#felt just a bit more hearth's warming-y

[swasdoodles]

New icon for the season. Burrow as the Spirit of Hearth's Warming Presents.

[jar0fhoney]

PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 (NSFW) / PART 4 /

PART FIVE (NSFW)

Warning: Mentions of Pregnancy and virginity. piv.

You started Sunday the same way you always did. Wake up before dawn, start breakfast for you and Ma, stare out the window and think about the list of chores you could never keep up with.

“It’s a beautiful morning!” Your mother shuffled past your open door towards the kitchen, “Are you sure I can’t just handle all the work in the field today? Won’t you want to relax before your friend arrives?”

“Mother, please do not blow this out of proportion.” You scolded her light-heartedly, “I’m just going to do my work as usual, and when he stops by I’ll take a break-”

“My baby is getting courted by a big strong orc~” She sang out to you. You followed her to the kitchen. “How did you know he’s courting me?”

“So he is courting you.” She swayed back and forth in front of the hearth, throwing bits of kindling onto the fire.

“Well- I-”

“Y/n, don’t you remember. When I told you about the family that lived in the neighboring plot. The wife told me so much about how strange orc courting was, especially with her being human, and-”

“You didn’t tell me it was a half-orc family…” 

She turned to you with a devious smirk, “Wouldn’t you like to know about a half-orc family.” “MA!” You grabbed an apple from the table (a bright red one that matched the color of your face) and ran out the door. You weren’t really mad at her, but this entire situation was so out of your comfort zone. The only experience you ever really had with being pursued was desperately avoiding Milo for the past two years.

You glanced at the sundial in the garden. Three hours. You had three hours to try and get some work done in the field and shake off the nerves.

-

The tomatoes were a mess. No wonder, this was a corner of the field that had been sorely neglected this season. The sun was climbing higher, and the heat of its rays were beginning to lick the back of your neck. What time was it anyways?

“SO NICE TO MEET YOU- OH YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE!”

Your mothers voice was loud enough to carry all the way to your little corner in the tomato patch. You shot to your feet, craning your neck to see her enthusiastically fawning over a slightly nervous Khargaad. You could hear him nervously chuckling as the two exchanged words.

Well, might as well go save him. You looked down at your work clothes covered in grass stains and mud. Hair was sticking to the back of your sweaty neck. Gross. Probably didn’t smell pretty either.

Your mother caught you out of the corner of her eye and pointed excitedly, “THERE SHE IS!”

You cringed. Gods she was making all this fuss and you looked like you just crawled out of a ditch.

“Hello! I see you met Ma.” You were trying to casually wipe the mix of dirt and sweat from your face, wading over to them through the field. He felt his heart skip a bit when you got closer. You smelled so earthy. And the musk of your sweat was… it could drive him feral.

He started imagining all the ways he could steal you away and worship you. Fill you. Taste you.

“Um… Khargaad?”

He jolted out of his sinful haze, “I couldn’t show up empty handed.” He thrust a basket into your arms. It was laden with fancy imported fruits. “This- This is too much. This must have cost-”

“Hush now,” his voice was like warm honey, “I hunt big game, I can afford it.” He had a cocky little smirk on his face. You thanked him, motioning to follow you into the cottage.

He looked back at your mom one more time, “It was so nice to meet you, Ma’am.”

-

Your first lessons together went just as well as predicted. By the end he was properly frustrated, arms crossed and everything.

“The letters. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s all… mixed up.”

“Let’s just end it here for today.”

He was so cute like this. All flustered. 

He stood up from his seat, being careful to crouch as he easily exceeded the height of the ceiling. “Alrighty, let’s get to work.” He crossed the room in one long stride, pulling his shirt over his head. He looked strong, but not in the way statues are with their lean bodies and taught chiseled muscles. He looked like a man who ate well and worked hard. Your eyes wandered to the slight love handles that peaked over the waistband of his trousers. Gods you were no better than a man, thinking about how bad you wanted to feel him in your hands.

He glanced behind his shoulder, “Where first?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Khargaad.”

“Do you think I’m going to just leave with all this work to be done?”

-

He followed you like an excited puppy to the tomato patch you had been working on. You had tried to tell him that he didn’t need to waste the rest of his day helping with this. But he knew he didn’t need to. He wanted to. And who was going to stop him? Certainly not you.

He started on one end, and you the other, working slowly until you met in the middle. By the end, your hands were red and scratched up from pulling the thistle weeds. Of course, Kharghaad’s were so calloused that it was like he had a pair of gloves on. He gave a little gasp when he saw your sore fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything…” He scooped your small hands into his, as delicate as you would pick up a fresh baby bird.

Every time he touched you it was like this great release. Your mother, as loving as she was, never quite developed a touchy-feely nature. You were so used to it fleeting as soon as it was there. Quick handshakes, brushing against someone in the market. You craved physical touch.

So when Khargaad didn’t let go of your hands. When he held them so carefully and tenderly. So deliberately. You found yourself trying to memorize every little second of the moment.

“I’ll have to buy you gloves.” He muttered, picking out the little needles with surprising dexterity. He took his canteen and went to rinse off the skin. “I can wash my own hands, Khargaad.” You chuckled.

“But I want to,” He blurted out with immediate embarrassment, “Sorry, I guess you could say it’s an orc thing? It’s sorta like… we’re very communal. There’s no reason to do much of anything alone, if you think about it…” He sort of trailed off like he was getting ahead of himself. He paused.

“I hope I'm not smothering you. Maybe humans aren’t like that-” He went to let go of your hands, and a part of you cried out inside. You were tired of trying to play this stoic lone wolf character. It wasn’t who you were. It’s not who any of us are. We all need each other.

“Please, don’t stop…” You whispered to him, thrusting your hands back into his. You uttered the magic words. The words he had been waiting for. He pulled you into his chest. It didn’t matter how gross, hot, and sweaty the two of you were. Or that your mother was most definitely watching joyfully from the kitchen window. Nothing mattered. “Can we go somewhere?” His voice was muffled as he whispered into the top of your head. He was taking long deep sighs, taking in your scent.

“Please…” The need in your voice was palpable. He didn’t waste another moment, leading you to the forest behind your property. “Khargaad… the road is that way.” You motioned behind yourself. “I know a quicker way.” He glanced back at you with that sweet little smirk on his face.

Once past the treeline, the soft light of dusk struggled to breach the overhead foliage. You walked together for some time, before the sound of running water bubbled ahead. He had led you to a little clearing, where in the middle stood a circular style tent. A creek babbled away off to the side. The moon was full and provided plenty of light for you to take it all in. “Do you live here?” 

He nodded, looking down at you expectantly for approval. You grinned, “It’s lovely.”

He snaked a strong arm around your waste, pulling you in. His other hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face up to his. For a moment he hovered over you, as if waiting for your permission. You reached up to cup his face, thumbing over one of the tusks jutting out of his mouth.

His lips met yours. It started slow, like sipping on a glass of fine wine. Then it was hungry. Like you had both been starved. You were getting drunk off of the needy little grunts he was making, pulling you in flush with his body. You could feel him through his trousers, and it startled you out of your stupor a bit. You hadn’t been with anyone before, and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but this was a bit more than you ever imagined.

It was almost like he sensed your tension, pulling away to look into your eyes, “Let’s get clean.” He had brought his thumb up to caress over your cheek, planting a small peck before jogging to his tent. Watching him disappear under the flap, your mind raced. What if you weren’t ready? What if he’s not patient?

He bounded out towards the stream, beckoning you over. He started to frown as you got closer, like he could smell the apprehension coming off of you, “Do you need to go slower? Do you want to go home? Nothing has to happen. Nothing at all. You are in charge.”

He started unlacing the ties of his trousers. You instinctually looked away, giving him privacy he clearly didn’t need. With the sound of water sloshing you looked back at him submerged up to his sternum. You approached the water’s edge, looking down into the little bubbles churning in the current. “Hey… what’s wrong?” He waded over to the edge, leaning onto the grassy bank. There wasn’t any aire of seduction in his voice, just one of genuine tenderness.

You sucked it up and opened your mouth, “I’ve never done this before…”

“With an orc?”

“No like… I’ve never done this before… ever.” You winced as the words came out. You were a grown adult, this conversation shouldn’t feel embarrassing. But it did nonetheless.

“And so you don’t want to do this?” He didn’t seem fazed at all by the information. “No!” You yelped out a little too enthusiastically, “No- I mean, yes. Yes I do want to. I want you.”

You started to pull at the ties of your shirt, face so flushed it was probably glowing red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. You ripped the shirt off your head like pulling off a bandaid, exposing your chest to the warm summer air. You went to fiddle with the strings of your work pants. He still didn’t look away, and you didn’t ask him to.

And there you were, clothed only in moonlight. Khargaad thought, maybe the moon had come out just for you tonight, to see your beauty for itself.

You stepped down into the water. “Are you sure you’re human? Not a beautiful fairy playing tricks on me?” Khargaad was completely entranced by you, eyes roaming over the curve of your shoulders to the curves of your breasts.

You felt some of the tension ease, snorting at him “I don’t think a fairy would smell this bad.” He gasped a bit as if he had just remembered, grabbing a bar of soap he had retrieved from the tent. “May I?” He asked, lathering up the bar in his hands.

You nodded, letting him wade closer to you. You felt the palms of his massive hands begin to work themselves into your hair, massaging his fingers into your scalp. “Oh-” You exclaimed a rather embarrassing moan, but it felt so good. He finished and went to clean his own hair. “Hey, it’s my turn now!” You scolded him. He was more than happy to let you clean him. As he said previously, it’s a part of orc culture to do things with other people. That includes bathing.

And oh how he loved to see you doing orc things. Like wearing that yellow dress dyed with orc spices, and making those pickled eggs for him. It made him think about how great it would be to bring you home with him, to meet all of his family. For you to find a place in his tribe. He missed home a lot, and now you were a part of that picture. You finished running your fingers through the curls of his clean hair.

He heard the sloshing of water, turning around to see you drying yourself off. He joined you. You cast a quick glimpse below his waist, blushing furiously at his partially hard cock.

You walked together to the flap of the tent. The inside surprised you. It was so… cozy. “Ah-” He had leaned down to nuzzle into your neck, you loved the feeling of his tusks against your skin. He pulled you to what could best be described as a nest. A nest of pillows and blankets. He very carefully leaned you onto your back, “Is this okay?”

You giggled at him, “Yes Khargaad. I will tell you if I need to stop, okay?”

“Promise?” He leaned back on his knees, his olive green skin looking lovely in the warm glow of the lantern lighting the tent. His member was on full display, completely unashamed. The way it twitched in anticipation made your stomach flutter. “Yes.”

He lied down next to you, peppering little kisses in the crook of your neck. His hands began to roam your body, starting with your shoulders and slowly moving down to your tits. His calloused palm grazed over the sensitive peaks, causing you to let out a breathy sigh. He took your left breast into his hand, thumbing over your hardened nipple. He palmed your chest for a few moments more, like he was savoring each and every new part of you he explored. You felt his cock hard against your leg. You shifted your thigh, giving him just the lightest sensation of friction. The groan he mumbled into your skin made you feel hot between your legs. You clenched your thighs together, trying to get some relief.

His hand traveled down to your stomach, caressing the curves and grabbing a soft handful of skin. “Good…” He whispered. You shivered as his hand glided over your hips, so close to your entrance. He reached for the inside of your thigh, pulling it over into his cock. He let out another breathy sigh that left you completely slick with desire. His hand hovered over the mess of hair covering your mound. You opened your legs, giving him permission.

He started by slowly palming you, just beginning to give you the attention your pussy was desperate for. You felt a finger slip past your folds, getting drenched in the slickness. Khargaad shifted you up a bit so he could have better access to your chest. He dipped down, taking a nipple into his mouth and sucked playfully. “Oh f-fuck-” You were stuttering at the pleasure of it all. He grinned into your chest, “Keep making those noises sweetheart.” The pet name made your heart flutter.

He kept gently probing a finger up and down your slit, until he dipped one down just at the beginning of your entrance. His fingers were bigger than your own, but this wasn't so much of a stretch. He slowly sheathed the finger in you, “Tight.” He grunted. He made a come hither motion into that sensitive spot of your inner walls. You yelped out a completely sinful moan as he prodded you a few more times. His finger exited your hole, pulling the wetness of your cunt onto your swollen and sensitive clit.

“Khargaad-” Your hips bucked up into him as he swirled long languid circles around that little bundle of nerves. He pulled off, and sat back on his knees, “Can I taste you?”

It was the way he asked more than anything. Like he was close to begging for it. You nodded, spreading your legs for him. He settled down in front of you, using both of his thumbs to spread your lips apart. You felt the tip of his fat tongue probe your needy pussy. He reached up to play with your nipples, while he moved up to your throbbing clit. He started with light kitten-licks, making you whine and buck up into his mouth. That wonderful tongue of his made swirls and then quick flickering motions over the sensitive spot. At this point you were almost completely lost in pleasure, and reached down to thread your fingers through his soft brown curls. 

You were already sensitive when he started, so you were very close to finishing. You actually yelled when he inserted a finger into you. Prodding that sensitive spot while attacking your sensitive clit; it was making the most obscene wet noises. “Close.” That was all you could manage as he devoured you. There it was, feeling crushed over you like a ton of bricks. You coated this hand, legs spasming. He dipped down to lap up the remnants of your release. Your taste, your smell, the feeling of his hair clenched in your fist. He was addicted.

He leaned back, taking in his work. You had a hand on your forehead and a hand on your chest, calming down from what you just experienced. You glanced down at him, both hands on his thighs. His cock was completely erect, tip glistening with pre-cum. It was so heavy it bowed down under its own weight. “Y/n…” He was trying to figure out what to say next. His cock needed to be buried in your pretty little cunt. He needed to bottom out into you. He wanted to hear the sound of his heavy balls slapping against your skin with every thrust. But he couldn’t say that, though. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready.

So when you propped yourself up on your elbows, legs spread for him, he almost felt like crying. His human mate was so strong. So ready for him.

He crawled over you, pinning your legs over his shoulders. He took the base of his cock into his fist, guiding it slowly over your folds. You were so warm for him. He pushed his pulsating tip past your lips, wincing from the sensitivity. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you, but you were completely entranced watching his cock slide into you. His tip found your hole, sliding in but not going any further. He was absolutely strangeling the pillow he was resting his hand on, trying to maintain control. Khargaad was watching you, every little subtle expression. He kept sinking himself into you, stopping when you made the first wince of pain. He was big, and you were so tight. 

“Y/n?” You looked up at him through those pretty lashes. He nearly lost it all right there, just from the eye-contact. You got off of your elbows, leaning down completely. You gave a little nod, still making direct eye contact. Slowly and gently, he worked his way in until his hips were flush with yours. He leaned back, still buried in you, letting you adjust to the stretch.

He wouldn’t last long at all, seeing you like this. Your little face with knotted brows, arms thrown overhead. Khargaad brought his hand to your stomach, rubbing little circles into the soft skin with his thumb. You were perfect. Perfect to take his seed. Perfect for growing a little half-orc.

He wouldn’t yet, of course. Not until you were ready. For you, he would wait as long as needed. But his strange orc hormones and instincts craved it beyond explanation.

He began rocking out and back into you, keeping a slow languid pace. You reached out for him, and in an instant his head was nuzzled in your neck again. His pace started to ramp up a bit, earning little mewls from your lips. Oh he definitely wouldn't last much longer. “W-where…” His breath hitched in your ear. “Huh?” You were too flustered to try to understand what he was asking.

“Going to-” He was hissing and groaning, barely able to work out a sentence, “On your body- ah- or o-on the bed?” His motions were getting jerky. “Fuck- sorry- oh fuck.”

He pulled out just barely in time to empty himself onto your stomach. He fucked his rough fist through the climax, sighing at the sight of his seed coating your tummy. It felt a lot warmer than you expected, and much more… volume. He finally let go of his cock, reaching for a linen cloth and dunking it in a bowl of water he had set nearby. “I made a mess…”

He sounded so guilty, and you giggled at him teasingly. One of his hands cupped your face, while the other softly wiped the length of your cunt, messy from your own slickness. He wiped the cum that was coated across your stomach, being careful not to spill any on the bed.

“You did so good.” He started cooing sweet nothings to you while running his thumbs across your cheekbone, “Wore me out…” He chuckled, throwing the rag across the room. He yawned and stretched his arms above him.

“Do you want me to go home now?” You were all too familiar with the stories women told about men finishing and ordering them to leave. You didn’t quite have the confidence yet, to advocate for yourself. To tell him you wanted to spend the night wrapped up in his arms.

For Khargaad, this question felt like an arrow to the heart. Had he not done enough? To make it clear how badly he needed you with him? He laid down next to you, pulling you close, “I would kill the person who would try to take you from me right now.”

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

Here is Part 5 for you lovelies <3 <3 <3 btw Khargaad is living in a yurt, that's what I was trying to describe lol.

I attached a playlist I put together. These are the songs I've been listening to while writing this, if anyone wants to hear the vibes :3

Tagged List <3

@reads-stuff-quietly @loo-looland @sluttygirl123 @beaniebaneenie @blushycadaver @sunndust @whyiamadegenerate @the-attic-of-porcelain @freakyotaku059-blog @youknowits-derea @thoughts-of-bear-undercovers @allthecraftandthings @gruffle1 @kennedyabraxas123 @queenies1x1 @jellyslimesofficial @jasminedragoon @rangoismyname @the-queen-of-sorrows @the-dumber-scaramouche @heddaloddafun @swimmingrascalbatdragon @hellodollstuff @wingedghostpepper @pistachioinfernal @honeybaegle @sammehshark @dij-ology @forgemotherkestrel @wafflefries786

[gaypirate420]

Last kiss // Jasper W. Hale.

Jasper Whitlock Hale x GN!reader

A/N: I literally cried while writing this.

Summary: You give Jasper a kiss, one of many, but not quite the same as the others.

Angst. Death. Blood.

Everything was spinning.

Your body is dropped into the hard and cold pavement, your sight was becoming blurry, the raindrops were falling over your face as your blood dripped down your neck,

You saw a shadow, a vampire what else could it be, running away full speed from your weak body.

You couldn't stand up, your body was starting to burn from the inside.

You screamed in pain and anguish of your destiny.

"My darling!" That was Jasper, shouting in a tone you've never heard from him, you felt his cold arms hold you gently close to his chest.

"It's okay— you're okay— you're going to be okay, my love." He whispered desperately as his hand applies pressure on the wound of your neck, he's frightened, your blood smells so sweet—

The blonde vampire shakes his thoughts away and looks into your half lidded eyes.

"Y-yes. I-i'm going to be like you now, cowboy." You whispered in a weak and broken voice, you were shaking, maybe from the cold of the night or for the fear of what's to come.

Jasper shakes his head in denial.

"This— I didn't want this for you—not yet." He whispered back, his hand cupped your cheek and stroke your skin.

"I know, love, I know." You said softly meeting his golden eyes, you tried to smile but your chest was hurting in a way you never knew it was possible, making you whine instead.

Jasper wants to look away from you, but he can't pull away his eyes from your weak body.

The vampire wants to run, run to Carlisle and scream at him, beg him to save you in some miraculous way and keep you human just for a little longer.

To return what has been stolen from you this night, the right to choose.

But the vampire is frozen, frozen in place, kneeling down with you on his arms, looking at you as you suffer a slow and painful death.

"Is it going to hurt? T-the transformation I mean." You asked, your voice small, Jasper could only nod, his eyes were looking at you but they were vacant.

"Terribly, the worts kind of pain there is." He managed to say in a broken voice, he couldn't lie to you and he knew you only wanted the truth, to prepare yourself.

He kept you calm, using his gift to make it a little bit more bearable.

"I'll be fine." You whispered as your shaky hand cups his face, he leans into your touch and nods again, you smiled but your smile was quickly turned into a sorrowful expression.

Your eyes, those eyes he loves so much were welling up with tears, you gasped and the tears falled down your cheeks.

Your pain is too much for his gift but he wouldn't allow you to feel worse.

"Kiss me." You begged in a whisper that sounded painful, he looks at you, frozen in fear of moving and causing you more pain.

"Kiss me, Jasper, please, I need you." You repeated, the blonde vampire leaned down and closed the gap between you and him.

Your warm lips dancing with his cold ones, a perfect dance, a kiss full of love and passion.

"My last human kiss, just for you, my beloved." You whispered against his lips, Jasper hugs you tighter.

"Thank you. I will cherish it forever, love." He spoke with a soft voice, he smiled reassuringly and kissed your forehead. You whispered his name and how everything will be fine, how you and him will be together in a beautiful immortality.

Your whines and cries of pain broke his heart, he could only caress your skin and whisper how this is somewhat normal and that you'll get through it.

Minutes that felt like hours passed by, he knew it was a quick process, he has seen multiple vampires be created and felt their anguish.

But yours is one he can't bare.

You stopped speaking, the vampire is relieved that you don't have to be in pain anymore.

His golden eyes met yours, his dead hearth breaks into a million pieces when he sees the light in your eyes shut down.

It was absolutely terrifying feeling your body go limp on his arms, how your mouth make this final sigh and your head hanged low.

His cold lips meet your forehead and he picks you up on his arms.

Jasper starts walking almost on autopilot to his home, trying to process everything that is about to happen to you.

It was a long walk, but he made it.

No one said a word, for the first time the house full of vampires fell silent. They only watched him hold you and bring you upstairs to his room, shutting the door and not letting anyone in.

"I love you." He whispered against your ear as your lifeless body lies down on his bed.

"I'll wait here, I'm not going anywhere, you'll see me when you wake up again— and you will wake up." Jasper whispers but it sounded like he was trying to comfort himself the way you'll do it.

He kissed your cold cheek and hold your hand.

And now the vampire waits for you to return to him.

