#and I don’t want to be more of a burden on my parents than I already am

[badomenslullaby]

Chapter One

Paring: Noah x Fem reader Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Abstract: In a kingdom on the brink of upheaval, Princess Lilith is thrust into power far sooner than she ever imagined when her father suddenly falls gravely ill. With a sword in her hand and a mind sharper than any blade, she navigates treacherous waters: politics and royal expectations. Ensuring her kingdom's security, she is forced to go through a political marriage with the ruthless Lord Cassius; a union at an unbearable price. Yet in the shadows stands Noah, her devoted knight, and forbidden love. He is her unspoken promise, the man willing to sacrifice honor, life—everything—for her safety and happiness. As they fight against the chains of the lives the world has imposed upon them, they are faced with decisions about whether or not love will be able to bear the pressure of duty, deception, and the ever-present threats of those who

MasterList

“I will dispose of him for you,” Noah says, kneeling before her.

His hands are rough yet gentle as they clasp hers. He’s always gentle with her. 

“Your Highness, My love, please… it is of little consequence to me. I would rot in prison if you asked me to.”

Noah is not above begging, even though he knows he’s been reduced to this. He can’t bear the thought of her marrying that man. With her father's sudden illness, the Kingdom of Aeloria, now crowned by its young queen, had been thrown into turmoil. She deserved so much more than this fate. Noah, her knight, would give everything and anything to ensure she received nothing less than the best.

As her lover, he only wants her.

“That man will drag you down with him. He frequents brothels and has not an ounce of loyalty in him. He’d make you appear incompetent.” 

He has had this Lord Cassius followed around long enough to know all about his less-than-savory tendencies. A marriage to the son of the duchess with the largest territory in the empire would do her good. It would strengthen her claim and solidify her position on the throne. But Noah knows that, no matter how strategically advantageous such a union may be, a vile man is no match for her.

He's never been naive enough to dream that he himself would ever marry her. Noah, a former street urchin who was knighted, owes his position in life to the pity she showed him on that rainy day. But to her, he is nothing more than her loyal shadow, her secret, something hidden behind closed doors. He'll never be more.

She still needs to marry someone who will bend to her every whim, someone easy to manipulate and control. Why her parents, King Aldric, and Queen Seraphine, want her to marry that heathen, Cassius (whose name alone disgusts him) is beyond Noah. The extra allegiance may be useful, yes, but at what cost? Surely, she'd only look a fool marrying a man who openly consorts with other women. Noah can’t let that happen.

She must have so much on her mind, Noah thinks. Her younger brother, Prince Emyr, was sent to marry the tyrant of another empire, and now she’s being forced to take the throne far sooner than she ever expected. He wants nothing more than to lighten her burden. He would do anything, kill anyone, to make her life even a little bit easier.

Lilith gives him a sad smile. She hated to see him begging. She gently takes his fingers and kisses them. His face softens, though he looks no less determined as she does so.

“Your father…he should not have put you in this position,” he says bitterly, the words like bitter poison in his mouth.

It’s treason to speak ill against his king, and it could get him killed, yet Noah has to bite his tongue to stop himself from being even harsher with his words. It’s the only thing he can do if he must, to prevent his lover from being married off to someone she will despise. Despise him.

"Noah, I could never bear to see you in prison," she said, her voice quiet but unwavering. "I don’t know what I would do without you by my side."

His eyes close, and he lets out a tired breath. “You’d manage, Your Highness. Perhaps you’d find someone who suited your position better.”

The words hurt to say. His fingers caress her hand before he dips his head and presses his lips to the back of them. “I do not wish to decide for you, Lilith. I only wish to see you in an arrangement more suitable to you.”

That Cassius man is not worthy to be on his knees before Lilith, nor his lips upon her knuckles. Noah hates it.

She lets out a sad sigh, her gaze dropping for a moment. "You know how I feel… I hate the thought of marrying someone who isn’t you."

A spark of hope in the back of his mind makes his lips part, to say something, when he hears one of her guards coming up the hall. Quickly, he lets go of her hand, stands, and bows his head. The guard doesn’t spare him a glance. Lilith’s good reputation keeps her from having to deal with any unsavory gossip, despite Noah’s late-night visits. They’ve been so careful.

Once the guard has passed, Noah’s eyes meet hers, and her hands. “I understand, Your Highne—” He stops. “Lilith.”

She gives him a small smile and slightly chuckles. She always finds it cute when he catches himself calling her by title and not by name.

Your chambers?" he says, a small smile on his face. The expression is different from hers, a little darker.

He is already thinking of what he'll do to her once they're behind closed doors, how he'll lose himself in her and let everything else fade away. Just for a little while, he wants to forget.

Forget the impending threat of Cassius.

Lilith meets his gaze, her voice is soft. "Please… lead the way."

He gives her his arm and leads her to her chambers. The guards give him the same disinterested looks as they pass. Once inside he can’t help himself: her lips are too soft and too sweet. His arms go around her and he holds her in a firm embrace and kisses her.

She gently cups his face in her hands, her touch warm and steady. Then, without hesitation, she kisses him—deeply, desperately. It’s a kiss filled with sadness, anxiety, and love, all tangled together in a way only they could understand.

They move to the bed, and he gently lays her down, his touch both careful and certain. He stays beside her, his lips lingering just above hers before pulling away just enough to speak.

"Let me take care of everything," he murmurs, his voice low and full of promise. "I can make your situation more desirable."

Before she can respond, his mouth finds her jaw, then her neck, trailing slowly, reverent kisses as if he’s committing every inch of her to memory.

"He won’t be a problem much longer," he murmurs, his breath warm against her skin as his fingers work at the buttons of her dress. His kisses are slow and firm, each one laced with unspoken promises. He moves with practiced ease, half the buttons undone when a sudden, urgent knocking shatters the moment. Rapid and insistent.

In one swift, instinctive movement, Lilith and Noah pull away from each other. She hastily readjusts her dress, smoothing it out as she sits upright on the bed, her composure returned. Noah, sensing the shift, crosses the room and positions himself, standing guard with his back to the door.

"Come in," Lilith says, her voice calm yet carrying authority.

Two of Cassius' guards enter the room, but the Lord himself is noticeably absent, much to Noah's obvious annoyance. They bow low and Lilith gestures for them to rise.

"Excuse the interruption, Your Highness," one of them says, his voice respectful but with regret. "We have had to confine your betrothed to his quarters; he was found drunk with not one, but two women. We are at a loss with what to do about this situation, and I deeply apologize."

Lilith rubs her face, her fingers pressing against her forehead as if trying to push away the weight of the situation. She’s lost for words, a moment of stunned silence hanging in the air as she processes the news.

The guards exchange nervous glances, the weight of what they have to say hovering over them like a cloud. After a brief pause, the first one hesitates before speaking again, his voice even more strained.

"There is more, Your Highness," he says, his gaze lowered. "The women are with child. We know not what to do, especially in light of your engagement to Lord Cassius, set for two turns of the moon."

"With... his child?" Lilith’s voice trembles slightly, a mix of disbelief and rising anger. "Both of them?"

Both of them. Yes, Your Highness," the guard replies, his tone regretful. "We would not have believed it if not for the doctors and midwives who confirmed it. What would you have us do? The… ladies of the night… are adamant about being taken care of, and Lord Cassius was quite insistent on not doing that."

Noah stands in the background, his jaw clenched tight, his hands clamped down on the hilt of his sword. He's doing the best he can to not look too satisfied, though a flicker of something dark crosses his face.

Lilith takes a deep breath, her eyes steady as she processes the news. "For the ladies," she says calmly but firmly, "No woman should have to go without proper medical attention during these months. The situation may be regrettable, but the gift of life is always beautiful. I won't allow them to stay in the castle, but I still want to make sure they have a safe place. See to it, please."

The guards bow and exit, the door clicking shut behind them. As the silence settles, Noah lets out a low laugh, the sound rich with satisfaction. 

“Good,” he says, his voice tinged with amusement. “I was beginning to fear you’d have to marry him.”

Lilith's gaze narrows, eyes pinning to him. "You did this. How?" There is both curiosity and a hint of suspicion in her voice. He is standing too pleased for her taste.

Noah walks toward her, his steps measured, and kneels before her, taking her hands gently in his. He presses a soft kiss to her knuckles, his lips lingering for just a moment.

 "Nothing is ever for free," he says with a knowing smile. "But I can tell you one thing, my coin was well spent."

Lilith rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the smile that tugs at her lips. She reaches out, her fingers brushing his cheek as she gently caresses his face, her thumb tracing soft circles.

 "You, Sir Knight," she says with a teasing tone, "are one tricky cat."

She giggles softly, her lips curving into a playful smile before she leans in and gives him a soft, sensual kiss, the warmth of the moment lingering between them.

He leans into her, gently pressing her down onto the bed as his hands work with urgency, starting to work her out of her dress. The feel of her warm skin and the intoxicating scent of lavender overwhelmed his senses. Every touch was a silent declaration, that he loved her, and was consumed by desire for her. The thought that she might one day marry another was a torment that made him ache with a fierce longing never to let her go.

Her soft sounds, the quiet moans escaping her lips, ignite something deep within him, a fire that burns brighter with every breath.

If only she weren’t forbidden fruit. Noah desires nothing more than to marry her, that they be on even ground in all aspects, and she doesn't have obligations and responsibilities that keep her beyond him. Maybe in another world, in another life…

"Lilith," he murmurs, lips grazing from hers down her jaw, down the side of her neck, farther down to heaving breasts.

"I live and breathe for you alone."

"I cannot ask you to live and breathe for me alone," she says softly, her voice filled with both love and sorrow. "You deserve to live for yourself. But know this; my heart beats with yours, and I will carry you with me in every step I take. Our love may be forbidden, but it will never be forgotten."

“I could live forever hearing those words from your lips,” he whispers, with each word being a vow. He will spend every moment of his life ensuring she gets the praise and affection she deserves.

His lips trail further down her chest, pressing soft, light kisses to her collarbones, her shoulders, and along her arms. He’s determined to kiss every inch of her body, every piece of her body that's his, if but to show how deeply he loves her. And he must.

Her heart races as she feels his soft kisses, the weight of his devotion sinking deep into her chest. She lays a hand on his face, guiding him to look up at her. 

"You are my protector, my knight," she whispers, her voice filled with tenderness. "But you must remember, your life is bound to me only by duty, not by choice. And yet, here you are, choosing me despite the consequences. I could not ask for more, and I can only hope that in this love we share, you will never lose yourself.”

Her words melt every fiber of his being, much as they had when he first swore himself to her the day they met, much as they did when they confessed their love. Noah can only stare at her, helpless, his lips parted in awe.

“My only duty is to you, always," he whispers, a devoted tone in his voice. He holds her face between both hands, pulling her close for another kiss. 

"I will worship you however you demand it," he purrs softly with reverence. "For you are my Goddess.”

Her heart swells at his words, but she feels the weight of the responsibility she carries. She cups his face gently, her fingers brushing his skin with a tenderness that combines affection and quiet strength.

“I do not ask to be worshiped Noah,” she whispers, her gaze delving into his. “I am a woman, flesh, and blood, bound by the same fears and longing as anyone else. But your loyalty Your heart. They are everything to me.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, her love for him evident. “And for you, I'd stand against heaven itself.”

Noah feels like his heart will burst in her grasp. She’s so beautiful, so kind, so perfect. His eyes shine with love and worship. He nuzzles into her hand, shutting his eyes in adoration.

He’s the luckiest man in the world to be able to love her; he wouldn't trade it for anything. His hands gently caress her legs as they lay there together, and in this moment, there's nothing he desires more than to please her.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice soft yet filled with longing. “Allow me to stay the night?”

She smiles at him, her eyes filled with warmth, before leaning in to kiss him gently.

"You may stay the night," she says softly, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with devoted affection.

[whereismyhat5678]

Okay. I watched Spooky Month 6 and I loved it! I truly did!

…..But god…it’s gonna eat at me alive if I don’t say anything about Pump.

I feel bad for Pump…and Susie- I truly do!

Which is why I have to rant, about how much I HATE their parents!

(Spoiler warning at the bottom, oh and I swear a lot too-)

You may not hear how angry I get but god damnit was I fucking angry at Pump’s parents each time they were mentioned.

It hit me the moment Pump ran to the phone immediately thinking it was his parents calling but got sad only realizing it was just Skid’s mom. And I can say with certainty that he WAITS for the day they call him. Remember the 4th ep where he said, and I quote: “Call them, they never answer!” so NONCHALANTLY.

Not only that but his Grandpa even looks back to him and you could clearly see, the GUILT on his face. That man does not only feel bad but I KNOW he feels guilty for their absence. HE has to take care of them, HE has to practically raise them now because their parents can’t come home. And HE had to fake bringing Pump a toy saying it was from his parents when in actuality HE was the one that bought it for him!!

I’m sorry- WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?? What do you mean Grandpa has to literally fake bringing him a gift from his parents?? What do you mean they never fucking call them??? I’m usually not one to get so angry BUT THIS HAS ME ENRAGED.

What type of low-life down right shameful parents can’t contact their own fucking kid??? No matter how busy they are, no matter if they can’t visit them- because you know what? I would’ve given them a pass if their work was the reason why they couldn’t come home which probably still is the case- I won’t blame you! Some people just gotta travel for work!…BUT YOU’RE TELLING ME THEY CAN’T SPARE ONE FUCKING SECOND TO CALL THEIR CHILDREN??? Let alone they’re what- 6YEAR OLD KID??? (I think that’s Pump’s age-)

You’re telling me they can’t even send them a letter?? Not even one fucking letter??- Just letting their children know that they still give a fuck about them- THEY CAN’T EVEN DO THAT??

And don’t even get me STARTED on how they make Pump feel- HE FEELS LIKE A BURDEN?!?! A CHILD AT HIS AGE SHOULD NEVER- AND I MEAN ABSOLUTELY NEVER FEEL LIKE A GODDAMN BURDEN (same thing does to Skid!)!!!

CALL. AT THE LEAST CALL YOUR FUCKING CHILD!!! Show them that you still care!- SHOW HIM THAT YOU STILL LOVE HIM!!!

It fucking infuriates me…

Listen, I get it…If you gotta work and travel fine!- Do it!….But you can’t just do that without consoling your children!! At least tell them- message them- at least show that you CARE. What type of dipshit parents just ignore their children like that??…

Listen, I might be getting it wrong so go ahead, explain and I mean THOROUGHLY explain why Pump and Susie’s parents aren’t bad. Because to me, this is the shittiest move you can make to your own children.

The Grandpa cares more about them. HE takes care of them. If that doesn’t show how fucked up their situation is I don’t know what is. Never be like Pump’s parents. Do better. And shame on you if you are.

Thank you.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i have not formalized in my brain if (or how) jack exists in millieverse but if he did millie would teach him to play cards and take jack hunting normal-style with him

[rosicheeks]

💖

[nope-body]

.

[lizardho]

Being at BYU after my mission was weird. Like. Bad weird. Everybody was still acting like missionaries but they had nobody to teach so it all turned into the holier-than-thou bs that missions always degenerate into over time. Just the forced establishment of some weird social hierarchy where value is based on how devout you are, with people digging and scratching and clawing their way around humanity in order to become even more devout.

And this bullshit was actively killing me. The attempts to stay Good Enough were scraping the remnants of my humanity out of my husk like a spoon scraping the last bits of watermelon from a rind - I was doing what I had always done, be Mormon, do what Mormons do, be as good a Mormon as I could be, only it was breaking me. Instead of healing me, making me whole, taking away my burdens, it was pulling the life out of me in exchange for nothing. I was just being squeezed dry of everything I had to offer and being given back shame and isolation and rejection because I didn’t do it first, or fast enough, or with a willing enough heart, or whatever the hell they could come up with.

