. You were tormented no matter what reality you were in and you were growing more irritable at the never ending agony you lived in.

Cassian noticed this but you wouldn’t talk to him. You were recoiling into yourself so much that it was like he couldn’t see your face anymore. You barely talked to him when you were in the office together, opting to respond directly to whatever he was saying. You had no energy for a smart remark or a judgemental look.

You were making progress, even if it was just the smallest, baby steps in the world, and he was glad for it, but it was like the more progress you made, the more time you spent with him, the worse you got. He could smell the anger radiating off of you like heat and he could feel it too in the pit of his stomach, he could feel that you were angry with yourself and for what he wasn’t sure but he knew you weren’t going to tell him if he asked so he let you be. He reminded you he was there every chance he got and still walked you home and stayed close; it was the only thing he could think to do.

You had declined the invitation to stay for dinner and when Cassian got back from walking you home, he sat down in his chair with a huff and leaned his head back.

“How is she?” Feyre asked, passing him a bowl of green beans.

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know.”

“Are you sure doing this whole “desensitization” thing is good for her?” Nesta asked from across the table.

If there was anyone in the group you were closest to it was Amren and Nesta, but Nesta understood you in a completely different way that made you feel seen and heard and you sought her out at every function.

You loved Nesta and she reminded you a lot of one of your best friends; she was brave and with sharp eyes that saw everything even if you tried to hide it.

Cassian frowned and shrugged. “If I don’t bring it up, she asks me to do it.”

Nesta nodded absentmindedly. She worried for you; you hadn’t come over in ages and she missed you. You were one of her closest friends.

“Any idea why she’s scared of the wings?” Rhysand piped up from the end of the table, cutting a piece of chicken for Nyx.

Cassian shook his head and looked at Azriel who had been quiet this entire time.

His shadows circled around him, moving from his ears to his neck, like they were taking turns saying something to him. If anybody knew it would be him.

Azriel was already looking at Cassian with a sympathetic look in his eyes.

“It’s not my story to tell, brother.” He said quietly, confirming he did in fact know.

Cassian took his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded.

The dreams you were having this time around were ones you hadn’t had in so long but it was a memory that you remembered all too well. Even now as you stood in the snow you could feel the claws ripping into your body and feel your breathing become ragged as the blood filled your lungs, but you stood still, keeping your fists at your sides.

You weren’t there. Not anymore.

But it didn’t help. Because you could feel the talons hit bone as it kept piercing your back and tearing your muscles. The blood was hot as it poured out and it tasted bitter in your mouth. And while it was Cassian in front of you, he morphed into your father, on his knees, the wounds you bore eerily similar to your own. You wanted to go to him, to catch him before he fell, soften the blow and comfort him as death came for him but you couldn’t move. The pain was too intense and it made the sun so bright and the wind was hurting you.

You aren’t there anymore, peaches.

You weren't in the snow anymore or in the backyard of the River House. You were in the field now, the grass covering your ankles and the sun hot on your back. You flexed your hands and looked around, looking for your father.

He sat beside you, his knees tucked into his chest as he looked out at the rolling hills.

“You aren’t there anymore,” his voice was clearer now.

You sat next to him and when you brushed against his shoulder it was solid. So you leaned against him, your head on his shoulder.

“I’m always there.” You whispered.

He placed his head on yours and gave it a kiss. “I know.”

“How do I leave?”

He sighed and his beard tickled your head. “Once you forgive yourself.”

You stilled and your throat felt thick. “I don’t think I can do that.” You didn’t mean to, but your voice broke.

“Always the ruminator.” Your father laughed and when you looked at him you saw tears in his eyes. “My beautiful peach.” He moved a hair from your face and cupped your cheek. “You carry the weight of the world on your shoulders and it’s time to let go.”

You shook your head and pulled away. “I can’t.” You let out a sob and dug your nails into your legs. “I killed you.”

Before your father could respond, the world around you started to shake and you could hear shouting. You couldn’t make out what was being said but your father looked around calmly.

“He’s here.”

Your eyes shot open and you gasped, the cold air hitting your lungs with such a shock you almost fell backwards, but someone held onto you with a firm grasp.

“Y/N!” It was Cassian and your eyes made their way to him and his own eyes were wide with worry.