[honeysickledream]

'Overgrown' - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader | Chapter Two

(photo credit: me [@honeysickledream])

warnings/tags: F!reader, no use of Y/N and no physical descriptions of reader, reader is a healer and midwife, this is set in a very vague ‘middle ages’ time, forced/arranged marriage, some angst, slow burn (heavy emphasis on slow for this entire series), miscommunication, relationship issues, relationship doubts, no smut this time around (again) but still minors DNI, brief mentions of: pregnancy (side character), childbirth and recovery (same side character gives birth off screen) | that's all, I think, but if I missed anything, lmk!

word count: ~1.2k

synopsis: You had married Simon four months ago, the whole thing some stupid forced arrangement. You had left everything you knew behind to live with Simon in his cabin a few miles out from his hometown. You weren't sure you could classify your relationship as a marriage, or even say truthfully that you lived with him because he wasn't around very often. Some part of you hopes things improve, but you're not unwillingly to do what you can to live the life you'd originally planned for.

a/n: a bit shorter than the first part, but that's what I get for procrastinating my first paper of the semester. i have to get my procrastination under wraps (they say after not doing so while in undergrad)

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The walk to town seemed further today. For every step you took, the dirt path seemed to stretch another mile. You’d been up since a little after midnight, deciding to be productive with your time instead of wallowing in your bed, fuming. Four loaves had been baked, the open hearth cleaned of ash and the wood replenished for today’s use. Clean sheets had been folded and put away, a chore you had been putting off since you first hung the linens on the line, and the shelves in the larder had been dusted for the first time in well over a month. You’d even fetched water for Simon’s bath after your own, leaving them before the clean hearth to heat at his leisure. When he was around, he often fetched his own water, but you’d felt the need to do it for him today. Maybe it had been your guilt for how you acted last night that led you to the kind task. A small, silent apology. A show of care, awareness. You supposed it was another sign of guilt when you’d left a little before he woke, still on edge from his return and not wishing to subject him to any more crankiness. No, you decided to bottle up your crankiness in case someone got on your bad side, like the nosy or overly-opinionated family members your patients seemed to have in spades. The south portcullis had just finished rising as the town came into view and the woods were left behind. All but the western portcullis were left closed during the night, though you weren’t sure why. The early risers were already on the streets, the town relatively quiet, a few businesses open and preparing for customers. The baker, a sweet man with a perpetually red nose and an apron that always seemed to have a new flower embroidered on the hem by his daughter, was displaying his fresh loaves with the usual remarkable precision. Across the road, the butcher and his apprentices—his twin sons—were laying out fresh hides on the racks beside their shop. A mother exited her home, flanked by her small army of sleepy children who all had their own ways to grump at her for getting them ready for the day. An elderly couple you’d gotten to know well these last four months, both regularly needing new pots pepper pastes and lavender, barely poultices for their joint pains, were slowly walking their usual route. When they waved to you, you waved back and gave them a warm smile. They had been married for ages, had a gaggle of children who each had gaggles of their own. Their oldest son and his family had moved back to the town a few weeks ago to be close to the aging couple and you saw them often when you did your house-visits. Nice enough folks, the oldest son and his family, and they always made sure to stay out of the way when you went about your business. The son had even tried to give you some extra coin for tending to his parents, which you kindly declined, telling him that you charged the same for everyone, no ifs, ands or buts about it. You turned down narrow road and made your way to the fifth door on the left, rapping your knuckles against the faded red door three times. Today was a one patient day, the other healers and midwives in the town tending to your usual patients as well as their own, and for good reason. The woman who answered was sweaty and out of breath, teeth clenched. You glanced to her gravid belly and gave her a sympathetic look. Apparently your suggested methods of inducing labor had worked, and by the tension in her shoulders and the exhaustion in her eyes, early labor had been going on for quite some time, and the likelihood of a quick transition to active labor now that you were here, was slim. ***

The late afternoon had been greeted by the sweet wails of a newborn, and those stopped outside the home, waiting with bated breath for babe’s arrival, broke out in cheers and song. Once the mother and babe were clean and situated, you began the second part of your duties as midwife: tending to the home for an easier transition. You sent the dirtied sheets and the mother’s shroud to a laundress paid for with the money from your skirt pocket, then prepared a light meal for the family since such excitement and tension could cause a heavy meal to not sit properly. After the new mother’s husband returned, and your final check for her and the babe’s health was completed, you took your payment, stuffed your messed apron into your medical bag and left. As was your tradition following a successful delivery, you popped into the bakery and ordered a small fruit tart. You ate it slowly as you stood outside and watched as the evening crowds began to form as the sky turned a sweet mixture of lilac and peony. The tart was flaky, the sugar on top not yet dissolved, and the fruit inside had just the right amount of tang. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a familiar figure: Simon. Simon? Your heart painfully skipped a beat as your eyes followed him as he went to the butcher’s. You finished the rest of your tart quickly and dusted your hands off as you wove through the crowds to catch up to him. Seeing him in town was a first, you were nearly sure of that. And you were entirely sure that it was him when you peered through the window of the butcher’s shop, catching the eye of the butcher himself, his twin sons, and finally Simon whose brows rose slowly at you. There was a passing of coin and scribbled-on parchment, then Simon headed right for the door. Right for you. You quickly pushed away from the window and turned to face the crowds of people as if nothing had happened at all. Except it had, and you were sure you were about to be given a plethora of strange looks by Simon. Yet he didn’t give you a strange look. He did search your face, though, then looked you up and down. His eyes lingered on your torso, noting the absence of your apron, you supposed. “Done for the day?” he asked. You nodded. “I only had one patient today, and I’m thankful for that.” You chewed your cheek as you stood there beside him, the two of you looking towards the townspeople who didn’t pay either of you any mind. You looked down and noticed the basket in his left hand, the list inside it, and the money in your skirt pocket seemed to suddenly weigh a ton. Your mind wandered to the flimsy floorboard in your bedroom, the one by your door that you pried up almost every day, and what was underneath it. Money. Most of the money you earned from your profession went into the satchel hidden under the floorboard. A failsafe, an escape plan in case you couldn’t bear to remain in the marriage. “Are you headed to the market?” you asked before you could stop yourself. There was an opportunity lurking if he was. When he nodded, you followed suit. “I’ll come along,” you told him. “Maybe we could talk, too?”

[reaper2187]

Daniela x servant female reader

The grand halls of Castle Dimitrescu echoed with an eerie silence, the kind that enveloped the senses and made every creak and whisper stand out starkly against the otherwise oppressive quiet. The dim light of flickering torches cast long, dancing shadows on the ancient stone walls, giving the castle an almost alive and breathing quality. Daniela Dimitrescu, the youngest and most tempestuous of the Dimitrescu daughters, prowled through these halls with a restless energy. Her fiery hair cascaded around her pale face, and her eyes glinted with a mix of mischief and hunger.

Daniela paused at the doorway of the library, a room she frequented less often than her sisters, but tonight was different. She could sense something—or rather, someone—inside that intrigued her. She pushed the heavy wooden door open with a soft creak and stepped inside, her gaze immediately falling on Y/N.

Y/N was a new servant, having arrived only a few weeks prior. Despite her position, there was something about her that caught Daniela's attention from the very first moment. Perhaps it was the way Y/N carried herself with quiet confidence, or the way she seemed unafraid to meet Daniela's piercing gaze head-on. Tonight, Y/N was seated at a large oak desk, engrossed in a thick tome. The firelight from the nearby hearth bathed her in a warm, golden glow, highlighting the soft curves of her face and the strands of hair that fell across her brow.

Daniela watched her for a moment, a slow smile spreading across her lips. She moved silently, her footsteps making no sound on the plush carpet as she approached. When she was mere inches away, she leaned down, her breath brushing against Y/N's ear.

"Enjoying a bit of light reading, are we?" Daniela's voice was a low, seductive purr.

Y/N started slightly, her heart racing at the sudden closeness. She turned her head, her eyes locking onto Daniela's. "Lady Daniela," she said, her voice steady despite the fluttering in her chest. "I didn't hear you come in."

Daniela's smile widened. "That's because I didn't want you to," she replied, straightening up and walking around to the other side of the desk. She perched on the edge, her gaze never leaving Y/N's face. "What are you reading?"

Y/N glanced down at the book in her lap. "Just some old legends and folklore," she said. "I find them fascinating."

"Do you?" Daniela said, tilting her head. "And what, pray tell, do you find so fascinating about them?"

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then said, "They often contain a grain of truth. Even the most outlandish tales have some basis in reality."

Daniela chuckled, a low, throaty sound. "Spoken like someone who knows the truth can be far stranger than fiction." She leaned forward, her eyes gleaming. "Tell me, Y/N, do you believe in monsters?"

Y/N held her gaze. "I've seen enough in this castle to know that monsters are very real," she said softly.

Daniela's smile turned predatory. "Indeed," she said. She reached out, tracing a finger along Y/N's jawline. "And are you afraid of them?"

Y/N swallowed hard, the touch sending a shiver down her spine. "No," she whispered. "I'm not afraid."

Daniela's eyes darkened with a mix of amusement and desire. "Brave words," she said. "But bravery can be a dangerous thing, especially here."

Y/N straightened, meeting Daniela's gaze with determination. "I know the risks," she said. "And I'm willing to face them."

Daniela's expression softened slightly, a flicker of something almost like admiration in her eyes. "You're an interesting one, Y/N," she said. "Most of the servants here cower in fear. But not you."

Y/N's heart pounded in her chest. "I… I don't see the point in living in fear," she said. "Life is too short for that."

Daniela's smile returned, but this time it was less predatory and more contemplative. "You intrigue me, Y/N," she said. "I think I'll keep you around for a while longer."

Y/N felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension at those words. She knew that being in Daniela's favor could be both a blessing and a curse. But as Daniela stood up and turned to leave, Y/N couldn't help but feel a spark of something else—something that felt dangerously close to excitement.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Daniela said, pausing at the doorway to glance back at her. "I'll be seeing you."

Y/N watched her go, her mind racing. She knew that Daniela was dangerous, unpredictable, and utterly captivating. And despite the risks, she found herself looking forward to their next encounter.

The following days passed in a blur of routine and tension. Y/N went about her duties with a heightened awareness, always sensing Daniela's presence even when she couldn't see her. It was as if the young Dimitrescu daughter was always watching, always waiting.

One evening, as Y/N was cleaning the grand hall, she felt that familiar prickling sensation on the back of her neck. She turned around to find Daniela leaning against the wall, watching her with an inscrutable expression.

"You're quite diligent," Daniela remarked, her voice breaking the silence.

Y/N straightened up, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I try to be," she said. "It's important to do one's job well."

Daniela pushed off the wall and walked over to her, her gaze intense. "And do you enjoy your work, Y/N?"

Y/N hesitated, then said, "It's challenging, but rewarding in its own way."

Daniela stopped in front of her, so close that Y/N could feel the heat radiating from her body. "I think you could find greater rewards elsewhere," Daniela said softly. "If you were willing to take a risk."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat. "What kind of risk?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daniela reached out, cupping Y/N's face in her hand. "A risk worth taking," she said, her eyes dark with promise. "Come with me, Y/N. Let me show you what real power feels like."

Y/N felt a thrill of fear and excitement. She knew that following Daniela could lead to unimaginable danger, but there was something about the young vampire that called to her, something she couldn't resist.

"I… I'll come with you," Y/N said, her voice trembling slightly.

Daniela's smile was triumphant. "Good," she said. "You won't regret it."

As Daniela led her deeper into the castle, Y/N couldn't help but wonder what she had gotten herself into. But one thing was certain: life with Daniela would be anything but ordinary. And as she looked at the fiery-haired vampire beside her, Y/N felt a strange sense of anticipation, a feeling that whatever lay ahead, she was ready to face it head-on.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

.⋆｡Lost Souls Part 2｡⋆.

The Lost Princess Chapter 8

Jotun!Loki x plus size reader

With the discovery of who Loki really is, Y/N returns to the avengers determined to forget him, but things are never that simple

Warnings: arranged marriage, angst, enhanced!reader, swearing, age gap, angst, depression, sickness, fluff, smut (finally), loss of virginity, minimal foreplay, some confessions, unprotected sex, bit of praise kink

WC: 3k

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Snow whipped around her violently, slicing into her skin like tiny knives. Huge columns of ice surrounded her, caging her in a frozen maze which she could never hope to escape alone.

Fear clawed up her belly as Y/N snapped her head around, eyes wide, desperately searching for a way out. “This isn't the palace!” She screamed into oblivion but, of course, received no answer back. 

There was a light in the distance, just barely shining through the haze of the storm, tempting her towards the unknown. An ache deep in her chest pulled her forwards, guiding her through the frozen forest until she reached a humble cabin tucked between to particularly large columns. It was quite obviously not built with a Frost Giant in mind given its small size. It rather looked like it was made for a human.

A dying candle in the window was the only light emanating from the otherwise dark house. The storm was beginning to grow worse so Y/N picked up her pace until she found herself at the doorstep.

She had only a moment of hesitation before she placed her hand upon the doorknob and let the heavy wood swing outwards, tempting her inside. The wind screamed as she stepped into the cabin, adding to the dread that was slowly building inside her.

The door slammed shut behind her, making Y/N jump. “Jesus Christ.” She muttered to herself, eager to hear something besides the frantic beating of her heart. The candle flickered, the wick almost completely gone now.

There came a groan from the darkness, it was weak and sickly like the sound a dying animal would make in its last moments. A shuddering breath escaped her lungs as Y/N tried to pinpoint where the sound had come from.

She would kill Heimdall if he sent her to the den of some monster. Holding out her trembling hand, she focused as best she could on her palm, allowing for a small flame to grow just above the middle of her hand. 

Slowly, more of the cabin became illuminated revealing a large fireplace with a small kitchenette beside it, a shelf stuffed with books and a single bed pushed into the far corner. A mass of blankets sat on top of the mattress, moving slightly as another groan echoed through the room.

Now less frightened, Y/N quietly inched to the bed. The pile shifted again, revealing  the top of their head. Raven hair fanned out over the pillow beneath them. Y/N held her breath as she gently pulled back the covers with her free hand.

“Oh Loki.” This was the boy she loved so long ago, all grown up. 

He was so infallibly human, pale skin free from any of the dark markings she had remembered. A long nose and high cheekbones made him even more regal, if it wasn't for the gauntness of his cheeks and the almost bruise-like dark circles beneath his eyes. 

She let herself touch his forehead but quickly pulled away when she felt the extreme chill that his skin held. This was far colder than she had ever seen from him before. He could barely move as he unconsciously leaned into her warmth.

“Shit. We have to get you warmed up.” Quickly, Y/N tucked the blankets around him again before she scurried over to the fireplace, praying that there was any sort of firewood around. 

Loki groaned as she moved away. “I know, just a minute.” She gave a small shout of triumph as she found a few logs in the kitchen cabinet. Throwing them into the hearth with very little grace and fell to her knees. Wrapping a hand around one of the pieces of wood in the centre of the pile, she took a deep breath.

Heat raced through her veins and far easier than ever before, fire bloomed from her skin, setting the wood alight. She sighed in relief as the cabin's air began to warm up but not nearly quick enough for her taste.

She looked back at her husband who's dark brows were now scrunched together as if he were in pain while he continued to shiver violently. Rising to her feet, Y/N stripped off her sweater and shorts, leaving her only in her underwear as she approached the bed once more.

Loki's body trembled with the cold as she pulled back the sheets, but stopped as soon as she slipped behind him, curling her soft body around him as best she could. One arm wound around his stomach, her palm coming to rest right above his heart as her other hand slid beneath the pillow and his head, almost cradling him.

He was so weak, barely a glimmer of the man she married remained as the fever ravaged him. It would have been easy to walk right back out of that door and let him die for the things that he did. But instead, her arms tightened around his body. 

She couldn't leave him, not when he refused to abandon her, not when his very presence soothed the rage sea of fire within her.

“Just rest now, I'll take care of you.” She placed a kiss on his temple then shut her eyes, her mind finally at peace.

“Good morning sleepyhead.” Her voice called out to him through a fog. Loki smiled and pried his eyes open to see his wife standing before a roaring fire, an open book in her hands. She only wore a shirt of his and nothing else, leaving very little to the imagination which he was incredibly grateful for.

“The gods must have smiled upon me to grant me such a dream.” He murmured, happily settling back into the bed to watch what he believed to be his last moments. “I have missed you so, little star. I do hope that you are safe and that you are happy without me.”

The book snapped shut and he raised an eyebrow at her, making her put the book back upon the shelf so he could have her undivided attention. “This isn't a dream.” She stated firmly but Loki just laughed weakly under his breath.

“This must be a dream because I know you would never come back, not after I've done so much evil.” Her steps were light as she walked back to him. He opened his arms to her, willing this apparition to grant him one last shred of comfort.

But she did not obey, instead she took his hand and laid it upon her breast, letting him feel the heat of her skin and the beating of her heart. “I am real. I am here. And you have been a complete bastard but you are my husband and it is my duty to be beside you and keep you from making any more stupid decisions.”

She released her hold on his wrist but Loki's touch remained firmly planted on her as if to convince himself that this was, in fact, real. “I am not dead?”

“Not as far as I can tell.” She replied.

“And you are here with me?”

“Took the Bifrost myself.” Y/N traced the line of his jaw carefully as if her touch could break him. “You've been so sick, burning a fever that I almost couldn't stop. I've been here for days and this is the first time you've been coherent enough to realise that you weren't alone anymore.”

The crackle of the fire masked the sound of yet another storm outside, providing the lost prince with a comfort he had not felt since she was last in his arms. "Thank you.” He whispered, though it was not just for her healing hand. Loki nuzzled into her touch as his own still felt the strong beat of her heart.

He stopped for a moment then spoke once more. “Why did you come back, really?”

Loki watched with bated breath as Y/N sighed deeply, seemingly lost in her own thoughts as she struggled to answer him. Unable to help himself, his hands wandered down to her wide hips and cupped them softly. “I remember you- this you.” Her fingertips brushed along his cheekbone, his now green eyes gazing up at her with reverence.

“I remember that first summer when I met you. You were so small then, but of course so was I. You were always so kind to me, telling me stories of heroes and gods. Then you would leave, for weeks, sometimes months and I often wondered if I had just dreamed you up. Mom said you were real because I believed in you but not all mothers indulge their children.” She chuckled and her fingers moved to his hair, tangling themselves in the soft locks.

She let him pull her closer so that his chin could rest upon her sternum, having to bend slightly forward so that his head would not connect to her collarbone, even in his human form Loki still towered over her. Her brow crinkled. “But I forgot you. And yet, that feeling of home, of safety, of love still remained, even when I hated your guts and you kept me locked in that stupid fucking bedroom.” He groaned into her skin.

“I won't apologise for that.” He grumbled.

“I know.” She cooed. “It was all so confusing and terrifying, I couldn't recall what was real and what was because of my broken mind but you were there and in your own way, you helped me. Your rules, your temper, your teachings- all of it grounded me, let me realise that I could trust in something if I couldn't trust myself.”

“And what is that?” His words were a mere breath of air as Y/N took his hands into her own, her warmth and his chill blending together perfectly, and guided him to his feet. He obeyed easily, only stumbling for a moment as his body struggled to remain upright after being in bed for weeks.

“That I love you.” His eyes flicked over her face, almost searching for any sign of deceit but when he found none, his control shattered. 

Her lips were just as soft as he remembered, just as addictive, as he kissed her gently. He could feel the beginnings of her smile but it quickly dropped as his hands fell to her wide hips, pinning her to his front.

Y/N gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to snake between her lips. Her fingers curled into his shirt, pulling at the fine fabric, desperate to get him even closer. Molten heat pooled between her soft thighs as his hardness grew against her soft stomach.

“My princess, do you wish for this to go further?” She moaned at the sincerity of his tone, so different from Steve's. She could help but nod frantically.

“Yes master, I need you.” It was so easy to slip backwards, let him take all of the responsibility and control but Loki's grip tightened while he forced himself from her lips.

“No, not this time. It's just us, the way it should have been so long ago.” The tip of his nose brushed against hers gently in reverence. “Just you and me, nothing more.”

Her smile widened as her eyes sparkled with adoration. “Yes, I want to be with you Loki.” His expression melted.

“You are everything.” This time his kiss was far more desperate. His touch seemed to be everywhere, exploring every part of her that he could while refusing to part from her swollen lips.

Her arms wound around his neck as Loki's hands traced up the soft skin of her thighs, slipping beneath her shirt before coming to a stop right where her legs met her hips. 

He froze and then a growl rumbled through his chest. “You weren't fucking wearing anything under this?” He hissed, making her giggle softly.

“What, it's not like you keep a healthy stock of panties here and I spent three days nursing you back to health.”

“Fuck.” He groaned and before she could even yelp, he turned and threw her onto the bed, knocking most of the pillows off with the force of it. “You delectable temptress, you have enchanted me.”

His own shirt was quickly shed, revealing to her a lean but muscular torso decorated with faint silvery lines of scars and hairless save for a trail of it leading to a dark thatch of it right at the axis of his hips. 

At the sight, Y/N squeezed her thighs together, desperate for some kind of friction to ease her aching cunt. His black trousers were pulled tight with the weight of his cock which was getting harder by the second.

“Come here husband.” She held her arms open to him, mirroring the way he had done for her mere minutes before. 

Green eyes stared deeply into her own e/c ones as Loki slowly placed his hands on either side of her calves and began to crawl up the length of her body, forcing her legs apart in order to slip his body between them.

He caught one of her thighs against his knee and as his face finally levelled with hers, he pushed her leg forwards, leaving her bare and vulnerable to him. Only a thin layer of fabric kept them apart now. “Anything for you, wife.”

His breath fanned across her lips, his raven hair hanging down like a curtain that sealed them away from the rest of the realms. No more words were needed, everything that he wanted to tell her and she him was caught in the lustful gaze that neither wished to break.

Her leg tightened around his slim hip, pulling him impossibly closer. Their moans wove together like wisps of smoke as his still covered cock pressed against her pussy. 

Leaning his weight onto one hand, Loki's other slipped between them, all-too eager to finally have her. 

Y/N lifted her head to kiss him once more as slender fingers cupped her mound. “Loki.” Her hips bucked, trying to get him to move faster to the place she needed him most but he would not budge.

“Patience my star, I do not wish to hurt you.” But his voice wavered with his effort to stop himself from taking her right then. She whined pitifully, now growing desperate for some kind of relief.

“I don't care, I just want you.” His head dropped to the crook of her neck as he groaned. “Please, do not make me beg.” She could feel his control begin to wane even as he drew closer to her dripping entrance.

His teeth nipped at her skin in warning but of course she would not heed it. “I'm a god, you cannot hurt me.” She tried one last time.

Loki chuckled, his back shifting beneath her hands. “Well then, perhaps I shouldn't deprive my princess of what she so clearly wants any more.” She could barely bite back her whine as he pulled away from her.

The ties to his trousers loosened with barely a flick of his wrist, releasing himself from the now entirely too-tight confines of the fabric. He let out a sigh of relief then shucked the pants down his legs as best he could without adding anymore space between them.

His cock rested between her lips teasingly, the chill from him sending pleasured goosebumps across her body. Loki pressed the head against her entrance. “Are you sure?” He asked once more, his tone now entirely soft.

“I've never been more sure of anything.” 

The stretch was unlike anything she had felt before, carrying with it a sharp pinch of pain and a mind-numbing fullness that had her jaw dropping in a silent scream. He was carving out his place inside of her, marking her as eternally his.

“By the gods.” He snarled through clenched teeth. “You are tight.” The muscles in his back rippled as he tentatively pushed forwards, forcing another inch inside her already stuffed cunt. Her back arched into his chest in some desperate attempt to make more room for his monstrous cock.

“Big.” Was all she could gasp out through pressure in her stomach. Loki's hips stuttered and suddenly he was fully seated within her, his heavy balls tightly pressed to her ass as the base of his pelvis shone with the sheer amount of wetness that had been dripping from her.

He pressed his mouth to her lips in a messy kiss as he tried to regain some semblance of control. “That's it, that's my good girl. You took it all so well. I'm so proud of you.”

Her pussy rippled around him at the praise. “Princess.” He moaned and unable to stop himself any longer, Loki pulled out just a couple inches and then thrust back into her warmth quickly. 

It sent shockwaves of pleasure up her spine and pushed the pain to the back of her mind. Her heel dug into his back. “More.” She cried. “Please, more!”

Her whole body jolted up the mattress with his next thrust and she wailed into the air. “Whatever you wish, my star. I would do everything for you.” 

Tears rolled down her temples as he gripped her waist, keeping her body still for him to plunder. “You are more divine than the heavens, than any dream that my broken mind could conjure.”

