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captainkirkk · 3 days ago

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

It's accidentally been 3 months since I posted my last fic round up, so this post contains months worth of reading and so is much longer than normal. If you're curious, this round up includes the following fandoms (in this order):

ATLA

DC (Batman) & Danny Phantom Crossover

DC (Batman)

Star Wars (Prequels)

The Goblin Emperor

The Sunshine Court (AFTG series)

James Bond

Marvel (Spider-Man)

Red, White & Blue

Stranger Things

King Falls AM (Podcast)

ATLA

Academic Excerpts and the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Studied by Scholars Who Make It Their Full Time Job by Vinces

Zuko and Aang conspired early to keep the Firelord’s identity as the Blue Spirit a secret. Zuko unmasked would only make his spot on the Dragon Throne more tenuous during a time of upheaval in the post-war Fire Nation.

Nevertheless, the post-war academics are on it. Who was the Blue Spirit?

Aang and Zuko try their best to play it cool.

Aang’s pretty successful…

Zuko? Well, he’s trying his best. -- Or where two-thirds of the story is historical “articles” set in and referencing the world of Avatar and one third is Zuko (and Aang) navigating a world where there are academic papers speculating about the prison breakout they did together.

In Utter Hones-tea by agooseinhiding

The Jasmine Dragon has been formally invited to join the Earth King's retinue as he takes the monumental first step onto Fire Nation soil since the start of the Hundred-Year War! Truly, an honor.

Unfortunately, "The Jasmine Dragon" includes Li, the owner's grumpy nephew with an outrageously bad haircut and a wardrobe that's solely green, who knows way too much about the Avatar and his teachers, and who swears on his honor that he's totally, definitely not the Fire Lord.

Somehow, the other tea servers don't believe him. But they've never gotten a chance to prove it (or disprove it, in some cases) until now.

The Jasmine Dragon is going to the Fire Nation, and Hua Ming is going to show once and for all that shop-famous enigma Li is Lord Zuko himself, or she's going to die trying.

(She is going to die on this trip.)

Ft.: General Iroh playing the biggest prank in Fire Nation history, a five thousand yuan bet, and the Jasmine Dragon tea servers.

Taking a Break (In) by Duckduck_Scribblerswan (Caellie_E_and_Vaye_R)

Part 1 of a little bit of monicker in my life (Zuko has too many secret identi-teas)

After a few agonizingly slow seconds of exhausted, confused pondering, Zuko decided there was only one logical conclusion. “You’re right," he told the assassins, "I’m here to help you kill the Fire Lord.” Like a genius.

Caldera City is holding a festival to celebrate finally having enough funds to hold a festival! Although Zuko originally deemed himself too busy to go, Sokka managed to cajol him into attending his own party, in a knock-off Blue Spirit disguise for security purposes. Zuko sneaks back into the palace right in time to catch a group of assassins sneaking out. They failed to find the Fire Lord and assume he's reinforcements.

Zuko needs to find who ordered a strike on him before they do something stupid, like order a second one. Obviously, the most reasonable thing to do is join the assassins and hope they don’t figure out who he actually is. Obviously. There’s literally no other option.

Feat. Zuko's only two coping mechanisms (mortal peril and improv theater), the world's most incompetent hit team, and another knock-off Blue Spirit who's determined to prove this "Li" isn't who he says he is.

Kindred Spirits (sent from my iphone) by Duckduck_Scribblerswan (Caellie_E_and_Vaye_R)

Part 2 of a little bit of monicker in my life (Zuko has too many secret identi-teas)

Zuko just wanted to take a breather after a stressful political summit in the Earth Kingdom. Unfortunately, some passerby with good eyesight spotted him entering an apartment through the door as Li and leaving through the window as the Blue Spirit, right before he left for the Fire Nation. The Earth Kingdom puts two and two together and, appropriately, gets four: the Blue Spirit has kidnapped Li, and presumably the other Fire Nation refugees who have been disappearing across Ba Sing Se. They must save Li and bring the Blue Spirit to justice!

Unwilling to reveal himself as either the Blue Spirit, wanted in both the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom for treason and petty larceny, or Li, who'll draw attention to his uncle's teahouse, Zuko does the next most reasonable thing: he panics.

Meanwhile, Mai, Suki, and Toph are busy investigating who's really at fault for the disappearances of these refugees, King Kuei has realized he can get away with some truly ridiculous antics as king, and the newspapers are getting suspicious of how protective Fire Lord Zuko is of these two random people he apparently picked up in Ba Sing Se. What's up with that, anyway?

Relieved, with honors by redrobin1989

A Fire Lord’s duty is to his people; Zuko seeks out the last Fire Nation soldiers of the Hundred Year War to send them home.

ASYLUM by asfearlessasamango

If Zuko was Azula, trapped in a golden palace with no family but Fire Lord Ozai for years. If Zuko was Azula, now trapped in a marble asylum with no way out that he can see. If Sokka visited. And the complications of a whole world followed.

DC/ Danny Phantom Crossover

Wanted: Dead and Alive by Astereae

“Hey, I do I... Do I know you?” Danny asks, a hand coming up to brush something off Tim’s cheek. “No,” Tim says. “We haven’t met.” “Oh, no, I do.” Danny says, and he smiles, teeth white and sharp. “You’re that guy who rearranged my guts!” Rearranged his- Tim glances at the knotted scars on the boy’s abdomen. He can see the shine and shadow of haphazard stitches that weren’t meant to hold forever, that tore and healed over. His- This- “WHAT!?” Nightwing shouts, equal parts confused and delighted. Tim’s fucked.

OR: Danny Fenton's been in GIW captivity for 4 months.

Tim Drake gets kidnapped by the GIW one Tuesday evening in May.

Considering how many of the Bats and the Birds have died and come back to life, it was only a matter of time for some people interested in the afterlife to come poking around. The detectives can't seem to uncover any information about the mysterious white vans, however.

And they keep losing the mysterious boy who seems to be the one person in Gotham to know anything at all.

it's a long climb up the dusty mountain by whitegeraniums (puertoricansuperman)

"The mission went," Dick echoes, a faint smile on his face. He's still in Bruce's arms, though he could easily escape if he wanted to. Something warm kindles deep, deep in Bruce's chest. Then he thinks of the other Dick, tense as a wire in his arms, shuddering at his touch.

"He had children." He says it without thinking. Dick's expression darkens. He knows where Bruce went tonight, and Bruce watches him piece together the implications of alternate dimension and evil Batman and children.

Or: When you've hit rock bottom, the only place left to go is up.

Star Wars

Misunderstanding Master by bgyeetusthefetus

“A beer please,” Obi-Wan said, his voice barely rising above the din. He placed the credits on the bar, his fingers shaking slightly as he did so./

The bartender looked down at him with a frown, his brows furrowing as he took in Obi-Wan's thin frame. “How old are you, kid?”

Obi-Wan shifted uneasily, suddenly aware of the attention he was drawing from the patrons around him. “It’s not for me,” he replied quickly, his voice steady despite the tremor in his fingers. “I’m just fetching it for my Master.”

Master is a bit of a loaded word in the wider galaxy.

The Goblin Emperor

Date With The Night by DontStopHerNow

Csethiro and Csevet conspire to give Maia a night outside the Alcethmeret.

Unfortunately, when Beshelar finds out, they have a lot of explaining to do.

queen of peace by astardanced

Csethiro broke abruptly free of the pack and came sweeping towards him with hands outstretched, probably hoping to do damage control.

“Serenity,” she said, ignoring her father, who seemed to be wanting to prompt her like a conductor. “We are honoured to have you here.”

Maia had very little experience with the specific social mortifications of an embarrassing family— his own having simply chosen to forget he existed— and it wouldn’t have been fair to make a judgement, but there was already an undeniable tinge of the ridiculous to the entire affair.

(Awkward dinners are part and parcel of the Emperor's role... but the Ceredada really are spectacularly embarrassing.)

The Sunshine Court (AFTG series)

i'm not the same as i was by perchancetosleep

The imminent return to Evermore has him jumping at shadows, and he is already at the end of his rope. Every ounce of energy every single day goes to pretending to be what is required of him—he has to override years of training (away, not towards) to perform adequately on the court, to uphold the Trojan standard, and he has to pretend that while he does it he is a functioning human and not simply a discarded toy too broken to be played with anymore.

It’s why he spent his time in Palmetto when he could walk watching every single Trojans interview and game he could, so he could memorize their speeches and their strategies and their game play so that he would not be a burden. Jean knows what he owes his new masters. And he will not fail.

(Or, Jean tries to fake it until he makes it at USC)

oh i was raised on little light by perchancetosleep

On the third Thursday of every month, Jean walks seven miles across town to visit his sister.

This is the deal that he’s struck with his sister’s foster—no, adoptive now—family. They used to claim that he could visit whenever he wanted, and it used to be Jean’s ability to sneak out of the Moriyama’s home that limited the frequency, but of course the Master had figured out where he was going, and now for years they’ve had him in their ear, telling them how Jean is unstable and disruptive and getting into fights and doing drugs, and of course they don’t want Elodie around that. She’s had a hard enough life as it is, and her good-for-nothing brother is just going to bring trouble and pain. But that won’t stop Jean from showing up, and so this is the deal that he had to make.

Jean will take whatever time he can get.

please i've been on my knees, change the prophecy by perchancetosleep

He can almost pretend, sitting in a warm house at the tiny kitchen table listening to Elodie talk about her dance lessons, that everything is normal. He can pretend that he can stay, that Elodie and him were never separated, and that everything is normal and he is good and he will get to keep this. But Jean had died in that fucking basement years ago, and he’s getting tired of forcing his body to keep going. Sure, Kevin had found a way out and made it to college and made a life, but he had a father waiting for him on the outside.

All Jean has waiting for him at home is a set of guardians that are going to be pissed off that he’s failing chemistry and that he didn’t do his chores and that he’s alive.

James Bond

Begin Again by Snoweylily

M held out the file in her hand and Q automatically took it. “It needs the new Quartermaster’s signature”. The reminder of the Major’s death, the kindly old beta who saw him for him, brought tears to his eyes, and he desperately hoped that the smoke would hide it. “... Okay. Who do I give it to?” “It’s quite a few years ahead of schedule, and quite frankly I’m not even sure if it’s going to work, but Boothroyd always spoke highly of you and you are one of the very few TSS workers still remaining. I’ve spoken to R, the only survivor with seniority over you, and she is quite adamant to remain in her current position with your approval... Which leaves you”. M held out a pen. “Quartermaster”.

Or, “I don’t just have one alpha”. Q grinned, bloody and feral. “I have nine. They’re called the double-0 program; perhaps you’ve heard of them?”

Red, White & Blue

darling, be gentle by SkyGem

In the time that he’s been dating Henry, Alex has been on the receiving end of no less than four shovel talks.

Or.

Okay.

That number may vary, depending on what exactly counts as a shovel talk.

Marvel

Intentions by MellarkandArt

“You’re just- you’re a really great kid and-“

“Mr. Stark,” Peter whispered, suddenly feeling very, very sick.

“Mhm?” Mr. Stark hummed, patting his knee.

“I- I don’t think I can do this. I’ve tried really hard to m-make myself want it, b-but I just don’t. I know you- but I can’t. I just can’t.”

Mr. Stark removed his hand and looked at Peter questioningly. “What are you talking about?”

Peter drew in a shaky breath, feeling the burn as tears fell down his cheeks. “I know you want me to be your- your- I don’t know, but I just can’t be that for someone again, it’s so- so much, and you’re married, you have a daughter, and it’s- I’m sorry. It’s just, it’s too- and I don’t even like you like that, I- I’m sorry.”

Now he’d done it, now Mr. Stark would be looking at him with a heartbroken expression, hurt and betrayed and…

Peter looked up at the man only to see nothing but shock and confusion on his features.

“Peter… Do you think that I have… romantic feelings for you?”

OR: Sometimes people’s intentions aren’t always clear, and Peter has been burnt often enough to know not to play with fire. Irondad, NOT ST*RKER, I promise!!

Stranger Things

Shovel Talks by unkreativstermensch (+ podfic)

“Oh,” Steve says. Then again, “oh,” a little quieter. His expression changes; from confusion to something pained almost. “Mr Munson, I don’t…” he takes a deep breath, his voice a little shaky as he continues. “I don’t think he…I don’t think he likes me like that.”

He doesn’t say “it’s not like that.” Neither does he say “I’m not like that.”