“Where did you go?” He was breathless like he had been yelling.

You shook your head; you couldn’t find the words to explain and if you did you would sound crazy. A hallucination of your dead father where he spoke to you in a world that was years old.

You shook your head away and moved backwards, trying to get out of his hold but he wasn’t letting go.

He cupped your cheek and you cried. It felt like your father’s touch.

“Where did you go?” He whispered, a cloud leaving his lips from the cold.

You whimpered and kept shaking your head. You couldn’t say it. You were crying too hard, reeling from the touch of your father and the new wave of grief that rocked your world.

“It’s okay,” Cassian hushed you and pulled you into a hug and you stiffened but relaxed into it quickly.

Despite the winter weather he was so warm and firm and he wrapped around you so tightly that you had no choice but to let out the sob you were holding.

Cassian rubbed your back in a rhythmic up and down until your cries turned into ragged breathing and that’s when he pulled away and looked down at you.

Before he could ask if you were okay you spoke first.

“I want to go home.”

Cassian didn’t see you for three days. Every morning he stood on the front porch of the River House, scanning the road for your figure to round the bend and walk up the path but you never came. He’d wait for an hour, telling himself you slept in and was late but then Rhysand would come out and tell him you had called in.

By the third day he was fed up, so he went to your house.

He made it there in half the time it would usually take him and he was slightly out of breath when he knocked on your door.

Your mother opened it, a rag in her hand and she smiled widely at Cassian.

“Cassian, good morning.”

“Good morning,” he lowered his head and gave her a smile. “Is Y/N here?” He looked over her shoulder into the house, trying to find you.

Her face fell and she shifted on her feet. “She’s not feeling well. I’m sure she’ll be up for visitors later.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and moved to shut the door, but Cassian gently placed a hand on it and gave her a grim look.

“Can I just see her?” Your mother noticed his wild eyes, like he was searching for something that he had lost and was going to tear the world apart just to find it. She’d seen that look before.

She sighed, looking at the ground and nodded. “She’s in her room.”

“Thank you.” Cassian said softly and without asking where your room was, he went up the stairs and followed your presence that seemed to be calling out to him.

When Cassian entered your room, it oddly enough suited you. It was messy but organized at the same time with pictures and paintings on the walls and bookshelves filled with books and some more on your desk and floor. It was more colorful than he imagined and he stopped for a moment to marvel at it. You had a lot more personality than he gave you credit for.

You were in your bed, the only evidence being your hair sprawled on the pillow. You were asleep, he could tell from your slow, deep breathing and he moved closer to you as quietly as he could.

He kneeled on your side of the bed and placed his hand on your shoulder and shook it gently.

“Y/N.”

You groaned and lifted your comforter, covering your head.

He tried to rouse you again.

“What.” You muttered and he sighed at the sound of your voice.

“I’m here to check on you.”

You turned over slowly and squinted at him. “Why?”

His hand was still on your shoulder and he shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in three days.”

You snorted and nestled into your pillow. “Well you’ve seen me.” And with that you gripped the comforter and tucked yourself in and closed your eyes.

He smiled softly.

There she is.

He moved his hand from your shoulder to your face and moved your hair so he could cup your cheek and you immediately lifted your face slightly into his touch and sighed through your nose.

“I brought work with me. Let me stay?”

“Why?” You asked without opening your eyes.

“Make sure you’re okay and because I miss you.” He sounded ridiculous but it was the truth.

“I am okay.”

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue. “Then because I miss you.”

You sighed again and shrugged, turning over so your back was facing him.

Taking it as a yes, he kicked off his shoes and climbed into your bed and sat against your headboard.

“I have a desk.” You muttered and he laughed.

“Not big enough.”

“And this is?”

Cassian looked at your bed and frowned slightly. It was definitely not big enough but the chair would be much worse and it was farther from you.

“It’s fine.”

You slept for another two hours and Cassian stayed the entire time, going through letters and reports and responding to those that needed a response. His handwriting was awful so he wrote what needed to be said and would give it to you later so you could rewrite it. You had pretty handwriting and Cassian could watch you write forever. He liked how your letters swooped and connected seamlessly together and how legible it was compared to his “chicken scratch" as you liked to call it.