He hit that special place inside her that forced the air from her lungs and made her vision spot with blackness as ecstasy curled around the base of his spine. “My pet.”

He thrust again. “My princess.”

Her nails sliced into his shoulders as her body wound tight. “My guiding star.” 

His hips lost their rhythm for a moment and Y/N was finally able to choke out- “My Loki.” 

Their ends collided together in a storm of epic proportions as they held each other close, unwilling to let go of their most precious possession. 

“I love you.” Loki managed to say between breaths. 

“I love you.” She responded immediately. He looked down at her, seemingly unable to find anything else to say until his eyes dropped to where her shirt had exposed her chest.

The silver of the necklace glinted brilliantly in the dying firelight, shining like a star. “You- you didn't take it off.”

Her gaze followed his own and then travelled back to his face. “Not even for a second.”

And as their lips met once more, Loki thought that if this was a dream, he wished to never awaken again.

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[tea-twords]

Fic personally requested from a wonderful friend

Lee: Freminet

Ler: Lyney & Lynette

General plot is Lyney buys a kamera, Freminet doesn’t want to look silly in a photo, Lynette goes into make Freminet smile mode

@emiefluff This is for u🫶

————————————————————————-

“Guys, check this out!”

Lyney announced as he walked into his and Lynette’s shared bedroom at the House of the Hearth.

Ever since Freminet expressed interest in becoming a magician’s assistant, he and the twins would practice simple magic tricks with what free time they had. That’s what Freminet and Lynette were currently doing, before they had been interrupted.

Lyney took off his hat and held it out in front of Freminet.

“Reach inside!”

“Uh..okay.” Freminet gingerly reached into the hat, only to feel the usual velvety interior.

“I don’t feel anything.” He said, pulling his hand out in confusion.

“Huh, really?” Lyney said in mock confusion. Knowing Lyney for such a while, Freminet could tell by now that this was all part of the trick.

Lyney gave the hat a little shake before grinning and saying “Try again.”

Freminet did just that, and lo and behold, he actually felt something! It was cool and hard, metal? Whatever it was, he pulled it out.

“A kamera?”

“Yup! Isn’t it so cool?”

“Does Father know about this?” Lynette finally interjected.

“Yeah, I asked Father in advance before I bought it.” Lyney explained while taking the kamera Freminet passed to him. “She said that as long as we don’t use it during missions, and that there aren’t any house secrets evident. She worded it as ‘if anyone were to steal the camera or find the photos, they should not be able to know any more about the house than they already do.’ I think that’s fair, right?

Lynette relaxed a little bit hearing their Father’s approval, only to hear a click.

“Lyney! I wasn’t ready…” Lynette complained.

“Ehe, sorry. It’s just a nice image, you and Freminet hanging out. Hey, how about a smiling photo? Smile, guys!” The oldest said, holding up the camera again, this time giving his siblings time to prepare.

Lynette seemed to like this idea, so she gave the kamera a soft but warm smile. Freminet on the other hand, did not seem as keen on the idea as his older sister.

“Ready? Three, two, one!”

“W-wait-..”

Too late.

The kamera printed the photo after a few short seconds, portraying Lynette’s demure (haha) smile and Freminet in the middle of saying “wait”, but with no smile present.

“Hmm..it’s a nice photo of course, but Freminet isn’t smiling! Should we do a retake? I can wait longer this time!” Lyney offered.

“S-sorry…” Freminet said dejectedly.

“No, don’t be sorry! That one’s on me, I clicked too fast. Well try again! Ready?” Lyney said, this time holding up the camera and finally not rushing.

When Freminet still wasn’t smiling however, he lowered the camera with a concerned look on his face.

“Everything okay, bro?” He asked sincerely.

“Y-yeah, it’s just, I don’t know about smiling right now.”

Lyney grew a little more worried, and so was Lynette, but it wasn’t exactly obvious.

“Is something going on? Or maybe you’re just not in the mood to smile?”

“No! No, everything okay right now…nothings going on and I’m feeling okay. I just don’t want my stupid smile to be captured in a photo forever…”

This made Lyney and Lynette comically gasp in unison, although Lyney’s was naturally more dramatic.

“Freminet! How could you insult your own smile like that!”

“I-I..”

“You know smiling is nothing to be ashamed of right?”

“I know…”

“You just don’t want it on a picture..?” Lynette interjected again, figuring as much.

“Yeah…It’s not that I don’t want to smile, it’ll just be so embarrassing on a photo…” Freminet said, covering his face with his hands.

It’s a crying shame he couldn’t cover his ears though, as they begun to turn red. This did not go unnoticed by his sneaky older siblings.

The twins both looked at eachother, and then back at Freminet. They both understood that this was not a matter of real discomfort, but a matter of Freminet being flustered.

They exchanged a glance once again before Lyney held up the camera again and Lynette wrapped her arm around Freminet’s waist in a side hug.

“Hm?” Freminet voiced before jumping at the feeling of a ticklish pinch at his side. He also noticed the camera once again click at this moment.

“L-Lynette!”

“Did it come out good?” Lynette peered over the camera as the photo was printed out.

Lyney held the photo in front of him, allowing his sister to see. Lynette had a soft smile once again, and while Freninet’s expression was very different than last time, it was more of a surprised “😳😨😬” than the smile they were hoping for.

“Aw dangit…Well, it’s actually not bad. Not exactly our goal, but still adorable nonetheless.” Lyney smiled as he showed Freminet the picture of him mid-jolt.

“Guys! Thats so embarrassing!” Freminet whined, pulling his hat over his eyes to avoid any possible eye contact.

“Take two?”

“You got it bro.”

Before Freminet had the chance to process his current state (arms slightly raised to hold his hat down), Lynette had already begun squeezing at his sides again, causing poor Freminet to burst into giggles as another click was heard.

“Lynehehette!! This isn’t fair!”

“Ooh, Lynette, come see how they came out.” Lyney interrupted, paying no mind to his embarrassed brother.

Lynette peered over Lyney’s shoulder to see how the photos came out.

“This one is cute, Freminet’s face is all scrunched up.”

“G-guys!”

“Hmm…how about you take the photo this time, Lynette. I’ll show you how to get a consistent smile.” Lyney said, passing the Kamera to Lynette.

She had a mildly disappointed look on her face but took the Kamera anyway and pointed it in Lyney and Freminet’s direction.

“See what you should do is wrap your arm around him like this first,” Lyney started, wrapping his arm around his nervous brother’s torso.

“Lyneyehey!”

“Then you’ve got to use your other hand-“ He raised his free hand up into a claw. “-and just dig in!”

With that, Lyney dug his clawed hand into Freminet’s lower tummy, causing the younger boy to finally burst out in bright, less restrained laughter.

“AhahaHAHA-! LYNEhehehy!”

“Take it now Lynette!”

Lyney grinned wide and hugged his brother close, still tickling the shit out of him of course. Lynette aimed the Kamera and took a total of 3 pictures: first of Freminet in his current predicament, second with Freminet’s hand in Lyney’s face in an effort to push him away, and third with Lyney’s free hand now under his exposed underarm, with Freminet’s face being noticeably more scrunched up and his body curling up even more.

When he heard the clicks, Lyney stopped his tickle attack on Freminet and hopped up excitedly.

“Let’s see how they came out!”

After waiting a few seconds, the printed pictures filed out of the Kamera. Lynette got to look at them first, resulting in a smile on her face.

“Aww, look.”

She faced the pictures towards her brothers, Lyney cooing similarly at them while Freminet was still curled up catching his breath.

“Look how good they came out Freminet! I knew your smile would make the picture all the more better.” Lyney said earnestly, pulling his dear little brother in for a hug.

Lynette held the kamera up, facing it backwards so as to take a selfie.

“Let’s take one more of everyone like this.”

“You got it, Lynette. Everyone smile!”

Freminet internally sighed. He still really didn’t think too much of his smile but…if his siblings were that desperate to see it, surely it can’t be that bad right?

With that thought, as he gazed up at the Kamera Lynette kept raised. With Lyney’s arm around him and a warm feeling in his heart, he finally flashed the kamera his real, soft, genuine smile.

Click!

[the-fiction-witch]

The Whole Empire

Media - The Last Legion (Alternate) Character - Emperor Romulus Augustus (Age Up) Couple - Romulus X Reader Reader - (Foreign Princess)Y/n Rating - 15 Word Count - 2222

Fictional Advent Day Fifteen

Romulus stretched sleepily, a soft yawn escaping his lips as he blinked against the gentle light filtering in through his frosted window. The remnants of sleep clung to him like a warm blanket, making it all the more tempting to nestle deeper into his plush pillow. Outside, an unusual snowstorm had blanketed the city of Rome, transforming it into a picturesque winter wonderland with a delicate layer of white dusting rooftops and cobblestone streets.

Reluctantly, he peeled himself away from the inviting warmth of his bed, where he had cocooned himself snugly in silky sheets that felt like a soothing embrace against the chill. The hypnotic crackling of the fire in the hearth punctuated the quiet of the morning, sending flickering shadows dancing across the walls. With a satisfied sigh, he wrapped his arms tighter around himself, wishing he could linger in the comfort of his cocoon just a little bit longer, but knowing that the wonders of the snowy day awaited him outside.

The heavy door to his chambers creaked open, revealing the dimly lit interior as a stream of servants filed in, bustling with purpose. Their soft whispers filled the air, mingling with the faint scent of polished wood and candle wax. Following closely behind them was his advisor, a tall figure with a furrowed brow and an air of urgency. The advisor’s eyes scanned the room, assessing the atmosphere before stepping forward to the foot of the bed.

“Blessed Morn, Your Grace.” he bowed, “And Happy Saturnalia.”

Romulus slowly pushed himself up and rubbed his eyes, “Happy Saturnalia.” He yawned, cracking his back with a large stretch. “What’s going on today?”

“As always it is a day of merriment and -”

“Simple terms.” Romulus sighed, “Simple terms, I am not awake enough for a silique,”

“The kitchens are preparing the feast for all the palace staff. As well as the separate feast you requested for yourself and the Princess Y/n in the library.”

Romulus hummed in delight to hear he had such an enjoyable day ahead of him, “Perfect,” He tossed the covers away and climbed out of his bed letting the servants clean and dress him as usual, “Not the white today, I think… the red.” He told them,

The servants nodded and fetched him some different robes for the day,

“Is there anything you would like brought to the library?” The advisor asked,

“Just our feast, and her present of course.” Romulus chuckled fixing his hair a little, “Other than that. I wish not to be interrupted, save the palace being on fire. I wish to spend my Saturnalia with the princess, without interruption. She’s only visiting a few more weeks, I’d like to spend some quality time with her.”

“Yes, your grace.” The advisor nodded even if he gave romulus a slight side eye at the mention of ‘Quality time’ with the princess, as it was an open secret among staff and councillors what Romulus had been planning.

Romulus didn’t brother question the glace and instead finished up and headed through the palace to the library, “Off you go, Enjoy the holiday.” He told the servants,

Who nodded and happily went on their way to enjoy the feast and festivities,

Romulus paused to adjust his hair, ensuring every strand was in place, before stepping into the inviting warmth of the library. As he pushed open the heavy wooden door, he was greeted by the sight of towering shelves that were crammed with an eclectic assortment of scrolls and leather-bound books, their spines glistening in the soft light. The curtains were pulled wide apart, allowing the bright winter sun to stream in and illuminate the room while casting gentle shadows on the freshly fallen snow outside, which blanketed the ground in a pristine layer of white.

The cheerful crackle of the fire welcomed him, its flames dancing gracefully in the stone hearth, sending flickers of light across the walls. A generous stack of logs was piled beside it, promising warmth and comfort for the entire day ahead. Plush, cushioned armchairs and deep-set sofas invited relaxation, their soft upholstery upholstered in rich fabrics that complemented the overall cozy atmosphere of the room. Lush rugs, thick and warm underfoot, adorned the polished wooden floors,

At the centre of the space, a large oak table had been set up, it's surface laden with an enticing spread of wines, cheeses, fruits, and festive bread, all arranged for their own little feast. The air was thick with the mouthwatering scents of the various dishes, enticing and comforting. As Romulus surveyed the room, his eyes were drawn to the festive decorations paper stars had been artfully hung from delicate strings, sparkling with the light from the fire. One of the stars was still being carefully positioned.

Princess Y/n had embarked on a diplomatic excursion to the ancient city of Rome, accompanied by a cadre of trusted advisors who were meticulously handling the intricate business of politics. While they navigated complex negotiations behind closed doors, Y/n and Romulus dealt with public matters of state visits and lavish banquets, which fostered a bond that deepened with each visit. This particular year was especially memorable, as Y/n was immersed in the vibrant celebrations of Saturnalia. The atmosphere buzzed with joyous anticipation, and she and Romulus spent countless hours during the festivities in each other's company. Their shared moments included a poignant visit to the temple of Saturn, and even partaking in a sacrifice together.

Y/n in her long lilac gown, her hair was neatly pulled back, leaving a few delicate strands to frame her face. Standing atop a sturdy wooden ladder, she carefully arranged garlands of stars that she had crafted, hanging them gracefully from shelves. As she hummed a soft melody to herself,

Romulus smiled widely as he saw her, “Blessed Morn princess,”

“Ohh!” She gasped, Hanging the last star before she hurried down the ladder taking his hands in hers, “Blessed Morn Emperor.” She bowed,

He held her hands tightly in his own and almost chuckled unable to hold back his joy, “It looks exquisite, you have done a splendid job. Almost as gorgeous as you.”

“Thank you,” she blushed a little,

“Come, we shall enjoy the day. Together.” He smiled,

She nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on her lips, and Romulus squeezed her hand gently, guiding her towards the grand table set for the feast. They settled into their seats, shoulder to shoulder, the warmth of their bodies contrasting with the chill of the winter air. As they indulged in the sumptuous spread before them, they frequently intertwined their fingers often rubbing their thumbs against the other hand.

Laughter bubbled between them. Time slipped away as they savoured each moment, the sun ascended from its morning peak, gradually making its descent into the late afternoon, casting long shadows across the table. The sky blushed with hues of amber and rose as the evening approached.

Outside, fluffy snowflakes danced gracefully from the heavens, blanketing the ground in a new soft, pristine layer. As darkness began to envelop the landscape, the light of the snow glimmered, reflecting the fading sunlight and the flickering flames of the roaring fire nearby. It created an enchanting glow that surrounded them, cocooning the pair in a world that felt suspended in time, filled with warmth, joy, and the promise of deeper connections yet to come.

By this point, the grand feast had dwindled to just a few leftover dishes, remnants of a once bountiful spread. The fire crackled softly, its warm glow flickering against the walls as the flames danced lower, consuming the logs that Romulus had just tossed on moments earlier. Romulus and Y/n settled onto the plush couch, which faced a large window adorned with glistening frost. They were close enough to the fire to feel its comforting heat, yet positioned perfectly to watch the enchanting spectacle outside. Through the window, snowflakes swirled softly in the night sky, their forms illuminated by the gentle light of the fire, creating a serene and magical backdrop for their moment together.

Romulus pulled a blanket over them both as he reclined his feet up on an ottoman, his arm on the back of the couch behind Y/n,

Y/n pulled her legs up onto the couch. Slowly after a while of their comfort, she laid her head gently on his shoulder.

Romulus smiled and rested his cheek against her head letting his hand absently slip down to wrap around her waist,

Y/n giggled a little and slid her hand into his as it sat in his lap their fingers intertwining once more,

“It’s beautiful,” she cooed,

“It is, rare. And beautiful. I rejoice every time I get to see it.” he cooed low enough to keep their sweet relaxation, “Just like you,”

Y/n blushed, “Like me?”

“Umm.. beautiful, rarely seen, and my heart fluttered every time I’m lucky enough to see it.”

“You’re far too sweet to me,”

“You’re far too easy to be sweet too.”

“Before I forget do you want your gift?”

“You know, you didn’t have to get me a gift Y/n. You don’t even have Saturnailia at home.”

“Of course I did, It’s Saturnalia I had to get you something.”

“That’s very kind of you,” He smiled,

Y/n jumped up from the couch and fetched a small box she had hidden away bringing it over for him,

“You’re too sweet,” He smiled, taking the box and giving it a gentle shake, “May I?”

“Of course,” She nodded,

So Romulus happily opened up the box digging through the paper to find the gift, a golden bracelet with red gems a perfectly designed item for a Roman emperor, and he lit up at the gift, “Awww! It’s beautiful!” He cooed immediately taking it and giving it a good look over,

“I had it made before we left home,”

“It’s wonderful, I shall never take it off!” He laughed happily putting it on his arm,

“You like it?”

“I adore it! Thank you very much Y/n,”

“You’re welcome,” She blushed,

“I must admit, I got you something too.”

“You didn-”

“I know. But I wanted to give you something to celebrate you visiting on Saturnalia.” He cooed getting up to fetch the gift he got for her, “Well… Technically I got you two gifts.”

“Two!?”

“Two. Just because.” He smiled as he returned handing her the wrapped package,

She blushed hard but happily opened up the package pulling out the beautiful deep purple gown, “Oooh Romulus it’s beautiful!”

“You think so?”

“I do! I love it!” She cheered giddy as she held the gown to her body, “Thank you so much Romulus,”

“You’re very welcome,” he cooed,

“It’s so lovely, but isn’t purple a royal colour in Rome?” she asked,

“Well you are a princess.” he laughed, “And well… it will sort of go with your other present,”

“Oh?”

“Y/n…” he trailed off gathering his courage, “Please do not feel you must accept this gift, but I wish to offer it and give it all the same if you are willing.” he smiled taking both her hands in his,

“What is it Romulus?”

“I would very much like to gift you, the whole empire.”

“What?!” she gasped,

“The Whole Empire, All of Rome, All of her Empire.”

“You- You can’t,”

“I can,” he nodded, “I wish to make you The Empress of Rome… My Empress.”

“Your Empress?” she blushed,

“Mhm,” he nodded, “I want to give you the whole empire, the whole world if I can. I want you to stay in Rome with me not just for royal visits but for the rest of our lives. I want you in royal colours, as my empress. I want every saturnalia by your side. I want you to marry me Y/n.”

“Oh… Romulus,” she cooed tearing up and wrapping her arms around him, “Of course I will!”

“You mean it?!”

“Of course I do! It’s the best gift I could ever get!”

“As is you accepting it,” he cooed, “Thank you so much Y/n. My sweet empress.” He smiled excitedly,

They held each other tightly sharing sweet words and tears of joy cuddling up together thrilled at their future as Emperor and Empress of Rome, as they watched the snow fall now with a deeper closeness to their cuddles.

“Romulus?” she asked looking up at him,

“Yes my Empress?” he cooed running a hand through her hair,

“I feel… sort of wrong, that I only gave you one gift and you gave me two. One of which being such a large gift.”

“You needn't worry Y/n, perhaps you can give me a nice big present next year.”

“I’m sure I will,” she blushed, “But… I’d like to give you another small gift if I may?”

“Of course you can,” He cooed,

Y/n smiled and sat up enough to press a tender kiss to his lips,

Romulus’ heart stopped but he immediately melted against her lips and kissed her back, the two sharing soft kisses until they pulled back, “Humm, Y/n…thank you, this is the best Saturnalia I’ve ever had.”

“Best Saturnalia so far,” she smiled,

He laughed, “We shall have to make next year even better then. Together.”

“Together.” She agreed.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Another Feldcroft Christmas | Sebastian Sallow x OC #34

it is officially December and that means I can share the christmas chapters heheh please enjoy all the upcoming fluff <3

Summary: Evangeline spends another Christmas in Feldcroft. Sebastian gets a very unexpected surprise:)

Words: ~10,400

Tags: Extra Fluff, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Friends To Lovers, Slow Burn, Longing, Unspoken Feelings, Fluff Again, Romance, Mentions of Smut, Trope-y, Idiots in Love, Soft Moments, Christmas

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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The snow fell softly over Feldcroft, blanketing the small village in a hushed stillness. Hogwarts had been chaotic in the weeks leading up to the holiday break, and the quiet here felt like stepping into a sanctuary. The air smelled clean, crisp with winter, and as he guided Evangeline up the path to his cottage, the familiar sight of its weathered stone walls and modest roof brought a flicker of warmth to his chest.

Home.

A place with no rumors. No whispers about Evangeline. No Boggarts. No Alaric Thornton or Clearwaters. No Muldoons or Noctivus Gaunts. Just peace. And Evie.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, carrying her trunk while the cold nipped at her nose and flushed her cheeks pink. She was bundled in her traveling cloak, her long hair peeking out from beneath her hood, catching bits of snow that shimmered like tiny jewels in the pale light. She looked—Merlin, she looked perfect, though Sebastian quickly shoved that thought into the deep recesses of his mind before it could linger too long.

“You alright back there?” he called, his voice light, though his heart gave an extra thud at the way she smiled at him.

“Perfectly fine,” she replied, a little puff of frost escaping her lips with the words. “Though if you keep slowing down to check on me, I might beat you to the door.”

He smirked, turning back toward the cottage. “You wish.”

The past month had been an unrelenting storm for Evangeline, and true to form, she’d weathered it all with resilience. But it had been a lot. Too much.

She needed this break as much as he did.

Here, in Feldcroft, they could breathe. And maybe Sebastian would find a moment to untangle the mess of emotions that had knotted up inside him since... well, since forever.

Because that knot had tightened unbearably over the past month. When Evangeline had been poisoned, he’d been forced to confront the terrifying fragility of it all. He had spent every possible moment by her side, desperate for her to open her eyes, to laugh at him for worrying so much. Those endless hours had stripped him bare, made him realize just how much he couldn’t lose her.

And then there had been the rumors. For that brief, agonizing moment when he’d foolishly believed that she might have been with another man, that she might be carrying Alaric's child... Merlin, the thought had ripped him apart. The jealousy, the pain, the crushing regret—It had put things into perspective. How quickly circumstances could change. How easily the ground could fall out from beneath him.

Sebastian reached the cottage first, pushing the door open and stepping aside to let her in. The warmth of the fire hit them immediately, the crackling hearth illuminating the modest space in a golden glow. He set her trunk down near the door, watching as Evangeline shed her cloak and stepped inside, her hazel eyes scanning the room with quiet appreciation.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice gentle but sincere. “For inviting me again.”

Sebastian nodded, feeling a lump rise in his throat that he quickly swallowed down. "It's your home as much as it is mine, you know that."

Evangeline’s gaze softened, her fingers lingering on the clasp of her cloak as she turned to look at him. Her hazel eyes, warm and touched with gratitude, conveyed more than words ever could

She moved toward the hearth then, holding out her hands to warm them as Sebastian busied himself unpacking the few provisions he’d packed. It wasn’t much, but it would do until they had a chance to swing by the store.

“So,” he began, breaking the quiet as he glanced over his shoulder at her, “what’s first on the agenda? A walk through the village? A quiet afternoon by the fire? Or,” he added with a sly grin, “do you want me to drag out the old chessboard so I can absolutely annihilate you again?”

Evangeline raised a brow, the corners of her mouth twitching with amusement. “Excuse me, I distinctly remember trouncing you the last time we played.”

“You cheated.”

“I did no such thing.”