That’s the first thing Wayne notices.

or: Wayne decides to give Steve the shovel talk, only to realize he might not be the one needing one

King Falls AM

i can tell that we are gonna be friends by ace8013, flashsideways

Part 1 of when the radio lights came on (This entire series would be on this round up if it wasn't so damn long)

“I’m graduating this week and I know this is weird and that I met you like a few days ago but… They like, give you tickets? And I don’t know who to invite.” Sammy blinks. “Oh,” he says. “Is this- are you inviting me to your high-school graduation?”

or, Ben graduates from college on May 13, 2015.

to a given standard of normal by neversaydie

Part 5 of cock it and pull it (This series too!!)

The first couple of weeks are… difficult.

Some things are the same. The Jack Sammy remembers sitting across the desk from him in their dingy college radio studio, rambling about the possibility that the math building was haunted; the guy who pushed him into any risky broom closet or empty office he could find to make out, because he was always an adrenaline junkie even if it gave Sammy a heart attack; the Jack who roasted Sammy for his dad jokes even though his were quantifiably worse - he's still there. Mostly intact.

Other things… other things have changed.

[Jack and Sammy start building a life after the void]

the only hoax i believe in by taizi

“Sammy,” Ben says. “You gotta eat.”

Sammy opens his eyes. He isn’t hungry, but he pushes himself upright anyway.

“You better not have tried cooking again,” he says, aiming for light-hearted, angling for a smile.

He nails it. Ben’s eyes go bright and he scoots off the bed with a grin. Not so much fooled as willing to play along, grateful for the semblance of normalcy.

Fake it till you break it, Sammy thinks with the same grim determination that got him through all of high school, and all of college, and every second of every miserable day without Jack and before Ben.

He gets out of bed.

Wish You All The Best by FoxGlade

“This is gonna sound like a stupid question,” Ben says suddenly, “but what year is it?”

Well, Ben has said stupider things. “2018,” Sammy answers. Ben looks to Jack, who looks to Emily, who narrows her mouth into a thin line.

“That’s… maybe a problem,” she says.

(The Christmas magic of King Falls strikes again, giving Sammy a firsthand account of his own future.)

for a higher love by helloearthlings (everything this author writes would also be in this round up if I could)

“Supreme Court legalized same sex marriage this morning, 5-4.”

Ron could tell in an instant that Sammy already knew; something about him crumpled when Ron said it out loud.

God, the guy was – sad about this? Ron’s quiet suspicion about which way Sammy swung was absolutely confirmed – the straight and narrow of King Falls might be all woe is me over the fact that they didn’t have a monopoly on marriage anymore, but no one looked this wrecked if the decision didn’t affect them personally. The question was why this had put Sammy in some sort of drunken stupor.

[Ron, Sammy, and Pride in King Falls.]

#i am in too fandoms someone please help me #i'm considering switching to monthly fic round ups but idk is that something people would be interested in??#or does everyone prefer weekly round ups??#my posts #weekly fic round ups #fic recs #atla recs #dc recs #dp recs #sw recs #tge recs #aftg recs #tsc recs #marvel recs #stranger things recs #kfam recs #misc recs #also happy new year everyone !!

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aspenmissing · 3 days ago

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ᴀʀᴄᴀɴᴇ: ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ꜱɪᴛᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ-ɪꜱʜ ||

4511 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ, ᴄʀʏɪɴɢ/ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴜᴘꜱᴇᴛ, ʜᴀʀᴀꜱꜱᴍᴇɴᴛ (ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ), ꜰʟᴀʀᴇ-ᴜᴘ ᴘᴀɪɴ (ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱꜰᴜʟ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴏᴜʀ ʙᴏʏꜱ ᴀɴᴅ 'ᴍᴏꜱᴛ ᴘʀᴏᴜᴅ ᴏꜰ' ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ʜᴏᴡ ʙᴏᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴄᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴏꜱᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛꜱ.

JAYCE

The howling wind outside was relentless, throwing thick flakes of snow against the window with ferocious intensity. The blizzard showed no signs of letting up, and the frosted glass distorted the pale moonlight that tried to pierce through the storm. Jayce stood by the fireplace, furrowing his brow as he stoked the flames higher. The warmth from the fire bathed the room in a soft amber glow, but it wasn’t enough—not for him. Not when Y/N was sitting on the worn couch, bundled in every blanket he could find in the house.

“Are you warm enough?” Jayce asked, his voice a little too tight as he turned toward her.

“I’m fine, Jayce,” she replied, her lips quirking into a reassuring smile as she shuffled out from under the blanket. Rolling up her sleeves, she moved toward the small table where the ingredients for soup were laid out. “I was just going to start on something warm for us—”

“No, no, no,” he interrupted, crossing the room in two swift strides. Before she could even reach for the cutting board, Jayce gently but firmly took the knife out of her hand and set it down. “You don’t have to do that. Let me handle it.”

“Jayce,” she began, her tone a blend of amusement and exasperation, but he was already at her side, rolling her sleeves back down with a touch so gentle and deliberate it made her pause. Without a word, he guided her back toward the couch, his hands steady on her shoulders.

“Please,” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet plea. “I’ll handle it. Just sit and stay warm.”

Y/N let out a small sigh, knowing better than to argue. She’d learned long ago that when Jayce slipped into one of his protective moods, it was easier to let him fuss. He wasn’t overbearing—just... devoted. And there was a reason behind it, one that made her heart ache every time she remembered.

Kneeling in front of her, Jayce tucked the blanket snugly around her shoulders, his large hands lingering for a moment as if to shield her from even the faintest chill. “Don’t move,” he murmured, his gaze meeting hers briefly before darting back toward the fireplace.

She watched as he crossed the room with purposeful strides, adding another log to the flames and adjusting the kettle hanging over the fire. The warmth crackled through the room, casting a golden glow that softened his furrowed brow.

When Y/N stirred under the blanket, starting to rise from the couch, Jayce was there in an instant. He knelt again, this time holding out her slippers, his expression so earnest it almost made her laugh.

“You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he said quietly, sliding the slippers onto her feet with the utmost care. His hands lingered for a moment, wrapping around her ankles to make sure the fabric was snug.

She reached down, brushing her fingers through his hair, and he finally looked up at her. His eyes held a storm of their own, a mixture of worry and something deeper—something vulnerable.

“Jayce,” she said, her voice soft as snow. “I’m okay. I promise.”

He closed his eyes briefly, leaning into her touch. “I know,” he said, but his voice wavered. “I just... I can’t stand the thought of you feeling cold. Not like I did.”

She knew the story by heart—how Jayce and his mother had once been trapped in a storm like this, lost and desperate, the cold seeping into their bones. They’d been saved by a stranger, but the fear had never fully left him.

“You’re safe with me,” he added, almost to himself. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Y/N leaned forward, cupping his face and guiding him to stand. “Come here,” she said, pulling him onto the couch beside her. She shifted the blanket to wrap around both of them, and he hesitated for only a moment before sinking into her warmth.

“You do enough for me,” she whispered, resting her head against his shoulder. “Let me take care of you, too.”

Jayce’s arms came around her, holding her close as the storm raged on outside. For the first time that night, his shoulders relaxed. Together, they sat by the fire, wrapped in warmth, safe from the winter's wrath.

VIKTOR

The early morning light filtered weakly through the frosted windows, but the usual hum of activity in the apartment was conspicuously absent. Instead, Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, one hand gripping his cane, the other pressed tightly against his aching thigh.

His body had betrayed him again.

“I can’t afford to stay home today,” Viktor muttered, his voice tight with frustration. He shifted slightly, trying to rise, but the flare of pain shot up his leg, forcing him back down with a wince.

From the doorway, Y/N watched him, her heart aching at the sight. His resilience was one of the things she admired most about him, but there were moments like these when she wished he’d give himself a break. Slowly, she crossed the room and knelt in front of him, placing a warm hand over his trembling one.

“You’re not going anywhere today, Viktor,” she said firmly, her voice soft but leaving no room for argument. “Not like this.”

He looked at her, his golden-brown eyes clouded with a mix of exhaustion and frustration. “I can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “Jayce needs me. The work—”

“Jayce can handle the work for one day,” she interrupted, her thumb brushing gently over his knuckles. “You trust him, don’t you?”

Viktor hesitated, his jaw tightening. He hated feeling helpless, hated the idea of leaving the burden on Jayce. But as much as he wanted to protest, the pain in his leg and the weariness in his body left him no choice.

“I trust him,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then trust me, too,” Y/N said, her eyes meeting his with unwavering resolve. “Trust me to take care of you today.”

He sighed, the tension in his shoulders softening slightly. “Fine,” he murmured, though his tone was laced with reluctant acceptance. “But only because I don’t have the strength to argue.”

A small smile tugged at her lips. “Good. Now, let’s get you comfortable.”

She guided him to lie back against the pillows, adjusting them until he could rest without straining himself. Viktor winced as he shifted, but the moment he was settled, Y/N draped a soft, warm blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders like a cocoon.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, pressing a quick kiss to his temple before heading to the kitchen.

The faint clatter of pots and pans soon filled the air, the comforting sounds of her cooking cutting through the quiet tension of the room. Viktor closed his eyes, letting the rhythmic noises and the faint aroma of her cooking lull him into a rare moment of calm.

When she returned, it was with a tray balanced carefully in her hands. A steaming bowl of soup, a plate of warm bread, and a cup of herbal tea sat neatly arranged. Y/N set the tray on the bedside table and helped him sit up, fluffing the pillows behind him with practiced ease.

“There,” she said, handing him the bowl. “Eat up. And don’t even think about arguing.”

Viktor took the bowl, his lips quirking into a faint smile despite himself. “You’re relentless, Miláčku:” he said softly. (Sweetheart)

“I prefer the term ‘determined,’” she replied with a smirk, sitting beside him as he ate.

After the meal, Y/N set the empty dishes aside and knelt by his side once more. Her hands were warm as they moved to his leg, massaging the tight muscles with careful, deliberate pressure. Viktor tensed at first, his breath hitching, but the soothing rhythm of her touch soon eased the ache, and he let out a long, shuddering sigh.

“Better?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“Much,” he admitted, leaning back against the pillows, his body finally relaxing.

She smiled, leaning forward to press a kiss to his knee before shifting to sit beside him again. Her hands moved to his hair, threading through the soft strands in slow, rhythmic motions. Viktor closed his eyes, the sensation pulling him further into a state of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude.

“You deserve it,” Y/N replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt. “Now, stop worrying about the lab, about Jayce, about everything else. Just focus on resting.”

For the rest of the day, Y/N stayed by his side, alternating between spoiling him with warm meals, soothing touches, and quiet reassurances. She didn’t leave him for a moment, keeping him wrapped in comfort and love as the hours passed.

And as night fell, Viktor lay beside her, his head resting against her shoulder, his breathing deep and even. For the first time in a long while, the storm of his thoughts had quieted, leaving only the warmth of her presence to fill the space.

JAYVIK

The day had been long. Too long. Y/N’s head throbbed with the remnants of tension that had built steadily throughout her shift. Between difficult customers demanding impossible solutions, co-workers who seemed more intent on slacking than contributing, and the never-ending pile of tasks that grew by the hour, she’d barely managed to hold herself together.

But she had. Somehow.

By the time she made it home, the weight of the day hung over her like a storm cloud. She unlocked the door, stepping into the warm, familiar space she shared with Jayce and Viktor. The scent of something faintly herbal lingered in the air—likely Viktor’s tea—and the soft hum of conversation filtered from the living room.

“Y/N?” Jayce’s voice called out, his usual warmth shining through even in a single word.

“Welcome back,” Viktor added, quieter but no less sincere.

She didn’t answer, setting her bag down with deliberate care. Her hands trembled slightly as she pulled off her coat and hung it by the door. The sight of her two partners waiting for her, Jayce lounging on the couch and Viktor seated nearby with a book in hand, should’ve been a balm. Instead, it was the final push that broke the dam she’d been holding back all day.

Her breath hitched, tears welling up and spilling over before she could stop them.

“Y/N?” Jayce was on his feet in an instant, his brow creased with worry. Viktor followed a heartbeat later, leaning on his cane as he moved closer.

“What happened?” Viktor asked, his sharp eyes scanning her face as though searching for the source of her pain.

“I just...” Y/N began, her voice cracking as she choked back a sob. “It’s been such a horrible day. Customers yelling at me, staff not doing their jobs, everything just piling up—” Her voice broke entirely, the words dissolving into tears.