You barely moved in his sleep and Cassian found it incredibly interesting and weird. He thought everyone moved in their sleep, readjusting themselves or fidgeting from dreams, but you stayed in place like a boulder and he had poked you at one point and you didn’t even react.

Heavy sleeper.

Your mother had come in a little after he had come over and said she was going to the store and he gave her a sheepish smile, flushed with embarrassment.

“I hope you don’t mind that I stayed.”

She shook her head and her eyes shifted between you and Cassian, an unreadable expression on her face. “She needs the company.” She finally said at last and left.

Cassian fell asleep minutes before you woke up and it was his first snore that woke you and the second one, worse than the last, that made you open your eyes. You didn’t think he had stayed.

You looked at him over your shoulder and his head was leaned back against the headboard with his hands slack at his sides and papers on his lap. You couldn’t help but smile and chuckle at the sight.

Making sure he was still asleep, you got out of bed and put on shorts and grabbed clothes for the day and went into the bathroom to shower and get ready.

Upon your return he was still asleep, his head now rolled to the side and you cringed. He was definitely going to wake up sore.

You walked towards him and shook him. “Cass,” you said, patting his cheek slightly.

His eyes fluttered open almost immediately and he gave you a lazy smile. “There she is.”

You rolled your eyes. “Lay down before you break your neck.” You grabbed the papers from his lap and straightened yourself.

He did just that and flopped onto his stomach, one wing hanging off the bed and the other stretched out over the other side of the bed, dangling over the edge slightly.

You were glad the curtains were drawn because you could see that the wings were dark and most definitely not white, not dangerous.

You turned around, heading for your desk so you could finish the work, suddenly feeling much more energized than you had the past few days when Cassian’s voice stopped.

“Come to bed,” his voice was muffled, probably because his head was buried in your pillows.

You turned and even though he wasn’t looking at you, you gave him a quizzical look.

The way he said it sent you over the moon. It was so natural and filled with so much care and something else you couldn’t place. You lost your breath for just a moment and an image flashed through your mind of him just like that, his chest bare and the covers laid dangerously low on his waist. You were in his shirt, the material so long on you and you could still feel his hands and lips on you, so tender and filled with promises.

The image came almost like a vision of what your future could be, a future you were starting to want with him and just him. You’d never had this urge to be with anyone, in fact you’d never cared for anyone in this way before but he was slowly cementing himself into your mind and it made you grit your teeth and ball your hands into a fist. No, this was not what you wanted. But it was. You were going to resist his request, you were going to fight the battle within yourself and you were going to lose. And you did.

Without a word, you padded to the other side of the bed and like he knew your exact position, even with his eyes closed, he tucked his wing in and you sat on top of the comforter and got comfortable, your work in your hands, resting on your lap.

He didn’t open his eyes when a sleepy smile spread across his lips and he laid his wing on your lap and it curled around your leg and you sucked in a breath.

It was him, not them.

He reached over and placed a hand on your thigh, his fingers gripping it and his thumb moved back and forth and he sighed, his breathing became heavy until his movements slowed and he fell asleep. Despite being unconscious his grip remained firm.

You didn’t move.

Cassian slept so long that the sun had begun to set and you had finished with all the reports and correspondences so by the time he woke up you were almost finished with the book you were reading.

He was a light sleeper, so much so that every time you shifted he would open his eyes, tighten his grip on your thigh and tell you to stop moving which earned him a scowl and he would smirk and then immediately fell back asleep.

You enjoyed the quiet time and every now and then you would watch him. He was a beautiful sleeper; his face was calm and his mouth slightly parted emitting a mix of loud and soft snores and at one point a piece of his hair had fallen onto his face and you quickly pushed it back, not wanting your view to be obstructed.

You were incredibly embarrassed by your behavior. This was absurd in every sense of the word but you kept at it anyway, something deep inside of you, primal and not taking no for an answer, forcing you to let it happen and let your emotions float to the surface of your skin, making you feel hot, like you were glowing.

Cassian moved in the bed with a groan that turned into a moan and it made you blush. He flexed his hand on your thigh and gripped it again, palming your skin and and he turned back to you, another lazy smile on his lips.

You didn’t look at him because you knew your face–hot and bothered by his touch–would give you away.