But despite myself, because most people smarter than me AND dumber than me would have left already, I found myself trying over and over and over again to make it work with no success.

One day, I snap. I’ve had enough. I need answers. I’ve looked everywhere and done everything I could by myself, and nothing had come of it, so I went to talk to a faculty member. A teacher at the school. He taught religion classes and his lessons were powerfully and inspiringly honest, earnest, and filled with raw humanity. I figured if I could get a straight (ha) answer from anyone, it would be that guy. He wasn’t involved in the Mormon rat race. He wasn’t playing the stupid “I’m Worthier Than You” games that were so pernicious on campus. He was being real and open and vulnerable and I needed that from someone.

So I go into his office and I lay my cards on the table. I figure if I’m gonna get helped, I need to be honest. I share with him my weird feelings about dad leaving the church on my mission. About my siblings leaving the church. About my own doubts and hurts. I tell him about how hard it is to be in limbo like this without knowing what to do or where to turn. I tell him I need answers.

And he listens. And then he starts with the usual Mormon apologetics bullshit. And I say “no” because I’m done with that. That doesn’t fly with me anymore. And he sees and hears me say no and he puts a hand on mine, makes direct eye contact, and says,

“You know, you don’t have to go to church, right?”

I, being a person who was hurting, interpreted that as “if you have questions that I can’t answer you should fuck off.” I got defensive immediately and he again listened, put his hand on mine, and said,

“Not what I meant. You can stay if you want, but I want you to know you can leave too. Take a break. Give yourself time to heal. This isn’t supposed to hurt this much, and if it hurts you can take a break and come back when it feels good.”

I’m actually getting choked up just writing that out. Nobody had ever said that to me before. When I talked about my dysphoria to my parents, they said teenagers are supposed to feel like that a little bit. When I talked to people about my difficulties at church they had always told me that it was a sign that church was working. That I was doing it right. That growth was supposed to hurt, that excising the Natural Man from me was supposed to be difficult, that I was supposed to be feeling this anxious and sad and scared. I had never ever ever been told that pain and suffering were signs things were going wrong. I had actually explicitly been told by many many many many many many many many people that it was good, that the hurt and the heartache and the constant feeling of never being good enough and never being able to fit into my own skin or love myself in any meaningful way was desirable. That it was something they envied.

It’s not supposed to hurt. Some things can, and should. My parents were right that some body concerns were normal (although we later found out my specific concerns were more abnormal lmao, I got that tgirl swag). My family and friends were right that challenging myself with difficult assignments and ambitious goals was supposed to feel uncomfortable.

And at the same time, THIS was not supposed to hurt. I was not meant to have this gaping throbbing aching hole in my Me that never let up. It wasn’t supposed to hurt. IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HURT.

I don’t know when exactly I started crying, but I was crying the whole rest of the day. It was the first time in a while I had to actually take a Valium to clam down. It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

He also told me that if it ever stopped hurting I could always come back.

I think that was the day I really left. Others might say otherwise, I still tried to make it work for a few more months after that, but the idea that it wasn’t supposed to hurt really changed me.

If any of you are reading this - there are things that are supposed to be difficult. Things that are supposed to hurt. But if your faith or your beliefs about the world or yourself leave you feeling like you’ve been hollowed out at a minor mistake or setback, if your failures and setbacks leave you feeling raw and numb frequently, if the company you keep or the places you stay leave you feeling constantly inadequate with out hope or help, then I’ll tell you the same thing that professor told me:

You can go somewhere else. You can do something else. And you can always come back when you want.

But it’s not supposed to hurt.

[rafecameronssl4t]

My say || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: an argument between reader and rafe about having a nanny for your son.

Warnings: heavy angst!!! Mentions of breastfeeding

Word count: 1,283

A/n: I hope this kinda gvives you a better insight of what reader x rafe's relationship is like!! I AM SO EXCITED TO CONTINUE WRITING FOR THIS AU!!! send thru any requests you might have :)

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Y/n, you can’t be serious,” Rafe says, his voice laced with disbelief as he stares at you, searching your face for any sign that you might be joking. But your expression remains unyielding, eyes steady as you readjust Leo in your arms, his small hands clutching at you as he feeds. “I’m serious,” you say, your tone casual as you shrug, though the gravity of your words lingers heavily between you.

The tension in the room is palpable. Rafe scoffs, a bitter sound escaping his lips as he shakes his head in disbelief. Without another word, he pushes himself up from the couch, his movements stiff with frustration. He crosses the room with purposeful strides, heading straight for the bar cart. The clink of the whisky bottle against the glass is sharp in the silence, followed by the harsh slam of the glass hitting the cart, the sound echoing through the stillness of the room.

“He hasn’t even turned one yet, and you’re already considering leaving him in the care of someone we don’t even know?” Rafe’s voice is strained with disbelief, his eyes narrowing as he struggles to grasp your logic. . “What is this really about? You want more time for yourself? To get your hair and nails done, meet up with your friends, take boat rides?” His voice is laced with incredulity, each word carrying a mix of accusation and frustration as if he can’t believe you would even consider such a thing.

“You want to hand him over to a stranger—someone who doesn’t know his little habits, his cries, the way he needs to be held to fall asleep?” Rafe’s words tumble out in a rush, his voice thick with a blend of incredulity and concern. It’s as if he can’t even comprehend how you could entertain the idea, the very thought seeming impossible to him.

You let out a soft, disbelieving snort, shaking your head. “And you do, Rafe? You think you know him better than anyone else?” Your voice drips with sarcasm as you meet his gaze, your eyes daring him to challenge you. “When was the last time you were the one pacing the floor at 3 in the morning, trying to calm him down? When have you spent hours figuring out his cries, trying to understand what he needs?”

Rafe stares at you, his expression a mix of frustration and disbelief. “You’re his mother—” But before he can finish, you cut him off, your voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “And I’m trying, Rafe! I’m trying so hard, but it never feels like enough. I can’t seem to get it right, no matter what I do.” Your voice cracks as the weight of your words hangs between you, the raw vulnerability in your tone cutting through the tension like a knife.

“I’m 21, for heaven’s sake!” you exclaim, your frustration boiling over. “I’m still figuring this out, and every day feels like a battle. I’m doing my best, but it’s like I’m constantly failing.” The words spill out in a rush, your voice wavering with the pressure of trying to live up to expectations that feel impossible to meet.

Rafe’s eyes narrow as he leans forward, his voice biting, “Don’t sit there and pretend you weren’t raised for this,” Rafe says, his voice cold and cutting. “You knew from the moment your parents arranged this marriage that your role was to be a mother. They didn’t raise you to chase dreams or find yourself—they raised you to bear children, to fulfill your duty as a wife. So don’t act like this is some surprise or burden you weren’t prepared for.”

You feel a sharp pang in your chest as Rafe’s harsh words sink in, his coldness taking you by surprise. For a moment, you’re too stunned to respond, the sting of his accusation cutting deeper than you expected. You roll your eyes, more out of defense than annoyance, trying to push the hurt aside. Exhaling slowly, you steady yourself, refusing to let him see how much his words have affected you.

“Leo will have a nanny,” you say, your voice firmer than you feel. “This isn’t up for debate.” The words come out with a finality that leaves no room for argument, though the hurt lingers beneath your resolve. “End of conversation.” Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose, his frustration boiling over into raw anger.

“No, he will not!” he snaps, his voice sharp and intense. “I won’t have a stranger looking after our son—my son!” His words are a burst of anger, his eyes blazing as he struggles to contain the fury coursing through him. You roll your eyes again, your patience wearing thin as Rafe's anger fuels your own frustration.

“You’re being dramatic, Rafe,” you retort, trying to keep your tone steady despite your mounting irritation. “In my family, we all had nannies before we were even four months old—” But before you can finish, Rafe’s voice rises in a harsh yell that slices through your words. “This is our family, Y/N!” he shouts, his frustration exploding into full-blown anger.

“Our family! Not just yours. We don’t have to raise our children the way your parents did!” His voice echoes with the force of his rage, the intensity of his glare adding to the weight of his outburst. His voice reverberates off the walls, filling the room with a palpable tension as Leo starts to fuss.

His soft whimpers quickly escalate into full-blown cries, the sound piercing through the charged atmosphere. You flinch at the noise, your heart tightening with a mix of anger and frustration. “Will you lower your voice?” you snap, your own frustration surfacing as you hastily adjust your top, trying to soothe Leo by bouncing him gently in your arms.

Rafe runs a hand through his buzz cut, letting out a loud, exasperated sigh. His shoulders are tense as he plants his hands on his hips, watching you with a mixture of frustration and disbelief while you struggle to soothe Leo. “Look what you’ve done,” you say sharply, your voice cracking with frustration as you glare at him. “He was perfectly calm before you started yelling.”

Rafe’s eyes flash with irritation as he retorts, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Yeah, yeah, blame it all on me,” he snaps, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He turns and heads towards the door, clearly ready to escape the charged atmosphere. As he walks past you, you reach out and grip his arm, the strength in your hold betraying your desperation.

He stops and looks down at you, his expression softening slightly as he registers the plea in your eyes. “Please, just don’t argue with me right now,” you say, your voice dropping to a softer, more vulnerable tone. “Leo will be better off with someone who knows what they’re doing.” The earnestness in your plea hangs heavy in the air, cutting through the tension.

Rafe takes a deep breath, the anger in his eyes giving way to a more contemplative look. “I get to choose who the nanny is,” he says, his voice still firm but less harsh. You nod slowly, a quiet resignation in your expression as you release his arm, allowing him to leave.

[bruciemilf]

Wish there was more content about Iida and Ochako acting like Izuku’s pseudo-parents because the comedic potential is crazy.

“You know what? As a young woman in a traditionalist society, I refuse to be parentified! Deku can do whatever he likes.”

“Agreed! As a young man heavily burdened by the expectation of being a good role model, I don’t need additional responsibility. We’re just his friends and we mustn’t overpass that.”

Kirishima frowns, “Guys, I just asked if you wanted to order pizza.”

“Just make sure they do NOT cook it with or around olive oil. Deku is allergic. He also needs exactly 5 mushrooms on every slice or he won’t eat it.”

“And for god’s sake, PLEASE remind them to include the All Might figurine. They forgot it last time and we never heard the end of it.”

Yeah, they totally don’t want to be his parents.

Mina would say something, but she and Kirishima more or less adopted Bakugou with Mitsuki’s permission, much to the blonde’s angry dismay.

Izuku is permanently unaware about this. He just thinks ‘oh, very normal and very ordinary friendship dynamic. Maybe I’m just autistic’ and leaves it at that.

He doesn’t start thinking about it until ‘Kacchan 💥♥️’ pops up across his screen, and he answers faster than thought,

“Hi, Kacchan! How are you? Have you eaten yet? Should I bring you some treats? I’ve been trying this new recipe for popcorn macaroons,—“

“Tell me later, nerd. Put Cyclops on the phone, I gotta ask him if it’s cool I take you out to dinner this Friday.”

“…Kacchan, you could just… Ask my dad? I’m pretty sure he hasn’t blocked my number again.”

“Babe, you’re so fucking funny. Put Four Eyes on.”

Izuku then proceeded to stay in place and listen to Iida negotiate a curfew for 20 minutes. Then confirm it with Kirishima and Mina as well as Auntie and uncle.

And when he gets HURT?

He does have to slightly lean down so Uraraka can pinch his ear. “You are in SO much trouble, young man! Just wait till Iida hears about this!”

He asks All Might if it’s normal for friends to give him timeouts and he just responds with, “Of course it is. Aizawa always does it.”

[cllightning81]

Hidden [LS2+OP81]

Summary : People believe Oscar is thirdwheeling your relationship with Logan. However, they'd be wrong.

Pairing/s: Logan Sargeant x Oscar Piastri x Reader

Word Count : 2.4k

Masterlist Logan Sargeant Masterlist Oscar Piastri Masterlist Want to be included in my tag list? Click HERE

Your relationship with Oscar and Logan had never been one that was shared with the world, and for the longest time, all three of you just assumed it would never be shared with the world. Oscar was more than happy about that. He wasn’t the kind of guy looking for public displays of affection towards him from either you or Logan but when Logan confessed that he wanted to go public Oscar pushed for you and Logan to go public and let fans see him as the third wheel. 

You had obviously argued with the idea. You understood why Oscar didn’t want to. They raced in so many countries where being in any kind of “non standard” relationships would get them banned or arrested, but you could also see where Logan was coming from. He wanted to show you both off. 

You, Oscar and Logan had grown up together karting in England. You can’t actually remember how the relationship between the three of you came around. You had started off as enemies, then moved to friends and all of a sudden became boyfriends and girlfriends. While you couldn’t exactly complain, it would have been nice to have a fun story to tell the grandkids in the future. Maybe one of them had the story hidden somewhere. 

You personally had stopped racing many years ago after seeing how much one season in Formula 4 cost your parents. Deciding that while you wanted to stay in racing, there were many other ways to do that. So you stopped putting your parents through the financial burden of racing and put them through the financial burden of university. 

You couldn’t lie, it did get you somewhere. Between university and an apprenticeship with Aston Martin and all the previous names they went by, you were set for the Formula One world. While you expected to be behind the scenes in the technology campus, you were more than surprised when Lawrence Stroll himself asked you to join them on race weekends. 

Who were you to say, no? Being at the racetrack every weekend and getting to support your boyfriends in person. So here you were walking through the Imola paddock. Oscar and Logan chatting as you trailed slightly behind reading the news on your phone, not paying much attention to what was being said. 

“You okay?” Logan asked as they both stopped walking. You looked up with a nod 

“Hmm? Yeah! Sorry. I was reading the news about back home” You shrugged, and they nodded, continuing to walk, obviously deciding it was a good enough answer considering you do it quite often. They boys stopped outside the Mclaren garage without an indication they were going to stop, causing you to bump into Oscar’s solid back. His hands instantly coming around to stop you from falling 

“Careful” He chuckled as you huffed, straightening your Aston Martin shirt and slipping your phone into your pocket. 

“Next time, tell me we're about to stop” You complained, and Logan laughed, saying his final byes to Oscar. Your hand gently brushed against Oscar’s own hand. 

“Be safe out there” You smiled up at him, causing him to nod 

“You know I will be” He smiled, allowing you and Logan to continue your walk. Logan blabbering about how he thought the race was going to go and just about everything until you got to the Aston Martin garage. 

“Be safe out there” You told him, and he nodded with a smile 

“I’ll do my best” He smiled, walking off as you walked inside the Aston Martin hospitality. 

“And over there just coming in is Y/N. She’s late, but we don’t tell her that” You heard Lance tell a bunch of little kids as you walked over behind him. 

“He does tell me that, but I also keep him safe, so he knows when to be quiet” You hummed, sitting down in the chair next to him. 

When you first started working in AM, you understood why people didn’t like Lance Stroll. However, that was just his guard. When you really got to know him and his family, you understood that they were just normal people, and Lawrence just wanted the best for his son. 

You sat with Lance for a little bit before leaving to the garage to start your own work for the morning. Saying a ‘hello’ to Lawrence as you passed him. 

The rest of the day went as well as it could. Oscar continued to be asked questions about ‘Third Wheeling’ and Logan. Both Oscar and Logan continued to be asked about what it was like to be the grid kid to you and Lance. How that came about you would never understand. Considering you were newer to this side of the paddock than Oscar and Logan. 