Jayce reached her first, pulling her into his strong arms without hesitation. His embrace was firm but gentle, grounding her as she let herself fall apart. “It’s okay,” he murmured, one hand stroking her back. “You’re home now. You don’t have to deal with any of that here.”

Viktor placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch lighter but no less comforting. “Jayce is right,” he said softly. “You’ve done more than enough today. Let us take care of you now.”

Y/N nodded against Jayce’s chest, the steady thrum of his heartbeat soothing her even as her tears continued to flow. She felt Viktor’s hand shift to her cheek, his thumb brushing away the dampness with careful precision.

“Sit down,” Jayce said, guiding her toward the couch. “You need to rest.”

Once she was seated, Viktor eased down beside her, his cane resting against the armrest. Jayce knelt in front of her, his large hands enveloping hers.

“Talk to us,” Jayce said, his voice low and steady. “Let it out. Everything.”

And she did. Between shaky breaths and sniffles, Y/N poured out the frustrations of her day—the impossible demands, the lack of support, the feeling of being completely overwhelmed. Through it all, Jayce and Viktor listened intently, their expressions a mix of empathy and quiet anger on her behalf.

“You’re incredible for handling all that,” Viktor said when she finally finished. His hand found hers, squeezing gently. “But you shouldn’t have to carry so much alone.”

Jayce nodded, his jaw tightening. “You’re not alone, okay? Next time something like this happens, let us know. We’ll find a way to help.”

Y/N smiled weakly, the weight on her chest lifting slightly at their words. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Now,” Viktor said, shifting slightly to rest more comfortably, “you’re going to sit here and do absolutely nothing for the rest of the evening.”

“And we’ll handle everything else,” Jayce added, standing and rolling up his sleeves. “I’ll make us some dinner. Viktor, grab her that fuzzy blanket she likes.”

Y/N let out a soft laugh, the sound watery but genuine. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And you love us for it,” Viktor replied, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Jayce returned moments later with a steaming cup of tea and pressed a kiss to her forehead before heading to the kitchen. Viktor draped the blanket over her lap, his hand lingering on hers as they shared a quiet moment.

As the warmth of their love surrounded her, Y/N felt the tension of the day begin to melt away. No matter how chaotic the world outside became, she knew she had this—these two men who loved her fiercely and completely.

And that was more than enough.

VANDER

The Last Drop was alive with its usual rowdy energy—boisterous laughter, the clink of mugs, and the hum of lively conversation filled the air. Y/N weaved through the crowd with practiced ease, balancing a tray of drinks in one hand while offering polite smiles to the patrons she passed.

It was a busy night, and as much as she enjoyed helping Vander run the bar, the constant motion was beginning to wear her down. Still, she kept her head high and her demeanor calm. That was, until they walked in.

A group of four swaggered through the door, loud and brash from the moment they entered. One man, tall and broad-shouldered, seemed to take the lead, his eyes scanning the room before landing on Y/N. His grin was sharp, and there was a glint in his eyes that made her stomach twist.

As the group settled at a table, Y/N approached to take their orders.

“Evenin’, folks,” she said, keeping her tone professional. “What can I get for you?”

“Well, aren’t you a sweet one?” the tall man drawled, leaning back in his chair. His companions chuckled, and the woman among them shot Y/N a condescending smirk.

“Just here to do my job,” Y/N replied evenly, though her grip on her notepad tightened.

They rattled off their orders, and Y/N turned to leave, but the tall man spoke again. “Don’t forget to smile, darling. You look prettier that way.”

The comment made her skin crawl, but she forced herself to keep walking. She couldn’t let them get to her.

As the night went on, the group only grew more obnoxious. They called for refills before finishing their drinks, sent her back to the bar with complaints about nonexistent issues, and made thinly veiled comments about her looks. At one point, as Y/N was clearing their table, the tall man “accidentally” knocked a glass onto the floor, shattering it.

“Oh, my bad,” he said with a smirk. “Guess you’ll have to clean that up.”

The group erupted into laughter, and the woman gave Y/N a look of mock pity. “Must be hard, working here. But then again, someone’s gotta do it.”

Y/N’s cheeks burned, her chest tightening with frustration and humiliation. But she bit her tongue, quickly gathering the broken glass and retreating to the pantry under the guise of getting more supplies.

As soon as she was alone, the tears she’d been holding back spilled over. She sank onto a small stool, pressing her hands to her face to stifle her sobs.

“Y/N?”

The deep, familiar voice made her freeze. She looked up to see Vander standing in the doorway, concern etched across his face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, stepping inside and crouching in front of her.

Y/N shook her head, wiping at her cheeks. “It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Vander said gently but firmly. He reached out, brushing a stray tear from her cheek with his thumb. “What happened?”

She hesitated, but the kindness in his eyes broke down her resolve. “It’s that group at table five,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “They’ve been... difficult all night. And I tried to handle it, I really did, but—” Her voice cracked, and she looked away.

Vander’s jaw tightened, his blue eyes darkening. He straightened, his broad frame filling the doorway as he looked back toward the bar.

“Stay here,” he said, his voice low but steady.

“Vander, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll handle it.”

Y/N watched as he left, her heart pounding.

Back in the bar, Vander approached table five, his presence commanding immediate attention. The group’s laughter died down as he loomed over them, his arms crossed and his expression like thunder.

“You think it’s funny to treat my staff like that?” he said, his voice calm but with an edge that sent a shiver through the room.

The tall man opened his mouth, likely to retort, but Vander cut him off. “I don’t care what you think you’re owed. You’re done here. Pay your tab, leave a tip, and get out.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances.

“I said now,” Vander added, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Grumbling, the tall man threw some coins on the table, and the group shuffled out under Vander’s watchful gaze. Once they were gone, he collected the coins and added a generous tip out of his own pocket before heading back to the pantry.

Y/N looked up as he entered, her eyes still puffy.

“They’re gone,” he said simply, holding out the coins. “This is for you.”

She stared at him, then shook her head. “I can’t take that, Vander.”

“Yes, you can,” he insisted, pressing the money into her hand. “You’ve earned it. And more than that, you deserve better than how they treated you.”

Her lip quivered, and she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.

Vander wrapped his arms around her, his embrace solid and reassuring. “Always,” he murmured. “Now, take a break. I’ll handle the rest tonight.”

For the first time that evening, Y/N felt the tension in her chest ease. With Vander at her side, she knew she was safe—and valued.

SILCO

The dim glow of the lamps in Silco’s office cast long shadows on the walls, but their usual warmth did nothing to ease the tension in the air. Silco paced back and forth behind his desk, his movements sharp and deliberate. His mismatched eyes flicked toward the papers scattered across the surface, their contents detailing the fallout of a deal gone sour.

His jaw clenched, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, a rare crack in his otherwise impenetrable façade. The task had been straightforward, a key step in solidifying his influence in Zaun. But now, it was unraveling, threatening to spiral out of control.

“Idiots,” he muttered under his breath, his voice low and venomous. “How hard is it to follow simple instructions?”

Y/N stood quietly near the door, watching him with concern. She had seen him like this before—frustrated, coiled like a spring ready to snap—but this time was different. The weight of the failure seemed to press down on him more than usual, and it pained her to see him like this.

“Silco,” she called gently, her voice cutting through the oppressive silence.

He stopped mid-stride, his gaze snapping to her. For a moment, the stress in his expression softened at the sight of her, but it quickly returned as he waved toward the papers.

“This was supposed to be a turning point,” he said, his voice strained. “Instead, it’s a mess. And now I have to fix it before it becomes a disaster.”

Y/N approached him slowly, her hand resting lightly on his arm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” she said softly.

Silco’s eyes searched hers, doubt flickering briefly in his gaze. “This isn’t your burden to bear.”

“It is if it’s yours,” she replied firmly. “Let me handle it.”

He hesitated, but the resolute look in her eyes left no room for argument. Silco trusted few people in the world, but Y/N had proven herself time and again. With a small nod, he relented.

“All right,” he said, his voice low. “But be careful.”

Y/N smiled, brushing a hand lightly over his cheek before turning to leave. “I’ll do more than be careful. I’ll make it right.”

Y/N moved through the dimly lit corridors of the industrial district with purpose, Silco’s top lieutenants trailing behind her. She barked orders with an authority that left no room for hesitation, her voice steady and commanding.

“You,” she said, pointing to one of the men. “Secure the shipment and make sure it gets to the drop point without issue. And you,” she turned to another, “get word to our contact that we’re renegotiating. I want them ready to talk by the time I return.”

The men exchanged uncertain glances but quickly snapped to attention under her sharp gaze. They knew better than to question her—she carried Silco’s trust, and that was enough for them.

Over the next few hours, Y/N worked tirelessly, adjusting plans, smoothing over tensions, and ensuring every detail was accounted for. By the time she returned to Silco’s office, her clothes were smudged with the grime of Zaun’s underbelly, but her expression was triumphant.

Silco looked up from his desk as she entered, his mismatched eyes scanning her for any sign of trouble.

“It’s done,” Y/N announced, dropping a ledger onto his desk. “The shipment’s secure, the deal’s renegotiated, and we even managed to get better terms than before.”

Silco stared at her, momentarily stunned. “Better terms?”

She smirked, crossing her arms. “Let’s just say their desperation worked in our favor.”

For the first time that night, a genuine smile tugged at the corners of Silco’s lips. He stood, stepping around the desk to pull her into his arms.

“You’re remarkable,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Y/N leaned into him, her hands resting lightly on his chest. “You’d do the same for me.”

Silco chuckled softly, his tension finally melting away. “Perhaps. But not as flawlessly.”

She grinned, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “That’s why we make such a good team.”

Silco’s grip on her tightened slightly, his mismatched eyes filled with something rare—peace. For the first time that night, the chaos seemed manageable, and he had her to thank for it.

POWDER/JINX

The sound of clattering tools and muttered curses echoed through Jinx’s lair. Her workstation was a chaotic mess—gears, wires, and pieces of scrap metal strewn everywhere. At the center of it all was Jinx, her blue braids whipping around as she shoved components aside and growled in frustration.

“Why won’t you work?!” she snapped, slamming her hands on the table. Her latest invention—a bomb with intricate carvings and glowing accents—lay in pieces before her, stubbornly refusing to cooperate.

With a sharp huff, Jinx grabbed a wrench and flung it across the room. It clanged loudly against a wall, joining the growing pile of discarded tools and failed prototypes.

As her anger bubbled over, the door to her lair creaked open. Y/N stepped inside, her footsteps soft but deliberate. She paused to take in the scene—Jinx’s flushed face, the scattered debris, and the faint smell of singed wires hanging in the air.

“Hey, Bluebird,” Y/N said gently, her tone filled with the kind of warmth only a mother figure could offer.

Jinx froze mid-tantrum, her hands still clutching a pair of pliers. She turned to Y/N, her mismatched eyes wide and wild. “Don’t ‘Bluebird’ me right now, Y/N! This stupid thing won’t work, and I’ve tried everything! It’s broken, I’m broken—everything’s broken!”

Y/N smiled softly, stepping closer but keeping her movements slow and non-threatening. “Nothing’s broken,” she said calmly, her voice steady. “Sometimes things just need a fresh perspective.”

Jinx scoffed, slumping into a chair and crossing her arms. “A fresh perspective? Great. Got any of those lying around, genius?”

Y/N chuckled, kneeling beside her and resting a hand on her knee. “You know, my mom used to tell me something when I’d get stuck on a problem,” she began, her tone warm and nostalgic. “She’d say, ‘If your head’s on fire, you can’t see the flames.’”

Jinx blinked, her brow furrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Y/N explained, “when you’re too worked up, you can’t think clearly. You’ve got to calm the storm in here first,” she tapped Jinx’s temple gently, “before you can fix anything else.”

Jinx stared at her for a moment, her lips twitching as if she wanted to argue. But the sincerity in Y/N’s eyes was disarming, and she let out a long, exaggerated sigh.

“Fine,” she muttered, leaning back in her chair. “Storm’s calmed. Now what?”

Y/N grinned, pulling up a stool and examining the bomb on the table. “Now we take it slow and figure this out together.”

Over the next hour, Y/N and Jinx worked side by side. Y/N’s calm demeanor balanced Jinx’s chaotic energy, and they carefully retraced each step of the bomb’s construction.