“Hello, professor,” he mumbled and his voice was thick and raspy.

You gave him a glance and chuckled. “Finally. Now you can leave.”

He bit his lip and smiled. He shifted to lay on his back and he put his arms over his head and sighed, staring at your ceiling. You had stickers on them that were neon green and he was sure they were the ones that lit up in the dark.

“Night lights?” He tried not to laugh.

“They’re cute.”

He smacked his lips and nodded. “How long was I asleep?”

“Couple hours.” You turned the page of your book.

“Hm,” was all he said and looked at you.

He didn’t want to leave. He rarely slept through the night and especially as of late because of how worried he was about you, but being here, your scent washing over him, keeping him more warm than the blankets on yobed, put him in such a deep sleep that he hadn’t had in centuries.

“You also snore. Like, really bad.” You said, a playful look in your eyes when you looked at him.

Giving you an amused look, he shrugged. “I hope it didn’t bother you too much.”

You laughed loudly. “It bothered me very much.”

He propped himself on his elbow and smirked. “Tell me about it.”

“It woke me up and I had to rewrite the letter to Helion twice.” You emphasized.

He flatted his arm and played with the hem of your shirt and rested his head on it. “So sorry for your inconvenience.”

You let out a small chuckle and shrugged.

You looked down at where his hands were making contact with you. His finger playing with the loose fabric of your shirt like it was the most captivating thing in the world and his hand on your thigh like it was his lifeline. Every now and then he would shift his hand and pull at the seam of your leggings. You felt your muscles twitch at the contact and you swallowed, your mind becoming cloudy.

“Why haven’t you come to work these past few days?” Cassian after a half hour.

He had moved on to his back again, one arm behind his head and the other one still in its home on your thigh.

You sighed. You did not want to talk about this.

“I haven’t been feeling well.”

He hummed and looked at you, but you wouldn’t look at him. Instead, you kept reading. You were almost finished with the book; just a few more chapters left.

“Did it have anything to do with what happened the other day?”

You knew what he was talking about and a flash of it hit your mind so hard you sucked in a breath. You did not want to talk about this. Not with him.

You stayed quiet and he took it as a confirmation. The other day had been too much and it took you out for a few days.

“I’m sorry you have to carry that.” He whispered and you looked at him.

He was already looking at you and his touch had become soft, comforting and you inhaled.

You found yourself feeling honest, like you could say something about it.

“It’s hard.”

He offered you a smile. “I know.” After a few moments he squeezed your thigh. “You can talk to me, you know.”

A muscle in your jaw flexed and you cleared your throat, fighting back tears. “You won’t look at me the same if you knew what I’ve done.” Your voice was soft. You were trying so hard not to break.

Whatever you had done, he probably had done worse in his five hundred years in this world, but he wasn’t going to say that. He wasn’t going to invalidate whatever guilt you carried. So instead he rubbed your thigh again, feeling the soft fabric of your leggings underneath his fingertips.

“I will always look at you the way I do now.”

His confession hung heavy in the air and your eyes filled with tears and why this hit you so hard you weren’t sure but it did and your throat felt so thick you had to breathe through your mouth to calm yourself.

You’ve always wanted to be liked and not in a romantic way, not really at least. But you wanted to be accepted. You had always been so different growing up. It was difficult to keep friends, besides the one you had during high school, but even that was difficult at times. You were so anxious all the time and particular about the things around you; the world would collapse around you if things didn’t go your way or if you failed or if you fumbled your opportunities or if anything wrong ever happened. No matter how much you prepared to exist in the world, it was never enough. You struggled so much to be like everyone else, to be normal. You were too competitive, too intense, too harsh, and too proud. It was exhausting to pretend to be someone you weren’t; it was exhausting constantly planning your day and reactions to specific phrases. You were exhausted.

And it didn’t help that you were a murderer. It didn’t help that you had your father’s blood on your hands and everyone knew it. Everyone had seen your unconscious body on top of his; you had failed to stop the bleeding, you had failed to protect him. If you hadn't been there, he would still be here. You had distracted him and he had died, all because of you and your stupid pride. You thought you knew best and it killed him.