“Please,” Sebastian scoffed, turning fully to face her, "You charmed the pieces! Admit it now while I’m still feeling generous.”

Evangeline laughed, a soft, melodic sound that filled the small cottage and warmed the space more than the fire ever could. She turned from the hearth, crossing her arms with mock indignation. “I would never stoop to such levels. Maybe you’re just bad at chess.”

“Bad at chess?" He laughed, "You've never beaten me fairly. Not once."

“Well,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from her face as her smile lingered, “perhaps we’ll just have to play again."

He smirked, leaning against the table with his arms crossed. “Oh, it’s on.”

For a while, the two of them slipped into an easy rhythm—chatting, teasing, settling into the cozy familiarity that had always existed between them. Sebastian found himself watching her more often than he intended, catching the way the firelight danced in her eyes, or how she tucked her hair behind her ear when she thought he wasn’t looking.

He completely thrashed her in chess, not that she seemed to mind much—her laughter spilling across the room as she dramatically bemoaned her defeat.

“Honestly, I think you enjoy humiliating me," she said, leaning back in her chair with a huff.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, a smug grin plastered on his face. In the recesses of his mind, he found himself tempted—just for a moment—to push the teasing a little further.

How’d you know that’s what I’m into? The thought danced at the edge of his tongue, almost slipping out, almost too easy to say with her sitting there, her cheeks flushed from laughing, her eyes bright and warm.

But he stopped himself.

“Well, humiliating you in chess is hardly a challenge,” he said instead, his tone light, casual. “You make it so easy.”

Evangeline tossed a pawn at him, and he caught it midair, chuckling. “I’ll get you next time,” she promised, her mock-serious tone only making him grin wider.

“Sure. Next time, I’ll play you without my queen,” he teased, standing to clear the board.

As he moved to set the chess pieces back on the shelf, he glanced over his shoulder at her, still perched by the fire. The soft glow of the flames illuminated her features, her expression softened by the warmth of the room. She looked... content.

That’s what he wanted for her. Peace. Safety. A reprieve. But he also wanted—Merlin, he wanted so much more.

The thought lingered, unspoken, as the evening stretched on.

Evangeline had insisted on making dinner, shooing Sebastian away when he offered to help. She’d taken over his modest kitchen with efficiency, her sleeves rolled up and her brow furrowed in concentration. He’d watched her from the doorway, his heart catching in his throat more than once as she hummed softly while stirring a pot.

Dinner had been simple but satisfying, and now Sebastian was settled in his favorite armchair by the fire, a book open in his lap. He wasn’t paying much attention to the words, though. His mind wandered too easily tonight, lingering on the warmth of Evie's laugh, the domesticity of her standing in his modest little cottage as if she belonged there. She did belong there.

Evangeline, meanwhile, was fussing over his bookshelf, her frustration growing by the minute. “I can’t believe I forgot my books,” she muttered under her breath, scanning the rows with an annoyed frown. “I was so sure I packed them.”

Sebastian smirked, glancing up from his page. “Tragic, really. Guess you’ll have to make do with my collection.”

She cast him a mock glare over her shoulder. “As if your taste could ever compare to mine.”

“I’ll have you know, my taste is impeccable."

“That remains to be seen,” she retorted, trailing her fingers along the spines of his books. Her eyes skimmed over titles, most of them unsurprising: spell theory, magical history, a few adventure novels. She was just about to give up when her fingers paused on something unexpected, something shoved towards the back.

“Sebastian,” she said, her voice laced with barely contained amusement. “What's this?”

He glanced up, his brow furrowing. “What’s what?”

Evangeline turned, holding up a thin book with a gold-embossed title. Intimacies and Affections: A Guide to Healthy Romances.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped.

Her eyes were wide with mock disbelief, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips. “This?” she asked, shaking the book lightly. “This is yours?”

He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Put that back.”

“Oh, no. No, no, no,” she said, her voice lilting with barely restrained laughter as she flipped it open, skimming the first page. "You relentlessly teased me last year for having this, and you've had it all along?!" Her voice pitched slightly higher in disbelief.

“It’s a useless book," he said quickly, though the faint blush creeping up his neck said otherwise.

“Useless? You seemed to have kept it well-preserved,” she teased, holding the book up to the light and inspecting it as if she were appraising a rare treasure. “Not even a cracked spine. You’ve been keeping it pristine.”

Sebastian huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I haven’t touched it since I got it.”

“Oh?” Her smirk widened, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “So you’ve never flipped through it? Not even once?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“For Christ’s sake,” he muttered, dragging his hands down his face as if he could physically hide from her relentless teasing.

Evangeline’s grin only widened, her amusement spilling over in soft laughter. “Oh, this is too good. I thought you were a romance and intimacy expert, Sebastian? Surely all your late-night rendezvous with Chelsea have—”

Sebastian’s head snapped up, his scowl sharp enough to cut through stone. “Don’t,” he said flatly, his voice clipped. “Don’t bring her up.”

Evangeline paused, her smirk faltering as she caught the unmistakable irritation in his tone. “What? Why not?”

Sebastian let out a slow, measured breath, leaning back in his chair as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Because she’s irrelevant.”

“Is she?” Evangeline pressed, her brow furrowing slightly. “She seemed pretty relevant when you were ditching our study sessions."

Sebastian rolled his eyes, the memory alone enough to irritate him all over again. “Chelsea has a tendency to get... possessive. And irrational.”

“Ah, yes,” Evangeline said, her tone turning dry. “The qualities everyone looks for in a partner.”

“She wasn’t a partner,” Sebastian snapped, sharper than he intended. He sighed, dragging a hand through his hair as he tried to temper his frustration. “It was casual. Always casual. She knew that from the start.”

Evangeline raised a brow, setting the book down on the armrest as she leaned slightly closer, curiosity sparking in her hazel eyes. “Did she, though? Because for the past month, she looked at me like she wanted to hex me out of existence.”

Sebastian’s lips pressed into a thin line. Chelsea’s reaction to him spending countless hours at Evangeline’s bedside after her poisoning had been... unpleasant, to say the least. She’d shown up in the hospital wing more than once, demanding to know why he was so fixated on Evangeline, why he wasn’t prioritizing her. Every time, he’d calmly reminded her, firstly, Evageline was his best friend, and secondly, that their arrangement had no strings attached.

But clearly, Chelsea hadn’t gotten the memo.

“I ended things weeks ago,” Sebastian said, his voice firm but weary. “She wasn’t happy about it, obviously, but I made it clear where I stood.”

Evangeline’s expression shifted. “I didn’t know that,” she said quietly, her fingers tracing the edge of the book without really looking at it. “I thought... I don’t know what I thought.”

Sebastian scoffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know why you thought anything about her in the first place. She never mattered.”

Evangeline blinked, her gaze flickering to his for a moment before she looked away, her voice hesitant. “Well... she clearly thought you mattered.”

He sighed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped loosely. “She caught feelings. I didn’t. That’s all there is to it.” His voice softened slightly, his frustration ebbing. “I couldn’t keep leading her on."

Evangeline studied him for a long moment, but she didn’t push further. Instead, she leaned back, her fingers tapping lightly against the book. “Well,” she said, her tone turning lighter, “at least you’ve got this guide to help you figure out what not to do in the future.”

Sebastian groaned, letting his head fall back against the chair as she started laughing again. “Alright, alright. You’ve had your fun. Now put it back.”

“Oh, no. This is staying out.” She grinned, flipping through the pages again, her fingers trailing over the neatly printed text. “It’s a treasure, Sebastian. I can’t believe you’ve kept it in such pristine condition. You even dog-eared a page!”

“What?” He froze, his brows knitting together. “I did not.”

“Oh, but you did.” Her smirk widened as she held the book up, tilting it just enough to show the faint crease in one of the pages. “Right here. Let’s see what wisdom you were so desperate to keep.”

“Give me that,” he said, lunging forward, but she pulled it away, laughing as she hopped off the chair and darted toward the other side of the room.

“Evangeline, I’m serious! Hand it over.”

She twirled around a corner, holding the book high above her head like some coveted prize. “Oh, no. If I had to suffer your teasing, then it’s only fair you endure the same.” Her laughter bubbled through the air as she darted around the small cottage.

“Evie,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous, “I’m not above wrestling it out of your hands.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” she called back over her shoulder, narrowly dodging him as he reached for her.

“Oh, wouldn’t I?” He grinned, now chasing her around the table. She ducked and weaved, her movements lithe. The book wavered in her grasp as her laughter turned breathless.

“You’ll have to try harder than that!” she teased, but her triumphant smirk was short-lived. As she dashed toward the sofa, she misjudged her footing on the rug, her momentum causing her to stumble. Sebastian, hot on her heels, didn’t have time to stop, and the two of them collided.

“Merlin’s—” His words were cut off as they both tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs.

Evangeline let out a surprised yelp, the book slipping from her grasp and landing with a soft thud a few feet away. When the world stopped spinning, Sebastian found himself flat on his back, Evangeline sprawled across him, her hands pressed against his chest as she tried to steady herself. Her hair had come loose in the fall, spilling around them like a dark curtain, and for a moment, the only sound was their breath mingling in the quiet space between them.

Sebastian blinked up at her, momentarily disoriented but acutely aware of every point of contact—the warmth of her body against his, the satisfying weight of her perched on his lap. His hands, which had instinctively shot out to catch her mid-fall, were now settled lightly on her waist.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian asked finally, his voice low, his tone hovering somewhere between genuine concern and teasing amusement.

Evangeline froze, her wide hazel eyes locking onto his. Her cheeks flushed a deep red, a stark contrast against her pale skin. “Fine,” she managed, her voice a little breathless. “Just… not exactly where I planned to end up.”

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Oh, so this wasn’t part of your master plan?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, though the flush on her cheeks deepened. “Shut up.”

Sebastian’s grin widened, and before he could stop himself, he let his head fall back against the floor with a chuckle. “Merlin, you’re dangerous. Who knew a book thief could be so reckless?”

Her lips parted, a protest clearly forming, but then her gaze flicked down, and for the first time, she seemed to fully register their position. Her hands were still splayed on his chest, his heartbeat steady but quick beneath her palms, and his hands rested lightly on her hips, his fingers brushing against the fabric of her sweater.

Evangeline tried to push herself up, but her movement only served to shift her weight against him, drawing a sharp intake of breath from Sebastian. His grip on her waist instinctively tightened, steadying her before she could fall again.

“Careful,” he murmured.

“I—I’m trying,” she stammered, her blush creeping down to her neck as she quickly averted her gaze. “You’re the one who tackled me!”

“You tripped,” he corrected, a smirk tugging at his lips. “And, for the record, I tried to stop you from falling.”

Her eyes snapped back to his, narrowing. “Oh, is that what this is? You saving me?”

“Absolutely,” he said with a nod. “Though, I admit, the results aren’t as graceful as I’d hoped.”

She let out a huff, clearly trying to mask the nervous laugh that bubbled up in her throat. “You’re impossible.”

Sebastian tilted his head slightly, his expression softening as he studied her. “And you’re still on top of me.”

Evangeline froze, her eyes widening as the realization seemed to sink in. With a sharp inhale, she scrambled to get off him, her movements hurried and slightly clumsy as she tried to regain her footing.

Sebastian’s hands fell away reluctantly, and though he tried to hide it, the faintest flicker of disappointment crossed his face as she put distance between them. The warmth of her absence was almost immediate, leaving him momentarily bereft as he pushed himself upright.

“Right,” she muttered, smoothing down her sweater and refusing to meet his gaze. “Sorry about that.”

“No need to apologize,” Sebastian said, his voice teasing but soft. He propped himself up on his elbows, watching her as she fussed with her hair, her cheeks still painted a brilliant shade of red. “If you ever feel like toppling over again, I’m happy to oblige.”

“Sebastian,” she groaned, turning to glare at him,

“What?” he said with a grin, leaning back casually on his hands now. “Just offering my bodyguard services.”

Evangeline let out a soft huff, shaking her head as she reached for the book that had caused the commotion. It had fallen open on the floor during the chaos, the pages splayed in a way that revealed the dogeared corner. Her eyes caught on the faint crease, and curiosity got the better of her as she bent to pick it up.

The silence in the room grew heavier as she straightened, the book now in her hands, her gaze dropping to the exposed page.

Sebastian’s smirk faltered slightly as he noticed her pause, the way her eyes flicked over the text. “What is it?” he asked, his voice more cautious now.

Evangeline’s lips curved upward in a slow, mischievous smile as she read aloud, her tone dripping with dramatic flair. “‘Effective communication is the cornerstone of any healthy relationship.’” She glanced up at him, her brows raised in mock seriousness. “‘Partners should strive to express their feelings openly and honestly, fostering a foundation of trust.’”

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand down his face as he flopped back against the floor. “Merlin, help me.”

Evangeline’s laughter bubbled up again, bright and melodic as she hugged the book to her chest. “This is brilliant. You of all people dogeared this? A passage about open communication? Did you take notes on it too?”

“I didn’t,” he grumbled, glaring at her from where he lay sprawled on the floor.

“Sure, you didn’t,” she teased, flipping the book closed and holding it aloft like a prized artifact. “I think I’m keeping this, by the way.”

“Over my dead body,” he shot back, though there was no real bite in his tone.

Sebastian pushed himself back to his feet, towering over her in an instant. It wasn’t the first time he’d noticed the stark difference in their heights, but standing this close, it was impossible not to notice again. At just barely five feet tall, Evangeline looked almost comically small compared to his own six-foot frame. Yet somehow, she carried herself in a way that made her presence feel far larger than her stature would suggest.

Now, though, with her clutching that ridiculous book to her chest and smirking up at him, the difference was striking—and, Merlin help him, endearing.

He tilted his head, crossing his arms as he looked down at her, feigning sternness. “You know, for someone so small, you’ve got a big sense of entitlement.”

Evangeline raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Excuse me, I prefer the term ‘perfectly proportioned.’”

“Right,” Sebastian drawled, his smirk returning. “Perfectly proportioned for sneaking around and stealing things, maybe. Like my book.”

She hugged the book tighter to her chest, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m not giving it back. You don’t even want it.”

“I didn’t want it until you decided to make it a trophy,” he shot back, leaning down slightly. “Now, hand it over.”

He reached for the book, and though she made a half-hearted attempt to twist away, she didn’t really try to stop him. His fingers closed around the spine, and she let out a soft huff as he tugged it free.

“There,” he said, straightening and holding the book just out of her reach. “Victory. Now, tell me, Evie,” he smirked, his voice teasing, “when you read your copy of this book, did you happen to skim past the chapter on boundaries?”

Evangeline froze for a moment, her eyes narrowing as a playful gasp escaped her lips. “Sebastian Sallow,” she said, her voice tinged with offense, “are you accusing me of being inconsiderate?”

“Not at all,” he replied smoothly, though the smirk on his face suggested otherwise. “I’m simply pointing out that perhaps you could use a refresher. You know, since you seem to think my copy of the book is fair game.”

She stepped closer, planting her hands on her hips as she peered up at him. The slight tilt of her head, coupled with the determined set of her jaw, gave her the look of someone about to launch into a righteous tirade—despite the fact that she barely reached his chest.

“I’ll have you know,” she began, her tone full of indignation, “I’m well-versed in boundaries. In fact, I read my copy of this book cover to cover.”

“Did you now?” he replied, arching an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. But despite his casual demeanor, Sebastian could feel a flicker of something unexpected stirring in his chest—something he quickly tried to tamp down.

Because he knew exactly what was contained in Intimacies and Affections. Every chapter. Every page. Every overly detailed suggestion about cultivating intimacy in all its forms. Because he, too, had read it front to back, and the thought of Evangeline reading those same passages made his throat feel inexplicably dry.

His smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, but Evangeline didn’t miss it. Her hazel eyes narrowed, and her lips curved into a knowing grin as she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Something wrong?” she asked, her voice dripping with faux innocence.

“Nothing at all,” he said quickly, schooling his features back into a smug expression. “I’m just trying to imagine you actually sitting down and reading it without laughing yourself to tears.”

“Oh, I laughed plenty,” she admitted, her grin widening. “Some of those scenarios they suggest? Ridiculous. Like that bit about setting up candlelit baths and feeding each other chocolate-dipped strawberries.”

Sebastian let out a snort, the tension in his chest loosening just slightly. “Yeah, that one’s a bit much. Honestly, I think that’s the author’s fantasy more than anything practical.”

“Right?” Evangeline agreed, rolling her eyes. “And don’t even get me started on the section about ‘discovering emotional intimacy through prolonged physical proximity.’”

They both laughed, the kind of laughter that filled the space like warm sunlight cutting through winter's chill. The book rested in Sebastian’s hand now, but neither of them seemed in a rush to put it away. Instead, they leaned against the back of the sofa, flipping through its pages like conspirators uncovering a treasure trove of absurdities.

Evangeline leaned over, flipping through the pages at random. Her eyes lit up as she found another section. “Oh, oh, this one!” she said, laughter already bubbling in her voice. “‘Spending an entire day together without speaking—communicating only through meaningful gestures.’” She paused to let the absurdity settle before glancing up at him. “Could you even imagine?”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but his grin widened. “Not a chance. A day without talking? I’d lose my mind.”

“And the gestures!” she exclaimed, giggling. “What counts as meaningful, anyway? A dramatic eyebrow raise? A very intense thumbs-up?”

Sebastian snorted, flipping to another random page. “Ah, here’s one: ‘Reading romantic poetry aloud to each other under starlight.’”

Evangeline pretended to swoon dramatically, clutching the book to her chest. “Oh yes, I'd love it if my partner were secretly practicing his sonnet-reading voice.”

Sebastian huffed a laugh, “This might be the most pretentious thing I’ve ever read.”

“It might not be that bad,” she teased, elbowing him lightly. “I mean, if the stars were nice enough, and the poetry wasn’t too tragic…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes glinting mischievously. “I bet you’d enjoy it.”

“I’ll pass,” he muttered, though the image of sitting under a sky full of stars with her, his voice soft as he read her lines of poetry, lingered for just a beat longer than it should have. If he were honest, it really wouldn't be so different to when he read Mansfield Park to her over the summer.

Evangeline laughed again, her fingers skimming through the book until she stopped suddenly. “Oh no,” she said, her tone dripping with exaggerated disbelief. “This one, Sebastian. This one is the peak of ridiculous romance advice.”

He arched a brow, curious despite himself. “What ridiculous fantasy is the author suggesting this time, serenading each other while riding brooms?”

She shook her head, smirking as she read aloud. “‘Cooking together to strengthen bonds—one partner blindfolded, relying entirely on the other’s guidance.’” She snapped the book shut with a flourish, her grin widening. “Can you even imagine? Blindfolded while chopping vegetables? That’s not romance; that’s a trip to St. Mungo’s waiting to happen.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to agree, but the words caught in his throat. The image the passage conjured in his mind wasn’t absurd, not entirely. In fact, the thought of guiding her hands, standing close as they navigated the chaos of cooking together, felt far too intimate. Too real. Too much like something he wanted.

He could picture her clearly—blindfolded, trusting him completely, her hazel eyes hidden but her lips curved into that playful, crooked smile that always left his stomach in knots. He could almost feel the tentative way her fingers would grip his forearm for balance, how she’d lean into his touch just enough to send sparks down his spine.

And, oh, the control. That was the part he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. The idea of being the one to guide her, to hold her steady, to ensure her every move was safe, careful, precise—it stirred something deep and primal inside him. Evangeline was fiercely independent, always quick to take charge and chart her own course, and yet here she would be, willingly surrendering that control to him.

The thought was intoxicating.

It wasn’t about dominance in a crude, thoughtless way. It was the trust behind it that made his chest tighten—the knowledge that someone like her, someone so capable and self-reliant, would let him lead her, would depend on him even for a moment.

And there was something undeniably alluring about the way her usual confidence might falter in the blindfold’s darkness, how she might seek reassurance in his touch, her fingers brushing his as she fumbled for the next step. He could almost hear the nervous laugh she’d let out when she made a mistake, feel the warmth of her cheek against his as he leaned in to guide her, whispering instructions softly near her ear.

Her submission wouldn’t be weakness—it would be a gift, a fleeting moment of vulnerability offered to him alone. And Merlin, the thought of it sent a rush of heat through his veins, leaving his throat dry and his heart racing.

“Sebastian?” she prompted, her tone lighter, teasing. “What, no witty retort? Are you picturing it?”

His eyes snapped to hers, wide with alarm. “What? No. Absolutely not.”

Her smile widened, her curiosity piqued as she watched him fumble, his usual quick wit suddenly absent. “Oh my God, you are picturing it.”

“I’m not!” he insisted, but his voice cracked slightly, betraying him.

“You are!” she crowed, laughing as she stepped closer, holding the book up like it was evidence. “You’re actually into this idea! Merlin's beard, Sebastian... do you have a thing for blindfolds?!"

Sebastian groaned, dragging a hand through his hair, the telltale warmth creeping up his neck as Evangeline’s laughter filled the small cottage. She had that wicked gleam in her eye, the one that meant she wasn’t going to let this go anytime soon.

“I’m not into blindfolds,” he shot back, crossing his arms defensively. “It’s just—”

Evangeline tilted her head, her grin widening as she studied him like a puzzle she was determined to solve. “You’re blushing,” she pointed out, her tone sing-song and delighted.

“I am not,” he muttered, though he refused to meet her gaze now, his arms tightening across his chest as if he could physically shield himself from her relentless teasing.

“You are,” she insisted, her laugh bubbling up again. “My god, you’re so bad at hiding it. Should I read it to you again?” she teased, her voice lilting with faux sweetness. “‘Blindfolded cooking to strengthen bonds—’”

“Evie,” he warned, his voice low and desperate, but she just grinned wider, undeterred.

“—allowing your partner to guide you through every step, fostering trust and, dare I say, intimacy.;” She looked up at him, her hazel eyes alight with amusement. “Sebastian Sallow, is this a kink?"

Sebastian felt his entire body go rigid, his breath catching in his throat as Evangeline’s words hung in the air, her teasing grin practically glowing with mischief. A kink? He opened his mouth to respond, to shut the idea down immediately, but the words simply refused to cooperate.

“I—what?!” he finally sputtered, his voice cracking slightly, which only made her laugh harder.

“Oh, Merlin, it is!” she exclaimed, her tone positively gleeful.

Sebastian thought he might die on the spot.

“You’ve got to tell me," she continued, "What is it about blindfolds that gets you so flustered? I mean, I thought you were unshakable, but apparently all it takes is a bit of fabric and some trust exercises to send you reeling.”

Sebastian crossed his arms tightly over his chest, his scowl doing little to mask the growing embarrassment simmering just beneath the surface. “I’m not flustered,” he muttered, though the crack in his voice betrayed him.

“Oh, you definitely are,” she teased, inching even closer, her gaze locked onto his like a predator who had cornered her prey. “Come on, spill it. What about it has you turning red? Is it the idea of being blindfolded yourself, or...?” She trailed off, her voice lilting with curiosity.

“It’s not—” Sebastian started, his voice sharp but faltering. He let out a frustrated sigh, raking a hand through his hair as he realized there was no escape. She wasn’t going to let this go, not without an answer. And, Merlin help him, he couldn’t come up with a convincing lie fast enough to deflect her.