“Here,” Y/N said at one point, pointing to a misaligned wire. “This might be the issue. Looks like it’s not making a proper connection.”

Jinx leaned in, squinting at the spot. “Huh. How’d I miss that?”

“Because your head was on fire,” Y/N teased, earning a small laugh from Jinx.

Together, they adjusted the wire and made a few more tweaks. When the bomb finally whirred to life, its glowing accents pulsating rhythmically, Jinx’s face lit up with childlike glee.

“Ha! I knew it would work!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around Y/N.

Y/N laughed, hugging her back tightly. “You did all the hard work, sweetheart. I just helped you see it.”

Jinx pulled back slightly, her grin softening into something more tender. “You’re the best, you know that?”

Y/N smirked, brushing a strand of blue hair from Jinx’s face. “Of course I do. And don’t forget—you’ve got this. Even when it’s tough.”

Jinx’s laughter echoed through the lair, the tension from earlier completely melted away. For now, she felt safe, grounded, and understood—thanks to Y/N’s unshakable presence.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce x y/n #jayce talis x reader #viktor x reader #viktor x you #viktor x y/n #jayvik x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #silco x reader #vander x reader

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viharbinger · 3 days ago

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💍 Romance And Weddings (Fred Weasley x fem!reader)

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Wife!Reader (I'm fuckign tweaking)

Warnings: Fred not dead 🤫🥰, pregnancy, marriage, reader is female, usage of pet names (love and darling), this is set shortly after the second wizarding war

a/n: I have exams tomorrow and I'm writing Fred Weasley x wife reader fic??? I think I need the mental hospital

You and Fred started dating in your first year of Hogwarts. It was a small parchment of paper passed to you, asking, 'do you want to be my girlfriend? Circle yes or no' I mean you both were eleven, without a worry in the world and there wasn't any harm in dating. And when the school years went by, it seems like it wasn't just a silly childhood crush after all because you've both become accustomed to calling each other your boyfriend and girlfriend and hanging out together everywhere.

You've had your awkward first kiss, reluctant hand holding, and even broken up a couple of times during your time in Hogwarts. But what surprised you the most is why you said yes to his marriage proposal! I mean, it's common knowledge that most highschool relationships just don't work out. But now, you have officially been dating for a little over 6 or more years, if you don't count the times you've broken up over silly arguments— you've even moved in with him and George!

Even when you were dating, Fred would always teasingly flirt with you, it had you turning red all the time. And you'd also do it back at him, making him turn equally red. Soon enough, those awkward first kisses became natural and a daily occurrence for the both of you and you got more comfortable with each other.

So it was just a little after Fred and George had opened up their shop and the Wizarding community was starting to divide into two sides. Business was booming, Fred and George were making more than enough galleons to fit into their pockets and were looking to treat themselves.

They've bought themselves the dragon-skin suits, gifted their family presents and started living comfortably. But Fred had a thought. You've both dated basically throughout your most important years— and been with him the whole time! He wants to treat you to something but what he didn't think he would get was an engagement ring.

He just happened to come by a jewellery store when he saw it... A ring that would look so beautiful if it sat on your finger. He bought it without a second thought but decided not to propose just then, because you never know, right?

He kept the ring in his jacket pocket at all times, and even made sure you never washed the jacket yourself to prevent you from accidentally seeing it. He was gonna keep it for a momentous occasion, and... Maybe the momentous occasion was when you and Fred were in the middle of a fight against Death Eaters in Hogwarts.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do this earlier, love!" He shouts through all the noise happening in the school. "You're an idiot!" You snapped, hitting one final blow to a death eater, and then clutching Fred's arm to pull him away to safety, your finger glistening with the ring he just proposed.

"You couldn't have done this in a worser time?" You breathed, quickly blocking an attack at another Death Eater, and Fred fires at him. Teamwork makes the dreamwork. "Yeah, but you said yes, didn't you?" He laughs amidst the battle, now pulling you to where the rest of the survivors are also fighting.

When the fight was finally over, you were cuddled up against him with your head on his shoulder sitting on one of the dining chairs in the great hall. You finally had the time to admire the ring on your finger, and this action doesn't go unnoticed by Fred. "Once we're out of here, I promise I'll give you the best life possible. Anything for my darling wife." He cheekily grins, caressing the hand that you held up to look at.

"You're crazy, you know that?" You blush, hiding your face in his neck. And the news doesn't go unheard in less than a week. He's sent owls to his family, yours, friends and acquaintances all about your engagement and that a wedding date is to be announced.

"Fred, where are all these owls coming from?" The replies came around the same time, and he was just smiling cheekily. He pressed a long affectionate kiss to your temple as you opened the letters with furrowed eyebrows. "You told... Everyone? Already?!"

Every week without marrying you keeps Fred so antsy to marry you, it's adorable. Before he's even married you, he's already calling you 'Mrs. Weasley' or referred you as his wife in every conversation. When you're shopping with him too, he's insufferable. He's constantly making suggestions for the wedding, "I think this napkin would look nice on the guest tables, what's say you?" or "That dress would look lovely on you for the reception, love. Just suggesting."

And the first week back to the Burrow after your engagement was celebratory. Molly was ecstatic and welcomes you into her family warmly, not like you weren't ever part of it.

Finally came to the wedding, it would be big with a lot of friends and families. Being one of the Weasley twins, there would be fireworks setting off after your I do's and it would just be magical. Seeing you walk down the aisle for the first time, his eyes would burn trying to hold his tears. He thinks you're so beautiful, he couldn't help speaking it out loud, earning some laughter from the audience.

During the wedding reception, he couldn't help stare at you everytime, either. He also gets so drunk off of firewhiskey with his family, he starts calling for you if you leave him for longer than 3 minutes. He'd slur your name, and be so tired he would just lay his head on your shoulder for a short nap, ruining your perfect outfit with his drool.

And not even a few months had passed since your wedding when you find out you're pregnant with Fred's baby. Not surprising of course, being a wife of a Weasley basically meant you're gonna have a broody husband. You had no fear in telling him, because it was his idea after all. Well, he'd try to pretend it's your idea by planting it in your head.

He'd purposefully take care of Teddy Lupin to show how much of a good father he would be in front of you. Or he'd somehow shift the conversation to be about how he loves how cute babies are. "I know what you're playing at, Freddie." You jab a finger at his chest, and he catches it the second jab and presses a kiss to your hand. "Don't know what you're talking about, love."

When you finally agreed to the idea of getting pregnant, he literally wasted no time. He's already running his hands all over your body, kissing you breathlessly and pulling you to the bed... And the rest is history. But the first baby is just a start, he says. Like I said, he's broody and even jokes about wanting to have a 'full quidditch team' which you swat him for.

<3 pleaz reblog and like

#fred weasley x reader #fred x reader #harry potter #harry potter x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #george weasley #fred x you #fred weasley imagines #fred weasley imagine

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tinylilacbun · 3 days ago

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h e r n u m b e r o n e ᯓ★

You giggle when Rafe revs his bike, sitting on top of it as he slowly wheels it towards the start line, smiling at you fondly.

Being his daughter, the loud sounds of a bike is a thing you got used to since you were born, and riding one is something you look forward to once you're old enough.

The enduro race is gonna start soon, all the opponents getting ready and making the last touches on their gear and bikes, just like your dad as he slides on his gloves, ruffling your hair afterwards.

"C'mon, let's get you to Sofia." He says, lifting you up from his bike and settling you on his hip as he makes his way over to her.

"Rafe Cameron on that fire-breathing KTM, he could be your favorite today." The commentator announces through the speakers.

Pff, he is already your favorite, and always will be. He just smirks but stops walking as he's about to pass John B.

"What do you want, Rafe." The brunette asks.

Rafe simply shrugs, holding you firmly. "I mean, my Dad went off with you and never came back. I didn't forget that." He smiles in a threatening way which you didn't catch up on. "See you in traffic, slick."

After saying that, he continues walking again to where Sofia is standing, leaning down to kiss her before he hands you over to her. "Keep a good eye on that one, tends to get in trouble."

"From whom she only got that?" She chuckles, poking your side a few times to hear you laugh, looking back up at Rafe. "Be careful out there."

"Always am." He smirks, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before making his way back to his bike.

"Good luck, daddy!" You shout, waving at him and watching him get onto his dirt bike.

"Let's go, Rafe! You got this, baby! Whoo!" Sofia shouts all the while you clap and cheer for him as well.

"Whoo!" You squeal excitedly and keep waving. Rafe smiles as he sees that, putting on his helmet and revving his bike once.

Soon the racers got the start signal and you watch in amazement at how fast they all drive past you, trying to keep your eyes on Rafe.

"Rafe Cameron gets the holeshot, beats the pack out front, and, boy, he is blazing down the straightway." The commentator observes.

At one point Sofia sets you down on the ground, keeping ahold of your hand to ensure you won't run off as you now wait patiently for your dad to race back.

"S'daddy gonna win?" You ask, looking up at Sofia with a big grin and she squeezes your hand, a smile that mirrors your own on her face.

"You bet he will, he already had a good start. Gimme five." She tells you and gives you a high five.

Soon enough you're able to see the racers, recognizing Rafe at the front together with someone else and Sofia tenses up a little when she sees how close they are to each other.

You, who doesn't see anything wrong, keep cheering for him, jumping up and down while clapping your hands again. "Daddy! Yay!"

"Cameron's close but not gonna be able to overtake him." You hear the commentator say and suddenly you see Rafe practically getting flung from his bike after he successfully tried to stop JJ. "Oh, mayhem, carnage! They're both down!"

You stop jumping, standing there for a moment in shock and before you could rush over to him you feel Sofia grab your arm. "Wait- you can't just run over there while the race is still going! It's too dangerous."

With a confused whimper, you stay beside Sofia, the tears already building up in your eyes as you can only watch your father laying on the sand as the other racers finish the race.

As soon as you are allowed to, you and Sofia run over to him as quickly as possible as everyone else cheers on Topper for his win.

You almost stumble a few times while Rafe gets up from the ground and pulls off his helmet, visibly in pain but he still manages to catch you in his arms, lifting you up and feeling you wrap your arms around his neck tightly.

"I'm okay, I'm okay." He pants, despite his whole body aching he knows he has to assure you he's well by the way your body is trembling from crying. "Shh...I'm fine, princess, I promise. I'm so sorry I scared you."

You sniffle and pull back to place your small palms on his cheeks, a pout on your face but when he gives you a small smile you bury your face back in his neck and simply hold tightly onto him.

Sofia watches you both, brows still furrowed in concern and places a hand on his arm, giving him a onceover. "Are you sure you're okay, baby?"

"Yeah- just sore, is all, I'm fine." He nods, making his way off the raceway to hopefully find somewhere to sit with a slight limp, keeping an arm firmly around your back, his other draped over Sofia's shoulders for some support.

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu @mylettterstoyou @sunf1ower16 @sweetstars-posts @rafecameronsloverrrrr @rafesdoeeyeddoll

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

#daughter!reader #dad!rafe drabble

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hrizantemy · 3 days ago

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The fire crackled warmly in the hearth of the River House as Feyre paced the sitting room, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. The Inner Circle sat scattered across the plush sofas and chairs, their expressions ranging from curious to downright skeptical as she relayed the news. Feyre’s hands twisted together, a nervous habit she hadn’t indulged in for years, but Nesta had that effect on her.

“She accepted?” Amren finally broke the silence, her silver eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her seat, swirling a glass of blood-red wine. “Nesta Archeron, the Queen of Isolation herself, is coming to Solstice?”

Feyre nodded, her lips twitching into a tentative smile. “Not only is she coming, but she asked if she could bring someone.” She hesitated before adding, “I told her yes, of course. I didn’t want to make her feel… unwelcome.”

Rhysand, sprawled lazily in an armchair with an air of casual authority, arched a dark brow. “And you didn’t think to ask who this someone might be?”

Feyre shot him a look. “I was too stunned she said yes at all. I wasn’t about to interrogate her, Rhys.”

Cassian, who had been unusually quiet, sat forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees. His hazel eyes glimmered with a mix of hope and trepidation. “She’s bringing someone? Like… a friend? Or…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening.

“Maybe she’s found someone she actually likes,” Mor interjected with a sharp smile, though her tone carried an edge of disbelief. “That would be a Solstice miracle.”

Azriel remained silent, his shadowed gaze flicking between Feyre and Cassian, but his jaw clenched slightly, as if bracing for something unpleasant.