The race wasn’t the best with only one out of three cars coming back in one piece. Logan was a victim of Kevin’s dive bombing. It was a good move realistically if it had worked out correctly, but Logan just happened to miss it in his mirrors and went for a move on the car in front at the same time. Lance was a victim of the car not cooperating and ending up in the barriers. A loose wheel, the mechanics had come back and told you both. Whereas Oscar got to keep his 100% lap completed streak. Still the only one this season. 

Logan was waiting outside the Aston Martin Hospitality as you sat with Lance going over some basic race data. 

“Hey Logan’s waiting outside for you. Well, I assume it's you” You looked over before getting up 

“I’ll just be a moment” You mumbled as Lance shrugged 

“Take your time” He leaned back in his seat, obviously not caring about going over the data. However, you hadn’t expected him to make a run for it. 

You walked down to Logan, who reached a hand out to you. Taking his hand on your own. You tilted your head slightly as he wrapped his arms around you. 

“Hey what’s wrong?” You frowned, pushing some hair out of his face

“Just my team again” You sighed 

“I really wish you’d let me do something about it Logs” You pressed a kiss to his head where it was lying in the crook of your neck. 

“You know I like doing it by myself though” He explained, and you nodded 

“I do, but Logs the way that team is treating you is ridiculous. One conversation with your grid grandpa and you’d be sorted for at least a year” You joked, getting him to crack a smile 

“Oh we need to have a word about that. How come I’ve got two dads?” He asked 

“How come I’m your fucking mum?” You asked and he laughed, his head falling back. You smiled glad you could make him laugh “Who’s your other dad then?” You asked, having not seen the rumours about it 

“Button” He shrugged, and you whistled 

“Hmm I’m not going to complain about that one” You joked, and he tickled your sides, making you push him away. Oscar appeared next to Logans side “Osc save me” You complained as he just stood there laughing 

“I came to steal Logan for a little bit” He shrugged, and you nodded 

“Go ahead. I need to finish debrief” You smiled, stepping back a little 

“I’ll let you speak to him” Your eyes widened at Logan’s statement.

“Seriously? You’ll let me speak to Lawrence?” You questioned, and he nodded, turning on his heel and walking away with Oscar. You walked back inside groaning as all Lance’s stuff was gone. Obviously. 

“The kid gone missing?” Fernando asked, and you nodded 

“We were almost done anyway. I guess I’ll just let him go” You shrugged, and he nodded, glancing to where you, Oscar, and Logan previously stood. 

“So what’s the real story between you three?” He asked as you walked with him. You almost choked on your own spit at the open question

“I erm. I” You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks 

“I’ve seen the three of you behind closed doors. I used to work with Oscar remember” You nodded, having briefly forgotten about Oscar’s Alpine days. You looked over at him. It was Nando. You looked up to him throughout your karting days, and here he was asking about your relationship. 

“We’re all dating” You explained quietly as Fernando smiled at you with a hum. You looked up at him, confused as you stopped in the garage 

“Are you happy with those two idiots?” He asked, and you nodded with a smile as the blush rose. 

“Very happy Nando” You nodded 

“Good” And with that, he walked away, leaving you to gather your belongings alone. Once all your belongings were in the bag, you walked towards Lawrence's office. Knocking on the door. The man had been like a second father to you since he took over the company

“Come in” He called, and you walked into his office, almost like a school kid about to get told off. “Ah Y/N. Good race today, no?” He asked, and you nodded 

“Would have been better if the wheel stayed on the car” You shrugged, and he nodded, motioning for you to sit down. 

“Can’t go right all the time unfortunately” He replied, and you nodded 

“I guess that’s true” You placed your bag on the floor next to the seat you were now sitting in as he moved around the desk to sit on the same side as you. He didn’t like formal meetings you’d found over the years. 

“So how can I help you?” He asked, and you let out a shaky breath. You hadn’t thought through what you were about to say to him. 

“It’s about Logan” You started, and he motioned for you to continue “Williams isn’t treating him well. Actually they’re treating him like he’s a piece of shit on the grass. And I’m not the kind of person to come in here and ask for favours, but we know he’s a good driver. We both saw him in the junior formulas, and we can see the differences in his and Albon’s car. Please, Lawrence, is there anything you can do for him?” You asked. Lawrence's eyes softened. Obviously, before moving into the F1 paddock you’d warned him about the relationship, and with an NDA signed, he was more than happy to still have you on the team. 

“How bad is it?” He asked and you bit you lip slightly 

“Secrets about Logan’s car, midseason drivers talks. It’s bad. He won’t tell Oscar or I how bad, but it’s bad” Lawrence shook his head 

“That is bad. Look I’ll speak to Mike, but I can’t promise anything” You nodded

“That’s all I ask. It doesn’t have to be a seat even if it’s just a reserve or test driver. I know he’d appreciate it especially if they do replace him with an F2 kid” You sighed, and he nodded

“Anything for my grid grandson” He joked, and you laughed, shaking your head

“Oh my god. Not you as well” You laughed, and he laughed along. 

“Lance was telling me about it. Weird relationship you’ve got there” You laughed with a nod 

“We were talking about that earlier” You nodded 

“Well I’ll speak to Mike. Give me until Canada. Think it can wait that long?” He asked, and you nodded 

“I’m sure it will” You smiled, going to shake his hand as you both stood up however, Lawrence had other plans, pulling you into a hug. 

Back at the hotel, you could tell how Logan was feeling just by how he was moping around the room. You shared a knowing look with Oscar. You grabbed your shoes, pulling them on before pressing a kiss to both their lips, leaving Logan confused before walking out. Leaving them both alone. 

You knew what Oscar’s plan was while you were away, which is exactly why you left without saying a word. Your plan was to go buy a basket for Logan full of things just to cheer him up. Part of yours and Oscar’s master plan every time Logan was feeling down. 

Returning to the hotel room, you knocked on the door, realising that on your way out, you didn’t grab the room key. Oscar pulled the door open, still shirtless, having obviously been in the shower recently. 

“Hey” He smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips as you walked into the room. 

“Hey yourself” You hummed, glancing towards the bathroom where the shower was running. Placing the bags on the bed as Oscar’s arms wrapped around your waist looking into the bags as you moved all the goodies into a gift basket. 

Oscar pressed a kiss to your shoulder as you leaned back into him, looking at your handy work with a hum. The shower turned off as you took your shoes off, throwing them next to the pile at the door. 

You had brought all of Logan’s favourite candy – Italy has a lot of American candy sections – some of his other favourite foods as well as a little teddy bear. 

“You forgot something at home” Oscar hummed, and you looked at him with a frown. He reached into his pockets, pulling out your rings. You smiled, holding out your hand, letting him slide them onto your ring finger. 

Logan walked out the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist frowning as he saw the basket sat on the bed. 

“Thought you could do with some cheering up” You smiled, reaching your hand out for him to join you and Oscar. Your arm setting around his waist 

“Lawrence is speaking to Mike. He can’t promise anything, however it’s better than nothing. But we knew you still needed cheering up. So some of your favourites” You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder as he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your hair before turning his head to kiss Oscar. 

Coming Soon

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[hsnlv]

lean on me | y.jw

pairing: bf!jungwon x reader

synopsis: you’ve always been independent, never needing anyone’s help. but jungwon makes you see that letting someone in doesn’t make you weaker—it just means you don’t have to face everything alone.

wc: 1.6k

here’s my masterlist!

you had always been independent. it wasn’t something you chose—it was ingrained in you from childhood. your parents weren’t neglectful, but they believed it was important for you to know how to handle things on your own. “it’ll be easier for you in the future,” they said.

and they were right. you grew up mastering the art of self-sufficiency, from fixing broken appliances to managing life’s curveballs. but this independence wasn’t always welcomed, especially in relationships. most of your ex-boyfriends had found it off-putting. they wanted to feel needed, to swoop in as the “man of the house.” but you hated that mindset.

so when you met jungwon, you thought it would be the same. but jungwon? he was different.

“babe.”

his voice startled you out of your focused trance. you glanced up to see him crouching next to you, his curious eyes scanning the scattered pieces of wood and screws on the floor.

“what are you doing?” he asked, though it was clear.

“building a bookshelf,” you replied casually, flipping through the manual perched on your lap.

jungwon reached over and took the manual from you, his eyes skimming over the instructions. then he plopped down beside you, sitting cross-legged like a mirror image.

“you could’ve asked me for help, y’know,” he said, looking at you pointedly.

you shook your head, brushing him off. “it’s fine, uwon. i’ve got it.”

but truthfully, the bookshelf was turning out to be a bigger challenge than you anticipated. the pieces were awkward to fit, and the instructions might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. you didn’t want to admit it, but you were struggling.

jungwon noticed, of course. setting the manual down, he cupped your cheeks with both hands, gently squishing them so your gaze was locked on his. his thumbs rubbed soft circles against your skin, his dimples making a brief but stern appearance.

“angel,” he started, his voice calm yet firm. “can you, for once, just lean on me?”

your lips parted, but no words came out.

“i love that you’re independent,” he continued, his tone softening. “it’s one of the things i admire most about you. but sometimes… i want to take care of you too. not because i think you need me to. but because i want to.”

you blinked, feeling a lump form in your throat. you weren’t used to this—someone asking to share your burdens instead of trying to take control.

“you know what would be even more attractive than your independence?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

you shook your head, playing dumb even though you knew what he was getting at.

“if you let me be your boyfriend instead of just some random guy you live with,” he teased, his voice laced with warmth and just a hint of desperation.

his words struck a chord deep inside you. it wasn’t that you didn’t trust jungwon—you did, with all your heart. but letting someone help you, letting someone in, wasn’t something that came easily after years of being your own rock.

“baby,” he called again, softer this time. “let’s try this together, hm?”

he dropped his hands and picked up the manual, his fingers tracing the steps with deliberate care. you watched as he began organizing the pieces, his focus steady yet unhurried.

“fine,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips. “but only because this bookshelf is impossible.”

jungwon glanced up, grinning like he’d won the lottery. “impossible for you, maybe. not for us.”

and just like that, the two of you worked side by side.

——————————

later that evening, the bookshelf stood proudly in the corner of your room, and you found yourself curled up on the couch with jungwon. your head rested on his chest, his steady heartbeat soothing you as his fingers lazily played with your hair.

“see? this isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked, tilting his head to look at you.

you traced little shapes on his shirt with your finger, a soft smile forming on your lips. “no. it’s… nice, actually.”

he chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. “told you. letting me help doesn’t make you any less strong. it just makes me feel like your actual boyfriend instead of your roommate-slash-cheerleader.”

you rolled your eyes, nudging him lightly. “you’re so dramatic.”

“oh, i’m dramatic?” he feigned offense, his dimples peeking out as he grinned. “this coming from the girl who wrestled a bookshelf just to prove a point.”

“hey, that bookshelf was—” you started to argue, but jungwon cut you off by leaning down and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“shh, angel,” he whispered, his forehead resting against yours. “you’re cute when you’re flustered, but you’re even cuter when you admit I’m right.”

you groaned, hiding your face in his chest, but he only laughed, wrapping his arms around you tighter.

“thank you, uwon,” you murmured, your voice muffled against him.

“for what?” he asked, tilting his head in curiosity.

“for being patient with me. and… for building the bookshelf.”

jungwon grinned, pulling you back just enough to cup your cheeks. “you’re welcome. but, angel?”

“yeah?”

“next time you need to build something—or anything, really—just call me, okay? i’ll be your knight in shining armor, or at least a guy with a really good screwdriver.”

you laughed, your heart feeling light in a way it hadn’t in a long time. “deal. but don’t let it go to your head.”

“too late,” he teased, leaning down to steal another kiss. “you already think I’m the best.”

and honestly? you kind of did. because with jungwon, you didn’t just feel cared for—you felt loved, completely and utterly. and that was better than anything you’d ever built on your own.

© all rights reserved | hsnlv 2024

[eubybubble]

arguing with slytherin boys / pt.2

ft. Tom, Mattheo, Theodore, Lorenzo

warnings: curse words, mentions of abuse, addictions

Theodore Nott

You wanted to help Theo, really. His smoking wouldn't have angered you if he wasn't going through two packs in a day. It was genuinely hard to express your concerns without sounding like a parent or authority figure. But as you attempted to have yet another “serious conversation” with him, you initially thought it was heading toward success. Turns out you just misunderstood his mocking tone as softness and surrender.

“Ah, so you care about me? Answer me, amore, are you my mother? Then tell me, why do my habits piss you off that much?” he advanced towards you, slowly cornering you until your back met the cold wall. You closed your eyes in a desperate attempt to pretend it's a nightmare, hoped for it to end sooner and start again. But it was real, and Theo barely controlled himself “Am I not good enough for Ms. Perfect? My “addictions” shouldn’t worry you, can’t you understand?” His fist landed just an inch away from your face.

Tom Riddle

You decided to drop in and check on Tom since he hadn’t been talking to you for a few weeks now. He was busy working on some project. You made a cute lunch and even drew his portrait with watercolor. You couldn’t contain your excitement as you hurried to his room. What will be his reaction? Did he miss you too? Reality hit harder than you could’ve ever imagined. He eyed you and things in your hand with a little to no interest.

“Just how many times did I tell you not to disturb me? Not to meddle in my business? I don’t need it," he stated firmly. His words rang in your ears, and you didn’t listen much as he continued, “I was right, in the end relationships proved to be troublesome trivia. It was nice to know you. But now, leave.”

Mattheo Riddle

You’ve been avoiding him for the last few weeks after hearing rumors about his ties to dark organizations and massacre in the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Now, he was confronting you. Can’t really escape when he’s towering right above you in the middle of a dorm room.

“Are we even dating at this point? ‘Cuz i feel like I’m a fucking joke to you, not a boyfriend” Mattheo calmly stood in front of you, staring at you with eyes full of hatred “Little bird told me you’re afraid of me. Why, is it because my surname is Riddle? I thought you weren’t that dumb like others to judge me on my family relations which I don’t give a fuck about” he spat out the last words. His lips curled in disgust as he shoved a box full of your gifts and memories into your hands, leaving you dumbfounded in the solitude of your room.

Lorenzo Berkshire

The last few weeks have been tough for every seventh-year at Hogwarts. Tables were cluttered with heaps of homework and essays, and an unhealthy number of coffee mugs in common rooms weren’t surprising anymore. Amidst this academic crisis, your boyfriend was the most affected one. He had to maintain his top spot, not for himself but for his parents.

You were genuinely worried about him and tried to help him unwind a bit, but he consistently refused and distanced himself even more. When you suggested going to Hogsmeade, he suddenly snapped, growling in frustration

“Just fuck off. I have a lot to manage, and you're being a burden right now. Can’t you spend a minute without me?” He kept ruffling his hair and rubbing his temples in annoyance. “I need a break” He didn’t care to explain what break he needed and didn’t even look at you as he left the common room in a hurry.

a/n: yes, i like making people suffer and yes there’ll be part 2 with Draco, Blaise and Regulus

[penkura]

where you belong [2/10]

Summary: As Luffy's big sister, you've viewed it to be your job to see him become King of the Pirates in place of your absent parents, even as you try to find where it is you belong in the world. You never really expected to draw the attention of Trafalgar Law in the process.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Fem!reader

Warnings: Discussion of feelings of abandonment, age gap relationship (four years), brief secret relationship, mentions and heavy refences to sex, mentions of alcohol, typical One Piece stuff. Other warnings to be added if needed.

Note: Sorry this has taken so long! I wanted to really progress these two and get some moments between them, so the chapter ended up bigger than planned! Next one is a good one I think. ;) Forgot to mention last time but Reader is going to be described as shorter than Law, and that height difference can be your own interpretation (I'm 5ft tall, these men would tower over me).