So he gave in.

“It’s not about me being blindfolded,” he said finally, his voice low, measured. He looked away, focusing on the flicker of the fire instead of her face. “It’s... the other way around.”

Evangeline tilted her head, her smile softening slightly but her curiosity still alight. “Oh?” she prompted, clearly not satisfied with his vague explanation.

Sebastian sighed again, his shoulders sagging slightly as he shifted his weight. “It’s just... there’s something about it, alright? Someone willingly giving up control, letting you guide them. It’s...” He hesitated, the words sticking in his throat. He glanced at her briefly, his gaze sharp and searching, before continuing. “It’s intimate.”

The word lingered in the air between them, heavier than he’d intended. Sebastian rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling too warm despite the winter chill that still clung to the room.

Evangeline blinked, her teasing grin faltering as her cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. “Oh."

Sebastian risked a glance at her, and what he saw made his stomach flip. The playful spark in her eyes had dimmed, replaced by a wide-eyed uncertainty.

Sebastian quirked a brow, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth despite himself. “Look who's blushing now."

Evangeline let out a huff, clearly scrambling for a way to regain the upper hand. With a dramatic flourish, she tossed the book into his lap, the sudden motion making him grunt in surprise as the tome landed unceremoniously against his stomach.

“I’m going to get changed.”

Once she'd disappeared down the hallway, Sebastian sighed, dragging a hand down his face. Tonight was going to be a long one.

~

The next few days passed in a blur of quiet routines and the kind of easy companionship that Sebastian had come to cherish. The book—and their conversation about it—didn’t come up again. If anything, it was as if the moment had never happened. Evangeline didn’t tease him about blindfolds, and Sebastian didn’t bring it up, though the memory lingered like a faint ember, glowing quietly in the back of his mind.

Instead, they fell back into their well-oiled domestic rhythm. Evangeline helped prepare meals with the kind of confidence that suggested she was already used to the space, darting around the kitchen as though it were her own. Sebastian found himself lingering more than he should, watching the way she moved, the way her brow furrowed in concentration, or the little hums of approval she let out when she tasted something she’d made.

If she noticed him staring, she didn’t say anything.

They spent the mornings braving the crisp winter air, venturing into the village for errands or a bit of fresh air. The locals were accustomed to seeing Sebastian around this time of year, but Evangeline’s presence added a new layer of warmth to their exchanges. She was effortlessly charming, her laughter ringing out as they greeted familiar faces, and Sebastian couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of pride whenever someone asked about her.

The afternoons, though, were his favorite. They’d spent one entire day setting up the Christmas tree—a modest but charming pine they’d dragged in from the woods near Feldcroft. Sebastian had teased her about her meticulous placement of the ornaments, claiming she was worse than Professor Sharp when it came to precision. She’d rolled her eyes at him, laughing as she threw a handful of tinsel in his direction.

By the time the tree was done, they’d both been covered in glitter and pine needles, and the room had been filled with the kind of warm, unrestrained laughter that made Sebastian’s chest ache in the best way.

Despite himself, Sebastian awoke on Christmas Eve morning with a faint sense of unease, a heaviness he couldn’t immediately place. The morning light filtered through the small, frost-covered windows of his room, casting soft patterns on the walls, but it did little to lift the dull ache settling in his bones.

The holiday was passing by too quickly.

He stared up at the ceiling for a long moment, willing the feeling to dissipate, but it lingered stubbornly, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. There was still over a week left of break, he reminded himself, plenty of time to savor the peace and quiet of Feldcroft—and Evangeline’s presence.

But the thought of returning to Hogwarts, to the chaos and routine of school life, made his stomach twist. A life without her here, moving through his home as though she belonged, felt unbearable.

With a sigh, Sebastian swung his legs over the side of the bed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the unwelcome weight in his chest. There was still time, he told himself firmly. No sense in ruining the day by brooding over the inevitable.

He pulled on a sweater and some thick socks, the cold floor biting at his feet, and made his way toward the sitting room. The faint crackle of the fire reached his ears before he stepped into the room, and what he saw when he rounded the corner stopped him in his tracks.

Evangeline was already awake, curled up in the armchair closest to the hearth, her legs tucked beneath her and a book resting open in her lap. But it wasn’t the book that caught his attention—it was her outfit. She was wearing one of his sweaters, a dark, oversized thing that hung off her shoulders and nearly swallowed her whole.

Sebastian froze, his breath catching in his throat as a rush of warmth spread through his chest. She looked so at ease, so perfectly at home, that for a moment, he allowed himself to forget that this wasn’t permanent. That in just over a week, she’d be back in the Gryffindor common room, and he’d be pacing the Slytherin dungeons, missing her with a desperation he could already feel creeping in.

As if sensing his presence, Evangeline glanced up from her book, her hazel eyes soft and bright in the firelight. A small smile tugged at her lips as she spotted him lingering in the doorway.

“Morning,” she said, her voice warm and still tinged with sleep. “I didn’t think you’d ever get up.”

Sebastian forced himself to move, to step further into the room and shake off the daze her presence always seemed to put him in. He smirked, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall. "Comfy?"

Evangeline rolled her eyes, though her smile widened slightly as she set the book aside. “Your clothes are warmer than mine,” she said simply, as if that explained everything. "If you don't want me borrowing them, you shouldn't leave them out all over the place."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow, his smirk deepening as he pushed off the doorframe and made his way closer to the fire. “So it’s my fault now? For existing in my own home?”

“For one thing, you said it's my home too,” Evangeline replied with mock seriousness, tugging the sweater around her like a cocoon. “And anyway, it’s called common courtesy, Sebastian. If you leave perfectly cozy sweaters lying around, what do you expect me to do? Freeze?”

He huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he dropped onto the sofa across from her. “I don’t know,” he drawled, leaning back and stretching his legs out. “Maybe pack your own warm clothes instead of raiding my wardrobe?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” she shot back, her grin widening. “Your sweaters are ridiculously oversized. It’s like wearing a blanket.”

Sebastian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, his smirk faltering slightly. She wasn’t wrong—the sweater did swallow her whole, the fabric pooling at her wrists and shoulders in a way that made her seem impossibly small. There was something achingly endearing about it, something that made his chest tighten.

He cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts back into safer territory. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous,” he teased, “because that’s my favorite sweater.”

Evangeline’s eyes widened, her expression turning mock-apologetic as she clutched the sweater dramatically. “Oh no. Your favorite? Now I feel terrible.”

“Sure you do,” he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“I mean it,” she insisted, though her tone betrayed her amusement. “Terrible enough to keep it for the rest of the break.”

Sebastian let out an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head. “Unbelievable. Next, you’ll be claiming my socks too.”

Evangeline stretched out one of her legs, and one of his woolen socks, far too big for her small feet, peeked out from beneath the hem of her pajama pants. The sight was both absurd and heart-stoppingly endearing.

"Too late." she said with a shrug.

Sebastian barked a laugh, rolling his eyes as he settled on the couch. He stretched his legs out to rest on the coffee table. “So,” he said, breaking the quiet, his tone lighter. “What’s the plan for today? Another walk through the village? More decorating? Or,” he added with a sly grin, “should I dig out that chessboard so I can crush you again?”

Evangeline rolled her eyes, but the corners of her mouth twitched upward.

“I was actually thinking we could bake something. You know, since it’s Christmas Eve and all.”

Sebastian arched a brow. “Bake? Like cookies?”

“Exactly like cookies,” she said, nodding firmly. “I... I found a recipe in one of your mum’s old cookbooks yesterday.”

Sebastian’s smirk softened at the mention of his mother’s cookbooks. He hand't touched any of the dessert recipes in years—not since Anne had stopped baking around the holidays. The thought of Evangeline flipping through the worn pages, her curious fingers skimming over his mother’s handwritten notes, sent a quiet pang through his chest.

“You did, did you?” he asked, his voice gentler now.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” she said, the faintest hint of a blush coloring her cheeks. “But then I realized I’d need your help because the instructions are... let’s just say vague. Your mum must have been one of those cooks who just knew how things were supposed to turn out.”

Sebastian chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Sounds like her."

"Sounds like you," Evangeline chuckled, and she gave him a teasing smile.

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “I’ll warn you now—I’ve learned to cook for Anne, but baking? That’s a different beast. I wouldn’t call myself an expert.”

“Well,” she replied, standing and motioning toward the kitchen with a flourish, “lucky for you, I happen to be an excellent teacher."

With that, Sebastian rose to his feet and followed her into the kitchen. Evangeline was already rifling through the cupboards for mixing bowls and measuring spoons, her energy infectious. Sebastian leaned against the counter, watching her with a fond smirk as she muttered to herself about where he kept the vanilla extract.

“You’re the guest,” he teased. “I should be the one doing the prep work.”

She turned, hands on her hips, a wooden spoon dangling precariously from her fingers. “Then start measuring the flour, Mr. Holiday Spirit.”

He let out a low chuckle, pushing off the counter to grab the flour container. “Yes, ma’am.”

The two of them quickly fell into a rhythm, Sebastian handling the measuring while Evangeline dictated the steps, occasionally stopping to glance at the scribbled notes in his mother’s cookbook. The kitchen was soon filled with the warm scent of cinnamon and nutmeg, mingling with their shared laughter as they debated the merits of raisins in cookies (Sebastian was firmly against it; Evangeline insisted they added “character”).

Sebastian had just started measuring out sugar when the sound of wings fluttering against glass caught his attention. He looked up, frowning as he spotted a small owl perched on the windowsill, its feathers fluffed against the cold.

“An owl?” he said, setting the sugar aside and wiping his hands on a towel. “Didn’t know we were expecting post.”

Evangeline’s head shot up, her eyes widening slightly before she quickly turned toward the window. “Oh! I think it’s for me,” she said, her voice just a little too bright as she rushed over.

Sebastian watched as she unlatched the window, letting the owl hop inside. It held out its leg, a neatly folded letter tied with a simple red ribbon attached. Evangeline untied it quickly, murmuring a soft “thank you” before the owl gave a low hoot and flew back out into the snow.

“Who’s it from?” Sebastian asked casually, leaning back against the counter.

Evangeline hesitated, her fingers brushing over the ribbon as she glanced at the letter. “Oh, just... something I was expecting,” she said lightly, folding the parchment and tucking it into her pocket before he could read the address.

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed slightly, his curiosity piqued. “Something important?”

“No, not really,” she said quickly, flashing him a small smile as she turned back toward the counter. “Let’s finish these cookies, shall we?”

Her tone was breezy, but the way she avoided his gaze told him otherwise. Sebastian didn’t press, though the question lingered in the back of his mind. What was in the letter that had her so eager to deflect? And why did she look so... excited?

Shaking the thought aside, he grabbed the sugar container and poured it into the bowl, keeping one eye on Evangeline as she busied herself with the spices. She was hiding something—of that, he was certain. But whatever it was, he would find out eventually.

For now, though, there were cookies to bake. And if she thought she was getting away with sneaking raisins into the batter, she had another thing coming.

By late afternoon, Sebastian leaned back in his chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed lazily at the ankles. The coffee table between them bore the aftermath of their baking endeavors—crumb-filled plates, the now nearly-empty cookie tin, and their half-drunk cups of tea. His stomach was comfortably full, though he suspected he’d regret indulging in so many cookies later.

Not that he cared.

Across from him, Evangeline was curled up on the sofa, her frame tucked beneath one of the well-worn blankets they’d pulled out earlier. Her head rested against the arm of the couch, and the firelight cast soft, flickering shadows over her features, and the faintest rise and fall of her chest told him she was dozing.

She looked so peaceful, her lips parted slightly as her breaths came slow and even. The day’s events had left a faint blush on her cheeks, remnants of the laughter they’d shared while wrestling over the dough and debating the merits of cookie shapes (Evangeline had insisted on stars, while Sebastian stubbornly fought for dragons).

She looked… content. Warm, safe, and utterly at ease in a way that made something deep in Sebastian’s chest twist and ache.

He quite liked her like this. Here, in Feldcroft, with him. Multiple cookies deep and perfectly cozy.

Sebastian let his head fall back against the chair, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he stared at the ceiling. How many times had he wished for this? For a version of life where Evangeline was simply here, part of his home, filling it with her presence and relentless teasing? Where they weren’t running from one disaster to another, but instead simply... existing together?

Too many times. And now that it was here, fleeting as it might be, he wasn’t sure how he’d let it go.

His gaze flicked back to her, and he felt his chest tighten again. The sweater she wore—his sweater—had slipped slightly from her shoulder, revealing the delicate curve of her collarbone. One of her hands peeked out from beneath the blanket, her fingers resting lightly on the edge of the cushion, her nails still dusted faintly with flour from earlier.

She looked... perfect. Too perfect. Like something out of one of those ridiculous romance novels Anne used to read by the dozen.

And she was here. With him.

Sebastian reached for the tin on the table, retrieving one of the last cookies. He bit into it absentmindedly, his eyes never straying far from her. She shifted slightly in her sleep, curling deeper into the blanket, and the soft sound she made—a barely audible sigh—sent an unsteady warmth spreading through his chest.

He swallowed hard. How could he possibly make it through the rest of the holiday without these thoughts consuming him? Without wanting more than what he could ever hope to have?

Sebastian didn't have long to think about it before there was a knock at the front door.

Sebastian froze at the sound, his brow furrowing as he glanced toward the door. A knock? Here? In Feldcroft? His first instinct was to ignore it—visitors to the village were rare, especially this time of year, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood for company. But the knock came again, firmer this time, and his curiosity got the better of him.

Evangeline stirred at the sound, her eyes fluttering open as she blinked sleepily in the direction of the door. It took her a moment to fully wake, but when she did, Evangeline’s face lit up in a way that sent Sebastian’s heart stumbling in his chest. She sat up, the blanket falling away, and before he could say anything, she was already on her feet.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, her hazel eyes gleaming with something he couldn’t quite place. “Come on,” she said, her voice warm and excited as she reached for his hand.

“What—Evie, wait,” Sebastian stammered, caught off guard as she tugged him toward the door. “Who is it?”

She didn’t answer, her grin widening as she pulled him along, her small hand wrapped firmly around his. He stumbled after her, his curiosity mounting with every step. The third knock came just as they reached the door, and Evangeline threw it open without hesitation.

Sebastian blinked, his breath catching in his throat as he took in the figure standing on the snowy doorstep.

Ominis. And-

“Anne?” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His sister stood there, hand in hand with Ominis, bundled in a thick traveling cloak, her cheeks pink from the cold. Snowflakes clung to her hair, and she gave him a tentative smile, her brown eyes shining with a mix of joy and emotion.

“Surprise,” Anne said softly, her voice trembling just slightly.

Sebastian stood frozen for a moment, his mind struggling to catch up. Anne. His sister. Standing here, in Feldcroft, after all this time. He hadn’t seen her since that tragic day in the catacombs nearly two years ago. The sight of her on his doorstep sent a wave of emotions crashing over him—shock, relief, disbelief, and something else, something warm that tugged at the edges of his chest, almost too overwhelming to name. For a moment, he forgot to breathe,

Evangeline gently nudged his hand, pulling him back to the present. “Are you going to invite them in, or leave them standing out there to freeze?”

Sebastian blinked, the haze of disbelief breaking as he stepped forward. “Anne, Ominins—Merlin’s beard, come in,” he said quickly, reaching for his sister's trunk and pulling her inside. The warmth of the cottage enveloped them as he shut the door behind her, the sharp chill of the outside world replaced by the familiar crackle of the fire.

“What—” Sebastian finally managed to find his voice, though it was hoarse and uncertain. “What are you doing here? Both of you?”

Anne arched an eyebrow, her smile widening slightly. “What, no hug for your sister after all this time?”

That broke through the fog. Sebastian’s expression softened, and in two strides, he closed the distance between them and pulled Anne into a fierce embrace. She let out a small laugh, her arms wrapping tightly around him as she buried her face against his shoulder.

“Merlin, Anne,” Sebastian murmured, his voice thick with emotion. So thick, his eyes were beginning to well up. "How... how are you? You should have told me you were coming.”

“Well, that would have ruined the surprise,” she replied, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. Her smile was softer now, her eyes, eyes that looked just like his, scanning his face as though memorizing every detail. “You look... better than I expected.”

Sebastian huffed a quiet laugh, wiping at his eyes before he stepped back. “You’re one to talk. You look... healthy.”

Anne smiled, her cheeks dimpled with warmth, and she shrugged modestly. "I’ve had some help," she said, glancing briefly at Ominis, who stood quietly near the door, a soft smile on his face.

Evangeline, sensing that Sebastian was too overwhelmed to act, stepped forward with a quiet smile, her voice calm and reassuring. "Come on, let’s get you all settled by the fire. It’s freezing out there."

Anne glanced at her, her smile softening with gratitude, and allowed herself to be gently guided further inside. Ominis followed, his steps measured as he made his way toward the warm glow of the hearth. Evangeline quickly gathered extra blankets and fluffed the armchair cushions, her movements efficient and thoughtful.

Sebastian stood frozen for another moment, his gaze locked on Anne as though she might vanish if he looked away. But as Evangeline gestured for him to join them, her hazel eyes silently urging him to focus, he snapped out of his stupor and followed.

Anne lowered herself into the armchair closest to the fire, her eyes wandering around the room as she took it all in. Her expression shifted from curiosity to quiet amazement, her smile growing as she noticed every small detail. “It’s... beautiful,” she murmured, her voice full of wonder. “It looks bigger than I remember. And so well cared for.”

Sebastian, who had taken the seat directly across from her, barely registered her words. His attention was fixed solely on her—on the way her cheeks were fuller, rosier than the last time he’d seen her; on the way her posture, though still delicate, no longer carried the weight of constant pain. He reached for her hand, his grip firm but trembling slightly as his thumb brushed over her knuckles.

“Why are you here?” he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. His brow furrowed, a mix of worry and hope flickering in his dark eyes. “How are you here?”

Anne’s gaze shifted to him, her smile faltering for just a moment as she squeezed his hand. “Because I've missed you,” she said gently. "And I... I'm ready to move forward."

Anne’s words hung in the air between them, delicate and raw. Sebastian stared at her, his mind racing to grasp the weight of what she’d said. She had chosen, after everything, to come back. To see him again.

To forgive him?

His chest tightened, the familiar pang of guilt surging to the surface, threatening to drown out the cautious hope he felt. He swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he finally spoke. “Anne... I—”

“I know,” she interrupted gently, her smile soft but unwavering. “I know what you’re going to say, Sebastian. That you’re sorry. That you regret what happened. That you wish things could have been different.”

He nodded, unable to meet her gaze. “Because I do. Every single day.”

“I know,” she repeated, her voice steady despite the emotion lacing her words. She reached out, placing her free hand over his. “And I need you to know that I believe you. I just... I needed time. Time to figure out how to live with everything that happened.”

Sebastian’s breath caught, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. “I never wanted to hurt you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I just wanted to save you.”

Anne’s expression softened further, her eyes shimmering as she squeezed his hand. “It’s alright. Sebastian. I’m here now. It’s time to move on.”

Sebastian felt like the floor had shifted beneath him. The room was the same—the warm glow of the fire, the soft scent of cinnamon from their earlier baking—but the weight of Anne’s presence, her words, made everything feel surreal. If he wasn’t so shocked he’d almost certainly be crying. He barely noticed Evangeline disappear into the kitchen or the way Ominis watched on with an uncharacteristically warm smile.

“How long?” Sebastian finally asked, his voice thick as he turned his gaze to his oldest friend. “How long have you all been planning this?”

Ominis tilted his head, his pale eyes staring unseeingly at the fire as a faint smirk tugged at his lips. “Weeks,” he said simply, his tone betraying just a hint of satisfaction. “It was quite the logistical challenge, I’ll have you know. Timing the letters, keeping it all quiet so you wouldn’t catch on.”

Sebastian blinked, still trying to process the enormity of it all. “You’ve been keeping this from me for weeks?”

“Months, really,” Anne chimed in, her voice light with amusement. She leaned back in her chair, instinctively reaching for Ominis’s hand, her smile growing as she watched her brother’s incredulous expression. “Ominis and Evangeline did most of the heavy lifting. I just had to show up.”

Sebastian’s eyes darted toward the kitchen, where he could hear the faint clink of cups and the soft hum of Evangeline’s voice as she prepared tea. His chest tightened, a swirl of emotions—relief, gratitude, good-natured frustration—bubbling beneath the surface. “Evie knew?”

“Of course I knew,” Evangeline’s voice floated from the doorway, light and teasing. She appeared moments later, balancing a tray laden with steaming cups of tea, a small plate of crackers, and a bowl of sugared nuts. She set the tray down on the coffee table, her movements practiced and efficient, as if she’d done this a hundred times before.

Sebastian watched her carefully, his gaze lingering on the way she handed Anne a cup of tea without hesitation, her touch gentle and her smile easy. Anne took the cup with a quiet “thank you,” her own smile mirroring Evangeline’s in a way that made Sebastian's cehst ache.

He’d always known, in an abstract way, that Anne and Evangeline had grown close over the past two years. The letters, the occasional mentions in conversation—it was all there, a quiet acknowledgment of their friendship. But seeing it in person, watching the way they interacted so effortlessly, was something else entirely. They were comfortable together in a way that spoke of countless shared moments, of trust and understanding that ran deep.

For two years, while Anne hadn’t spoken to him, she had been speaking to Evangeline. While he had been left to wrestle with the silence, Evangeline had been there, building something meaningful with his sister. The thought was overwhelming, bittersweet, and... oddly comforting.

Because if anyone could bridge the gap between him and Anne, it was Evangeline.

As he watched them, the firelight dancing across their faces, something inside Sebastian shifted. It wasn’t a grand realization, but a quiet, steady confirmation of something he already knew: he loved Evangeline. Not just for who she was with him, but for how seamlessly she fit into his life, into his family. Seeing her and Anne like this, so at ease, only solidified that truth.

Evangeline glanced at him then, her hazel eyes curious but fond. “Something on your mind?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.

Sebastian hesitated, the words tangled in his throat. There was so much he wanted to say, but he simply shook his head, offering her a small, lopsided smile. “Just... glad you’re all here,” he said finally, his voice soft but sincere.

Evangeline’s expression softened, her lips curving into a quiet, knowing smile. She didn’t press him for more. Instead, she simply nodded, her fingers brushing briefly against his as she settled onto the sofa beside him.

Anne and Ominis were deep in conversation now, their voices low and intimate as they discussed the trip to Feldcroft. Anne’s eyes lit up as she recounted a small mishap on the journey—something about Ominis nearly hexing a Ministry official who’d gotten too close to her trunk. Ominis, for his part, looked utterly unrepentant, his smirk only growing wider as Anne swatted his arm playfully.

Sebastian watched them, a faint smile tugging at his lips, his eyes growing misty. Ominis, always so reserved, so careful, seemed so much lighter around Anne. His usually meticulous posture softened whenever she leaned toward him, and the way his hand rested on her knee as they spoke was a silent testament to how much he cared for her.

And Anne? Anne was glowing. She teased Ominis with the same sharp wit she’d always used, but there was a certain softness to it, a kind of warmth that Sebastian hadn’t seen before. She looked at Ominis like he hung the stars.