But here Cassian was. Someone whose gaze never changed when he looked at you. His smile was so bright when he looked at you even if you snapped at him for not doing what you expected of him or judged him for not being on your level. He saw you in a way that made you so scared. It was like he saw your inner turmoil of just being outside and it was as comforting as it was intimidating. He accepted you in the way you had been searching for your entire life. He didn’t care that you were particular about the places you went to for lunch, or the seating arrangement at dinner, or what he said; he even seemed to love it.

But you knew that would change if he knew. He was utterly devoted to his family, that was so clear in the way he interacted with him and how long he had been with them all. And they weren’t even blood. So imagine what his reaction would be if he knew you killed your blood, your kin, your father. Would he care for you the same? Would he seek you out at the most random times just because he “wanted to see you? Would he miss you when you were away? He most definitely would not. So no, he would never know. You would never share with him that piece of you; he would never know of the greatest betrayal and sin you had committed.

You didn’t respond. You broke his stare and sniffed, clearing your mind and heart of your feelings and went back to your book, even if the words on the page were blurry from your tears.

Cassian felt your confliction. He could see the fight in your eyes but he didn’t want you to fight today. He wanted you to relax. So he didn’t press it.

After a few moments he spoke again and you laughed.

Always talking.

“Have you realized that my wing has been touching you this entire time?”

Your smile was wide enough that your dimples were deep and he fought the urge to touch them.

“Yes.”

“How do you feel about it?”

“Fine.” You gave him a look and he smiled.

He squeezed your thigh. “Good.”

You trudged up the steps to the house, the snow thick and hard from the winter air. Spring was a month away but it showed no sign of approaching.

Cassian was waiting for you at the door, a shine in his eyes as he beheld you.

“Good morning, professor!” He called to you and you snorted.

“Good morning, Cassian.” You said as he opened open the door for you and you walked past him, not avoiding his wings for the first time.

“Y/N!” Nyx’s high pitch voice screamed down the hallway and you didn’t have time to react as he hit your legs and hugged you. “Where have you been?”

Nyx liked you more than you thought a child could like someone. He always asked to be with you and Cassian while you worked and you never denied it. He kept to himself, playing with his toys or copying you two as you wrote letters and reports. Sometimes he’d sit on your lap and draw a doodle that he claimed to be an animal but it was just scribbles. You never said otherwise.

“I’ve been sick,” you replied, squatting to face him.

“How sick?”

“Sick enough.” You laughed and he gave you a hug, wrapping his little arms around your neck.

“Pick me up.” He demanded and you did, putting him on your hip as you walked to your office.

“Where are your parents?” You asked.

“Daddy’s office.”

You hummed and you and Cassian made their way to Rhysand’s office.

Cassian loved watching you interact with his nephew. You were not good with adults but you were fantastic with children. It was easy for you it seemed and in truth it was. Children had straightforward dialogue and emotions and you didn’t need to read in between the lines to understand what was being said or felt.

“You’ve been missed,” Rhysand said as you entered the office and you blushed.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, his smile warm. “No need.”

You went to put Nyx down but he clinged and you sighed, moving him further up on your hip.

“Any news since I’ve been gone? Cassian and I worked on some yesterday but it wasn’t anything too pressing.”

“He told us.” Feyre had a knowing look on her face and you furrowed your brows at it.

Cassian moved from beside you and plopped down in a chair and spread his legs, getting way too comfortable.

“Not really,” Feyre breathed out, leaning against the chair Rhysand was sitting in. “Kallias and Vivianne had their babe so we were writing a congratulations card. We’ll get a gift today, too.”

“Oh,” you raised your eyebrows. “That’s nice.”

Cassian snorted. You never knew what to say to things you didn’t think were interesting or important.

You glared at him, scowling and he smirked at you.

There she is.

“Is Lucien and Elain still at the Spring Court?” You asked, moving to sit beside Cassian.

Rhysand nodded, his expression somber.

“He’s still erratic?” You asked.

Rhysand nodded again.

You sighed. Tamlin flipped back and forth too often for your liking. He was torn between being humble and accepting help and thinking he didn’t deserve the generosity of the Court because of his actions. Whether or not Rhysand and Feyre or anyone in the Inner Circle forgave him, you weren’t sure and you didn’t really care because they were being nice enough to be the bigger person in this scenario. You just wished you were making consistent progress instead of progressing and then almost immediately regressing.