I am also FLOORED at how well received the first chapter was and that we've got a taglist for this series, my gosh. You guys are so sweet and wonderful!! If I missed you on the taglist PLEASE let me know and I will add you to the future chapters! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter and the beginning of Law and Reader falling for each other!

Taglist:

@pinksaiyans | @sukunas-play-thing | @spiderlily-w1tch-blog | @mineymak | @valen-yamyam16 | @shimmerxc | @luffy0s | @fluffybunnyu | @laws-wife-things | @crmnic

[Ch. 1]

You spend the next week learning more about the Polar Tang and the Heart Pirates themselves, Law taking most of your time to help you get used to things. He's made sure you understand the basic rules of the ship, for his crew, including the boiler suits, and what do in case of certain emergencies. You’re going to be working on your poisons in his office, in case anything happens, he can help you fix it. You’re honestly grateful for the time everyone has taken to help you get your bearings straight and work out where things are. You’ll be sharing a room with Ikkaku, who is so glad to have another girl aboard for as long as you are. She’s already started sharing some gossip with you, pointing out those involved so you knew who was who on top of it all.

Penguin has been extremely kind and helpful, telling you that you’re welcome to join him for night watches once you tell him you spend a lot of time writing during your shifts on the Sunny.

Shachi and Uni both showed you around some of the major maintenance areas, both promising they’d help you learn the most basic things so you can be of help if needed.

You’re about to join Bepo for a quick navigation lesson before their captain calls you, wanting to discuss somethings with you before you got too far away.

Law, although he agreed to letting you stay with him and his crew, still isn’t entirely sure what to do with you. There’s still that strange feeling in his chest when you smile at him, as you thank him for all his help and allowing you to stay, once he brings you to his office again a few days later, and he waves you off.

“You don’t have to thank me constantly.”

“I know,” you smile again and he feels that feeling that’s been hanging around, but Law tries to ignore it, “I’m just…really grateful. I know my being here may be a burden—”

“Not a burden, you’re welcome here. Everyone’s glad you’re staying around for now.”

Hearing that makes you brighten up, as Law starts to question you more about what you do for the Straw Hats, and what you can bring to his crew in the meantime. You list off everything you’ve come to learn about being at sea from being a Straw Hat, Law making mental notes on other things to ask about later.

“Any other special talents we should know about?”

You start to think, pressing a finger to your chin while you do so. Another action Law has to tell himself isn’t cute, before you grin and lean in close to him, quietly speaking.

“I can see the dead.”

Complete silence as Law raises an eyebrow at you as you continue to grin, halfway expecting him to ask for proof. Ask you to tell him about a spirit that might be hanging around the Polar Tang, or around one his crewmembers, but he doesn’t ask anything, eventually returning to a straight face.

“No you can’t.”

“…okay fine, I can’t. It’d be cool though!”

He rolls his eyes, which makes you laugh in return. Law goes to let you out of his office which you oblige by, knowing he’s done talking with you now that you’ve made your joke. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder first, you giving him a questioning look.

“I’ll help you make antidotes for your poisons. But you won’t use my crew as test subjects.”

“Ha! That’s fine, I don’t test on people anyway, just in case. Just give me some fish and I can use those.”

Giving him another grin, you walk ahead saying Bepo was going to show you something next, but Law had rudely interrupted by wanting to know what you could bring to his crew for the next two years. You’ll promise later to make extra batches of antidote for him to keep in his medicine stockpile, while Law watches you hurry down the hall and sighs.

“That’s the wrong way.”

He’s quick to follow you, grabbing your arm and bringing you back the right way, deciding he’ll join you and Bepo for whatever it was you two were discussing next. He wants to ensure you’re being given correct information and know what to do in an emergency, especially so if you need medical attention.

Atta boy, Law.

If you really could see the dead, you’d have noticed the tall, blond man with makeup and a large, black feathered coat pushing Law towards you.

+!+

“We’re approaching a winter island, everyone needs to be ready to disembark for a bit and—”

“A winter island?!”

Your outburst causes Law to stop speaking with a nod at you, and you’re gone to the crew bunks in an instant, followed by Bepo who is just as excited. Law gives a look to Ikkaku and Uni, who you’d been talking to when he came in, and both simply shrug at him. They all briefly noticed a sparkle in your eyes as you ran off, likely to change clothes and get ready to disembark, but none of them knew your intent or real interest in the snow.

It's only when Law catches you by the exit door with Bepo, excitedly talking with the Polar bear mink about what you could do in the snow, all dressed up in your coat, thick pants, boots and gloves. You and Bepo trade ideas back and forth about what to build out of the snow, or if you can get a snowball fight started.

Law hasn’t seen someone so excited for snow in a long time, he thinks not since the last winter with Lami.

Penguin joins you and Bepo by the door next, throwing an arm around your shoulders and giving you a smile.

“What’re you so excited about some snow for?”

“It practically never snows in my home town! I think it snowed maybe twice while Luffy and I lived there? Chopper is from a winter island, so when we were there, it was so exciting!”

“Haha, I’m from the North Blue, so snow is pretty normal up there. Well…the area me and Shachi are from anyway.”

“Ah,” you give a little sigh but smile yourself, “I’m so jealous. What about Trafalgar?”

“That’s…well, kind of different, but we did meet him where we used to live,” looking over his shoulder, Penguin sees Law but leans into whisper, “Probably better if you ask him another time. It’s…a lot…”

Before you have a chance to question it, Law comes up behind Penguin and tells him to go ahead with opening the door, the Polar Tang should be stable enough for you all to leave now. You put that question into the back of your mind for later, instead running out with Bepo as soon as the door opens. The excitement both of you have is almost contagious, as the rest of the Heart Pirates slowly join you outside. While some of them are tasked with scoping out the island, the rest end up with you and Bepo building snowmen for a while, though you and the mink end up making a snow polar bear the best you can even if it looks a little goofy in the end. Some pieces are a little larger than others but you still think it’s cute, even as your companion bows his head apologetically.

“I’m sorry, [Y/N], I made some things a little too big.”

“No, that’s okay, Bepo! It gives it charm, I think he’s cute!”

You reassure Bepo a few times with a smile, before the two of you go to work with others on more snow sculptures. It goes well until you get hit in the face with a snowball, thrown by Hakugan at Shachi who dodged just in time. While it makes you sneeze a bit as you brush the snow off your face, with Bepo and Ikkaku yelling at Hakugan while he shouts apologies and Shachi nearly cackles, it doesn’t upset you at all really. Yeah it kind of hurt to have a snowball hit you in the face, but hey, you mentioned a snowball fight earlier, right?

Crouching down to gather up some snow, you put on a wicked grin and fling the ball at Hakugan yourself, catching him in the back as he turns away while you laugh.

“How about a warning next time?!”

“Yeah, snowball fight!!”

Most everyone joins in, gathering up all the snowballs they could or just throwing loose snow at each other, Law watches from the side, a slight smile on his face. He’s glad everyone can take a bit to relax and enjoy themselves, he’s not sure he’s seen his crew this excited about snow in a long time, even Shachi who grew up in the North Blue. Some of you group up to get an advantage over others, Law turns to ignoring the snowball fight as Penguin and Uni come back with what they found on the island.

All is well until Law is hit in the back of the head with a snowball, keeping himself upright but turning quickly to search through everyone and find who did it as you all quiet down seeing his glare. Not a single person looks him in the eye, but they all point to you, while you cover your mouth with your hand and try to stifle your laughter.

“S-Sorry, Trafalgar,” a giggle escapes you as you glance over to him, “I… I was… hehe… aiming for Penguin… honest!”

“Oh yeah…?” Law’s voice is low, he crouches down to scoop up some snow, locking eyes with you as yours widen and you turn to run, but realize it’s futile when Law uses his Shambles to catch up and grab you, shoving the snow he’d gathered into your coat and making you screech before everyone returns to the snowball fight.

“That’s cruel!!”

“Everyone get Captain, he’s cheating!’

While the rest of the Heart Pirates aim for Law, you and their captain are honed in on each other, trading blows from snowballs for the longest time, your personal goal to knock his hat off as payback for shoving snow down your back. Luckily you’re not the one to hit him hard enough to knock the spotted hat off, but you’re close enough to grab before he does, sticking it on your own head and playing keep away once Law realizes where it’s at.

“Looks good on me, huh, Trafalgar?! I might keep it!”

“The hell you will, that’s mine!”

Once Law catches you, he doesn’t let go until he’s snatched his hat back off your head and returned it to its rightful place, keeping a grip on your arm as he notices the sky starting to get darker. The rest of the crew has settled down, stopping at first to watch you and Law until a new snowfall began.

You forget for a few minutes that Law has a hold of your arm, it’s not uncomfortable, but you feel your heart pick up a bit from it.

“It’s pretty….the snowfall.”

He nods, finally noticing he still has a hold of you and letting go, disappointment flooding you as Law calls for everyone to return to the ship. Tomorrow will be a day in town to restock, you’ll all take off again afterwards.

You volunteer at dinner to make everyone the lavender milk tea that Makino once taught you, most of the crew enjoying it, but you’re especially surprised by Law liking it, even telling you so.

It's the small smile he gives when you thank him that makes you realize you just might be starting to get a crush on him.

+!+

Law knows something is up when you don’t join the rest of the Heart Pirates for a meeting before being let off the ship. He still does his job as captain, giving out duties to everyone so they knew what to do and who would be stocking supplies, who would be checking for wanted posters, and anything he felt needed to be done this time. He’d planned for you to join him on a once around the island to look for anything of interest, but when you don’t show up, he knows something must be wrong.

“Ikkaku-ya,” Law stops your roommate before she gets too far, Ikkaku giving him her full attention, “Where’s [Y/N]-ya?”

“Oh, um…” Ikkaku shuffles from one foot to the next, not fully looking at her captain and that’s what worries him more, until she speaks again, “She isn’t feeling well…she’s not sick so she doesn’t need a check-up but, it might be best to leave her alone today, probably tomorrow too…”

That leads to Law believing your cycle had started, and he chooses not to question it further, lest he or Ikkaku feel embarrassed about the discussion. He decides to leave you be, you’ll probably join them tomorrow for island exploring, most likely with Penguin if he asks you especially. When you do show up for dinner that evening, you’re quieter than usual and Law notices how Penguin and Ikkaku are the ones to talk with you. He can’t hear anything they say, but seeing you at least smile and respond to them is enough for him to think that everything is fine, you’re just not feeling 100% and that makes sense. He’s heard you and Ikkaku complain about cramps and the like the last few months, he already knows the first day is hard for you, so he lets it go. At least you’re out and talking to everyone.

But he knows something is up the next time it happens, not even two weeks later, and it can’t be blamed on your period this time. You don’t show up to a crew meeting, you still aren’t one of his crewmates but you’ve been joining for anything interesting or important, and Law doesn’t let it show that he's a little more worried, so he stops Penguin this time and asks him the same thing, where are you and why didn’t you show up?

Penguin doesn’t fully look at Law, scratching the back of his head as he tries to find the words.

“She…just isn’t up for it today, Cap. Maybe we should let her have the day off…”

Although Law tells Penguin that’s fine, he does go off to find you, the door to your and Ikkaku’s room barely open, but he knocks to make sure you’re not indecent or anything. There’s no answer so he opens the door, not seeing you anywhere, the new assumption being that you’re in the bathroom. He turns his attention there, again knocking on the door.

“[Y/N]-ya, Penguin-ya said you weren’t felling well, are you all right?”

No response, Law furrows his brow and knocks again, saying your name a little louder this time. He swears he hears a small whimper and a sob, and that’s what makes him finally open the bathroom door, simply saying he’s coming in before doing so, but he nearly freezes when he sees you.

Nearly curled up into a ball in the corner, head buried in your arms wrapped around your knees with numerous used tissues and he just knows that if you looked up at him, he’d feel that strange feeling in his chest again, or one of heartbreak, he isn’t entirely sure which one.

Law is not trying to scare you, but when he touches your hand and says your name a third time, it makes you jump and look up at him with wide, tear filled eyes, you feel beyond embarrassed that he’s caught you like this, but it quickly turns to more tears and a bit of anger.

“Are you—”

“Get out! Go away!!” Law barely dodges the box of tissues when you throw it at him, he’s not able to dodge the mascara you toss at his head as you keep yelling at him to leave. He doesn’t really move to leave until you stand up much too quickly and start pushing him out, he’s just surprised at your reaction to him finding you crying. “Leave me alone!!”

Once he’s out the door you almost slam it shut in his face and lock it, Law doesn’t know what to make of this really.

He can handle physical ailments, mental is a little harder for him but he’s working on it for his crew, yet emotional problems are not in his wheel house at all. He doesn’t really know why you’re locked in the bathroom, hiding in a corner crying, but that look on your face gave him an idea. He recognizes it from his own past, after his family and Flevance, then again after Corazon.

It was pure grief that was written on your face, definitely from your still fresh loss of Ace, and Law isn’t sure how to help you.

He doesn’t know if he should help you, you just might turn all your grief inward and ignore any hands held out for help, even from your new friends let alone him.

“Captain? Why are you…oh.”

Ikkaku finds Law still in your room several minutes later, staring at your bathroom door, until he hears her and looks at her, an expression she can’t read on his face.

“How long?”

“A few weeks now,” she sits on the edge of her bed, not looking at Law now, “It happens randomly it seems like, or something reminds her of Ace and sets her off. His birthday is soon, so that might be it right now. Penguin and I promised we wouldn’t let anyone know, so she could grieve alone.”

“Why was it being kept a secret?”

She shrugs a bit, Law isn’t sure he’s going to get many more answers today, but then Ikkaku speaks up again.

“She doesn’t want to burden anyone with her feelings, I guess. She should be fine by dinner, Captain, she just… needs some time.”

While she is correct, and you show up again at dinner looking normal but still with a sadness on your face that he can see, Law wonders if there’s something he can do to help you. Your need to grieve and have that time alone isn’t a bad thing, he won’t deny you that when you need it, but he wants to do something for you, he still doesn’t know you well enough to know that exactly you need, but anything is better than letting you be alone.

He knows all too well how that feels.

When it happens a third time, several weeks later, you don’t show up once again, Law doesn’t even need to look at Penguin or Ikkaku, they won’t meet his eyes anyway. After he lets everyone else go, his next mission is to find you, even though he knows exactly where you are. Law isn’t sure if his plan is going to work, but he wants you to stop hiding away from everyone when you break down. It’s not because he’s angry about it, he just doesn’t want you to continue suffering alone. It’s not good for anyone to do that.

He doesn’t even knock when he gets to your room, but does so when he sees your bathroom door is closed like the last time.

“[Y/N]-ya, I’m coming in.”

“No,” you force back a sob, making sure the door is locked, “Go away!”

“I won’t.”

You haven’t experienced all the abilities Law has at his disposal, but you aren’t that surprised when you see a blue hue, and he’s in the bathroom with you not even a moment later. He’s not phased by you attempting to throw things at him again, even while you yell at him to leave you alone, you don’t need help, you don’t need anyone right now.

You’ve handled things like this by yourself your whole life, why would need help now?

“I don’t need help!”

“I’m not trying to help.”

“Then lea—”

Law doesn’t give you much more room to talk, instead grabbing your wrist and pulling you into a hug, pressing your face into his chest which causes your eyes to widen a bit and tears to flow even more.

“I’m not trying to help,” Law holds you tightly, feeling a just a bit of relief as you slowly wrap your arms around him in return while you return to crying, “but you don’t have to be alone, all right?”

“T-Trafalgar…I…I just—”

“I know, I get it. But,” he knows it’s probably going to sound hypocritical based on his own issues, but Law still feels the need to say it again, “you don’t have to do this alone.”