“Can you believe them?” Evangeline’s voice broke through his thoughts, soft and amused as she leaned closer. She gestured subtly toward Anne and Ominis, her hazel eyes sparkling with mirth. “They’re disgustingly perfect together.”

Sebastian nodded slowly, trying and failing to blink away his tears. “Yeah,” he murmured, his chest tightening again. “They really are.”

The four of them fell into an easy rhythm, something as natural as breathing. Anne and Ominis told Evie and Sebastian all about it their Christmas break so far, their voices blending seamlessly with the crackle of the fire. Evangeline leaned back against the sofa, her head resting lightly against Sebastian’s shoulder as they listened. And Sebastian didn’t move, didn’t dare disturb the delicate balance of the moment.

This was what he’d been missing. This was what he’d spent the last two years longing for. His sister, his best friend, and Evangeline—all here, all safe, all his.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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[beantothemax]

Not proof read and it's my longest inbox fic ever

Where in Draefendi's name had Linde run off to? Only a moment ago, she was by H'aanit's side. Somewhere in the forest, she had dissappeared.

The hunter searched and searched, whistling as she walked.

"Mrooow!" a beloved feline howled.

H'aanit looked left and right, quickly spotting her companion resting by a tree.

When H'aanit approached, she noticed a young girl beside her leopard.

"Thou wanted to protecten the childe?" she questioned, to witch Linde meowed quietly.

She knelt beside the girl, "Art thou alright? What ist thine name?"

Tears stained the girl's cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy. She scarcely looked at H'aanit.

"Canst thou speaken?" she asked.

"Y-yes. I'm Elena."

"Comen, I will bringen thee home."

Elena hesitantly took H'aanit's hand but stumbled as she stood. She hissed in pain as she fell to the ground once more.

"Art thou injured?" H'aanit asked.

She showed the hunter her ankle. Her leg was littered with scratches and her ankle was swollen. It was a mystery why she tried to stand at all.

"I'll handle it," H'aanit murmured.

She knew little of medicine, but Alfyn had taught her enough to get by. "First aid", as he called it.

She tightly wrapped a bandage around Elena's ankle. Already the girl seemed calmer.

"Sit on mine back," H'aanit said.

"Okay," Elena muttered.

She climbed on H'aanit's back and held on tight. The girl was like a feather. She couldn't have been any older than six.

Still, for a girl of that age, she was surprisingly calm.

"Where ist thine home?" H'aanit asked.

"I don't know," Elena said.

Dreadful. The first time H'aanit had ever entered this forest, she met a little girl who was just as lost as she.

"Draefendi, helpen me bringen this child home," H'aanit spoke in the tongue of her people.

She knew the gods understood them no matter what, but it felt odd praying in any language but her first. Even when Ophilia guided her in prayer, it felt wrong.

"What language is that?" Elena asked.

"A dialect of J'aagt from mine home," H'aanit answered.

""J'aagt"? I've never heard of it."

"Of course. I am not from here."

"Where are you from?"

"That, I knowen not. I appeared here one day some moons ago and know not the way home."

"You're more lost than me."

Elena was right. H'aanit's heart ached and yearned for her home, the hearth where she might doze off beside her friends, a warm meal cooked by Z'aanta, a hug from someone dear to her. Not once in all those weeks in this new unfamiliar place had she seen anyone she knew but Linde.

Tears wetted her cheeks, but she ignored them and continued down the path. The sun was setting. Someone was at home waiting for Elena.

"What is your cat called?" she suddenly asked.

"Hmm? Oh, she ist a leopard and her name ist Linde," H'aanit replied.

"Linde? Like a spear!"

"Yes, but I speaken not that language. Mine father named her."

"What is your papa like?"

Silence settled over them as H'aanit considered her next words. She always described him as brash and obnoxious, but he was nice. When she lost her family, he was more than happy to take her in. He said he had always wanted kids but was unsure of the "getting a wife" bit and had nearly given up, only for a helpless young kid to need a home.

Z'aanta had done an excellent job of raising her. He taught her to cry when she needed to, how to speak her mind, to hunt and everything else one could imagine. She often forgot he was not her real father as it felt like he was. They were cut of the same cloth, even if he did love drinking more than her.

"He ist... kind. He taught me to showen everyone kindness, even mine worst enemies. And he taught me the art of the hunt," she quickly added.

"You hunt?" Elena asked.

"Oh yes, mine people said it was as though Draefendi blessens all mine arrows," she boasted, "This fur on mine back was once a wolf."

Unfortunately, she wasn't as immune to Z'aanta's endless bragging as she believed. But Elena made an odd sound of... discomfort. Right. Most people outside S'warkii and Duskbarrow were not as comfortable with the idea of skins and furs as H'aanit.

"The wolf wasen a pesky creature. It tried to killen mine friends. I protected them and they still live," H'aanit said.

She truly did not want to make the already scared girl feel worse.

"You're so strong," Elena said in awe.

"Thou haven't even heard a quarter of it!"

"Tell me another story!"

---

By nightfall, the edge of the forest was in sight. H'aanit had a soft smile on her face as she heard the girl snoring on her back. The trees faded to a large wheat field which was littered with lights and people.

"Elena!" they cried.

H'aanit could only imagine how their throats hurt if they had looked for her all day.

One saw her emerge from the forest and ran to see her.

"H'aanit!" Alfyn beamed.

"Alfyn? I-I have not seen thou or any of the others in moons," H'aanit cried as her voice broke into a sob.

Carefully, she placed Elena on the ground and Linde sat beside her. She ran to hug Alfyn. He grunted as people so often did when she hugged them. She hugged far too tight, but only by accident and out of love.

"I-I have wandered alone with Linde for so long, I missed thou," she sobbed like a child.

"I haven't seen the others either, you're the first I've seen," he said, "I found this town and have stayed here in hopes one of you would find me. In fact, I've been helping the towns people look for a young girl, but I see you found her first."

"I did. She ist a lovely little girl," H'aanit chuckled through her tears.

"Her parents are amazing as well, you would like them," Alfyn smiled as he picked up Elena.

The friends laughed and caught up as they carried the sleeping girl home. They called out to the people in the fields, saying the lost girl had been found and a chorus of cheers followed them to Conning Creek.

Seeing as Alfyn's arms were full, H'aanit knocked on the door. Mere seconds passed before an exhausted man answered.

"Elena!" he gasped as he took his, daughter.

He held her as tight as he could and sobbed.

"Alfyn, I cannot thank you enough, I was scared I'd never see her again," the man sobbed.

"Of course, Osvald, but really you should thank H'aanit! She found Elena," Alfyn smiled.

The man looked at him weird but invited them both inside. He set Elena down on the couch, wrapping her in a warm blanket before putting water to boil.

"Does Rita know?" he asked.

"She'll be here any second now, I reckon. I asked Ethan to tell her," Alfyn answered.

It was amazing how well Alfyn knew these people. But then again, he was far more extroverted than H'aanit. He did not struggle with speech or emotions and was incredibly charismatic, it was no wonder a town had been more than happy to give him food and a bed.

Osvald poured them each a cup of tea before returning to the couch to sit with his daughter. She still slept.

"Might I ask how you found Elena?" he asked.

"I was wandering in that forest alone. Mine leopard, Linde, ran away from me. When I founden her, she lay beside Elena. She has a talent for finding people in need of help," H'aanit smiled.

"Fascinating," Osvald said, "do you know how you got here?"

H'aanit pondered the question. She had gone to bed one day, only to wake up in an, unfamiliar land. Draefendi stood by her side, but dissappeared moments after she awoke. Recounting the tale, Alfyn was hardly surprised. He had a similar story, with the key difference being that he did not accidentally scare townspeople with an odd pet or his appearance.

Just as they had started talking theories, the door slammed open and a terrified woman ran inside. She sat beside Osvald and hugged Elena at least as tight as he had. She introduced herself as Rita and Alfyn caught her up to speed on everything they discussed in her absence.

Osvald and Rita agreed that H'aanit could stay for as long as she needed. Not only was she a friend of Alfyn (seriously, how much did this town love him?!) but she has found their beloved daughter and deserved rest. They set up a second cot in Osvald's study.

As H'aanit crawled under the blanket, she looked over at Alfyn.

"Dost thou think we will finden our comrades?"

"If we found each other, I don't see why we wouldn't find the others as well," he smiled.

"I understand thy logic."

"I missed you. It's nice to have you back."

Gods, she loved her friends. Just seeing Alfyn again, she wanted to cry and cry and tie their hands together so that they might never be seperated again.

"I missed thou as well."

"Goodnight, H'aanit."

"Goodnight."

h’aanit being like z’aanta with how she brags about her hunts…… and elena being so excited to hear her stories…. h’aanit crushing alfyn’s bones with her hug because she’s so happy to see one of her friends again…,,,,,,, elena falling asleep mid-piggyback…. h’aanit being suprised with just how quickly he got along with everyone in conning creek….. pie im going to melt this is soso lovely what the heck,,,,,!!!!!!

[gaywriting]

In Deeper Waters book review

In Deeper Waters by F.T. Lukens (2021)

⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️✖️

Athlen lifted Tal's hand closer, his breath warm and rhythmic on Tal's skin, before he pressed a kiss to the palm... "Your magic is wonderful," Athlen whispered. (p. 17)

i finished this book okt 27, 2023.

the story follows Prince Talisen (nicknamed Tal), the fourth in line to the throne to the kingdom Hearth and the child hidden away from the people, as he was the only one to inherit his tyrrant great-grandfathers magical abilities. His Coming-of-age Tour underway, he travels in the safety of his oldest brother. While out at sea, the group encounters a shipwreak. Tal gets the job of interrogating the sole survivor, a handsome boy, shackled as a captive. Tal becomes enamoured with the boy, Athlen, and releases him with magic. Immediately Athlen escapes and leaps overboard, leaving Tal heartbroken. But what does it mean when he sees this mysterious boy in the town? before they can engage further, Tal is kidnapped and has to escape to stop a war, that would doom the kingdom.

this book was super cute! the characters were all likable and the worldbuilding was strong, despite the short length of the book. Still I think it would suit this book to have maybe 100 or 200 more pages to really fledge out the story and give the characters a bit more depth, it was quite simplistic. i felt like maybe starting the story as Tal were about to leave for his Tour so we could meet his family before everything happens would have made for a smoother reading experience. it would ease the reader into the world and also give us a better picture of his family dynamics, rather than having Tal just tell us that he's close to them. Instead it starts right as he meets Athlen and i found that a bit odd. Equally i felt the ending was very ubrupt. there were things, tying up loose bits, that i still would have liked to read as they happened but we just get told at the last page "oh well it cleared itself out!" and i just found that quite jarring.

this was also really insta love-y and i've forgiven insta-love before, if it was done in a believable way. Here we have an instance of two people, each the last of their kind, finding something that connects them. i did find myself questioning Tal's obsession with Athlen, who he didn't know at all, and why he was so insisting with him. idk, again, this story had so much more room to fold out the story more organically, in my opinion

i would recomend this to people interested in reading a gay high fantasy romance book, with magic and love and mythological creatures. its not a long book that's difficult to get into, which i sometimes find with other high fantasy works. honestly if your lgbt book has merfolk in it im down so bad to read. love mermaids! 🧜🏻‍♂️💘

[earlgreydream]

cozy.

| draco x reader x theo | smut | fluff |

anon requested. Draco x reader x Theo smut

The fire in the hearth crackled nearby, offering warmth in the common room made of marble and glass. You knelt on a satin pillow, curled up between the legs of your lover. Your head rested against the inside of Draco’s thigh, your back against the chair he was perched in. You felt safe at his feet, leaning into the touch of his hand in your hair.

Your friends were all piled on the couches and on the floor around the coffee table, all fighting for a seat near the warm fire. You were wrapped in one of Theo’s knitted quidditch sweaters, his body above yours, draped over the arm of Draco’s chair.

You let your mind wander, tuning out of the conversation about where everyone was spending Christmas. You were almost asleep, lulled into drowsiness by Draco’s fingers carding through your hair.

“Y/N, love. Pansy asked you a question,” Draco hummed, his fingers brushing over your cheek.

“Hm?” You hummed, struggling to open your eyes.

“I asked if you were still awake,” she teased, and you yawned, hoping you could continue leaning on Draco without being disturbed.

“Let’s go to bed, sweetheart,” Theo’s voice broke through your sleepy haze, and you held your arms out, too tired to really open your eyes or stand up. Draco laughed gently, and Theo bent down to pick you up.

“Draco?” You mumbled, your arms draping over Theo’s back.

“I’m going to stay down here a bit longer. I’ll be up later,” Draco kissed the back of your hand before letting Theo carry you to the dorms.

“I want to go to your bed.”

“My bed?” he teased, kissing your cheeks. You nodded, resting your head on his shoulder.

He carried you to Draco’s prefect dorm, the large, private room where the three of you often slept. 

Theo gently set you down on the edge of the bed, stepping into the ensuite and returning with a washcloth. You scrunched your face as he cleaned your makeup off gently, holding your jaw in his hand. You relaxed, letting him wash your makeup off, appreciating that he was doing it for you. 

Theo loved to dote on you. He was gentle and sweet, and enjoyed caring for you and showering you with attention. It extended to Draco, too, who basked in the brunette’s affections. 

You slipped off your jeans and crawled under the covers as soon as Theo was finished with your face. He smiled at you when he returned, amused by how cuddly you got when you were tired.

“I want Draco,” you murmured, reaching out to his side of the empty bed.

“What am I to you, then?”

“I already have you here with me,” you pulled him into a kiss, feeling him smile against your lips. 

Theo changed into joggers before sliding in bed with you. You moved to lay on top of him, wrapping your body around his. His hands moved to rest on your backside, gently brushing his thumbs over your skin. 

Theo felt your breathing deepen as you fell asleep, curling up tighter into him. He kissed your head, listening to your soft sighs as you exhaled. 

You were warm, like a little heater curled up on his chest. You snuggled deeper into the sweater as you slept, seeming to bury into the coziness. He pulled the duvet up higher over your back, and you relaxed, your fingers resting on his chest.

Theo looked up when the door opened later, Draco slipping inside. He smiled at the two of you, his two favorite people. Draco walked over, setting his hand on Theo’s shoulder and kissing him firmly.

“I love you,” Theo whispered, and Draco nodded, saying it back. 

He brushed hair from your face, leaning down and kissing your temple. He sat beside the two of you for a while, murmuring softly with Theo about plans for the weekend before finally getting ready for bed. 

They were careful not to disturb you, and Draco slid under the duvet, settling against Theo’s side. Theo removed an arm from you to wrap around Draco, playing with his silvery hair until they fell asleep.

You woke up between the boys, all three of you half-asleep. You stirred and realized both of your boyfriends were hard.

“Hey, hey,” Theo murmured, grabbing your hip as you ground back against him. 

You rolled over and wrapped your arm around his neck, dragging the boy into a heavy kiss. Your fingers trailed over his defined abs, below his waistband. He moaned into your mouth, weakly bucking his hips into your hand as you stroked him. He was heavy in your fingers, his skin soft like velvet. The feeling was making arousal soak through your panties, smearing on the inside of your thighs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Theo moaned before pushing his tongue into your mouth, deepening your kiss. 

“Watching you two go at it is making me horny,” Draco murmured against your neck. He pushed his sweats down and began to grind against your ass, making you gasp. He hooked his fingers in the lace that barely covered you, pulling it aside. 

“Keep touching Theo, baby,” Draco encouraged, pulling your leg over his to give him better access before he carefully pushed the tip inside of you. You stuttered for a moment before sliding your thumb over Theo’s tip, making him whine. Draco decided to tease you, a hint of sadism breaking through your early-morning softness. His thrusts were shallow at first, just barely entering you, edging your entrance.

“Draco, please fuck me,” you cried, trying to squirm back to take more of him in.

“I am, baby,” he feigned innocence, amusement sparkling in his starry eyes.

“N-no, you’re teasing me. Please, I want all of you!”

Draco gave you what you wanted all at once, his entire body connecting with yours. You arched your back off of Draco’s chest, ecstasy consuming you as the ridges of his cock dragged against your walls. Draco’s hips thrusted forward, burying himself as deep as possible inside of you. Your head dropped back on his shoulder, your vision blurring as his fingers rubbed circles on your clit. 

“Come for me, Theo,” you begged sweetly, feeling him twitch in your hand. 

His hand went to the back of your head, dragging you into another kiss as he came. His hips stuttered as he released in your hand, making a mess of his joggers.

“You’re taking Draco’s cock so well, sweetheart. You look so pretty getting fucked like this in my sweater,” Theo praised you, laying his hand on the space between your hips.

“He’s so big, I can feel him in your belly, stretching you out. I bet you’re so tight, squeezing the life out of him,” Theo’s words made Draco fuck you harder, chasing the relief he craved.

Theo kissed you, his hands slipping under your sweater to gently fondle your tits. He lazily rocked into your hand, still-half hard from the erotic sight of you being railed by Draco.

“I’m so close, fucking hell,” Draco swore, pulling your hips back to meet his as he wrapped his body around yours. The pressure building up inside of him exploded, and soon he was filling your pussy with hot white ribbons, buried all the way inside of you. You cried out against Theo’s lips at the sensation, overwhelmed from feeling so full.

Draco’s torture on your clit didn’t cease, and soon you were tumbling over the edge, throbbing tightly around Draco as you came with a shudder. Your orgasm washed through you in waves, drawing out your euphoria until you were shaking.

You winced as Draco pulled out of you, moving your panties back in place, keeping your releases inside of you. Some of it seeped through the lace, making you feel even more lewd. Draco swore at the sight, gathering it on his fingers before tasting you, making your cheeks burn. You hid your face in Theo, who lovingly stroked your hair.

Peacefulness settled back over the room, and your mind and body softened, leftover endorphins simmering and making you relaxed.

Both boys admired you, whispering soft praises about how lovely you were and how amazing you treated them. They adored you, showering you with affection and making sure you knew how terribly loved you were.

The boys let you rest for a few moments, catching your breath and letting the high wear off. You felt a bit dazed as you opened your eyes, gazing up at the two gorgeous boys on either side of you.

“We gotta shower, sweetheart. We’re all filthy. Your hand is messy and your pussy is spilling all over the place,” Theo kindly teased, cupping you between your legs and making you shudder and lean back into Draco.

“Sensitive, love?” Draco asked, leading you toward the shower.

“A little,” you confessed, your steps unsteady from the force of Draco fucking you. Theo helped you out if your clothes and tossed them aside, opening the glass door.

Steam rose from the shower and you welcomed the hot water as you moved under the stream. It washed away the filth from your body, and you leaned back into Theo’s chest so he could properly cleanse you.

He squeezed vanilla soap into his hands before rubbing and massaging it into your body, the sweet scent wafting around you. You let him turn you so he could wash your back, and Draco kissed your shoulder. You faded from reality as they washed themselves, your mind wandering to your warm bed that you desperately wished to get back to.

It took some convincing to get you to let them wash your hair. You reminded them to be careful of your tangles, and they promised to be gentle.

“Baby, did I hurt you?” Draco’s worried voice broke you out of your dreamy thoughts.

You looked down and saw the bruise on your hip, matching up with his hand. Theo tensed, his fingertips brushing softly over your marked skin. He hated to see you with any sign of injury, wanting to protect you.

“No, not at all,” you promised Draco, giving him a reassuring kiss. The boys exchanged a silent look, and Draco knew he was in for it later, bound to receive a lecture from Theo about being careful with you.

Draco guided your head under the water, rising the soap from your hair before shutting it off. You squeezed the water out of your hair, hesitating to leave the warm shower.

You shivered, goosebumps breaking out over your skin as you stepped into the cold air. Theo noticed, wrapping you in a towel. You giggled as he playfully rubbed you through it, tickling your sides and dragging you against his chest.

“It’s so cold! I want to go back to bed,” you complained, trying to make your way back to the magically cleaned sheets.

“Let’s get breakfast first, then go to Hogsmeade with everyone,” Draco suggested, and you sighed, unable to deny the attractiveness of the idea.

You slipped into fur-lined leggings and a warm sweater, pulling wool socks onto your feet to go inside of your boots.

Two cardamom buns and a cup of coffee later, you were braving the icy temperatures in order to go shopping and get some butterbeer.

You walked between them, holding each of their hands as you popped in and out of shops, chattering excitedly with your friends.

Giggles erupted from you as both boys kissed your cheeks, making you squeal with delight as you entered a pub for some butterbeer. You slid into a booth, closed in between their bodies, deciding there was nowhere else you’d rather be than with them.

.

part 2: cozy (2).

[groundcontrol21]

Hello! If you haven't yet gotten five requests, may I please request December 18th with maybe... d'Art? Ara/mis as backup char, of course. =) Thank you in advance!

Happy December 18th! Of course I had to incorporate them both in there, bc I can't leave my favorite marksman alone, now can I? Hope you enjoy! This skews a bit book-verse-y in terms of speech and whatnot. CW: contagion (not intentional)

“Heh’TSCHOOO!” 

With a series of grumbles and groans, D’Artagnan rubbed at his dripping nose with his handkerchief. He had long since stopped bothering to tuck it back in his doublet, preferring instead to keep the cloth balled up in his fist for ease of access. And such ease was certainly needed, he noted with a bitter cough, for it seemed his horse could scarcely take two steps forward without some symptom of this wretched ailment making itself known. He shivered, bundling as deeply as he could into the fur tucked around his shoulders.

Ahead of him, Athos slowed his mount and gazed back. “Is Aramis’s cloak not helping?”

The fur grazed his cheek and his sensitive nose as D’Artagnan ducked deeper into the cloak in an attempt to keep himself warm. “It is–heh’KSHOOO!-- helping as much as anything can help a man with a headcold so bad. Ihh’KSHHH!” He sniffled lamentably. The fur-lined cloak chased away the worst of his shivers, but that was a pitiable solace to D’Artagnan whose very face felt stuffed full of mud. “I’m beginning to think I’ll never be well again.”

“Peace, D’Artagnan, you have been ill for two days,” Athos said. Even so, his brow still furrowed when D’Artagnan descended into a raspy fit of coughs (the Gascon had intended for those coughs to be a rebuke of Athos’s wanton disregard for his ill state, but his sore throat took precedence). “Still, we will stop at the next village we come upon for rest and shelter.”

They rode in silence for a while save for D’Artagnan, who held fast to Aramis’s cloak with each sneeze lest it come undone. In time, Porthos rode up alongside him and leaned close, his tone conspiratorial. “You’re a lucky lad, you know. It’s not just anyone whom Aramis will lend a present from an admirer.”

In spite of himself and his misery, D’Artagnan could not help but raise an eyebrow. “An admirer?”

“Of the feminine sort,” Porthos said with a knowing grin before his countenance soured. “He wouldn’t even lend the cloak to me when I was drenched in a downpour! Said I’d ruin it.”

“I’m not deaf, mon ami,” Aramis called. The man was shivering desperately in his saddle; giving D’Artagnan the cloak had left him with naught more than his thin blue cape as defense against the misty wind. “I didn’t lend you my cloak because you had just come inside to sit in front of the fire to dry yourself. Don’t be dramatic.”

“Psh! Details!” Porthos scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Maybe I should get sick just for a chance to wear it. It does look so comfortable and warm.”