“It doesn’t matter who she’s bringing,” Feyre said, her voice firmer now. “What matters is that she’s coming. She’s choosing to be here. After everything…” Her throat tightened briefly, but she pushed on. “This is a step forward. For all of us.”

Amren snorted softly, setting her glass down with a delicate clink. “Or it’s just Nesta being unpredictable as always. Who knows what her angle is?”

“She doesn’t need an angle,” Feyre snapped, surprising herself with the force of her own words. “She’s my sister. I invited her because I want her here, not because I expect anything from her.”

Rhysand reached out, brushing a calming hand along her arm, his violet eyes softening. “No one is saying otherwise, Feyre. But you can’t deny it’s… unexpected.”

“It’s more than unexpected,” Mor muttered, crossing her legs and leaning back against the cushions. “It’s suspicious.”

Cassian’s gaze darkened, and he turned to Mor, his voice low. “She doesn’t owe us anything, Mor. Least of all your approval.”

An awkward silence fell over the room, and Feyre took a deep breath, centering herself. “Whatever her reasons, she’s coming. And we’re going to welcome her, like family should.” She glanced at each of them, daring them to challenge her. “That includes whoever she chooses to bring.”

The conversation drifted into quieter speculation after that, but Feyre remained by the fire, staring into the flickering flames, trying to suppress the nervous flutter in her chest. Nesta was coming. For the first time in years, her sister was coming back into their orbit—not for an argument, not out of obligation, but because she’d chosen to.

She clung to that sliver of hope like a lifeline, unwilling to let it slip away.

The silence that filled the room after Feyre’s announcement felt heavy, as if each member of the Inner Circle was lost in their own tangled web of thoughts about Nesta. It had been nearly a year since the last Solstice, when everything had come to a head, and the aftermath had left deep, jagged rifts between them all.

Nesta had stormed out that night—her words sharp, her tone colder than the snow that blanketed Velaris. In the weeks that followed, she’d stopped opening the tabs she’d once so freely placed on Rhysand’s account, a quiet but unmistakable declaration of her independence. The refusal had stung Feyre, though she couldn’t quite put into words why. Perhaps it was the finality of it, the way it marked a line between them that Nesta had no interest in crossing again.

“She’s changed,” Feyre said softly, breaking the silence. “You all know it.”

“She stopped drinking herself into oblivion, sure,” Cassian muttered, his voice low, his hazel eyes shadowed. “But it’s not like she kept us in the loop about anything else. She just… left.”

“She distanced herself,” Mor corrected, her voice clipped. “Not that it was a huge loss. She’s barely spoken to any of us since.”

Feyre flinched at the bitterness in Mor’s tone but didn’t argue. Mor wasn’t wrong. After Nesta had left the Inner Circle’s orbit, she hadn’t looked back. Letters had been the only form of communication—and even those had been sparse and stilted, only coming when someone else initiated the conversation. Feyre had written her often, clinging to the hope that Nesta would eventually reply with more than perfunctory sentences. Occasionally, she did. But it wasn’t the same.

“She moved out of that awful apartment,” Feyre said, a tinge of relief in her voice. “She found a job, started to rebuild… on her terms.”

“Good for her,” Amren said dryly, though her gaze flicked toward Cassian, as if gauging his reaction. “But the cost was cutting all of us off. You’d think one of her priorities might have been mending those bridges.”

“It’s not that simple,” Feyre said, her voice sharper now. “You all know how things were before. Nesta didn’t feel welcome. She didn’t feel… wanted.”

“Because she didn’t let anyone in,” Mor snapped. “She shut us out long before we gave up trying.”

“That doesn’t mean we were right to stop,” Feyre shot back.

Cassian stood abruptly, running a hand through his hair. “Enough.” His voice was gruff, strained. “Nesta did what she had to do. Maybe it wasn’t pretty, and maybe it wasn’t what any of us wanted, but she’s alive. She’s trying. And that’s more than most of us can say for her a year ago.”

Feyre’s heart ached at the truth of those words. She remembered the haunted, hollow look in Nesta’s eyes during her lowest moments, the nights Feyre had spent wondering if her sister would simply vanish into the void of her own despair.

Now, though, there was something different. In the rare moments Feyre had seen her, Nesta seemed more at ease, steadier. She no longer carried the same brittle anger like a shield. Still, the distance between them had grown into a chasm, and Feyre didn’t know how to bridge it.

“She’s coming to Solstice,” Feyre said again, more firmly this time. “She’s taking a step toward us. We owe it to her—and to ourselves—to meet her halfway.”

The room fell silent again, but this time it felt less oppressive, as if the weight of Nesta’s absence was finally beginning to lift. Even if it was just a sliver of light breaking through the cracks, Feyre clung to it.

The silence that followed Feyre’s words was as heavy as it was unyielding. No one argued, no one even shifted in their seats. It was the kind of silence that pressed down on Feyre’s chest, filling the room with the unspoken weight of everything left unresolved between Nesta and the Inner Circle.

Elain, ever the peacekeeper, appeared at just the right moment, her soft steps barely making a sound as she entered the sitting room. She carried a tray of cookies, their golden edges gleaming, the faint scent of cinnamon and cloves trailing after her. Her warm, practiced smile faltered as she glanced around the room and noticed the tension.

“Elain,” Feyre started, but before she could say more, there was a sharp, deliberate knock at the door.

The sound cut through the quiet like a blade, startling everyone. Elain froze mid-step, her eyes flicking to Feyre, the tray trembling ever so slightly in her hands.

No one moved at first. They all seemed rooted in place, as if reluctant to acknowledge what the knock meant. Feyre felt her pulse quicken. Nesta had arrived—and early, no less.

“I’ll get it,” Feyre said, her voice firmer than she felt as she stood, smoothing her hands down her sweater.

No one stopped her, though she could feel their eyes on her as she crossed the room. Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable, while Cassian stared at the floor, his jaw tight. Azriel’s shadows curled faintly at his shoulders, and Mor crossed her arms, her expression blank but tense. Even Amren tilted her head slightly, as if listening for some hidden truth in the knock.

Feyre opened the door, her breath catching when she saw Nesta standing there. She looked different—not in the obvious ways, but in the subtleties: her posture straighter, her face calm, but without the guarded steel that had once made her seem untouchable.

“Nesta,” Feyre said softly, relief blooming in her chest. Her eyes flicked to the person standing just behind her sister, bundled in a heavy coat with a hood shadowing their face. “And you must be…?”

Nesta stepped inside without answering immediately, her gaze sweeping across the room before settling on Feyre. “Thank you for inviting me.” Her voice was steady, though her fingers tightened around the strap of the bag slung over her shoulder. She turned slightly, gesturing to the figure at her side. “This is Taryn.”

The hooded figure stepped forward and lowered their hood, revealing a sharp-featured, dark-haired woman with piercing eyes. She inclined her head in a polite nod, though her expression was unreadable.

Feyre managed a smile, even as the weight of the room shifted behind her. “Welcome,” she said, stepping aside to let them in.

The room’s tension grew as Nesta and Taryn entered, the warmth of the fire seemingly unable to dispel the chill that followed them. Feyre glanced back at the others, her resolve firm. This was going to work. It had to.

Feyre stepped aside, watching as Nesta and the woman—Taryn—stepped into the house. The warmth of the firelight illuminated them both, and it was then Feyre noticed the bags slung over their shoulders. Nesta’s was a small, simple satchel, while Taryn carried a larger bag that looked heavier.

Her gaze flicked to the bags, curiosity stirring. “Are those…” Feyre hesitated, not sure how to phrase it without sounding too eager. “Are those presents?”

Nesta’s stormy blue eyes met hers, unreadable for a moment. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, she answered, “Yes.”

Feyre’s breath hitched in surprise. Nesta—Nesta, who had barely even attended Solstice last year and had left before the sun had fully set—had brought gifts. Feyre swallowed the lump rising in her throat and tried to smile, though her chest felt tight with emotion.

“Let me take your coats,” she said, her voice soft.

Nesta and Taryn obliged, shrugging out of their heavy winter cloaks and handing them to Feyre. For a moment, Feyre’s hand brushed against Nesta’s, and it struck her how steady her sister felt—no tremble, no hesitation. A quiet strength radiated from her, and Feyre’s heart ached with both pride and longing for the bond they’d once shared.

As Nesta handed her bag to Taryn to carry into the sitting room, Feyre couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Did you pick them out yourself?”

Nesta’s lips twitched, a faint flicker of amusement crossing her face. “Of course I did.”

The answer was so matter-of-fact, so… Nesta, that Feyre couldn’t help the quiet laugh that escaped her. “Well,” she said, stepping back to allow them further inside, “I’m sure everyone will be thrilled.”

From behind her, the room had gone silent again, the Inner Circle still frozen in a mix of shock and discomfort. But Feyre pushed aside the tension and turned to lead the way. For now, she would focus on this small miracle: Nesta was here, and she had brought gifts. Perhaps that meant there was hope after all.

As Feyre turned to lead Nesta and Taryn further into the room, it was Elain who finally broke the silence. Her soft, melodic voice cut through the awkward tension with surprising ease.

“It’s wonderful you came, Nesta,” Elain said, setting down the tray of cookies on the low table in the center of the sitting room. Her warm, genuine smile brightened the room in a way that only Elain could.

Nesta’s gaze flicked to her younger sister, and though her expression didn’t change, Feyre noticed the faintest softening in her sharp features.

Elain’s eyes moved to Taryn, taking in the woman with polite curiosity. “And you even brought a friend,” she added, her tone light and welcoming.

Taryn, standing quietly beside Nesta, inclined her head. “Taryn,” she introduced herself simply, her voice cool but not unfriendly.

Elain’s smile widened, and she gestured toward the chairs by the fire. “It’s lovely to meet you, Taryn. Please, both of you, make yourselves comfortable. I’ll get more tea.”

Nesta gave Elain a small, almost reluctant nod of thanks before stepping further into the room. Taryn followed closely, her movements deliberate and composed, as though she were ready to leave at any moment if the atmosphere soured.

Feyre’s chest tightened as she glanced between them, grateful for Elain’s efforts to ease the tension but painfully aware of how stiff and silent the rest of the Inner Circle remained. It was a fragile moment, one that could shatter with a single wrong word, but Feyre clung to the hope that Elain’s warmth might be enough to hold it together.

Elain paused in the doorway before disappearing to fetch tea, her gentle voice trailing behind her. “It really is wonderful to have you here, Nesta. Both of you.”

For a fleeting second, Feyre thought she saw something flicker in Nesta’s eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or maybe just relief. It was hard to tell, but Feyre held onto that moment like a lifeline. Small steps, she reminded herself. Small steps forward.

Feyre led Nesta and Taryn into the sitting room, the warmth of the fire contrasting sharply with the tension that hung in the air. The silence from the others was deafening, broken only by the crackling of the hearth. Still, Feyre kept her posture steady, determined to ease them into this fragile reunion.

“Here,” Feyre said gently, gesturing to the open space near the large, decorated table where the others had already placed their gifts. Nesta and Taryn followed her lead, setting their bags down with quiet precision.

As they straightened, Feyre’s gaze flicked to Nesta. She looked… different. Better. Healthier. The sharpness in her face had softened, replaced by a glow that hadn’t been there the last time Feyre had seen her. Her cheeks were fuller, her skin had a healthy flush, and her silver-blue eyes were clear, unclouded by the weight she used to carry. Even the way she stood—back straight, shoulders square—spoke of someone who had found stability.

Feyre felt a pang of emotion, a mixture of pride and longing, as she realized how much more beautiful Nesta looked like this. Not just in her appearance, but in the way she carried herself: calm, composed, and whole.

Her gaze shifted to Taryn, and Feyre took a moment to really look at the woman. Taryn was striking, her sharp features framed by dark hair that shimmered in the firelight. Her deep green eyes, cool and assessing, seemed to take in everything around her at once. She exuded a quiet confidence, one that balanced Nesta’s steadiness in an unexpected but complementary way. Feyre couldn’t help but think the two of them made an impressive pair, both polished and self-assured in ways that only added to their beauty.

Nesta and Taryn chose seats at the edge of the circle, slightly removed from the Inner Circle but still within reach. Feyre noticed the way Nesta’s hand lingered on the arm of her chair for a fraction of a second before she sat down, her gaze flicking toward Cassian and then away just as quickly.