Law isn’t entirely sure why he’s chosen to let you cry into him, let you grip onto his shirt like he’s the only thing holding you to the earth while you continue to cry and say how it isn’t fair that Ace died, that you lost another brother (he’s going to have to ask about that later, that’s the second time you’ve mentioned it). Maybe it’s because he didn’t have anyone back then, when he lost his own loved ones. It might be that, because he saw a reflection of himself in you the first time he found you hiding away and struggling to handle your grief. While you drag the two of you to the floor, Law simply adjusts to as comfortable a position he can, he’s at least sure you’ll both be there a while. You don’t show any signs of calming any time soon.

Law doesn’t know why he came after you, but once your cries fade to nothing, not even whimpers, he’s relieved to hear you speaking to him without being upset or between sobs of anger and sadness.

“I’m sorry…for crying all over your shirt again…”

“Don’t be. It’ll wash.”

Law strokes your hair a bit while you finally smile, nodding, before he helps you up off the floor. While you wash your face, Law directs you to not worry about helping anyone out with chores or sharing shifts today, he’s already split everything up among his crew, you’re under strict orders from the doctor to rest and recover from your breakdown. He does offer to bring you something to eat and drink, which you take him up on, stopping him before he fully leaves your room.

“Thank you…Law, I appreciate this…”

He’s completely aware that’s the first time you’ve used his first name, and he notices a different feeling in his chest. It’s not the same, almost heart squeeze he’s felt before, but something more comforting. Warm almost, and he’s starting to get it more.

“You’re welcome, [Y/N]-ya.”

Ah, that’s what it is…

Law realizes he’s starting to have feelings for you, though he decides to push them down for now.

He’s not going to use your weakened emotional state to push himself further into your life, not when he doesn’t even know if he’s okay with these feelings or not. For now, he’s going to do what he said and bring you some lunch, he’ll deal with these feelings later.

It is nice to hear you call him by his given name though.

+!+

“You’re as reckless as your brother.”

You giggle a bit while Law continues to wrap bandages around your arm, shooting you a small glare while you laugh. He’s not amused, mostly because it was him you’d tried to protect and ended up getting hurt over. You shoved him out of the way of an enemy attack, receiving a deep slice across your own arm instead. Once he realized what happened, Law was furious with you, even though he knows you aren’t part of his crew, it didn’t change the fact he was trying to protect you for Luffy while your crew was apart. You were lucky, he’d told you after he forced you to the infirmary, that your attacker’s weapon didn’t have any poison on it. You’d probably be dead before he even got you there if it had been.

You just grinned and said it was the opposite, your attacker was lucky your knife didn’t have poison on it, or he’d be in worse shape than he already was from your perfect aim hitting him between the shoulders. It doesn’t cause Law any relief to hear that, he still glares and it makes you start to shrink away, averting your gaze elsewhere.

You two still don’t know each other very well, it’s only been a few months since Luffy tossed you to him as the Heart Pirates left Amazon Lily. Still, you’ve found Law is fiercely protective of his crew, his family, just as you are with the Straw Hats, and while you’re with them, you count as one of his crewmembers.

The feelings you’ve started to develop for him don’t help much, Ikkaku being the only one who knows since you’ve told her how distraught you feel over it.

How could you start falling for a rival pirate captain? It’s only a crush but it makes you feel like you’re betraying your crew sometimes.

“Law, I’m fi—”

“And what if you weren’t?” He’s nearly grinding his teeth and ties off your bandage a little tighter than he intended, making you take a sharp breath. “What would you want me to tell your brother?”

You shrug, starting to play with the end of the bandages to distract yourself from him. “Could just tell him I protected you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” you jump when Law slams down the scissors on the metal plate, keeping his back to you so you don’t see how upset he really is, “My crew knows I don’t need it. They know to run if a battle might cost them their lives. Why can’t you see that?”

“Because I do this for my crewmates, too. I’ve even pushed Zoro and Sanji out of the way. I’m sorry if you don’t like it but—”

“Sorry wouldn’t bring you back from the dead.”

You both become silent, you taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment before nodding and biting your lip.

“You’re right…that’s why Ace isn’t back.”

“Hey, I didn’t—”

“Thanks for bandaging me up, Trafalgar,” Law turns around just as you jump off the table, going to leave, “I’ll see you at dinner.”

Law watches you leave, letting out a frustrated sigh once you’re gone. He really hadn’t meant to upset you, it just came out, but it was also the truth. What good was ‘sorry’ if you had died and he had to tell Luffy that he'd lost another sibling, this time a blood related one? He didn’t want to have to deal with that, not when you and Luffy were still getting over Ace’s death.

He gets it, he really does, that pain doesn’t go away quickly, no matter how many false smiles you give to him or the others, or how often you laugh with them. No matter how many times he finds you crying the bathroom over you grief. It hasn’t been that long, he doesn’t expect you to be whatever is normal for you so soon. He probably shouldn’t be berating you, you’re not part of his crew so he doesn’t have the right, Law isn’t your captain.

But, you’re under his care for two years, you’re a temporary member of his crew, so you should listen to him. You’re proving to be as stubborn as Luffy is, but also just as protective as Law is.

And your progress with him, ugh. You’d finally gotten comfortable enough to call him by his first name, and now you’re back to calling him Trafalgar instead. Seven months of progress down the drain all because he was concerned, worried about you being reckless.

…why am I so worried though?

He could easily chalk it up to the fact you’re Luffy’s sister and he’s trying to protect you until you’re back with your crew, or he could even say its because of the feelings he’s developed for you, but Law doesn’t want to get into that right now.

Neither of you speak until dinner, when you run into each other right outside the kitchen and start a back and forth about who should go in first.

“You’re the captain, sir.”

“Ladies first, miss.”

You don’t like being formal, or hearing him call you ‘miss’, but you don’t want to fight about it. Not when his crew can hear and might be concerned about it.

“Crew shouldn’t eat without their captain there.”

“We don’t have that rule around here.”

Eventually you relent and go first, getting your food and taking the first free seat by Ikkaku, Law sitting beside you a moment later. You don’t talk to each other the whole time, you focus on your conversation with Ikkaku while Law responds to anyone speaking to him. You barely even notice when Law takes the roll he really didn’t want to have on his plate, and moves it to yours, almost like a peace offering that you two are okay, he’s not mad at you for trying to protect him anymore. You do give him a smile when you notice, which he returns with a nod before leaving for his room.

You sigh a bit, looking back to your plate and keeping your smile to yourself.

Things will be okay.

+!+

Over the last nearly ten months, Law has learned a few of your quirks. When you work on your poisons, you mark things three times over to ensure you have the correct amounts listed, you almost always strike up conversation with him about anything that comes to mind, even if Law doesn’t answer you.

Sometimes he’s caught you biting your pencil or pen while making notes, it’s one of your cuter quirks.

On nights you can’t sleep, like tonight, he can easily find you in the kitchen, brewing up some tea to help you fall asleep, and that’s where Law decides he has to talk to you. You’ve both moved past your argument from a few months ago, it’s like it never happened now, but he feels the need to speak with you about something important.

No, not his feelings, he’s going to ignore those as long as possible. He recognized them after you’d had an emotional breakdown, he’s not going to admit that especially, he doesn’t want you to think he has a kink for crying or something, absolutely not.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hey, Law,” you look over your shoulder for a second with a smile, turning back to your tea, “Couldn’t sleep, though some tea might help.”

“Your usual then?”

Nodding, as you finish off your tea making, Law sits at the table and waits for you to join him, knowing you’ve made him a cup of lavender milk tea too. You’d started doing that and either taking it to his office before you head to bed or having him join you in the kitchen where you have small conversations before you both turn in for the night.

You’ve gotten quite comfortable with Law, your own feelings for him aside. He’s been helpful with your poison and antidote creations, ensuring your ratios are correct and helping you when they aren’t. You’ve started discussing books you’ve both read, you were shocked to find he enjoyed the Sora Warrior of the Sea comics. His being such a nerd over them never struck you as odd thankfully, Law even letting you borrow a few of his copies so you can give it a try yourself.

He makes you feel safe and comfortable, you really enjoy being with Law.

Law thanks you when you hand over the mug of tea, taking your seat across from him to enjoy your own, settling into a welcomed silence. With how rowdy his crew can be at times, you get why Law hides himself away in his office most of the time, and you’re grateful that he lets you share the space when needed.

“I know you said I didn’t have to,” Law looks over to you as you speak, an eyebrow raised, “but thank you again, for letting me stay. I really appreciate the help you’ve given me.”

“Like I’ve said, its no problem. Everyone’s glad you’re here.”

I’m more than glad you’re here.

There’s a soft smile on your face that Law enjoys seeing, and he honestly hopes you won’t lose it after he talks to you.

“I wanted…to tell you something.”

“Go for it,” setting your mug down on the table, you rest your elbows there with your chin in your hands, “I’m all ears, Law.”

He's almost fighting himself on if he should or shouldn’t, maybe another time. It’s late after all, you probably want to go to bed now that you’ve had your tea. It’s making him sleepy too, but the anxiety he feels is almost nullifying the tea’s effects.

Taking a deep breath, Law finally speaks up again, not meeting your eye.

“I want to tell you about my past,” that makes you perk up, remembering what Penguin had said to you months ago, “But I don’t think I can tonight. It’s…”

“A lot…?”

He nods, which you return, realizing this must be more than what Penguin could’ve meant, it has to be hard for Law to dredge up whatever memories he has of his childhood and teenage years, of everything that led him to where he is now.

Everything that’s leading him down the path he’s chosen.

“So,” when he finally looks up at you, you’re not surprised at how tired Law looks, it has to be taking a lot for him to do this, “I want to set a time in a few days, where you and I can sit, and I can tell you everything. “

You need to know before I could ever tell you my feelings anyway.

“Law,” Nodding, you quietly reach out your hand to his, not wanting to scare him off, “Just tell me whenever, and I’ll make myself available to listen, okay?”

After he agrees, Law offers to walk you back to your shared room with Ikkaku, which you take him up on even though you know the way. The Polar Tang is only so big, but it’s nice to have him by your side. Once you reach your door, Law turns to leave and you stop him, grabbing his shirt sleeve and leaning up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, his eyes widening just a hair.

“Thanks for walking me…and trusting me, Law. See you in the morning.”

You don’t give him a chance to say anything in response before you enter your room and close the door, sighing heavily as you bring yourself to the floor, Ikkaku watching you from her bed.

“Man, you’ve got it bad for the captain, huh?”

“…it’s that obvious?”

“As obvious as the fact he’s the same for you, girlfriend.”

While you don’t believe Ikkaku is correct in that statement, Law isn’t able to bring himself to move for several minutes, frozen in shock that you decided to kiss his cheek and just run off to bed.

It looks like you’ve got more to talk about than just his past now.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room. 

Three weeks had passed since Koschei’s death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassian’s arm and Rhysand’s wings. 

At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshed’s food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.

Azriel’s shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that they’d return in time. 

“Daddy.” 

Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home. 

“Yes, Nyx.” 

The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyx’s, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.

“We’re going flying. Do you… do you want to watch?” Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his mother’s leg as he stared at the ground. “I can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.”

Rhysand strained to smile. “Go ahead with your mother. I’ll join you on the balcony soon.” 

“Ok,” the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parents’ bedroom. 

Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands. 

“It’s ok, my love,” Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. “I don’t want you to keep Nyx waiting.” 

“Nyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.” 

Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre — she felt everything he did — but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord. 

“Take your time, Rhys.” Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. “I’ll be waiting with our son.” 

The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs. 

Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way. 

Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor. 

“Rhys—” The trio crowded around him. 

“Don’t say a fucking word, Cass.” They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. “I used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I can’t even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.”

He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyre’s side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie. 

After his mother and Selene’s death, he’d promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt. 

Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but she’d never taken his wings. She’d never touched them. She’d never even seen them. 

Poison-laced calls of Amarantha’s whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had. 

“I’m not an Illyrian anymore,” Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine.  

Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, “My mother died without her wings.” 

Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade. 

“At thirty-seven years old her father took a butcher’s knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.” She cocked her head to the side. “Tell me, was she not an Illyrian then?” 

“That’s not what I meant,” Rhysand said pathetically. 

“It’s exactly what you meant. But you’re wrong. Your wings don’t make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.” 

There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again. 

“Do you know what they say about you in the camps? And I’m not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.” 

Rhysand took his head. 

“The young females whisper about the day you’ll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris — to your precious city you’d never let come to harm. They talk about the shops they’d get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldn’t have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, you’ll recognize that they’re dreamers too who’ve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They don’t talk about escaping to a city they don’t know and don’t love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.” 

Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears. 

“Wings don’t make you an Illyrian,” she repeated, “It’s in your blood. It’s what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say “I’m not an Illyrian” again, do you understand me?”

Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes. 

“Azriel, could you—could you bring me my cane? Please?” 

His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves. 

It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes. 

It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.

“Still an Illyrian,” he murmured. 

It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him. 

“Still an Illyrian.” Emerie patted his arm. “I understand you’ll still feel some self-pity for a while. It’s natural, but… try not to do it in a room I’m in.” 

“I can do that.” Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. “Oh and Emerie.” She turned her head towards him. “Thank you.” 

“Do you want me to just cut it for you?” 

“No, I like the way Nesta does it.” 

“Since when did you get so picky?” 

“Since I lost my fucking arm, Mor.” 

You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasn’t until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss. 

A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue. 

Nesta gripped Cassian’s chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. “Who did this?”

“Emerie,” he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun. 

Today was the first time he’d sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadn’t gone easy on him. On the contrary, she’d taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcher’s board. He hadn’t been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy. 

It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and he’d never appreciated the Illyrian female more. 

Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude. 

Emerie only shrugged. She hadn’t experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but she’d learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight — about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage. 

“Did you go easy on him?” Nesta asked. 

Emerie snorted. “Obviously not.”

“She fractured three ribs, but they’re healed now.” 

“Very nice.” 

Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast. 

“Thanks, Nes.” 

“It’s the least I could do.” 

Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. “Don’t give me so much power, darling.” 

She huffed. “What power?”

“The power to win any argument in the future.” He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place. 

Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. “Don’t make me regret letting you live.” 

“That’s much better.” 

Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. He’d been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.

Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.

Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel. 

Now? Rhys asked. 

Yes, now! They’ve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. It’s honestly unnerving... Do you think they’ve already accepted the bond?

There’s no way in hell. We would have known. 

Azriel’s terribly good at keeping secrets. 

The fact that they haven’t been missing the last few months is proof enough. 

All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery. 

Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after  her. 

“It has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.”

“Oh gods,” Azriel muttered. 

Your face turned warm as everyone’s eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.

“You didn’t think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?” Gwyn teased. 

“We were kind of hoping you had,” you said. “Not that we aren’t happy or—” You glanced over at Azriel. 

The first night you’d woken up in the Dawn Court you’d tried to crawl into his bones — an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing you’d tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate. 

Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azriel’s hand under the table. 

You cleared your throat. “We weren’t sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait before—” 

“No more waiting!” Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. “I swear to the fucking gods, if you’re not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, I’ll have you force feed Azriel myself.” 

“We agreed we’d be gentle in our approach,” Elain reminded him. 

“There was a plan in place for this?” Lucien sputtered. “And you were a part of it?” 

She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story. 

“I think we are in need of a celebration,” Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months. 

She’d sat for every meal at Lucien’s side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes — memories of Jurian.

They weren’t fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.

You sucked in a breath. You’d spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches.  

But you’d agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy. 

Perhaps you’d both been wrong. 

Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong. 

Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azriel’s hair. 

“The cottage—” Azriel began.

“I’ll have it finished by tonight.” Rhysand promised. 