“It’ll be better once you both go there in April.” Feyre said and she gave you a reassuring smile.

Eris was growing impatient too. He wanted results immediately, but not only were you not allowed to go to the Spring Court until April, but his requests were also ridiculous. Tamlin was not going to give up any of his territory because first it was his and second because his people were not going to fare well in the Autumn weather. His other request for Tamlin to pay for the damages to the Autumn Court was just stupid. The only reasonable request was for Tamlin to keep a set number of soldiers in his army and allow for various Courts to monitor the wall; this one you were sure you could accomplish but the other two you didn’t even entertain and you had already told Eris that much to his dismay. He tried to sweet talk you and persuade you, but you knew your capabilities and you weren’t going to push Tamlin; he was doing enough by entertaining your letters.

Nyx went down for a nap and you and Cassian went outside for your “therapy” session.

The wings themselves didn’t worry you anymore, but every time he flexed them, stretching them out to their full length or walked towards you, you would freeze.

“We need to work on that.” He said, his voice filling the distance you had put between you too.

“No shit,” you grumbled.

You were growing frustrated. He could be near you, the wings could touch you, but every time they moved your body buzzed and you didn’t see his wings but their wings. And it didn’t help that the sun kept shining on the talons and bones of his wings, the light reflecting off of them.

You took a deep breath and nodded and he walked slowly towards you. You gritted your teeth and cringed back, but you didn’t move.

“Where are they?” He asked.

This was his staple question. He wanted you to remember that they were his and not whatever you saw.

“On you.”

“That’s right.”

You could hear his footsteps now, the snow crunching underneath his boots. He was so much closer now and you couldn’t open your eyes. Your heart was beating so fast and you couldn’t breath; the air was too cold, too sharp.

He stopped and you dared a peek at him and was looking at you, his eyes looking you over, looking for something resistance.

“Do you want to stop?”

“No.” You took a deep breath and straightened. “I’m okay.”

He started again and you clenched your fists.

His wings, not their wings. His wings, not their wings.

He was an arm's length away and you swallowed, your throat suddenly dry.

You could do this. You let him lay them on you. This was like that.

It was the same. You were relaxed then, his sleeping form beside you and his wings sprawled across your bed. They were no threat to you. Not like the other ones. The other ones tore into your back, leaving you physically and mentally scarred for life. These wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that.

He was so close now that he had to look down at you. “You okay?” He whispered and you couldn’t even respond, physically or verbally.

You were not.

His wings moved so they were in your peripheral vision and you whimpered, looking at them.

You were trapped.

“It’s just me.” He whispered and you bared your teeth, closing your eyes.

The image in your mind was so vivid. Milk white wings coming down from behind and wrapping around you, trapping you on the ground.

You let out a cry and tried to back away, but Cassian grabbed your wrist and placed your hand on his chest and he interlocked your fingers.

“Say it.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand. “Say it’s me.”

You shook your head. “I can’t.”

He ducked his head down, his nose brushing against your cheek and you let out a cry of pain. Your chest was caving in and you couldn’t breathe.

“It’s me,” he whispered and he gripped your hand even harder.

He was right. It was him. It was always him and never them.

“You,” you breathed out and he smiled.

“Yes.”

You let out another breath and then breathed in again. His scent entered your body like a physical wave, going into your nose and spreading throughout your body. Not rotting meat, but cologne. It was a sharp smell that made you flare your nostrils.

An intoxicating smell for an intoxicating male.

Cassian kept moving his wings around you until you were cocooned against him and he trailed his nose from your cheek to the tip of your and like always, you lifted your head upwards.

“It’s just me.” He said again.

You unclenched your hand and spread it flat against his chest.

“It’s you.”

“Mhm.” He placed a hand on your waist. “And it’s always going to be me.”

Yes, you wanted to say. Nobody else.

tag list: @thecraziestcrayon | @rcarbo1

#cassian fanfiction #cassian fanfic #cassian x reader #cassian x fem reader #cassian x female!reader #cassian x female reader #acotar #acosf #acofas #acomaf #acowar #c writes!#a court of thorns and roses #a court of silver flames #a court of frost and starlight #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin

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