Feyre settled herself in a nearby seat, her heart beating faster as she tried to catch Rhysand’s eye, silently willing him to say something to break the quiet. But her mate remained impassive, his violet eyes watchful as he leaned back in his chair.

Nesta folded her hands in her lap, her expression unreadable but calm. Taryn mirrored her, her gaze sweeping across the room, lingering briefly on each face before settling on the fire. Feyre couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nervousness as she realized how starkly Taryn’s composed demeanor contrasted with the awkwardness in the room.

Still, Feyre clung to the image of her sister as she was now—healthy, whole, and undeniably beautiful. Maybe, just maybe, this Solstice would be different.

Feyre perched on the edge of her chair, her fingers curling around the warm mug of tea Elain had handed her moments before. The silence stretched, oppressive and stifling, as everyone seemed content to avoid being the first to speak. Nesta sat still, her back straight and her gaze unwavering as she looked toward the fire, while Taryn leaned back in her chair with an air of quiet observation, her eyes flicking between each member of the Inner Circle.

Clearing her throat softly, Feyre decided to try. Someone had to break the silence. “So,” she began, forcing a smile that felt a little too tight. “How have you been, Nesta?”

Nesta’s gaze flicked to her, cool and composed. “I’ve been well,” she replied evenly, her voice calm but offering no further detail.

“Good, good,” Feyre said, trying to keep her tone light. “You look—healthy. Happy.”

Nesta’s lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Thank you.”

The tension thickened as Feyre searched for something else to say. She glanced at Taryn, hoping to bring her into the conversation. “And you, Taryn? How did you two meet?”

Taryn raised an eyebrow, a faint smile playing on her lips. “We crossed paths in Velaris,” she said simply. Her tone was polite but distant, as if she were carefully choosing her words.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Feyre said quickly, nodding. “Are you from Velaris originally?”

“No,” Taryn replied, and though her voice remained pleasant, there was a finality to it that made it clear she didn’t intend to elaborate.

Feyre felt the weight of everyone’s eyes on her, their silence only amplifying her own discomfort. She glanced toward Elain, who was now quietly rearranging the tray of cookies on the table, clearly avoiding getting involved. Mor crossed her legs, the sound of her heel tapping faintly against the floor the only indication of her impatience.

Cassian’s chair creaked as he shifted, his jaw tight, though he still hadn’t said a word. Azriel’s shadows swirled lazily at his shoulders, his unreadable gaze fixed on the fire. Even Rhysand, who could usually ease any room with a well-placed quip, sat quietly, his violet eyes unreadable.

“Well,” Feyre said, forcing another smile and gesturing vaguely toward the tray of cookies. “Elain baked those herself. They’re—ah, delicious.”

Nesta glanced at the cookies but made no move to take one. “I’m sure they are,” she said evenly, though her tone didn’t quite reach warmth.

Feyre felt the flush rise to her cheeks, the silence stretching again as her attempt at conversation fizzled out. She glanced at Rhys, silently pleading for him to step in, but he merely raised a brow, clearly leaving it to her to navigate this minefield.

She swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm. Small steps, she reminded herself. Even if those steps felt more like stumbling in the dark.

Amren, ever the one to speak her mind, eyed Nesta with her usual calculating gaze. The tension in the room thickened as she leaned forward slightly, her sharp voice cutting through the quiet. “Well, well, Nesta,” she said, her tone laced with that usual dryness. “You look… well, you don’t look like you’ve spent your nights in taverns anymore. How interesting.”

Feyre’s heart sank, the words landing like a slap. She braced herself for the usual reaction, but to her surprise, Nesta didn’t flinch. She didn’t even respond. Her face remained calm, her gaze steady, but there was a quiet strength in her silence.

It was Azriel who broke the tension, a soft snort escaping him as he leaned back in his chair, his shadows swirling lazily around him. Feyre blinked in surprise as his lips curled upward in a rare, almost amused expression. It wasn’t often that Azriel openly showed his thoughts on something, but there it was—his appreciation for Nesta’s quiet defiance.

Nesta, for her part, seemed unfazed. She simply continued to sit there, her posture regal and her gaze fixed ahead, as if Amren’s words hadn’t even touched her. Feyre couldn’t help but feel a flicker of pride in her chest at her sister’s unshakable composure.

It was then that Nesta’s eyes flicked to Taryn, and for a fleeting moment, Feyre caught a glimpse of something soft in her sister’s expression. There was an unmistakable look of pride on Nesta’s face as she glanced at the woman beside her—an unspoken recognition that, whatever her past had been, she had something now. Something real.

Taryn’s lips curled slightly at the corner, and though she didn’t speak, the look she exchanged with Nesta said everything. There was a quiet understanding between them, something unspoken, but palpable in the air around them. Feyre watched, still processing Amren’s comment and Azriel’s rare amusement, as Nesta and Taryn settled into the room with a grace that surprised even her.

Amren, sensing that the moment had passed without provoking the reaction she’d hoped for, sat back in her chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. She seemed to begrudgingly accept the shift in the dynamic, her attention drifting away from Nesta to the others, though her earlier comment still hung in the air.

But for the first time in a long while, Feyre didn’t feel the need to fill the silence. Instead, she watched her sister—strong, unbowed, and silently proud—and felt a deep sense of admiration for the woman Nesta had become.

The silence stretched for another few moments before Elain, ever the one to soften the tension, gave a small, polite cough. “Well,” she said, her voice light and a little too bright, “dinner is just about ready.”

Everyone seemed to take that as a cue, rising to their feet as though the movement could dissolve the discomfort that still lingered in the room. Feyre felt a quiet sigh of relief as the group slowly shuffled toward the table, the tension ebbing just slightly, though the undercurrent of awkwardness remained.

Nesta and Taryn, however, were the last to rise. They moved with an easy grace, and Feyre couldn’t help but notice the quiet but deliberate way they settled into their seats. Nesta was all composed elegance, her posture straight as she placed her napkin across her lap with careful precision, while Taryn followed suit beside her. Feyre briefly exchanged a glance with her sisters before joining the others at the table, settling into the seats already taken by Cassian, Rhysand, Azriel, and Amren.

As the dinner began, a soft hum of conversation started among the Inner Circle. It was hesitant at first, filled with polite exchanges and the kind of superficial pleasantries that came with shared history, but it slowly grew more natural. Feyre felt a weight lift from her chest as she tried to relax into the evening, though her eyes kept drifting to Nesta.

Cassian, unusually quiet, kept his gaze trained on his plate more than the conversation at hand, but Feyre caught him looking up several times, his gaze snapping toward Nesta as she spoke with Taryn. She was laughing softly at something Taryn said, her eyes warm, her posture relaxed. The sight of Nesta, at ease and so far removed from the bitter, closed-off woman she’d been, made Feyre’s heart swell with a mixture of pride and sorrow.

The tension that had been there earlier, the weight of the past, seemed to lift as Nesta filled her plate. She ate with a steady, measured grace, occasionally glancing around at the others. Her laughter rang clear when Taryn made a remark about something mundane, her smile radiant and full of life, her earlier silence forgotten. For the first time in a long while, Nesta was enjoying herself, and Feyre couldn’t help but feel a flutter of hope.

As Feyre continued to watch, her gaze flickered back to Cassian. He had his jaw clenched, but she could see the way his eyes lingered on Nesta—sometimes soft, sometimes intense. It was hard to miss the way his stare seemed to follow her every movement, but Nesta remained absorbed in conversation with Taryn, unaware of the attention.

Feyre’s heart twisted slightly at the sight. She knew what Cassian’s feelings for Nesta had been, and maybe still were. But Nesta… Nesta was a different person now. Stronger, freer. Feyre couldn’t help but wonder if the quiet longing in Cassian’s eyes would ever fade, or if it was something that would always linger between them, even in moments like this, where the distance between them seemed insurmountable.

As the meal continued, conversation flowed more easily, but beneath the surface, there was a quiet undercurrent of curiosity. Feyre could feel it, though no one spoke it aloud. All of them were watching, their eyes flicking between Nesta and Taryn, as they shared glances, smiles, and occasional whispered jokes. There was something undeniably close between the two women, an intimacy that spoke volumes without a word being said.

It was Cassian who seemed the most restrained, his silence betraying the thoughts he was no doubt keeping to himself. His gaze occasionally shifted to Nesta, then to Taryn, but it was hard to read his expression, his usual confident demeanor replaced with something more guarded. Amren, always quick to pick up on things, narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t comment. Instead, her attention seemed to shift between Nesta and Taryn, as though she was piecing together her own theories.

Rhysand kept his usual smile in place, but Feyre could see the flicker of curiosity behind his eyes. It was there, hidden beneath layers of casual conversation—everyone was silently guessing. Was it something new? A fleeting connection? Or was there more to their relationship than they could see at a glance?

But Feyre couldn’t shake the surprise that lingered in the back of her mind. She had always known Nesta to be… well, Nesta. She had never shown much interest in romantic relationships, not in the way Feyre had, and certainly not in women. Feyre had always chalked it up to her sister’s trauma, her walls so high that she never seemed to let anyone in. So when she saw the way Nesta and Taryn interacted, the small, shared glances and the subtle, tender touches, it was both startling and fascinating.

She had never imagined Nesta in that light—at least, not with another woman. She couldn’t help but feel a small spark of curiosity flicker in her chest. How long had this been going on? When had it started? And more than that, Feyre realized she had never once asked her sister about her heart—what she wanted or who she cared for. She had been so focused on Nesta’s bitterness and the distance between them, she had never taken the time to think beyond the surface, to ask what truly mattered to Nesta.

There was a fleeting moment, as Nesta laughed softly at something Taryn said, that Feyre caught a glimpse of something more than just friendship in their connection. The warmth, the comfort, the quiet joy that seemed to radiate from the two of them—it was unmistakable.

Feyre’s mind raced with questions she had never thought to ask, but in the same breath, she didn’t want to pry. Nesta had always been fiercely independent, and Feyre had learned the hard way that pushing too hard could create distance. But seeing her sister so happy, so at ease in Taryn’s presence, made Feyre wonder if maybe there was something she had missed.

She turned her attention back to her plate, trying to focus on the food in front of her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Nesta and Taryn. She was surprised, yes, but she couldn’t deny that she felt a strange sense of relief. It was good, wasn’t it? To see Nesta with someone who seemed to make her feel at home.

The moment stretched on, the air thick with curiosity and silent observation, when suddenly, Morrigan’s voice broke through the quiet, sharp and cutting as always. Her eyes, glinting with mischief—or perhaps something more—settled on Nesta as she leaned slightly forward in her chair.

“So,” Morrigan said, her tone casual but laced with an undercurrent of something Feyre couldn’t quite place. “How long has this been going on between you two?”

It wasn’t an innocent question. The way Morrigan phrased it, with that familiar edge in her voice, made it clear it was meant as a jab—a test. Feyre’s heart stuttered as she glanced at her sister, expecting a reaction, waiting for something, anything, to break the carefully constructed calm.

Nesta didn’t flinch, though, her expression a picture of composed indifference. But Feyre could see the subtle shift in her posture—a tightening of her shoulders, the slight narrowing of her eyes. Nesta’s fingers gripped the edge of her plate just a little tighter. Taryn, who had been casually leaning toward Nesta, faltered, her smile dropping for a brief moment, but she quickly recovered, her own gaze hardening.

Feyre’s chest tightened as the silence stretched, heavy and charged. It was clear Morrigan’s question had hit its mark. It wasn’t just an innocent inquiry; it was a challenge, one that was meant to make Nesta squirm, to put her on the spot in front of everyone.

Azriel, seated across from Nesta, let out a soft, almost imperceptible breath—one that Feyre recognized as his way of showing his disapproval. Cassian, on the other hand, stiffened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. It was clear that this was a familiar dynamic, one that Morrigan often employed to get a rise out of people.

But Nesta’s response was nothing short of a revelation. With the same quiet confidence she’d shown earlier, she turned to Morrigan, her eyes icy and unfazed. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”

The words were soft, but they carried weight. There was no anger in her tone, no sharpness—just a calm, deliberate dismissal of Morrigan’s jibe. Feyre could almost feel the ripple of tension that passed through the room at her sister’s response.

Morrigan, momentarily stunned by Nesta’s unflinching composure, blinked, but her lips curled into a thin smile, her gaze flicking between Nesta and Taryn. “Of course,” she said, almost mockingly, her voice still laced with the same biting humor. “I suppose it’s not my place to know.”