Cassian threw his one good arm around Azriel’s shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand. 

Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire. 

You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening. 

By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life. 

Azriel slipped out from under Cassian’s arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. “I need a moment with you.” He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes. 

One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyone’s whistling. 

Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest. 

You’d both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didn’t want to slap them in the face with joy. 

But now that you had everyone’s overwhelming approval, well… Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer. 

He pressed his lips to yours and didn’t let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive and—

Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. “In the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.” 

“Fuck off, Rhys.” 

The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same. 

Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. “I just wanted one last kiss before tonight.” 

“Tonight.” You nodded frantically. 

Tonight. 

You were doing this. You were really doing this. 

Then you realized what he’d said. “I won’t see you before then?”

“I don’t think the others will let us.” 

Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells. 

On the other side of your door you could feel everyone’s anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door. 

“I’ll see you tonight.” You whispered before stealing one last kiss. 

“Tonight.” Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, “Until then.”

Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy. 

You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.

“What do you think of this?” Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.

The clothier’s shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise — tthe pinnacle of privacy.

You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like. 

Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design you’d chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadn’t even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and she’d set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown. 

It was no wonder that she was Rhysand’s preferred clothier.

It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest. 

It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.

“Feyre, it’s perfect,” You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips. 

“An excellent choice,” Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.

You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed. 

Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But she’d been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear. 

It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when they’d found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.

Your brows furrowed in concern. “My mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?”

“Pfffft.” The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. “It will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after you’ve finished your shopping and we’ll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.” 

With a dress being sewn together at Farron’s, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress — the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler. 

“Which one did you decide on?” Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest. 

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Why not?” She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box. 

“Because that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,” you said, snatching the box out of her grasp. 

Nesta laughed. “What does it matter which pair she’s picked? It’s not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.” 

Your cheeks burned with color. 

Mor giggled at your shyness. “Don’t act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.” 

“Don’t act like you don’t benefit, love.” Emerie teased, squeezing Mor’s hip. 

“I never suggested such a thing.” 

Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath. 

You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.

It’s happening. It’s really happening. 

Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror. 

Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble. 

They were both blue for Azriel — for your mate — who currently stood awestruck by the door. 

You didn’t startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes. 

“What do you think?” You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom. 

You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azriel’s bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed. 

“I think… I think you’re a dream, Y/n.” He spoke with a sigh. 

He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch. 

He shook his head, as if disappointed. 

“No,” he corrected himself, “You’re far better than a dream because you’re real, and I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

“I could say the same about you,” you whispered. 

You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees. 

He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes — like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood. 

You couldn’t stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life. 

“I thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.” 

Azriel smiled. “I selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.” 

“That’s not selfish at all,” You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. “These are new.” 

“I may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.” 

“I like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.” 

Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering.  

You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head. 

Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, he’d be ruined… If he wasn’t ruined already. 

There was another reason he’d wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony. 

He’d been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds. 

But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again. 

The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck. 

He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.

Too long, master. It’s been too long.

Azriel’s eyes flew open. He’d nearly forgotten the shape of their words — the language that he’d been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together. 

They’d known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.

Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches. 

Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him. 

It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms. 

But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, They’re almost at the door. 

Gods he missed having them around. 

You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helion’s strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didn’t think they’d take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony. 

“Shit.” You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter. 

You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe. 

“My Y/n, what are you doing?” Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings. 

“I-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside but” — a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate —  “I see that’s not necessary anymore.” 

Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. “I’ll see you downstairs,” he whispered just as Lucien’s polite knock came at the door.  

“I’ll see you downstairs.” 

His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness. 

Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever. 

You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your father’s palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best. 

The largest room in the River House — the dining room — had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and baby’s breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.

“All kneel,” the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley. 

Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle. 

Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azriel’s head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldn’t be contained.

Azriel’s eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them. 

You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right. 

Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish. 

Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows. 

Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:

I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake. 

I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.

Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine. 

Until we return to the earth and hear the Mother’s song. Until the end of our days—

“Until death and beyond,” Azriel whispered the final vows. 

“Until death and beyond,” you replied. 

“Who the hell spilled the champagne!” 

The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysand’s shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck. 

Nyx sat at Amren’s feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes. 

Mor sat in the seat of honor — Emerie’s lap — whispering gossip in the Illyrian’s ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner. 

You were half-hidden behind Azriel’s wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony. 

Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple — all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day. 

Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and he’d wink before pointing threateningly in Azriel’s direction. 

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, “Do you think he’ll ever approve of me?”

“He already approves of you, he just doesn’t want you to know.” 

“He’s a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.” 

“Didn’t he once invite you to his bed?”

“That’s not very special coming from Helion.” 

You burst out laughing, attracting everyone’s attention as you buried your face in Azriel’s chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. 

Azriel’s laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument. 

Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence. 

For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.

There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen — a cake that you’d baked with Azriel’s name written all over it in invisible ink. 

Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden. 

“Mom.” Nyx tugged on Feyre’s wrist as she cleaned his cheek. “When will I get to float the lanterns?” 

Feyre looked to you and Azriel. 

The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky. 

“Now,” you smiled. “Let’s do it now.” 

You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane. 

“Not yet!” Rhys reminded him. “You need to let your aunt and uncle go first.” 

You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.

Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves. 

“This one’s for Velaria,” Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. “This one’s for you, Daddy.” A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his father’s hand. “And this one’s for Mommy.” 

“Why thank you, honey.” Feyre bent low, kissing her son’s velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms. 

“Is everyone ready?” You called out. 

Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky. 

Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards. 

There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns. 

“It’s all you, Nyx!” Azriel shouted. 

The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground. 

He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky. 

You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years you’d been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. 

You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you — at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes. 

You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight… and you wanted to see more.

Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded. 

Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone else’s attention was directed towards the sky. 

Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas. 

Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen. 

You didn’t even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting — Azriel’s favorite. 

The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist. 

“Don’t tell me you’re second guessing this now?” You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips. 

“I just… I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,” he whispered. 

He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw. 

His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you. 

It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body. 

When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky. 

What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder — a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable. 

Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting. 

“I want to go. Now.” You rasped. 

You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe. 

Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

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Author's Note:

Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...

THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)

THANK YOU FOR READING!

We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre

[cheolaholic]

ring of love; csc (09)

summary; agreeing to join vernon spectate an underground boxing match wasn't how you'd expect to spend your friday night. you also didn't expect to see seungcheol, someone you've lost contact with for years, become a part of the ring.

modern! au • boxer! au • hhu focused • multiple kinds of tropes • fluff, angst, smut

chapter warnings: stalking, creep behaviour, reader receives an inappropriate package, mentions of Richard Ramirez, mentions of a threesome.

a/n;; AND WE ARE BACK TO UPLOADING BABY!! Have an early Christmas Gift <33

Something feels… off – that was the best way you could put it. A few months have passed since you started your part-time job at the cafe, but you can’t help but shake off a sense of uneasiness. You couldn’t really put a finger on it, but it’s as though someone was watching you; maybe even following you.

You feel a pair of eyes wherever you go around campus, sometimes even up to the front door of your apartment’s main entrance. It can’t have been Seungcheol or either of the boys because while Mingyu and Vernon had done an absolute shit job at “keeping a close eye” on you; you knew they would never go to such lengths to cause you such discomfort.

“Nonnie?”

“‘Sup?”

You were both sitting in the cafeteria with Vernon halfway through his food while you were poking at the sad excuse of a meatloaf. “What would you do if you felt as though someone is following you everywhere?” Vernon’s ears perked at the implication that you may be dealing with a stalker, becoming alert as he gave you his attention. “Have you seen the guy?” he asked, growing worried when you shook your head.

“When did it start?”

You shift a little in your seat, “I don’t know… Maybe a few weeks after getting that job at the cafe?”

Vernon frowns. He knew you were pretty, hell, that was the reason why several boys from his major came up to him to try and get your number. He’d always reject, saying that he wasn’t comfortable giving out your number so easily; or that if they wanted your number, they should grow a pair of balls and ask you themselves. But, he’d never think that someone would go as far as stalking you.

“Have you told Seungcheol about this?”

“He… He’s still avoiding me…” you mutter sadly, “I mean, yeah, he does reply to my texts and he even gave me the study materials I needed for my exams; but… y’know, he’s still being avoidant…”

‘Damn… It’s been months and he’s still hung up on that wet dream.’

“But, he should at least know this is going on, right?”

You shake your head again. You recall the many times Seungcheol has gotten you out of trouble, or gotten himself into trouble for you while growing up. While he brushes it off as something he’d do for you in a heartbeat, you can’t help but feel as though you were burdening him. You remembered there was one time you had accidentally broken one of his mother’s China, you were maybe 10 years-old?

Your parents had gone on a short business trip to New York and thus, you stayed with the Chois. You had accidentally bumped into a chair and the plate fell out of your grasp. Seungcheol took the blame for you, telling his parents he wasn’t looking when he set the table. He had gotten an earful from his parents, telling him he should’ve been more careful because the broken shards could’ve hurt you.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Cheollie? I-It was my fault, why are you–”

“I know, pup. But, whatever trouble you might get in, I’ll always bail you out, yeah?”

“But–”

“No ‘buts’, pup. I’ll protect you no matter how big or small the mess is.”

“Look, ___, I don’t know what’s making you think you’re a liability,” Vernon pauses to take a sip of his orange juice, “Because based on my observation, Jesus, I sound like Wonwoo hyung now… But, based on my observation, he’s more than willing to do anything for you. Study materials, late night snacks, emergency pad runs – he never says no to you.”

When you suggest that he may be doing it because he feels a sense of responsibility towards you, that he’s spent a majority of his life looking out for you; thus he’s compelled to do so even when you’re an adult, Vernon dismisses it immediately. “Look, I’ve seen Seungcheol hyung with some of the girls he’s dated. Sure, he does the usual boyfriend duties but, I don’t think he’s ever been as doting on them as he is with you.”

You look back down at your uneaten cafeteria food, feeling your appetite leave the more you stare at it. “You aren’t a liability, ___. Cheol cares for you like you mean the world to him.” You sigh as you set the fork down, pushing the tray of food away from you. “Maybe I’ll tell him if things go too far… You know any good food spots that’s still affordable? The cafeteria food today is just… nasty… I don’t know how you managed to eat this?”

“Oh, you got the meatloaf surprise,” he answers and motions you to follow him, “I usually go for the chicken katsu or jjajangmyeon! Not the best, but they’re sure as hell better than the meatloaf.”

“Speaking from experience, I presume?”

“Girlie, I had the worst food poisoning in my entire life! Anyways, have you heard of this Open Mic the school’s planning to host?”

“This assignment requires you to work in pairs,” your professor announced, “And, I’ve done you all a favour by choosing your partners for you.”

The class groans, you included as you cross your fingers and beg the Academic Gods to give you a reliable partner. “I understand that you’d all don’t want to get paired with someone whose work ethic you aren’t familiar with, but believe me when I say that it wouldn’t kill you to work with others.”

You continue to chant your prayers quietly as she begins to read out the names. “Lee ___ and Lee Chan.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve worked with Chan for a group project while you were both freshmen and you’ve mentally noted him as one of the more reliable classmates. Though, your course doesn’t require you to do much group projects so that freshmen project was the first and last time you’ve interacted with, until now that is. Chan gently knocks the empty desk space next to you to pull you out of your train of thought.

“___, right?” he asked, a big smile on his lips as he took a seat next to you, “We were in that one project two years ago, right?”

You let out a small laugh, “That’s me and yes, we were.”

“I’ve seen you around campus with Hansol and a few other seniors! You work at that cafe near campus too, right? How’s the job treating you?”

‘That’s… a lot of questions…’ you think to yourself. But, you politely answered his question anyway. You tell him how you never knew cafes put so much sugar in their drinks until you started working, leading you to order your drinks with less sugar. “The pastries are freshly baked, too! I don’t know where news or rumours of them being leftovers or stored overnight came from, but they aren’t.”

You notice how Chan leans in slightly, his eyes scanning your face.

“Y’know, you’re actually prettier up close.”

His statement… To say it weirded you out would be an understatement – you were creeped the fuck out. Could he be the guy that’s been giving you the heebie-jeebies as of late? You sure hope so, or maybe not. But, either way, you tried to brush off the anxiety that’s beginning to rise in your chest.

“T-Thanks…?”

Chan opens up his laptop, tapping on a few keys on the keyboard and moments later, you receive a small text from the chatroom of the platform your school uses. “I sent you a link to a Google Doc! We could just write out our parts and brainstorm how we can link them together once we’re done!”

You nod your head, clicking into the link.

“Do you live nearby, ___?”

“Mmm… No, I actually commute to school. Occasionally, Vernon would pick me up from Sujeong Central since it’s a five minute walk from my apartment.”

It takes you a moment to realise you’ve just exposed your residential address. When Chan asks if it’d be okay to go back to your place to discuss the assignment, you reject immediately. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude or harsh,” you explained, “I’m just uncomfortable with having people I’m not familiar or close with over at my house.”

The boy nods in understanding, muttering a small apology before turning his attention to the professor as she explains the assignment.

Mingyu and Wonwoo leaned against the former’s black 2022 Genesis G90. You were working your night shift and the group, excluding Seungcheol, have taken it amongst themselves to be your personal bodyguards. They’d drive you home if you’d work the night shift, wanting to make sure you actually got home safe and not having anyone trailing you.

“Any luck in finding out who this creep could be?” Mingyu asks, looking into the windows of the cafe and returns the small wave you gave him.

“So far, zero,” the older replies, “Whoever this creep is, they’re good at covering their tracks or not being caught.”

“Do you think they’re from our university?”

“Given the location of this cafe, I’d say yes. But, we also have to factor in the dodginess of her residential area.”

“Do you think we’d catch this guy? I honestly hate seeing ___ getting so worked up over this…”

“We just need more time.”

Lost in their conversation, the two men failed to notice you picking up a box on one of the cafe tables. There was a printed paper stuck on it, stating that it was a little gift addressed to you. You thought it was cute, a customer having a crush on their barista like in the movies or books you’ve read. But, when you opened it – it was far from a romantic gesture. Mingyu noticed you frozen in place, a look of fear on your face as you stared into the box in your hand.

Nudging Wonwoo, they entered the cafe and approached you to ask what was wrong. When the older male peeks into the box, he immediately grabs it to set it aside. “Do you remember who sat here?” he asks.

You shook your head. It had been a busy day and with the amount of customers coming in and out, the crowd just blended in together; and why would you remember the face of a random stranger?

Mingyu continues to comfort you as the older begin to examine the contents of the box – several pictures of you around campus and in the cafe were printed out, alongside a pair of… men’s underwear. ‘With men like these existing, it’s no wonder why women choose bears,’ he thinks to himself, remembering the hot internet debate a few months prior.

“Do you still want to go home?” he asks as closes the box, “I’ll hold onto these until we catch the bastard.”

When you shake your head, they suggest you stay over at their place for the time being. “Are you sure? I mean, that’s nice of you both to offer me that, but I don’t want to –”

“Mingyu hasn’t been bringing girls in since hell week of his semester started,” Wonwoo adds, allowing you to resume your closing shift, “He’s cleared up his schedule too, so you’re safe from hearing two or more models having sex.”

“And, what about you?” you questioned, “I remember Cheollie mentioning you both had a threesome before.”

The man only shrugs, “Only if I feel like it. I’m either studying, gaming or streaming the majority of the time.”

“Well… If it’s safer, then I suppose I’ll take you both up on that offer. But, I don’t have any spare clothes… Should I head back home to get them?”