“Hhh’RSHHH!” D’Artagnan mopped at his nose with his handkerchief sullenly. “Come any closer and you just might.”

******

They reached a town with an inn, which gratefully had a room with a hearth that was big enough for the four of them to share. Wasting no time, the three friends tucked D’Artagnan into bed, spreading Aramis’s cloak atop the blankets for a final layer of warmth. The comfort of lying down was so blissful after a miserable day of riding that D’Artagnan fell asleep immediately. Athos and Porthos departed in search of an apothecary where they might buy some more herbs to soothe the young man’s symptoms, leaving behind Aramis not only to keep watch and stoke the fire, but also to warm up himself, for he was shivering almost as badly as the ill Gascon. 

Some time later, D’Artagnan awoke to see his friend alone, hunched upon himself as he sat in front of the hearth and prodded at the flames with a poker. D’Artagnan blinked heavily, clearing his occluded throat, and called out to him, “Aramis?”

But though Aramis turned his face to him, it was plainly clear to D’Artagnan that the man could not truly focus on him, nor could he answer, because in that moment his features were overcome with the misty reverie of an oncoming sneeze. He dropped the poker hastily back into its holder, his hands scrambling to his face. “Hhh’KSHHH’uhh! Heh’ISHHH’uhh! Hehhhh’ISHHH!”

“Pardieu, are you alright?” D’Artagnan asked, though the sheer volume and ferocity of his friend’s sneezes brooked only one answer to the question–at least, only one answer which was honest.

A blush rose, creeping up from out beneath Aramis’s collar and into his cheeks. “I think I might–heh…Ehhh’KSHHH!--be coming down with what you have.”

D’Artagnan frowned.

“Fret not,” Aramis said. “It’s to be expected. We have been spending every moment in each other’s presence these past days, riding, eating, sleeping.”

D’Artagnan was sure riding in the cold and damp without a cloak surely did not help matters either. A spark of guilt fluttered in D’Artagnan’s chest as he considered himself, tucked up cosily in bed with the cloak still draped over him. Not so much guilt he would consider parting with the fur-lined warmth, but… An idea came to D’Artagnan’s foggy mind and he sat up, bundling the cloak in his arms and shuffling over to take a seat on the floor beside Aramis. 

“D’Artagnan?” Aramis asked blearily as D’Artagnan set to draping the cloak across both their shoulders. Aramis gave a full-body shiver at the sudden influx of warmth and, seemingly unconsciously, tucked himself closer to D’Artagnan. He sighed gratefully, and D’Artagnan couldn’t help a small smile. 

“It’s your cloak after all.”

“You should…Eh’KESHHH’uhh!” Aramis produced a handkerchief from his doublet and snuffled into it. His nose was already pink, and D’Artagnan wondered just how often he’d blown it while D’Artagnan had been dozing. “You should be in bed.”

D’Artagnan rolled his eyes at the hoarse-voiced attempt at mother henning. “By that logic, then, so should you.”

“Ahh,” Aramis sighed, a touch pleading, “but it is so much warmer close to the fire.”

D’Artagnan laughed. “My thoughts exactly.”

And so they arranged themselves so that each was as comfortable and as warm as possible, ending with Aramis slumped against D’Artagnan, head pillowed against his shoulder, and D’Artagnan leaning his own forehead against Aramis’s. And such was how Porthos and Athos found the two men upon their return, huddled into their fur-cocoon, their congested snores a soft harmony against the crackling of the fire in the hearth.

[ilivemydreamsthere]

Even dragon have a hearth

This little story I wrote it's about Maleficent from Once upon a time and reader who is probably just a common girl who by accident find way to Mal castle. After all even dragon have a hearth.

When I firstly watched OUAT I had such a crush on Regina and Maleficent. It didn't make me sence back then now it does. They are incredibly hot and I am still closed lesbian and I some way wanna scream I understand now.

The night had been cold when you stepped inside the castle. You were shivering. The cold outside get inside your bones so hard that you were closed to being sick. 

"Hello?" You called up when you entered huge room and your eyes widen the room seems to be far more warmer then outside. The two fire place inside had been full of fire and before one sit woman in the black dress her legs comfortably one over another and read a book. She loked up your eyes meet her blue one and you had feel like she see in to your soul. 

"What are you doing here ? I don't have many visitors " She spoke coldly. 

"I got lost…"You spoke truly and your eyes widen when you seen her get up and then disappear and appear just few inches from you. 

"It's so?" She touched your face and you could feel warm. Warm right under her skin. You bite your lips. 

"Yes. You feel so warm "You said softly and you finally see her smile. 

"Little one , you don't really know where you are do you?" She stroked your face and you parted your lips to answer.  

"The warm you feel it's my fire. My dragon right under my skin "She whispered and you gasped little. Of course you hear about Maleficent but you thought its just legend. 

"Are you afraid or impressed ?" She asked and you meet her eyes in defiance. 

"Impressed" You said without second thought. "But please if you wanna kill me so it quickly '  

The dragon give you long look. Till you looked down. A bit ashamed. 

"I don't kill for fun "She said and walked back to fire. "Come get warm and tell me how did you get here.'' Her voice didn't let space for arguing so you completely lisent walking behind her and standing close to fire. She stand next to you. You felt she was watching you but she didn't speak. 

"I was kicked out and beaten. I didn't mean to interrupt you " Your voice broke and you were surprised that a dragon came behind you and hugged you from behind. Very tight. You slowly closed your eyes and leaned about her. 

"My family wanted me to get married but I never did. I never felt anything for the men they introduced to me."   

Maleficent behind you just let you talk. "I wanted more than a man. I wanted love. I wanted to mean something for someone. Be more than just a trophy " You blinked tears away. "When I tell my father he did beat me up. Saying that if I don't wanna man i am wrong and worst " 

The dragon growled to your ear. You shivered slightly.  

"Your father is wrong little one. There is nothing wrong in wanting all this. " She spoke seriously but her voice is now filled with softness. "Maybe a woman would be what are you looking for, did you think of that ?"

"I …yes "You breathe out and slowly turn to face her. 

"Tell me your name "She said looking to your eyes still holding you close to yourself your bodies pressing together.  

"Y/N" You spoke and she give you a genius smile when you put your arms around her. 

"You are free to stay there with me. Call a forbidden fortress your new home" Her voice sounds serious.  She maybe saw more in yourself then you seen but maybe it was just genuinely new chance on new life. 

You smiled and moved little bit to get on own tiptoes and kisses her cheek. You smiled even more when you realize the dragon can blush. "But still don't tempt me I can be short temper " She warn you "or too intense ' 

"I am gonna like it " You said biting your lips. 

"I can't wait to see " She chuckled little bit.

[gaypirate420]

Hypocrital //Viktor

Viktor x gender neutral reader.

This is my first time writing for Viktor-

You and Viktor had been working extra hard since Jayce became an council, it has been four days since you slept but Viktor doesn't now this, he thinks that you get home and sleep when you really go and keep working.

"Are you doing alright, my love?" Viktor's accent woke you from your thoughts, you turned around with a smile.

"I am, what about you, Vik?"

"I'm fine, just a little bit tired" he gives you a smile and you felt your cheeks warm, he was really pretty, he turned back to his desk.

You stood up to grab something when suddenly you felt very dizzy and you try to support you on your desk, your vision was blurry and your ears felt weird.

"Viktor?" He turned around and grabs his cane, he quickly gets to your desk and tries to hold you.

"What happened?"

"I- I think- Everything is blurry, Viktor- help me-" You passed out, Viktor is not strong so you fell into the ground, he makes sure you didn't hit your head, he goes up but when he is about to open the door Jayce comes in.

"Hey Vik- what happened?" He looks back and saw you on the floor, Viktor looks desperate.

"Stay here, Viktor, I'll call the nurse" Viktor goes back to you, and tries to stay calm, you looked dead and that image of you laying there on the floor was on his mind.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up disoriented, you saw Viktor sitting on a chair besides your bed, he was mad but his eyes got relief when you moved.

"What happened-where?" You covered your eyes from the light, you inspected the room and saw Jayce on the back, Viktor gives him a look and he leaves.

"You passed out on the lab"

Oh right, you stay silent and lower your head in shame.

"the doctor said, that you not only weren't getting enough sleep, but that you didn't sleep at all!" His accent got stronger, he was calm but he needed you to understand.

"That you weren't drinking water"

"And that you weren't eating anything for a least a week!"

You looked at him, he was crying, you felt your hearth break, you looked at the wall, you felt shame.

"How could you be so..."

"Hypocrital"

"Viktor-"

"No, no, you told me that I should get breaks and go home earlier to have the proper amount to sleep, and to stay hydrated and to eat three meals a day" He stood up and got closer to you.

"Why- you- I don't understand"

He grabs your hand, you didn't wanted to look at him, his tears falling on your hand.

"I got so scared"

"I'm sorry, but the work-"

"No work is more important than your health" Viktor's voice was gentler and softer.

"This won't happen again, I swear" you finally meet eyes with him.

"I know, I'm going to get you home, and I will cook you something, and then you will sleep, I- I'll cuddle with you so you rest better"

Jayce got inside again.

"So are you leaving too?" Jayce asked, he was going to be the rest of the day alone.

"It's fine, if it's going to help (y/n), then I got no complains" He said, you smile at him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Viktor got you home, it wasn't far from the academy.

"What do you want for dinner?" He gets into the kitchen, he inspected your fridge and shelves.

"I didn't know you can cook"

"I'm a man of many talents, I will make you some soup, it will be done faster"

"Do you need help?"

"No, go and sit down, you need to rest" You obey and waited for him to tell you the food was ready.

You waited at least half an hour when you heard the noise of his cane, you stood up and walked to the table.

"Dinner is ready, I made it with love" he said with a smile.

"Thank you, Vik" he patted your head and sat besides you.

"Now, eat" you chuckled sometimes Viktor is unintentionally funny, it was silent while you eat, it wasn't uncomfortable at all, it felt nice to have someone making you company at the table, you noticed Viktor inspecting your home, he was been there before but he never had time to give a better look.

He noticed that it was quite solitary, you lived alone and it showed, he can sense the loneliness in the ambient.

"I'm done" you said, Viktor looked at the plate to make sure you eat it all.

"Good, now you have to go to bed"

You got into your bedroom and started changing Viktor has seen you naked before but he still gets red, you toss him some pijamas, he takes his time to change but you don't rush him.

You grabbed another blanket for him, you buried yourself on your blankets waiting for Viktor, you feel the movement on your side, he grabs you and plays with your hair.

"Please don't do that again" He spoke.

"I'm sorry"

"I know you are, but a sorry won't make it, you need to take care of yourself" he kisses you on the forehead.

After that Viktor takes breaks with you, making you company while you eat and makes sure you sleep well.

[animereaderinsertwriter]

Previous - Chapter 6 - Next - Series Masterlist - Series Playlist

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags/Warnings: fantasy au, violence, smut, angst, fluff, non-major character death, pregnancy, dub con/fuck or die but only kinda?, enemies to lovers, there's an arranged betrothal somewhere in there that eventually goes away, spoilers for dabi's identity

ao3 link here / art here and here

Two months later

"Samhain, like Beltane, is a time when that which lies between the worlds stretches thin and, in some places, simply rends. However, the nature of Samhain is somewhat different than its warmer cousin; because Samhain is a time of looking both forward and backwards, meditating on the future and the past, even things as small and insignificant as stray thoughts occurring on a Samhain night have a strange way of manifesting into reality. Given this known nature of the sacred day and the plans made by what history will remember as the Samhain Council, it is no surprise that many suspect their plans to have been a spiritual manifestation of what was to come. 

— Balthazar the Wise, On the Age of Unrest

The council room was freezing cold despite the fire blazing in the hearth, and Todoroki Shoto was sick and tired of hearing complaints. Most of all, though, he was tired of hearing this specific complaint, and it took all of his patience just to keep from lighting himself and everyone else on fucking fire to get away from it. 

"I've told you once and I'm telling you again," Shoto snapped at the young lord standing before him, losing his patience, "I don't know where she's gone, what she's doing it, or why she's doing it, and I won't know until she's back or I learn to close my eyes, strain very hard, and shit a high priestess for you. Is that clear, Aoyama?"

The glittery noble bowed and scraped and offered so many profuse apologies that Shoto would almost have felt bad for the man had he not known that Aoyama was the Empire's little lapdog.

"Of course, my lord," said Aoyama, bowing so low that his forehead almost touched the floor. "Forgive me if I've displeased you, my lord…" 

On and on he went, apologizing and bowing and making a bloody great fool of himself— it grated Shoto's nerves terribly. If he'd been a worse man, he'd have the damn fool put in the stocks for an hour and see if he couldn't learn to keep his bloody mouth shut, but as it was, honor restrained Shoto from doing as he pleased. Instead, he awkwardly dismissed pleas for forgiveness and ushered the man out of his sight, slamming and barring the door shut behind him as if in fear of the poor sod coming back. 

Across the room, Bakugou snickered nastily. 

"You should have let me take a shot at him," said the fair-haired, blast-crazy fool, sparking little explosions on each of his fingers. "I could get him out faster and warm us all up a bit in the process."

"Don't be crass," Midoriya scolded, but the remark was half-hearted at best. "Aoyama is just doing what he has to for his family— they poor guy's scared to death of what'll happen to him if we don't meet their demands."

Todoroki sighed, and Momo, bless her, gave him a pitying look before asking the question he was dreading. 

"Do you really not know where she's gone?" Momo asked, worry creasing her brow. "She didn't say anything before she left?"

"No," he replied tiredly. "She was supposed to be back after Beltane because she was only going to the festivals but— circumstances have changed, apparently."

Todoroki was unsure as to how much he should reveal. Too much, and it would draw attention away from more pressing matters and potentially put more pressure on (Y/N) than she could handle at her return; too little, and not only would feelings be hurt, but it could end in bloodshed.

"You know something you're not telling us," Uraraka observed keenly, "And that's alright, but there are some things we're entitled to know, Shoto. Is (Y/N) alright? Is she alive?"

She's right, he mused, shamed by his own secrecy. They deserve at least this much. 

"Last I heard, she was in fine health," he replied, his eyes flitting over to Midoriya. "It would appear…it would appear that she is with child as well."

The room was silent, then—

"Yours?" Iida queried, but Todoroki shook his head. 

"I— we never—"

He looked away, his face burning with embarrassment. 

Kirishima whistled lowly. "Well, I never imagined this happening. Do you know who… ?"

What to reveal, what to omit? Todoroki couldn't have said for sure since Twice hadn't specified, but there was only one person he could imagine the father could be. The father of her child was no lackey, no insignificant pawn in this game of chess; he had to be a big player, someone with the knowledge, motivation, and ability to send a trustworthy scout like Twice into enemy territory just to fetch a Healer for the mother of his child. 

The father of her child, Todoroki thought, had to be Dabi. 

But how, he wondered, and why? 

"I'm not sure," he admitted. "I intend to ask soon. I'm to meet with her two months hence with your mother, Midoriya. All will be answered then. In the meantime, I've not the faintest clue where she could be or what she might be planning."

"There's a good explanation," Bakugou reassured him in that blunt, unpolished way of his. "We don't need to worry about that. I don't know about the rest of you, but from the moment I met (Y/N), I felt the hand of the goddess on her, moving, changing her. I'm sure she's exactly where she needs to be, doing exactly what she needs to do, which is more than I can say for the bloody rest of us."

There was a collective wince around the table at that. Tonight would be the observance of Samhain, and every lord and lady at the table felt the pull of home, longed to be with their people— but as it was, their elders were taking care of things within their own clans, leaving the council in this room to liaise and discuss affairs of state.

"I don't see what more we can do than what we've already done," Kaminari sighed, resting his head on a fist, looking as tired as Todoroki felt. "The people of my clan have given all the crops they had to spare and then some, and still the Empire demands more— even the larger villages have precious little to sacrifice tonight, and their spirit is all but broken by fear and hunger."

"It's the same with mine," Mina agreed, "The same with all of ours— but what can we do?"

Nothing, Todoroki nearly spat, but he restrained himself. 

"Between the Empire and the League, this land will bleed and limp and starve its way into an empty waste," Momo observed quietly, eyes downcast. "This method of survival isn't sustainable. It isn't even living." 

"Is it war, then?" asked Midoriya, equally soft. 

Bakugou harrumphed.

"War or famine. A quick death, or a slow, agonizing one." He shook his head. "That's no choice at all."

"The real question is whether or not such a war can be won," Iida interjected. "As we are, divided, scratching and clawing at one another, I would say not. If we were to make peace amongst ourselves and solve our rebel bandit problem, we might have a fighting chance, but as things stand…"

There's no way we could win against a united front. 

Todoroki felt the urge to drop his shoulders, but years of training kept them straight, unbending. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be.

"We could send another envoy," he mused, "Or go to the Empire ourselves."

Midoriya frowned. "We've done that already. The Empire doesn't care."

"Then we must make them care!" Several of the council members flinched at Todoroki's outburst, but he wasn't nearly finished. "This is not a matter of dirt or money, this is a matter of living, breathing people— people we're responsible for! As their lords, we owe our people our care and protection; if we are not allowed to give it, then the Empire must!"

"The Empire doesn't give two shits about the people," Bakugou growled, leaning over the table with menacing hatred in his eyes. "They didn't when they were slaughtering innocents to take this country, they don't now, and they never fucking will."

"Then Todoroki's right," Midoriya said, chewing on the inside of his lip. "We have to act."

"The only thing we haven't tried is the thing that failed before," said Momo carefully, the powerful gears of her mind turning the situation over and over in her head. "Are we sure we want to pick fights with the Empire?"

"It's no longer a choice." Iida's expression was grim. "It's just a matter of when."

"Exactly," Todoroki agreed, "And since that's the only element in this scenario we control, we have to choose our timing carefully. We must be ready."

There was silence for a moment, then Kirishima spoke up, his usually strong voice quiet and hesitant.

"Since my father passed, I've been working on building my clan's military strength," Kirishima admitted, his expression shuttering closed. "I have plenty of good fighting men and plenty more women that could pound them into the dirt. I can get them ready to mobilize with a year's rations in a little under a month. From there, you need only give the word. I don't want anyone to be caught unawares this time, not after— not after what happened to my father. We still remember the massacre of Scarlet Field even if the Empire does not."

Todoroki's heart sank to his stomach at the mention of that day. 

Kirishima's father had been a good man, a loyal man— one who loved his people. The folks from Scarlet Field were a kind, good-hearted farming sort, and as such, Kirishima's father had wanted the working people of their clan to remain as untouched by the war as possible. To that end, he had only sent a handful of fighting men— including his son— to wage war against the Empire, leaving the rest of the people to tend to the land in peace. In the end, that effort had been in vain; once an imperial general caught wind of such gentle-heartedness, there was no hope for the people of Scarlet Field. By the time General Erly and his soldiers were done, every last villager was dead, their bodies desecrated, and Kirishima had returned home to his father's head on a pike. 

No, Todoroki thought, they would never be caught unawares again— not while they still remembered Scarlet Hill.

"My archers have been itching to loose arrows on those imperial pricks," said Jirou, who had thus far been silent. "Say the word, and we'll kill every last imperial we can find, right down to their filthy hounds."

Every voice in the room echoed her sentiment, pledging their fighters to the cause. In the middle of the cacophony, Midoriya's voice rose to articulate the thoughts that were caught in Todoroki's throat.

"There's an angle of this that we haven't considered."

The room fell all but silent at Midoriya's stern voice and solemn expression, and he continued, his soft intonation making way for hard truths. 

"We need to decide on someone to lead us," he said, his eyes locked with Todoroki's. "Unless we want the same result as last time, we can't allow a Council to run this war. We'll tear each other apart instead of the Empire, and all of us— each and every one— will end up sans heads. Additionally, those of us who are not officially the leaders of our clans still need to convince those who do head up the Clans that what we mean to do is the right thing. Otherwise, this is all for nothing."

"Who do you propose to lead, then?" Bakugou asked, straight to the point. "Are you willing to lead? You're certainly the strongest of us here."

It was high praise indeed for Bakugou to admit to someone being stronger than himself, especially Midoriya. Before the war, there had been a certain enmity between them that had since dissolved, but doubtless there were still old wounds there that hadn't quite healed. 

"I don't want to lead," replied Midoriya. "Besides, I'm not the best candidate. Iida, would you lead us? I think we can all agree that you're the most righteous and level-headed of us all."

Iida looked down at his hands, shaking his head.

"Not after what happened in the war," he replied lowly, his eyes squeezing shut. "I can't trust myself with leadership if I can't keep myself from the path of vengeance. Besides, my brother heads up my clean— I can do nothing without his say-so, and I know you don't trust him in the same way you trust me."

Suddenly, Momo perked up, her dark eyes glittering with an apparent epiphany.

"May I speak?" she asked, ever humble, and everyone nodded. 

"I think we should let Todoroki lead," she said, watching him with sharp calculation. "His clan is the largest in terms of population, his family has access to the most resources, and despite not being the head of his clan yet, he's been groomed for leadership since childhood. Unless you're unwilling, my lord, I think you would be the best choice."

There was a moment of silence, and as Todoroki glanced around, he realized that every eye was on him. His friends were waiting for a response— one that he wasn't sure how to give. 

"This is not something that I would have chosen for myself," he said slowly, meeting the eyes around the room with some amount of apprehension. "But if you all agree that I would fulfill the needs we have, I will submit to your wishes and do the very best that I can to ensure that we succeed in our endeavor."

"Any objections?" Momo asked, and the room was so quiet that Todoroki could have heard a pin drop. 

"Looks like it's decided," said Kirishima with a smile. "Congrats mister leader man— now tell us, what's the first step?"

Todoroki closed his eyes for a moment and thought. When he opened them, the path before him was clear. 

"We start by talking to all the lords of the clan who are not currently present and creating our own small council. I would like to make the first nomination for that council; Yaoyorozu Momo would make a fine Master of Strategy, and I would have no one else at my side."

Momo accepted readily, and the planning began in earnest. The longer they discussed, the more real it seemed, the more plausible victory became, and a quiet, fierce joy began to swell in Todoroki's chest. 

Hurry home, (Y/N) he thought to himself, longing to see her once more, to share this joy with her. Come watch us take back what's ours.

***

In hindsight, Dabi should probably have been paying attention to the meeting Shigaraki had called, but frankly, his mind was on the way (Y/N) had screamed his name that morning as he thrust into her again and again and not on the minutiae of the revolt against the Clans and Empire. However, if Dabi had in fact heard correctly over the distractingly loud thoughts of how it tasted to lick and suck the seed he left from his lover's pretty little cunt, then what Shigaraki had said made no sense at all whatsoever. 

"Excuse me," he said, raising a brow. "Could you repeat that? I'm sure I must have misheard you."

Shigaraki, skeletal and pale as death itself, looked at him with hooded eyes and said, 

"The Empire has asked us to align with their cause. I agreed."

Huh. So he hadn't misheard. 

"Not that it matters," he said, using a finger to light his rolled tobacco, "But is there a reason you're going against everything we've ever stood for, or are you just unhinged enough not to know the difference?"

Shigaraki laughed at that, mistaking the question for a joke as Dabi had intended. The sound was wrong, grating, like a brick against a whetstone. 