But it was clear to everyone that the barb had been thrown, and while Morrigan tried to brush it off, the atmosphere had shifted again—this time, away from curiosity and into something more uncomfortable. Feyre felt a slight burn of anger for her sister, for the way Morrigan had tried to undermine her so casually, but she couldn’t help but admire the way Nesta had held her ground.

The rest of the table seemed to sense it too. A few exchanged glances—some sympathetic, some cautious—but the tension didn’t break entirely. Morrigan, for all her wit and sharpness, had not expected Nesta to be so resolute, so untouchable.

Rhysand, who had been silently watching the exchange with a practiced calm, finally spoke up, his voice smooth and warm. He glanced at Nesta, his usual charismatic smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“It’s good to have you here, Nesta,” he said, his tone light but sincere. “Either way, it’s been… too quiet without you around.”

There was a pause, and then he added, more softly, “I know Feyre and Elain have missed having you here. You may not have seen it, but it’s true.”

Feyre’s heart stirred at his words, a small flicker of guilt flashing through her. She hadn’t realized how much her absence had weighed on the family until now—until Rhysand so easily voiced what had been left unsaid for so long.

Nesta didn’t respond immediately, but when she did, she raised an eyebrow in that way she always did when she was about to make a point. Her lips curled into a faint, knowing smile.

“Well,” she said, her voice steady, “I’ve invited both Feyre and Elain out to restaurants and taverns a few times. But it’s not like they ever accepted.”

There was no malice in her words, only a cool, unbothered truth that hung in the air. Feyre’s eyes widened, the surprise evident on her face, while Elain’s cheeks flushed a shade of pink that made Feyre feel the heat of embarrassment on her own face.

Feyre had never known—had never considered—that Nesta had tried to reach out like that. She thought back to the years of strained silence between them, to the countless nights Nesta had spent behind closed doors, away from the family.

But now, Nesta had put herself out there, offering something she hadn’t before, and Feyre had never even known. The realization stung more than Feyre had expected, but it also made her feel a tiny flicker of hope. Perhaps this was the beginning of something—something that would bring them all closer.

Feyre opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Nesta continued, her voice steady and unapologetic.

“I don’t do this often, you know,” she added, her gaze flickering between the three of them. “It’s not my style to chase people. But you all kept saying you wanted me around, so I thought I’d make an effort.”

Feyre was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. She hadn’t realized how much effort it had taken for Nesta to come back, to reconnect. Nesta had always been the one to keep everyone at arm’s length, and yet here she was, still trying.

“Thank you,” Feyre said softly, her voice filled with an emotion she hadn’t expected. “I’m glad you did.”

Nesta’s expression softened for just a moment, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. She gave a small shrug, as though the acknowledgment didn’t mean much to her, but to Feyre, it was everything.

Nesta sighed softly to herself, the weight of the evening settling deeper into her chest. She had been trying to navigate this new territory with her family, trying to find the right balance between distance and connection, but it was more difficult than she had imagined. She could feel the stares—casual, curious, like they were all waiting for something to happen.

Feyre, always the one to sense when things were off, cleared her throat and smiled brightly. “How about we have dessert while we open presents?” she suggested, her tone light, trying to shift the mood. “It’ll be fun.”

The others seemed eager for the distraction, nodding in agreement as they moved away from the dinner table and toward the living area where the presents were gathered. The air, though, still hung heavy with the unspoken, as if everyone was quietly waiting for the moment to pass.

Feyre picked up the first present, holding it carefully as she read the name on the tag. Her brow furrowed for a moment, and then she looked up with a small, surprised smile. “This one’s from Nesta,” she said, her voice soft but clear, holding the gift out as she looked around. The silence stretched for a beat, the atmosphere thick with an odd tension.

Nesta met her gaze, a flicker of something unreadable passing across her features. She was sitting back a little, arms folded loosely across her chest, watching the scene unfold without offering much of a reaction.

Feyre carefully untied the ribbon, peeling back the paper, and inside was a set of paintbrushes and oils. The wooden box was elegant in its simplicity, polished to a smooth finish. The paints looked high-quality, and the brushes—sleek and professional—spoke volumes about Nesta’s taste. Feyre’s heart skipped a beat as she realized what the gift meant. She hadn’t expected something so thoughtful.

“I—” Feyre paused, a lump forming in her throat. “Thank you,” she said, her voice unsteady, but genuine. The room seemed to hold its breath as Nesta nodded, watching her closely.

The rest of the Inner Circle looked between each other, their gazes shifting from Nesta to Feyre, but no one spoke right away. It wasn’t the gift that made them hesitant, it was the quiet undercurrent of something else—the words that went unspoken between them, the history that still hung in the air. But Nesta didn’t seem bothered by the silence; she simply sat back, looking more relaxed than she had in a long time, her attention now drifting toward Taryn, who was seated beside her.

The tension in the room remained thick, and the presents continued to be passed around, but it wasn’t lost on Feyre how everyone was exchanging small, tentative glances. It was clear that there was still much to navigate, much to rebuild, but this moment—this simple, thoughtful gift—felt like a bridge. Something solid in the midst of all the uncertainty.

Feyre opened the next gift, the room shifting with small, awkward comments and light-hearted jabs as everyone tried to break the silence. But for Feyre, as she gently ran her fingers over the brush handles, a quiet thought lingered in her mind: maybe things weren’t as broken as they seemed. Maybe this, however uncomfortable, was still progress.

As the presents continued to circulate, Feyre couldn’t help but feel the tension in the air, a soft, lingering undercurrent of discomfort. She was watching her family, taking in the moments of awkwardness, the careful smiles, and the small exchanges, when Cassian and Morrigan suddenly swapped gifts. Feyre’s eyes widened as Morrigan unwrapped a set of elegant, dark lace lingerie, holding it up with a smirk that said everything about the playful jab she’d likely intended. Cassian, in turn, was holding up a similarly risqué gift—soft, red silk underwear that made even Feyre blush a little.

She had expected the moment to be awkward, maybe even uncomfortable, but as she glanced over at Nesta and Taryn, sitting beside one another, she was surprised to see them smiling softly at each other. It wasn’t a fleeting glance, either—there was a warmth between them, a quiet understanding that Feyre hadn’t seen in Nesta before.

Taryn leaned in slightly toward Nesta, her lips brushing her ear as she whispered something too soft for anyone else to hear. Nesta’s eyes widened for a split second, then softened, and to Feyre’s complete surprise, she giggled. A full, unguarded laugh—something Feyre hadn’t heard from her sister in a long time, something that made her heart flutter with the unfamiliar joy of seeing Nesta so at ease.

It was a sound that didn’t fit with the version of Nesta Feyre had grown used to. The older sister who had kept so much inside, the one who rarely allowed herself to be vulnerable, much less to show any outward softness. Nesta’s laugh seemed to cut through the room’s awkwardness, drawing a few curious glances from the others as they tried to figure out what had made her so lighthearted.

Feyre blinked, unsure of what to make of it. She glanced quickly at Taryn, who had a small, knowing smile on her lips, as if pleased by the effect she’d had on Nesta. But it wasn’t just the laugh that caught Feyre off guard—it was the connection between the two women, something new and subtle that Feyre hadn’t expected to see.

She quickly turned her gaze away, pretending to focus on the next gift being opened, but she couldn’t stop the lingering thoughts that followed her. Could it be that Nesta was truly finding herself in this new chapter?

As Feyre watched Nesta and Taryn, something shifted in her chest, an unexpected sadness that wasn’t entirely about Feyre herself, but about the years that had slipped away, the things left unsaid, and the distance that had quietly built between them. Seeing Nesta laugh, something so genuine and full of life, reminded Feyre of the parts of her sister she had longed to see emerge again, but hadn’t. It made her realize how much time had passed without them truly connecting, without really knowing who Nesta had become during all those long months of silence.

It wasn’t that Feyre was angry or resentful about the way Nesta had distanced herself, or about the woman who had clearly made her so happy. No, it wasn’t Taryn who caused the sadness, nor was it about the complicated emotions that came with watching someone you loved grow into something you hadn’t anticipated. Feyre was happy for Nesta, truly, in a way that surprised her. She was glad her sister had found a space where she could laugh freely, where she could be something more than the woman who had been crushed by grief and trauma.

But Feyre couldn’t ignore the deep ache in her chest as she watched. How had she let it go so long without truly seeing her sister, without trying harder to understand her? Nesta had changed, she had grown, and Feyre felt as if she had been standing at the edge, waiting for her sister to come back—but Nesta had already found herself elsewhere. It hurt, in a way that Feyre didn’t know how to articulate.

Her smile, though warm, was tinged with something more bittersweet now. As Nesta and Taryn exchanged whispers, as they shared something that felt so uniquely theirs, Feyre realized she was no longer the person her sister turned to for comfort. It was Taryn, not her. And for all the love she had for Nesta, for all the good intentions she had in trying to bring her back, Feyre felt the quiet sting of being left behind.

This wasn’t something Feyre blamed anyone for—least of all Nesta. It was just a quiet realization of how much time had passed, how much had shifted, and how those changes were irreversible. She had always thought they would grow together, in their own ways, but that hope had begun to feel more distant. Feyre sighed softly, quickly pushing the emotion down, not wanting to let it steal the joy of the evening.

Elain cleared her throat, breaking the soft silence that had fallen over the room. Her eyes darted to the pile of presents before her, and she carefully picked up one that seemed different from the others. It wasn’t a box, but a carefully wrapped bundle, and she held it out toward Nesta, her hands slightly trembling as if unsure of the reaction she’d receive.

“Here, Nesta,” Elain said, her voice a little quieter than usual, but warm, full of hope.

Feyre watched, her heart tightening as Elain offered the gift. It was a book set, wrapped in delicate paper with a satin ribbon, the kind of gift that showed thoughtfulness. Elain had always been the one who poured herself into nurturing those around her, even when it came to Nesta, despite the distance that had grown between them. Feyre could see how much Elain was hoping for a good reaction—how much she wanted to rebuild that connection with Nesta, even if it was just through something small like this.

For a moment, there was a stillness in the room, everyone waiting, perhaps holding their breath to see how Nesta would respond. And then, slowly, Nesta took the gift from Elain’s hands. She smiled faintly, her eyes scanning the wrapping before she carefully set it down to untie the ribbon.

When she finally unwrapped it, Nesta’s eyes flickered over the book set—classic novels, well-loved and already known to her, perhaps something Elain had thought she’d enjoy. But Nesta didn’t seem surprised. She didn’t seem disappointed either, though there was a moment’s pause before she looked back at Elain.

“I already have this,” Nesta said, her tone soft but steady. “But thank you, Elain.”

Nesta’s smile lingered, something faintly warm in her eyes as she looked at Elain. “I appreciate it,” she said quietly, her voice softer than usual, her words more sincere than Feyre had heard in a long while.

As the conversation moved on, Feyre felt a sudden weight settle in her chest. She glanced over at the pile of presents, and her gaze drifted to Nesta. Elain’s gift had been the only one for her, the only thing that had been offered to Nesta. The realization hit Feyre like a cold wave—she hadn’t gotten Nesta anything. She hadn’t even thought to, caught up in everything else, in the tension of the evening, in the strange, quiet joy of having her sister back in their lives.

The sting of guilt gnawed at her, because she should have thought of something. She should have found something personal, something meaningful to give to Nesta, especially after everything they had been through. But no, Elain was the only one who had considered it.

Feyre glanced down at her own hands, feeling suddenly empty and unprepared. How had she missed it? Had she truly been so focused on the idea of Nesta returning, on making things right between them, that she had forgotten the simple act of giving? She should have gotten something for Nesta, something that showed she remembered, that she cared. Something that wasn’t just a grand gesture or a fleeting hope but something small and thoughtful.

Her heart squeezed in her chest as she looked at Nesta. She could see the way her sister was holding herself, the careful way she smiled, even as she tried to mask any discomfort. Nesta hadn’t expected anything. Feyre had assumed that Nesta wouldn’t care, that she would be indifferent to the gifts or the evening, but that wasn’t true. Nesta had accepted the invitation. She had come. She had brought someone with her. And here was Feyre, not even having thought to give her something—anything—to mark the occasion, to show that she still cared, even after everything.

For the briefest moment, Feyre felt her face flush with embarrassment. She was the one who had wanted this night to go well, to have her family together again, but now it felt like she had failed Nesta in the smallest, most basic way.