Mingyu mentions some of the models he slept with left their undergarments and several clothes behind. “Some of them could be your size, plus you can keep them too!”

“Wouldn’t they want them back?”

“Nah, a lot of it has been sitting in my closet for years now.”

“And, they’re loaded – they could just buy another one.”

Given how many girls Mingyu would have over, it’s no surprise that their apartments would have feminine hygiene products. But, it does surprise you to see how expensive the products were. “Oh, a majority of the models I know and fool around with only use luxury or high class brands.”

“And you bought it just for them?”

“Believe me, ___,” Wonwoo hands you a cup of tea, “If Mingyu isn’t shoving his dick into every female model he finds attractive, he’d be a good boyfriend.”

They lead you into a spare room, letting you get comfortable before they start going over the details of the creep that’s been giving you trouble. “My bet is on that Lee Chan you’re partnered with,” Mingyu says as he takes a seat next to you on the bed, Wonwoo asking him why as he takes a seat on the empty gaming chair at the desk.

“I mean, if you think about it, he said you were much prettier up close; which is already creepy in and of itself. Plus, he asked if you lived nearby and if he could go back to your place to work on the assignment!”

“On one hand, that’s a fair point; but maybe the kid is just a loser in a cute boy’s body that doesn’t know how to talk to girls, too. He probably lacks some kind of social cues.”

“Are you defending a creep’s actions now, Woo?”

“Jesus, Mingyu, I’m only giving the kid the benefit of the doubt.”

When you tell them that it’s unlikely Chan is your stalker, Wonwoo is quick to end that train of thought. “___, I’m only giving Chan the benefit of the doubt. But, that doesn’t mean he’s off the hook just yet, considering the things he’s said to you.”

“But, he looks like a sweet guy!”

He raises an eyebrow, “Just because he looks like a sweet guy, doesn’t mean he’s actually a sweet guy.”

“Yeah, like that Night Stalker dude from L.A.,” Mingyu chimes in, “Think his name was Richard Ra… Ramuda? Ramida?”

“Richard Ramirez.”

“Yeah, him! Sure, he’s got some looks, but dude’s a literal murderer! Hell, I can’t believe people would want to bang him!”

“I mean… I would fuck ghostface if given the chance…” you mutter under your breath, getting a judgemental look from the model. Thankfully, Wonwoo justified your statement. “I’m with her on that ghostface statement. It’s a niche market or target audience, it has its appeal.”

“You’re both freaks, but at least that’s a fictional character. Moving on from both of your masked people's kinks, ___, I think it’s best you let Seungcheol know about this.”

You insisted on not telling Seungcheol, continuing with the whole not wanting to be a liability defence and that you were a big girl now; you can handle yourself just fine! No matter how hard the two men tried to persuade you, you wouldn’t budge. For a brief moment, Mingyu could’ve sworn he saw Seungcheol inside you because he too shared the same stubbornness. Realising they can’t get you to change your mind, the men gave up and bid you goodnight.

“You can stay here for as long as you’d like!” the model tells you, “Maybe, even forever!”

Wonwoo scoffs, “As if Seungcheol would let her.”

gamerwoo: hey hyung cheol: sup gamerwoo: ___ would kill me if she found out i told you this gamerwoo: but just a heads up gamerwoo: she’s got a stalker gamerwoo: will let you know when you need to step in

taglist (unable to tag a few ㅠㅠ)

@yoonclip @1004luvangel @catjunhui @mystikha @spk93 @tinkerbell460 @yoozuku @dnylwooo @christinewithluv @limbomoon @plutoxxxworld @i-give-up-1234 @m1ngyuc0re @yunloyal @leclercloverbot @bettybeako @billboard-singer @ocyeanicc @krupyadoorrahe @seobinnieshi @xcynthiaaa @k411z @disneyprincesshuri @sunnyapp @khxsh @staygenezy @loufi8iepuff @ursweetener @noisypapergalaxy @wonwootakemyheart @sugainpinksweater @leah-rose03 @thisisnotthelastofus @yearnoclock @kwonhoeshi @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @ru-lin @deobiforever @belladaises @cheoliekkuma @duskunt1ldawn @hyneyedfiz @marshmallowshouse @ak6ko @chwevernonlover @jejuboo-s @tsukinluv @atinytinaa @gyros-cum-sock @soupbinlily @jungwoos-luvr @ener-energy @watermelon-sugars-things @cyberpunkhwx @ddaengpotate @nightwingsrobbinhoods @chaerrylov3r @joshuaahong @wonussmile @uliceeeeeeee @wonwoo24 @shinetogether17 @simplejihoon @luvkpopp @minhui896

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.6

06 : SELFISH DESIRES

SUM : it's your chance to make amends and push aside your selfish desires - your heart will ache but they're worth it 

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; angst ; idiots in love ; unexpected turn of events ; sirius is the main character here ; jk jk ; it's you~ hehe~ ; you'll see what i mean ; wolfstar have a heated argument ; i almost cried writing it ; i hate seeing them like that ; poor james ; james needs a hug ; regulus makes an appearance! ; dramatic sirius black ; regulus is a good brother ; sirius being an instigator ; we love him for it though ; you can't just leave them again! ; no fluff here kiddos ; but kiddos stay away! ; just cover your innocent eyes! 

LENGTH : 3.7k

← PREV. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

“You’re disgusting,” Sirius manages an indifferent glance over at his younger brother before resuming his miserable, unmoving position on the sofa — Regulus’ sofa. The obvious detachment Sirius has to the situation only stirs his younger brother’s bubbling anger, “It’s almost been a full month! And you’re letting yourself rot away on my sofa; get a hold of yourself!” No response. Regulus shakes his head with a drawn out sigh, “you usually don’t stay around this long whenever there’s an argument… I wonder what’s happened this time…”

Deeming his older brother completely hopeless, Regulus returns to his sparse but sleek kitchen just as the kettle whistles its readiness to be poured for tea.   

Sirius breaths an audible sigh and grimaces at the stench of his breath. The mix of excessive alcohol, countless cigarettes and mountains of junk food didn’t make for a good concoction on his tongue, definitely not for fresh breath. When was the last time he had brushed his teeth? He brings a hand up to push straggling strands of hair away from his view but grumbles when the curls had knotted up too much for him to comb his hair back uninterrupted. Stone grey eyes look down at his figure, stagnant and pale, weighed heavy from low spirits. 

What followed the night you left their flat was the worst fight they have ever had. It was mainly between him and Remus while James remained in the background, too downhearted to contribute anything to the verbal warfare happening before him. He was spoiled with love since birth. As an only child with loving parents, who never fought in front of him, whenever Sirius and Remus argued, James was left paralysed with despair. It was always shocking to him how nasty those fights became; his parents never fought like that. Sirius could see it in his sweet hazel eyes that James wanted desperately to have peace but didn’t know how to steer things in that direction. He had tried before, many times, to defuse the situation but both Sirius and Remus were too stubborn and hot-headed from the argument as well as their suddenly stark differences in opinion to back down. 

As unfortunate as it is to think about, these fights happened often, recurring in the same exact way – originating from opposing opinions, primarily between him and Remus. They would try to keep it together but it would just keep piling up until someone snaps and then there’s no dispelling their disputes. James either takes a side or none at all (usually the later) and Sirius storms out of the flat to stay with Regulus. 

He should feel guilty for being such a burden to his younger brother. He should have more pride in himself than to allow Regulus to ever see him in such a depressed and unpleasant state. Lack of hygiene, self care and self maintenance manifests into something so repulsive and unsightly, Sirius would usually be back and making amends within a week or two – encouraged by his own lack of cleanliness and his commitment to run from the disease of laziness. 

But it’s been more than that now. Nearly a month, Regulus says. Time just passes by, slow and tolerant, so unlike him, and yet, Sirius still managed to lose complete track of it. This is the longest they’ve ever had a dispute without reconciling.  

His own stubbornness is definitely a factor. He had been right all along. If only they, mostly Remus, had listened to him. James was fully on board but Remus was stubbornly defiant and managed to convince the former otherwise. 

“Do you think she’s the type of person who would embrace such an unconventional relationship with open arms?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony,” Sirius grits his teeth, his inner thoughts and reasoning ached to be heard and let out coherently. In his mind, it all made sense to do things the way he suggests, so why couldn’t his boyfriend understand him?! It doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to listen to him at this point! “She won’t understand if we don’t say anything to her! We have to be forward and bold! Do it now before something happens!”

“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen!”

“How can you be so sure? We need to be honest with her, it’s not fair to her and it’s, frankly, deceitful to keep her in the dark about all this!”

“We can’t be too sure that she’ll accept us. If that happens then we’ll never see her again– I don’t want that, do you?!” 

“We won’t know unless we say something, do something, anything!”

“Please just trust me, Siri,” Remus begs, his loud voice lowering to a soft plea, his beautiful brown eyes no longer fierce or piercing but kind and warm again, with a hint of fear. Sirius can sympathise with that creeping terror, an anxiety that wants to swallow you whole and keep you in a dark abyss for eternity, “I don’t want to frighten her…”

The first time, Sirius gave in, weak for his love and weak for the reasoning behind his proposal on the matter concerning you. The dark-haired tattooist couldn’t fault his lover for that but, in hindsight, he should have argued his side more, maybe then, you wouldn’t have disappeared like that…

“Hey, your phone won’t stop pinging,” Regulus alerts, appearing out of thin air and surprising Sirius enough to sit up and alert with wide eyes, “will you finally read their messages to you?” with some reluctance, Sirius reaches for his phone and proceeds to look through his messages while Regulus takes a seat opposite him, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

The younger Black brother was just about to begin reading another one of his classic novel favourites when a rush of air flew by him, ruffling the small strands of hair and whipping about the billowing steam from his mug of tea. Moments later, the sound of his shower turning on full blast echos through his flat and a smile graces his lips. 

“It’s about time…”

Lingering guilt had plagued you all night long and you barely managed to get a wink of sleep. It, however, meant that you were able to better prepare lunch for the boys the following day. While cooking, you abandon all negative feelings to focus on only the good, not wanting any harmful emotions to diffuse into the food and saturate it with bad tastes. Your eyebags weren’t a pretty sight but it was easily fixable with a touch of makeup. 

You tried to look your best for the day. Fortunately, the early summer sun inspired your motivations further. Yes, you’ve made the terrible mistake of selfishly pushing them away to nurse your own battered soul and unrequited feelings, but this was your time to make amends, to make things right… to see Sirius again. 

You never felt right after you accused him of cheating on Remus and James with each other, only to find out that he was far more loving and loyal than that. You were embarrassed and ashamed to have ever thought so negatively about him, jumping to conclusions like an immature, thoughtless child. It was wonderful seeing James and Remus again, your heart was practically soaring in your chest as it disregarded all lingering feelings of misery and dejection. But now, your chest felt incredibly tight as your heart ached to catch a simple glimpse of Sirius.  

You carefully pack away the lovingly prepared food and desserts into your largest, most durable shopping bag before getting dressed. It was only natural that you managed to make more than you usually made for the boys, seeing as you wanted to spoil them rotten after being so childish the last few weeks. Since the weather was pleasant, you opted for a cute mini dress with a light, flowy material that was comfortable and soft. Over top, you wore a cropped cardigan that had long sleeves, enough to reach past your fingertips. For jewellery, you wore a simple necklace and slipped into a strappy pair of mid-heeled platforms that weren’t too tall. Casual but cute. 

Approaching the studio doors, your grip on the strap of your bag tightens and your breath hitches. They hadn’t taken the notice down and the bold, red letters of their ‘CLOSED’ sign glared at you angrily. 

Were they inside? Should you knock? Neither Remus or James actually agreed to your sudden choice to meet for lunch the night before. Did this mean that they didn’t want you to be in their lives anymore?... But… but you wanted to make things right! You wanted to apologise! You want to be friends with them again! You’ll tell them right away – tell them how you would do anything just to remain by their side, even if it’s just as a friend, you’ll be happy for them! You won’t be selfish anymore, you won’t covet anything more than friendship with them, that’s all you want! Not that they’ve ever heard of your true desires—

“Well?” A familiar voice speaks up behind you, putting an abrupt end to your panicked inner monologue, “Aren’t you going to knock?” 

Swiftly spinning in place, you smile brightly at the biker and tattooist standing before you, dressed in all black, with heavy, lace-up boots and his signature leather jacket, “Sirius!” 

He doesn’t breathe a word to you, eyeing your hefty bag before briefly meeting your eyes and making his way over. His long strides made it so that he reached you in no time but he didn’t stop. With a light gasp, he had backed you up into the left of their studio’s double-door front entrance. You held your breath and kept your eyes shut tight, not knowing what to do as your heart pounded deafeningly against your eardrums. 

A moment passes and you feel his hand brush against yours before your portly bag of packed food is taken from you. A wave of relief washed over your aching shoulder as the weight disappeared but such a diminutive alleviation of discomfort couldn’t swamp the trepidation in your heart. Sirius was different. 

“Siri–”

“Let’s head inside,” he had opened the right hand door and easily slipped through with your bag. Alone and in the quiet, you felt like crying. You wanted to cry, desperately but you knew that it would offer little to no reassurance. So, with a heavy heart, you followed Sirius inside and closed the studio door behind you. 

The air was stale but, in it, lingered a familiar scent that you had come to love, it was a clean, almost clinical smell from the regular use of disinfectant and bleach. You love this parlour so much, it was filled with so many good memories, ones of soft affection through tender words and gentle caresses. Despite the earlier interaction, you couldn’t help but smile just from the wave of romantic sentiment washing over you. 

“You’re here,” Remus greets with a tired smile as James sits on the opposite end of the sofa with a shy grin directed towards you, his hazel eyes looking elsewhere.

“Sorry if I’m late,” you managed a weak smile, “I didn’t know if the door was open or not. Thankfully, Sirius was there to help me in,” Sirius didn’t sit down despite the many available seating spaces and chose to lean his back against a far wall, instead. James couldn’t meet your eyes and Remus was sneakily massaging his temple as he leaned his face against his large hand, “let’s eat, shall we? I hope you guys are hungry,”  

It was never this awkward. Or quiet. Especially when sharing your homemade lunch together. James would usually be giving you endless praise through large, mid-chewed mouthfuls while Sirius laughed at the ridiculous sounds and faces he’d pull trying to speak coherently through the mouthful of food, and Remus would shake his head, his amusement by the display evident in the warm glimmer of his eyes. However, James doesn’t have as big of an appetite today and Sirius stands alone with his tupperware, barely touching his food. Remus is the only one eating a substantial amount besides you. Although, you’ve gradually slowed your own chewing. 

What have you done?... 

What happened to all of you?

Your shame brought your gaze down, making your head weigh heavier than usual as you give up on communicating anything with the boys. This wasn’t how it was meant to go…what should you do now? The pain in your heart was unbearable. 

Shoulders slumped and confidence dried up, you struggled to think of what to do. You should have prepared a speech or something. It was naive of you to think that simply coming over with a homemade lunch would fix anything. Things are never going to be the same, no matter how much you hope and pray for them to be. 

You’re hopeless… completely and utterly hopeless…

This was your worst fear come to life. You had feared rejection but seeing them unloving towards each other, barely communicating and broken apart, your stomach collapsed in on itself as your heart fell to a million pieces. You didn’t utter a single word of loving them romantically aloud and yet, you still managed to get in between their relationship. This was a sentiment of how selfish of a person you are. 

How could you do this to them?! They were your friends, who saved you from the worst night of your life, and you repay them like this?! Shameful. Disgusting. You don’t think you could ever look at yourself in the mirror again.  

The skirt of your mini dress blurs on your lap and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. The tears, however, you couldn’t stop them. Hopefully, they’re all too distracted to see you silently weeping and you can gather yourself before turning tail and running out of there. 