"Desperate times call for desperate measures," Shigaraki replied with a manic smile. "Align with the Empire to crush the Clans, then destroy the Empire from the inside out— perhaps with only a single touch of my finger. Isn't it brilliant?"

Brilliant was not the word Dabi would have given it, but… 

In all things, we must endure, and in enduring, all things are made precious.

"Sure," he replied with a shrug. "What does that mean for us right now, though?"

"We stay close to the Summit, hidden but ready to attack," Shigaraki replied. "Send raiding parties out for supplies, and make the target locations far enough that it'll cause confusion for the Clans. Can you manage it?"

Dabi nodded.

"Easily."

"Good. You're dismissed."

Dabi swaggered out of the command tent with what he liked to think of as his usual suave grace, trying hard not to let his rage show on his face. Thoughts of coming back to wring more orgasms out of his beautiful woman were gone, replaced by thoughts of strangling Shigaraki with his own two hands, or burning the bastard to a crisp. This was wrong, it was so wrong, and if Dabi didn't start a bloody mutiny, someone else fucking would and he'd be the one having to deal with it. 

(Y/N) is going to be so pissed, he thought as he watched the evening sun creep ever towards the horizon. I can fucking forget about a round three. 

As if the day couldn't get any worse, by the time Dabi returned to camp, (Y/N)'s mood had significantly worsened, settling into something ill and sour instead of blissful and sweet. When he found her, she was wearing a pinched, uncomfortable expression, and the moment he stepped foot in his own bloody tent, she set to pointing fingers about the whole baby business, blaming him for her discomfort as had become her wont. 

"Your little bastard keeps kicking my bladder," she greeted him irritably as he entered their shared tent, her hand idly placed on her round belly as she leaned her back against a wooden chest. "Can you see if you can talk some sense into it before I lose my mind?"

"Our little bastard is not an it," he replied tiredly, wishing he could just bury his face in those gorgeous tits and wait out the time until the apocalypse came for them. "And if he's kicking and thrashing like a bloody maniac, then he got that horseshit from you, pussy-cat. My knee hasn't been right since you bloody kicked it."

(Y/N) sniffed. "You earned every hit you got and then some— you were spanking me, what was I supposed to do? And since when is our child a he, huh?"

"Since I decided he would be." Dabi felt heat rise inexplicably to his cheeks. "Besides, I wouldn't know what to do with a girl-child."

(Y/N)'s eyes softened at that, and she said,

"Love her, I'd expect, and show her the same kindness all fathers should show their daughters." She smiled sweetly at him, then added, "You would train her as you would a boy, but it would break your heart to see her cry, so she'd get everything she wanted from you."

Dabi couldn't even argue with that— not when he struggled to deny (Y/N) anything she wanted. He couldn't imagine a world where a smaller, more fragile version of her running around with a sweet smile and a sharp tongue wouldn't capture his whole heart.

"Oh, and once she got older and the boys started chasing after her,"  (Y/N) added, smiling wickedly, "You'd never get a moment's rest trying to scare them all away with your mean mug."

It was incredible, the way (Y/N) could form a future in her mind like that. At the snap of a finger, she could think up a world full of love and laughter and happiness unlike anything Dabi had ever known, twisting all of his bitter expectations into a sort of salted daydream that left him thirsty for the day to come to pass when he could live that dream instead of thinking it. 

With a tight feeling in his chest, Dabi lowered himself to his knees before her, pressing his forehead against hers. In what universe did he deserve this love? How did he, of all people, get to feel her affection like sunshine on his face? 

And why— why— did he suffer so much, wondering why she hadn't chosen a better, more deserving man, when she was his and no other's?

"I got bad news, pussy-cat," he said, closing his eyes to avoid seeing her expression. "Shigaraki's meeting today… he called us all together to tell us that the League is aligning with the Empire."

There was silence for a beat, then (Y/N) was placing her hand on his face, brushing the pad of her thumb over the unscarred part of his cheek. His eyes fluttered open to find her looking at him with ancient eyes so soft and kind that he forgot to be anything but at peace.  

"This day was bound to come," she told him, full of otherworldly calm, "And now you must choose. What means more to you, Todoroki Touya? Your vengeance, or the fate of this land?"

Oh, Dabi hated it when she talked to him like this. Ever since that fiasco with the letter, she had been giving him pseudo-ultimatums like this one, presenting hypotheticals of what he would do if and when and how— and now the day had come that he would be forced to make the kind of choice she'd been pushing him to make. He had to choose who he would be: Dabi, the Black Dragon of the League, or Todoroki Touya, the missing son of Clan Todoroki and lover to the High Priestess of Cerridwen.

"I hate the Empire," he said, feeling rage boil to the surface just beneath his skin. "I want every last imperial devil to die screaming, drowning in fire and blood."

(Y/N), with a voice as sweet as honey but deadly as nightshade, said,

"But how would helping the Empire be different from what you've already done?"

Time stopped for Dabi, his heart heavy in his chest, but (Y/N) wasn't finished. 

"I mean, you've killed innocent people before, haven't you? Burned villages, stolen food? Would it be so different, fundamentally, to work with them?"

How could she suggest such a thing? Dabi's ears were ringing as though he'd been struck.

"Of course it would be!" he snapped, jerking away from her, outraged. "They started the war, they took everything from us—"

"And many could say the same about you."

(Y/N) expression was placid, completely unfeeling, and Dabi felt sick. 

"You can't really believe that this— that what I've done— could possibly compare to the widespread destruction and systematic oppression of those bastards," he raged, his hands tightening into fists. "It's not the same!"

(Y/N) shook her head. 

"No, it isn't," she said, "But I want you to think about this, really think. I don't want you to make a decision that you'll regret because you think I pushed you into one or the other."

Always, always she thought of the things Dabi would never have even considered. A man is the master of his own fate, responsible for his own choices— why would he ever blame her for the things he chose? 

"Don't pretend that you could ever love a man who sided with them," he said darkly, thinking of the scars he touched and kissed almost nightly, scars that the Empire gave her. Oh, goddess divine, he would kill every last one of them, tear them limb from limb for what she had suffered.  "Don't act like you could bear to look at me if I became a flaming sword for them to wield!"

(Y/N)'s brow creased and pain flickered across her features before they smoothed back into that horrifically peaceful mask. Somehow, that was worse than watching her rage at him, cry and scream and slam her fists into his chest— somehow, this control, this coldness, was so much worse than he could have imagined anything to be.  

"This isn't about that," she said, her hand drifting along the swell of her belly. "This is about you. Who are you? You have to make that decision."

"I love you," he said, struggling with the words, but unable to stop himself from saying them. "I want to make you happy."

"I know," she said gently, "But you are a man outside of me, outside of us."

But I don't want to be, he wanted to say, but couldn't, I only want to be the man you want! 

"Fuck, just— stop with the mind games, okay, just tell me what you want from me, yeah?"

"I want you to choose," she said, firm and unmoving. "I want you to make the choice for yourself, make that decision as your own man. You don't have to do it now, you just have to do it soon."

Dabi shook his head. Coming here, he'd known one thing to be true, and it was as true now as it was then. It was the only truth he was sure of, the one thing he had always known and never doubted. He didn't need time to make this decision, no matter what (Y/N) said about pushing or regret or whatever else she could conjure up to torture him. 

"I will never align myself with the Empire," he said, his eyes burning into (Y/N)'s with deadly certainty. "You can bet your ass on that, pussy-cat."

"Good," she replied softly, her eyes glassy as she met his. "I'm glad it was an easy choice."

Dabi sighed. He didn’t know why he even bothered to get out of bed some days.

“I’m going to get some air,” he told her. “Be back in a bit.”

So saying, he stood up and walked out of the tent, more wounded than he'd thought he'd be upon entering. 

She's right, he thought to himself as the cold wind stung his cheeks, the overcast sky darkening even further as the sun dipped lower and lower in the sky. I'm a killer, and now I'm at the crossroads. I can keep going like I am, or I can go back home, the prodigal son. 

Distantly, Dabi wondered which path would warp him more from the man he was now, and the man he might have been. Which one he was now, he wasn't sure; his world seemed to be changing day by day, he seemed to be changing day by day, and (Y/N) was there the whole time, watching, waiting, seeing what he would become.

No matter, he thought, I'll die before I work for the Empire. I just have to decide how to play it— do I go along for now and strike when the time is right?

Or is the time for action now, and all I need do is take up my sword and turn the entirety of this fighting force against Shigaraki Tomura?

Dabi wasn't sure. The only thing he knew was that there was no way in hell he'd take orders from an imperial dog in this life or any other. The rest, he could figure out along the way, preferably after a nice, long walk to cool his head and a hot meal to warm his belly. 

***

The night was dark with only a sliver of moonlight to illuminate the cobblestone streets. The whole world seemed to be cast in shadow, and an eerie mist fell over the city of the Summit, the bitter-cold wind biting at human skin to leech its warmth. 

Hawks— Takami Keigo to his friends— had a higher-than-usual tolerance to the cold, but tonight was different. It was the kind of night that humanity felt out of place in the world and the Others felt more at home. Still, something drew Hawks to the streets— a restless stir in his gut— and he prowled the night, watching and waiting for something to happen.

He had been wandering a few hours by the time he came to Turndark Alley— one of the shadier neighborhoods in the Summit. The alley was surprisingly quiet for such a hair-raising night, and Hawks was almost disappointed at the lack of scum to clean up off the streets. However, he didn't have to wait long before a scream rang out into the night, a primal call for help that had his blood pumping in a mad rush of adrenaline.

With only two flaps of his wings, Hawks was rising high in the sky, far above the buildings and the people and every other living creature. From his bird's eye view, he caught sight of a commotion happening two streets over, and he cut sharply downward, free-falling as much as flying towards the scene. 

As he zipped downward, Hawks could see three bodies on the ground, and a fourth on its feet, fighting for its life against a cloaked figure who appeared to be nothing short of a master brawler. A woman was backed against the wall of a nearby building, and as the cloaked figure grabbed their victim by the head and slammed their knee into the victim's face, Hawks knew he wouldn't make it in time to save the person whose face was likely inverted right now, but he could probably save the woman if he was fast enough. He tucked his wings, hastening his descent, then spread them just before he hit the ground, coming to an abrupt halt directly behind the assailant.

"Jin!" cried the woman, a plain, simple-looking thing with terror written all over her face. "Darling, please stop, I'm okay now—"

The cloaked figure— Jin, apparently— turned to the woman with murder in his eyes. He raised a big, meaty fist, but just before he could bring it down, Hawks' body reacted. Faster than thought, his sword flew from its sheath and was thrust through Jin's chest. It went through easily and out just as quick, but instead of sighing in relief, the woman he'd saved let out a horrific scream as though she herself had been stabbed.

"No!" she screeched, running forward to embrace Jin's body as Hawks drew his blade from it. "Jin, darling, my love— oh, Jin!"

Jin— still alive for the moment— reached out to touch her face, but his hand fell slowly as the life left his body. The woman screamed once more, tears falling down her cheeks, and it was then that it occurred to Hawks that perhaps there was more to this situation than meets the eye.

I had better report this immediately, he thought, squinting at the man he'd just killed. Something's off, and on a night like this, nothing should be left to chance.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Hawks said, reaching out to the woman, "What— what happened here?" 

"You killed him!" she cried, backing away from Hawks with a horrified expression. "He was— I loved him! He was going to marry me!"

Hawks blinked. 

"He was just about to strike you," he said gently, lowering his hand. "From the looks of it, he killed these men. Is that the kind of man you want to marry?"

"They were trying to hurt me!" she protested, her dark eyes darting over the bodies, hysterical. "I was coming home from my shift at the tavern and Jin— oh, my sweet Jin— he brought me roses as a surprise, and—"

The woman choked on her sobs, and it was then that Hawks noticed the roses scattered all around them, bent and broken, stomped into the cobblestones. 

"He saved me," she said, looking up at Hawks, the pain in her expression twisting like a knife in his gut. "He keeps saving me, again and again and I— this time I got him killed!"

She began shaking then, trembling, and Hawks reached out to support her then. She let him, and Hawks held her, unsure of what to do. 

Later, when the whole mess was cleaned up and Todoroki Shoto— the son of Hawks' liege lord— had arrived to assess the situation, the magnitude of what had come to pass was related to him. Little Shoto, now a man, looked at him with sad, solemn eyes and told the story of how Jin the Twice, the League's fearsome berserker, had fallen in love with a woman at first sight, with his star-match, his soulmate— how he had come to the Summit knowing that this very outcome was a possibility, but he came anyway for the love of his woman and loyalty to his commander, who had entrusted him with a task.

Jin the Twice had come only to be with the woman he loved, and to carry a message from the High Priestess. 

Shame burned Hawks down to his very core. 

"I should have restrained him," he said, staring down at his hands. "I should have— I should have waited, should have done something, anything else—"

A heavy hand settled onto his shoulder, and Hawks looked over to find Todoroki Shoto watching him with a soft expression and kind eyes. 

"You did the best you could," he told Hawks gently, his youthful face somehow as old as a mountain. "That is all my father asks of our clan. The consequences from this point on are mine and my father's to bear."

"But—"

"Be at peace, Takami Keigo," Shoto ordered. "Go home, take someone with you if you don't already have someone to share your bed. Set your heart at ease."

Hawks did as he was instructed, but no man, not even a Todoroki, could command another man's heart. He tossed and turned in his bed that night, wondering what could have been done differently, wondering if he had done the right thing after all. 

Goddess forgive me, he thought, squeezing his eyes shut against the images in his head. Forgive me, forgive me…

***

It was raining so hard that it was difficult to see. Dabi itched with the need to burn; he tried and tried to light a flame, but nothing happened except the hiss of steam from raindrops hitting his skin. 

"Touya," whispered a voice he knew well. "Touya, my love."

Dabi turned, expecting to find (Y/N) soaking wet and barely visible behind him, but when he turned, the light of the sun— just the sun, no sky, no clouds, no earth— nearly blinded him. To the left, there was a tree in full bloom, beneath which (Y/N) stood, her hair flowing loosely and her short white shift revealing all that was beneath. 

He tried to speak, tried to call out to her, but his voice came out as a thin hiss. He tried to move, but he stumbled, the motion feeling somehow wrong. 

"Monster," said the voice. "Beast."

Dabi felt sick. He looked down, first in shame, then in shock; where there had once been a man's torso, there was now the black, scaly underbelly of a lizard. Instead of hands, he saw a dragon's claws, and when he touched his face, he felt nothing at all. Panicked, he clawed at himself, ripping the scales from his body. They peeled away with some difficulty, like pulling away so many stubborn scabs, but the flesh underneath was not his own. Instead, skin as white as driven snow was revealed, and Dabi recoiled from his own form.

"It is time," the voice said, and age-old eyes turned from him and into the sun, casting them in new and vibrant color. "Death comes."

Please, he wanted to beg, but it came out as a wounded roar. 

(Y/N) didn't seem to hear him. She turned from him, stepped out of the shadow of the tree, and walked into the sunlight. Dabi, though unwilling and unworthy, watched her as she left, taking his heart with her. He roared and raged and fought against the rain that seemed to cage him, but he couldn't move, couldn't claw his way past the rain to reach the light no matter how hard he tried. 

Broken and barbaric, he raised his head to the dark storm clouds above him, screaming his rage to the world. 

She was gone.

Dabi jolted awake to the sound of shouting in the distance. Cold and clammy, he reached over to wake (Y/N), but found that she was gone. Dangerously off-kilter, he stumbled to his feet and outside the tent to find two of the sentries in a fistfight that Spinner was breaking up. Caught red-handed, the men stopped fighting, panicked by Dabi's mere presence, but he barely saw them. 

"Where is (Y/N)?" he asked.

"Who?" asked Spinner, and Dabi was too numb to even feel frustration. 

"The priestess. Where is she?"

He had to find her. They still hadn't finished talking about the future, about his plans— 

"Oh, none of us have seen her," said one of the sentries. "If she left your tent, it had to be while this stupid bastard was napping!"

"Oi!" the other sentry protested, and though Dabi knew he should be irritated, even angry, the feelings seemed slippery, just out of his grasp. On impulse, he turned away from the scene to the outer edges of the camp, and when he did, he should have been astounded by what he saw. 

The camp had been settled in the flatlands outside the Summit, strategically far from anyone and anything; there was nothing taller than grain or short grass for miles around. There had most certainly not been a forest starting at the edge of the camp when they'd made it, and Dabi had an inkling that he now knew which direction (Y/N) might be found in.

"What's the date?" he asked, unable to keep his eyes off the large, foreboding trees that loomed in the distance.

"Well, sir," said Spinner, "I believe it's a fine Samhain night— one to stay indoors for, sir."

Dabi needed no further answer. He remembered the last time the worlds came a little too close to converging on a sacred holiday— there was no way he was leaving (Y/N) to face it alone. 

"Hey, where are you going?" asked Spinner as Dabi began to walk in the direction of the woods. "What— hey, what the hell!"

Dabi didn't answer. He knew what he had to do. He needed to find (Y/N), and he needed to find her now.

Once he entered the forest, Dabi found himself entirely blind. The canopy of trees was so thick that it didn't allow any moonlight to shine through, and Dabi was almost afraid of what he might find if he used his flames for light. Instead, he stumbled blindly through the woods, searching with something more than his senses, more than himself. 

"(Y/N)," he said, speaking her name quietly but solidly, like an invocation, letting the strange, dissociative feeling in his chest expand and swallow him. "(Y/N), where are you?"

Little pinpricks of light appeared in the distance, then all of a sudden, Dabi stepped into blinding moonlight, the forest disappearing into nothing as a sky full of silver stars enveloped him. Only realizing that he had looked upwards into the heavens when his feet began to lose his balance, Dabi tore his eyes away from the celestial world, forcing them back to the terrestrial, and when he did, he found what he had been searching for. 

A few yards away, (Y/N) was kneeling before a pool of standing water. Fireflies danced above the surface of the water, casting it in golden flickers of light, and the stars it reflected twinkled in perfect imitation of the heavens. Above it, (Y/N) seemed supernaturally frozen, staring into the distance.

"Sweet one," he said, slipping naturally into the tongue of their ancestors. "Are you alright?"

(Y/N) turned to him, and Dabi's heart plummeted to his stomach. Her eyes no longer had whites, irises, or pupils— they were simply glowing with a strange golden light that seemed to pulsate with power. Still, he did not back down, did not shy away; he approached her, knelt beside her, took her hand.

"I'm here," he said, unsure of what else he could possibly say. 

"She does not hear you, young one," said (Y/N) in a voice that was not her own, "But I do. Through me, she feels your presence. It brings her comfort."

Dabi didn't know what the proper thing to do in the presence of the goddess was, but he figured touching his forehead to the ground was probably not a bad place to start. 

"Rise, child, rise," said the goddess, a hint of laughter in her voice. "There is no need to fear, or to feign worship— this vessel is your goddess as much and perhaps more than I am. The way you worship her is quite enough."

Dabi wanted to protest that it wasn't nearly the same thing, but he decided it was probably bad form to argue with the Creator. 

"As you will," he replied submissively, fighting the urge to pull his hand away from holding (Y/N)'s. He would not abandon her just because he was a little freaked out by the goddess thing happening. He would not. 

"Will you not speak with me, young one?" she asked him after a long moment of silence. "Have you nothing to say to the Great Mother?"

Dabi had a thousand things to say and also nothing. 

"What's happening to (Y/N)?" he asked, squeezing the hand in his grasp. "Is she alright?"

"She is Seeing," replied the goddess, love and fondness coloring her tone. "She is afraid— after all, the future is often dark and terrifying for a mortal— but she is brave. She faces it with a steel heart and the eyes of a hawk. Does that satisfy you?"

"Not particularly," he replied, unwilling to tell a bald-faced lie to the Great Mother, and the goddess laughed.

"Humans are so funny," she told him with an easy smile that somehow made (Y/N) look entirely unlike herself. "You little ones are my favorite creation. Of all the things I have regretted, making mankind is the one I regret both the least and the most."

Dabi wasn't sure what to say to that. Luckily, he didn't have to come up with anything before the goddess spoke again, this time more quietly. 

"My vessel returns," she intoned, those light-filled eyes seeming so empty in the face that he loved. "She yearns for you. Care for her, little one— she will need you."

With that, the light shining in the place of (Y/N)'s eyes faded, lifting like a veil. When nothing remained of the supernatural but (Y/N) herself, tears began to slide down her cheeks. Trembling, (Y/N) stared past Dabi, unseeing, and she collapsed in on herself, bending almost in half as her face contorted in a silent scream, holding her round belly with the hand that wasn't holding Dabi's. 

Panic filled Dabi as he watched her cry, sobbing with a wild, untamable grief. What had she seen that was so terrible? Even the end of the world itself didn't seem to warrant this sort of reaction, but when he reached out to console (Y/N), she flinched away from him, her eyes full of hurt. 

"Please," she gasped at him through her sobs. "Please don't, don't do this to him, he's a good man—"

"Hey, hey, I'm not doing anything to anyone right now," he said, reaching out for her again, and (Y/N) didn't stop him as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her face into his neck as she cried. She clung to him like a woman drowning in sorrow, and he held her fast, anchoring her as best as he could.

"You'll kill him," she hiccuped, her whole body shaking as he rubbed soothing circles into her back. "You'll kill him and I can't stop you— oh, goddess, Great Mother, please let it not be so!"

She kept repeating "please," begging him, begging the goddess, begging anyone who would listen to change what she had seen, but what was done was done. She wouldn't— couldn't— tell Dabi what she had seen, and he couldn't fix what he didn't know. Gently, he moved her so that her legs were on either side of his waist, and, thankful to the goddess for the strength to do so, stood straight up with her in his arms. (Y/N), lost to the world, barely even seemed to notice; she just clung to him, mad with grief as he carried her back to camp. 

Great Mother, watcher of the world, he prayed silently as he held the love of his life, feeling her every broken sob like a knife in his gut, I don’t ask for much because I don’t deserve much— but if you can, if it’s in your Great Plan, lift this burden from her heart, if only for tonight. Let her sleep, let her rest. Her heart breaks for what is to come; grant her respite for the present.

Shortly thereafter, (Y/N)’s flood of tears reduced to a stream, then a trickle. By the time they made it back to camp, she was exhausted, half-asleep in his arms; when he placed her gently on their furs, she curled in on herself, her tears dried out and her energy completely sapped. 

"I love you," Dabi told her, placing a warmed arm around her round belly as he lay behind her, pressing himself against her. He didn't expect a response, and he didn't need one— that she was still here after whatever she'd seen was answer enough. He only hoped that that would still be the case once he did whatever it was she had foreseen. 

"Cold," she murmured, shifting so that she was laying on her side, facing him, and Dabi consciously warmed his body, pulling a layer of fur over them. 

"Better?" he asked, and she nodded. Dabi watched her face as it relaxed into something resembling the tranquility of sleep, and when he was sure she was resting, he closed his eyes, willing himself to follow suit. 

In a few months or so, he would be taking (Y/N) to stay with Midoriya Inko. If he could manage to behave himself until then, perhaps he could avoid whatever fate (Y/N) had seen. At least, he hoped that was the case; the idea of the future being a permanent and inevitable outcome was even more terrifying than the alternative.