Today is a complete disaster—

“Don’t cry, angel, please!” James jumps up and rushes to your side, kneeling down at your feet as he takes your hands in his and tries to meet your gaze through the puddle of tears in your eyes. His words immediately catch Remus and Sirius’ attention and they both begin to make their way over, evident worry swimming in their eyes but you refuse to acknowledge any of that as your mind drowns in all manner of negative thought.  

You shake your head, hearing the flurry of footfalls around you and wishing them away silently, “I shouldn’t have come here today…” you whisper. 

“What was that?” James patiently asks, voice soft and sweet and kind, it makes you want to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you speak clearer and stand abruptly, “enjoy the lunch,” the haste and sorrow in your shaking voice makes their heart drop and they’re brought back to that fateful night once more. You don’t meet their eyes as you turn and push past them to leave, almost running through the hallway of their studio just to reach the door and make a quick escape. 

“THIS!” Sirius’ roaring voice suddenly cuts through the studio like a knife, making you stop in your tracks and turn around slowly. The door to the lounge room was still open, before it Sirius and Remus stood in an aggressive confrontation, both taking on a defensive stance as they faced each other, all while James remained in the background, clutching at his head as he slumped forward on the sofa, “THIS IS WHAT I MEANT! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME–” 

“I DIDN’T SAY WHAT I SAID WITHOUT REASON SIRIUS! YOU KNOW MY EXACT THOUGHTS ABOUT ALL THIS!” Remus shouts back, the veins in his neck bulging out from his fierce anger, the blood rushing in his cheeks making him look just about ready to violently explode. 

“BUT–”

“—YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR THAT!” Remus continues, not allowing Sirius to speak.   

“WELL YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR MY REASONING EITHER!”

You’re horrified at the scene. Sirius and Remus look ready to tear each other apart as James looks on hopelessly, not knowing what to do or how to diffuse the situation, completely torn between supporting one or the other. Without thinking, you rush back and skid to a stop between the two hot-blooded men. Their fuming rage was like a turbulent inferno whose flames licked viciously at your skin, ready to burn you and spread the hostility. 

“The both of you need to calm down!” you shout, pushing them away from each other and creating a safe distance between. Your tears had already run dry, replaced by the trembling terror shaking your limbs. 

“Don’t worry about us Dove,” Remus manages to voice through gritted teeth, his glowering eyes never leaving Sirius’, “you can leave and we’ll sort this out,”

“Sort this out like usual huh?—”

“—Don’t taunt me, Sirius,”

“That won’t solve anything, you idiot!” Sirius flings his arms up and James just barely manages to pull you away from being accidentally hit. Neither of the two seem to notice and James expresses his apology in lovingly nuzzling your temple, his lips puckering to kiss your skin but refraining and stepping away abruptly. You try not to feel the heartache his actions elicit in you.

“SHUT UP!” you’ve never heard Remus sound so angry and venomous before, it makes your heart stutter in fear and worry. You can’t leave now; this disagreement can’t end well without some form of intervention and James isn’t fairing too well with that – he needs someone there for him too, just to feel, somewhat, grounded through all of this, “She doesn’t have to hear all of this!”

“We wouldn’t have to be saying ‘all of this’ if you had. Just. LISTENED. TO. ME!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” Sirius growls lowly, his countenance scrunching up into a foul expression —an antithesis to his elegant features, “I’ll show you!” it was then that Sirius turns to face you and approaches with purpose in his long strides, unstopping like he did earlier when outside the studio. 

“SIRIUS—!”

Sirius backs you up into the wall behind you, “—Everything Could Have Been As Easy As Doing This!” you didn’t know what to prepare yourself for but Sirius firmly gripping your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss was not one of them. In your shock, you let out a surprised but muffled moan, slowly falling into the blissful embrace and reciprocating eagerly. 

Did you faint earlier? Was this all a dream?... 

…Dream or not, you like this very much!  

James and Remus watch at the bold display, disbelief shining clear in their eyes as Sirius has his way with you. But you don’t see them, you don’t see anyone or anything, all you know is that Sirius kisses like an experienced lover from fantasy and he wasn’t shy about loving you up. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you let Sirius guide them over your head to cuff your wrists together with his large hand, his other snaking around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss. 

He tastes like spearmint gum and smokey cigarette smoke, his lips tinted in cherry lip balm for sweetness. What an addictive taste. You can’t get enough. 

But air is a necessity and just as you were beginning to run out of breath, Sirius pulls away, panting heavily. He doesn’t wait for a single second to pass before diving his head into your neck, where he peppers feathery but fervid kisses along your sensitive skin and smiles to himself when you slip out a moan. You sound beautiful. He needs to hear more. Sirius doesn’t stop, he sucks and licks and kisses and nuzzles along your neck like the tease he is, drawing out every quivering whimper and pretty moan you were desperately trying to contain. 

You keep your eyes tightly shut, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of Remus or James. Their gaze on you left behind a searing, phantom mark that developed into a displeasing itch. An itch that could only be satisfied if they kissed you too.

…So selfish. God! When will you stop?!

Ashamed of your gradually increasing volume, you seal your mouth shut in a stubborn attempt to suppress your pleasure. How did his lips and tongue feel so good on your skin? His touch made your knees weak and your legs shake, without his support, you don’t think you would stay standing for long. 

Just as you were able to swallow every embarrassing sound that tried to escape, James was beside you, his warm breath on your cheek as he silently urged Sirius to give way, “you need help staying quiet, angel?” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s closing them to kiss you sweetly. It started off sweet. Sweet and loving like James before suddenly becoming very dominating and overwhelming. You were being devoured and the thought was undeniably arousing. They were both on you, Sirius kissing away at your neck as James savoured the taste of your lips before bullying his way into your awaiting mouth. He swallowed your moans for you as Sirius defiantly persisted, urging you with seductive lips to make more.  

Overwhelmed but so content. 

You were drowning in bliss and you never wanted to break away from it. 

“DIDN’T I SAY!” Remus shouts, stopping all activity and leaving you strung up high as the boys slowly pull away, not too far but enough for all of you to meet Remus’ unreadable stare. The boys look over their shoulder to observe their commanding lover, their large frames tense before moving their eyes down and slowly smirking, the tension evaporating off their figures as you’re left to rebuild another tower of anxiety from your lower stomach, “Didn’t. I. Say. We. Were. Going. To. Savour. Her?”

What?

Your shocked, wide-eyed stare meets Remus’ cool and, almost, unfeeling gaze. Once again, your knees buckled under you and you were caught by Sirius and James. Held in place by their hot, firm hands and the press of their toned physiques. 

What did he just say?

Unable to keep his stare, your eyes slowly fall down the tall brunette’s figure. Capturing his beautiful, full lips; taking in the delicious column on his neck; observing the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest; drifting down to gulp at his veiny arms and hands before landing on... 

Oh~

A/N : no fluff, but something better right? a little sneak peak on how i write spicy things but it's readable hehe~  

NEXT. | 07 : APOLOGISE AND COMFORT →

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

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[shirefantasies]

Hi!

Once you feel up to it, could you please write a oneshot of Fílí meeting a hobbit girl on his way to the Bag End and falling helplessly in love with her?

I have always imagined that Fílí and Kílí had arrived to Hobbiton a whole day early and spent it walking around - that, given how lost their uncle always was, Dís had sent them on the road earlier than necessary to ensure that they arrived in time.

So when they arrive to Hobbiton, the brothers are left to explore the market - and that’s when the coup de foudre happens - Fílí sees a hobbit (with strawberry blonde hair, please, if you don’t want to do reader-insert) selling all kinds of flour and has very short conversation with her. To his utter disappointment and annoyance, Kílí is responsible enough to talk him out of buying the huge bag of flour.

And, to be honest, that’s the reason behind Kílí’s grin and Fílí’s smirk we see when Bilbo opens the door.

Thank you soo much!

Please, take your time and care!

🪻🌸🪻🌸🪻

‘Cuz’ of Death- Fili x F!Hobbit!Reader

This is so long in the making 😅 but yay, brain finally brained! Enjoy some Fili fluff 🥰

Warnings: one suggestive comment

Hobbiton’s rolling hills are green as ever as you struggle to pull the wheelbarrow along the path to the market. Your wares are your charge, of course, but that does not stop you in the slightest from wishing you had someone to share in your burdens. And your victories. Not that some great many victories are won in the illustrious world of flour salesmanship, but the thought still stood.

Thoughts. Such are yours for the remaining duration of the trip, flitting about your mind in fancy until you enter the bustle of tents being raised and tables being lain with all manner of honeys, meats, fishers' catches, freshly baked bread, and so many more colorful and tantalizing offerings of your great land. A smile fills your face at the sight. For some, they are overwhelming. For you? Your livelihood. Livelihood and the secret charm of possibility that you might meet someone you do not know, someone from some far reaches of the Shire. Or beyond.

Snorting at that particular notion, you heft bags of flour onto the table your neighbor was kind enough to set up for you, sorting them once all of them are up there for a moment of muscle rest. You hang your sign, a wooden piece carved for you by your father, and take up your helm of sale.

~

Sunlight has fallen such that it casts into your eyes; cursing your short form, you shade yourself with an arm as two shapes enter your line of vision. Tall shapes. Men? Dwarves? Dwarves, judging by their garb, which appears to be that of mountain folk. Heavy tunics, fur linings, heavy boots and beaded braids. They also are not so towering as the men you’d met on a trip to Bree once.

The blonde one's eyes slide between your wares and you, alternating until you break into a smile.

"Could I interest you in any of these fine flours, sirs?"

"Sirs," the black-haired one snickers, though completely without malice, only humor.

"What's this one?" Pushing his neighbor aside, Blonde points at a medium-sized sack.

“Buckwheat flour,” you answer with a smile, “Good way to make your cookies tender if you don’t use too much. That is, if you make cookies much. I’m not sure what you like.”

“I have been wanting to get into baking.”

“What are you doing?” Black Hair hisses, a whisper just loud enough for you to hear. “We’ve got the party!”

“Yes,” Blonde agrees jovially, glancing back to you, “It is prudent to bring a gift, isn’t it? What about a nice bag of-”

“We’ve got a while yet! I’m not carrying that around for an hour! Are you?”

“Well-”

“Come on, Brother.”

“Brother?” You burst out before you could stop yourself. The pair doesn't look so much alike- perhaps they each look like one parent.

“Oh, my apologies, madam,” Blonde whips around and gives a bow, spinning his hand as he folds, “Fili, at your service, alongside my little brother here.”

Giving your name, you accept Fili’s proffered hand and giggle as he presses a kiss to the back of yours.

"Kili," the little brother pushes in, offering his hand, too, "And we were just leaving."

"What about the buckwheat?" Fili turns from Kili back to you, leaning on your table. "I'm quite interested in the...tender cookies? What on earth does that mean? Does that make them firmer or less firm? Or more...chewy?"

"You don't bake." Kili again, this time with less urgency and a great deal more amusement.

Fili must have made some disastrous attempts, you think, unable to stop the amusement that begins creeping across your lips. You picture him hunched with a look of dramatized defeat over a pan of crumbled, blackened cookies with smoke spiraling off them.

"I could learn," the elder retorts in a surprisingly determined tone.

Something about it moves your heart, loosens it further, speeds it even. These dwarves are nothing like you expected- not in appearance, manner, or of course location there at your table traveling some humble Shire market.

"I could teach you," you tell him, running a hand through your hair.

"I'd like that," he replies, "We aren't here much longer, but this place is very beautiful. I think we'll be back."

Kili looks between you two, jiggling his eyebrows up and down as Fili suddenly kneels to the ground, rising again with a little pink flower pinched gingerly between his thumb and index finger.

"At least I will be for those baking lessons. Speaking of which..." He chuckles to himself. "A flower for a flour?"

After you accept the flower, Fili reaches for your sack of buckwheat flower yet again, only for Kili to knock his hand away, initiating a comical skirmish of slaps that finally cements in your eyes that these two are undoubtedly brothers. Your gaze bounces between each volley as you twirl your baby bloom, heart leaping at the feeling of it, at the imprint of Fili's mischievous smile and gleaming blue eyes upon the back of your brain.

"Ignore him," Kili finally says, breaking you from your flower-induced, pollen-dusted golden reverie, "He's looking for an entirely different set of goodies."

The confusion you feel at that last comment as you watch the younger dwarf physically drag his brother away from your flour assortment lasts all the way through the rest of the market, all your actual purchases, and even up to your trip to your cousin's house to deliver a loaf of bread your mother had made him.

The hearth is warm and the kitchen scented of the herbs he's preparing for supper and calming tea. He welcomes your steaming parcel of sourdough with open arms and puts a second fish and helping of vegetables on to roast while you chat about your day. Your unusual day.

A tale of your dwarf-filled day...interrupted by a dwarf. This one exactly what you've always pictured, even taller than the brothers and more imposing, complete with a long beard, tattoos, and an intimidating stare. He is quite blunt about the fact that he isn't familiar with you or Bilbo, but gracious as your cousin is he shoots you a look of sympathy and quickly slides you his other helping. His look quickly melts into frustration the more the dwarf goes on and takes from him and rearranges, sharing with you an exasperated glare that has you giggling.

"Dwarves," he shakes his head before opening the door to another, older one, "What is it with today and dwarves?"

"I don't know," you reply quietly, reaching up to gently caress Fili's flower, which you have tucked behind your ear.

The second dwarf, Balin, is surprised to see you there, but then, so are you to see him. He chuckles at that and asks you for direction, which you shyly give; when he asks about chairs, you lead him around the corner into Bag End's larger dining room, where the long table rests under a chandelier's cozy yellow light. Bilbo follows soon behind, peering skeptically at your little congregation with furrowed brows and muttered questions. The sound of the bell ringing yet again, however, distracts you from the hearty laughter of this new set of dwarf brothers. Tapping across Bag End's hardwood floor, you cross your cousin's home once more, slowly opening the great round door. Voices sound behind it, voices that increase in volume as Bag End opens wider to welcome them.

"I can't stop thinking about her. I tell you, Kee, she's going to be the death of me-"

"Ah!"

Perking up with a wide smile that quickly melts into more of a smirk and gets directed at his brother, there stands Kili before you.

“Well now, brother, look who it is!” Kili exclaims your name, still looking right at his elder sibling as he sticks a hand out your way. “Can you believe our good fortune?”

“No,” Fili answers with a smile, blue eyes never falling upon his brother from their gaze into yours, “I cannot.”

His eyes trace over from yours, catch sight of his flower still tucked up by your tresses, and he stumbles into your cousin’s home with parted, wordless lips. He stands so close to you you’d collide with a single step from either of you, finally darting his eyes away and surveying the warm light of Bag End.

“So this is the fabled hobbits’ home?”

“It is,” you agree.

“I love it,” he breathes, a glow of awe coloring his expression, “It suits you just like that flower. It’s cozy. Sweet. I can definitely foresee myself upon many a return visit here.”

“So are you Mister Boggins’s wife?” Kili interrupts, tone bordering on urgent.

“No,” you shake your head, “He’s my cousin. I’ve come to deliver him a loaf of bread, but what of travelers like yourselves? Why have you come to a party Bilbo was not even aware of hosting?”

Inching a wee bit closer, just a tad, Fili extends his hand just like before. Just like before you take it. Instead of pressing a kiss to it, though, this time he holds it fast, his grip strong and warm and sure. The hearth’s warmth feels much closer despite you standing at a door open to the night on the end farthest from it you could be.

“Could I interest you,” Fili asks, leaning so close as to almost whisper in your ear, “In an adventure?”

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