She looked over at Elain, who was still smiling, still holding onto that soft relief, as if her gift had been the bridge between them. Feyre felt the weight of her failure in the silence that followed. No one had commented on the fact that Elain’s gift was the only one, but Feyre knew. She knew, and it stung more than she could explain.

Her gaze flickered over to the pile of presents once more, and her stomach dropped as the pieces slowly clicked together.

They had all received gifts from Nesta. Each one of them.

Cassian had his new set of armor polish, perfectly chosen for the items he’d always used to maintain his gear. Mor had a sleek, beautifully crafted dagger—one that Feyre knew would be the perfect match for her. Even Azriel had a dark cloak, lined with silver threads that shimmered faintly under the light, a gift she knew Azriel would never admit to appreciating but would wear nonetheless.

And yet, Feyre hadn’t reciprocated. She hadn’t thought to give Nesta anything, while Nesta had clearly put effort into their gifts, had thought about each of them, chosen something personal.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak, to try and bridge the awkward silence that seemed to have settled again, when Taryn unexpectedly reached for an envelope tucked inside her bag. She handed it over to Nesta with a soft, knowing smile, and Nesta took it, her fingers lingering on the edges of the paper for just a second longer than necessary.

Feyre watched as Nesta carefully opened the envelope, her brow furrowing slightly as she pulled out a pair of tickets. The moment her eyes scanned them, they widened in shock, her voice barely a whisper as she read the name aloud. “The ballet?”

Taryn nodded, her smile warm, and Feyre caught a glimmer of something—pride, maybe—beneath her calm exterior.

Nesta, still holding the tickets in her hands, blinked in disbelief. “But they sold out months ago,” she said, shaking her head in amazement. “I—I didn’t think there was any way to get in. How… how did you manage this?”

Taryn’s smile softened even more, and Feyre could see the connection between them, an ease that was new, and yet, not so new after all. Taryn had a way of making Nesta look like she was finally settling into something she hadn’t quite realized she was missing—something that wasn’t just companionship but a deeper understanding, a way of making the world feel just a little more expansive for Nesta.

“I have my ways,” Taryn replied simply, a wink accompanying her words.

For a moment, Nesta was speechless, the tickets held so tightly in her hands that Feyre thought they might tear. But then Nesta’s lips curled into a genuine, wide smile—the kind Feyre hadn’t seen on her sister’s face in years. It was a look of pure, unguarded joy, a moment of surprise and gratitude.

“Thank you,” Nesta said softly, her voice almost cracking. Feyre had to swallow down the tightness in her own throat as she watched her sister. That small, simple act of kindness from Taryn—something Feyre hadn’t seen in their family for so long—seemed to break something open in Nesta.

Taryn gave a soft shrug, as if to say it was nothing, but Feyre couldn’t help but notice the way Nesta’s expression shifted, how her posture softened just slightly. The tension that had clung to her earlier seemed to ease just a little, like a small crack in the armor she wore so tightly around herself.

She hadn’t realized just how much it must have hurt—how much it must have meant to Nesta—that this was a piece of her past, a part of herself, that she had quietly kept hidden. Feyre remembered the long-ago days when Nesta had danced, her movements graceful, her face full of joy. But those memories had faded, overshadowed by everything that had happened since.

And now, seeing Nesta hold those tickets, the spark of something old and forgotten in her eyes, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder how long it had been since her sister had allowed herself something purely for her own enjoyment. Something that wasn’t just about surviving the weight of the world.

It hit Feyre with a sharp clarity—when Nesta had said she’d frequented the taverns, not for the men or the drinks, but for the music, they’d all thought she was lying. They had assumed it was just another excuse, another way for her to hide, to make her actions seem less painful or desperate. But Feyre realized now how wrong they’d been, how little they had truly understood. Nesta hadn’t been lying. She had been searching for something beautiful, something that resonated with her heart—the music, the rhythm, the feeling of moving to a beat that wasn’t born of their cruel, tumultuous world.

The guilt gnawed at Feyre. They had brushed it off as just another thing Nesta claimed, another part of her that seemed too difficult to believe. But it wasn’t. Nesta had always loved dancing, always had a soul that craved something more than the darkness of the taverns. Feyre had dismissed it, had dismissed her, not even bothering to see the layers that had made Nesta who she was, the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

Now, as she watched Nesta sit with Taryn, the gift of the ballet tickets between them, Feyre couldn’t help but wonder how much of Nesta’s soul had been buried in the years she spent trying to survive—how much of it she had given up to the harshness of their world, to the expectations and the hurt. Feyre had never asked her about the music. She had never asked Nesta to tell her what she had really been seeking when she wandered into those taverns.

And now, Feyre had to confront the reality that they had failed to see it, failed to see Nesta’s pain and the things she longed for, things that didn’t involve anyone else but her.

Her heart clenched painfully, and she couldn’t shake the thought that she, too, had been a part of that failure. They had all let Nesta be alone in her struggle, thinking her needs and desires were just more of her façade. They hadn’t even considered that she might be trying to reclaim a part of herself, trying to find something to hold on to that wasn’t all wrapped up in the past they had shared. It was only now, watching her with Taryn, that Feyre could see the weight of her sister’s quiet longing.

The sudden awareness of this made Feyre feel smaller, more guilty. She had thought that Nesta was lost, that the anger and the bitterness she displayed were all that was left. But Nesta had always been more than that. She had always been more than the broken pieces they had ignored for so long.

As the present exchange began to wind down, Feyre thought the tension might finally start to lift. She watched as the last few gifts were passed around, each one drawing out more smiles, more laughter, a moment of connection that hadn’t been there before. But then, Cassian stood, that teasing grin of his slowly spreading across his face as he held up a small, delicate box in front of Nesta.

“This one,” Cassian said with a playful tone, “is for you as well.”

Nesta’s eyes flicked to the box, her brow furrowing slightly, but she didn’t say anything. Feyre noticed the way her sister’s posture stiffened, a subtle shift that didn’t go unnoticed. Cassian, ever the opportunist, didn’t seem to care as he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping into a mockingly sweet tone.

“Open it, sweetheart,” he teased.

For a second, it felt like the entire room froze. Nesta’s face, usually so controlled, shifted ever so slightly—an uncomfortable twinge in her features, a small narrowing of her eyes that Feyre recognized all too well. She didn’t want to take the box, but she did, her fingers grasping it with hesitant care. The room waited in almost a silence as Nesta slowly opened the small lid.

Feyre could feel her heart thud in her chest, and for the first time, she understood that something was off. The joy, the warmth that had started to blanket the evening, vanished in an instant. Nesta’s eyes dropped to the contents of the box, and when she saw the ring inside, the air around them seemed to thickest.

The room was silent. Feyre’s throat tightened as she realized what was in the box—a simple, silver ring. But not just any ring. It was the same one Cassian had tried to give Nesta the last Solstice. The same ring she had rejected with a sharpness that had left Cassian wounded and the rest of them uncomfortable. Feyre had known it was a painful memory for both of them, but seeing it again now, in the present, felt somehow worse than it had before. It was a ghost of their past, a reminder of the rift between them.

Nesta’s face was unreadable, but Feyre could see the flicker of something—maybe confusion, maybe dread—in her sister’s eyes. It was clear Nesta hadn’t expected this. It was clear she hadn’t wanted this. She took the ring from the box slowly, her fingers brushing over the smooth metal as she exhaled quietly, but her lips were pressed tightly together.

Cassian stood, grinning like the fool he was, his eyes glinting with that mischievous gleam he usually wore. “What’s the matter, Nesta? Not even a thank you?” He raised an eyebrow, clearly testing the waters, his voice lighthearted but carrying a hint of challenge.

Feyre couldn’t help the surge of discomfort that rushed through her. She wanted to say something, to stop Cassian before he made it worse, but she found herself frozen in place. She had been so focused on the fragile balance of the evening, on how much progress Nesta had made in such a short time, that she hadn’t anticipated this moment—this reminder of the tension that still lingered beneath the surface between her sister and Cassian.

Nesta, to everyone’s surprise, didn’t respond immediately. She looked at the ring in her hand, a flicker of something crossing her face, and then she slowly, carefully, set it back in the box. She closed the lid with deliberate slowness, her gaze lifting to Cassian’s with a quiet intensity. For a moment, the room felt as though it was holding its breath.

“No, thank you,” Nesta said softly, her voice steady but firm. “But this isn’t something I need. Not now.”

Cassian’s grin faltered, the teasing edge gone. Feyre could see the frustration building behind his eyes, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gave a small, resigned shrug, as though he was used to this—used to the unspoken rejection that hung between them like an invisible thread.

Taryn, still sitting beside Nesta, placed a gentle hand on her arm, an unspoken show of support, and Nesta looked at her, offering a small, almost imperceptible smile in return.

Feyre couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, but something about the moment made her chest tighten with sorrow. It was as if, despite all the progress, the chasm between Nesta and Cassian still remained. And it wasn’t just a matter of pride or refusal. It was something deeper—something neither of them had fully reckoned with.

Cassian’s face darkened as Nesta handed the ring back with such finality. The playful grin he had worn moments earlier disappeared, replaced by a look of quiet hurt, the kind that only those close to him could read. He stared at the box, his fingers flexing, as if he were trying to force the weight of the situation into something lighter, but it wasn’t working. His chest rose and fell with a deep breath, but there was no hiding the hurt that lingered behind his eyes. He quickly tried to mask it with a shrug, but it was clear that Nesta’s rejection had cut deeper than he had let on.

Morrigan, ever the one to speak her mind, let out a sharp scoff. She leaned back in her chair, her arms folding over her chest as she gave a pointed look toward Nesta. “Well, that was just charming,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Could’ve at least been polite about it, don’t you think?”

Feyre’s heart sank. She had hoped the evening might stay civil, that they could all enjoy the rare peace they had with Nesta’s return. But Morrigan’s comment tore through the fragile air of the gathering, cutting it like a knife. Feyre glanced at Nesta, who didn’t flinch at the jab, but instead, her eyes hardened—sharp, unwavering. It was clear that Morrigan’s words meant nothing to her now.

Nesta remained silent, her jaw tightening, but her gaze never wavered from Morrigan. There was no anger in her eyes—only a steady resolve, as if she had long since stopped caring about what people thought of her. Cassian, still standing, looked away quickly, clearly not wanting anyone to see the rawness in his expression.

Morrigan, of course, didn’t care. She tilted her head slightly, studying the tension in the room like it was an entertaining spectacle. “I just don’t get it,” Morrigan continued, her voice dripping with condescension. “What’s the point of playing hard to get if you aren’t even willing to try? Doesn’t seem like you’re putting in much effort, Nesta.”

Nesta’s glare cut through the room like a blade, her icy stare locking onto Morrigan as the words fell from her lips. There was no hint of hesitation, no softness in her tone—just the cold, biting clarity that always seemed to come when Nesta was pushed to her limit. “Do I really need to spell it out for you?” she said, her voice calm but dangerous, each word deliberate. “I’m in a relationship. A real one. And I don’t owe anyone, least of all Cassian, anything. I don’t need to return his feelings just because he’s decided that I should.”

The silence in the room thickened as Nesta’s words hung in the air, but Morrigan, ever the provocateur, wasn’t about to back down. She leaned forward, her gaze sharp and unapologetic. “He’s your mate, Nesta,” Morrigan said, her voice dripping with something Feyre couldn’t quite place—whether it was disdain or just sheer annoyance at being defied. “You can’t just dismiss that. You don’t get to throw away a bond like that.”

Cassian’s expression twisted, and for a moment, Feyre thought she saw a flash of something—resentment, hurt, maybe even shame—as he looked between Morrigan and Nesta. But it was quickly replaced by a blankness, as if he had shut himself off from the conversation entirely.

Nesta didn’t flinch at Morrigan’s words. If anything, the corner of her lips twitched ever so slightly, almost as though she were amused by Morrigan’s inability to grasp what she had said. “Maybe I don’t want to be defined by that bond, Morrigan,” Nesta replied, her voice low but firm. “Maybe I don’t want to be tied to someone just because fate decided it for me. You think that’s easy? That it’s something I just want to accept and move on with?”

The tension in the room crackled like a storm, and Feyre could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t want to intervene, but she also knew that whatever was happening between Nesta and Morrigan had to be addressed—before it turned into something that would break apart what little progress they had made.

Morrigan narrowed her eyes, clearly unfazed by Nesta’s words. “That’s your choice, I suppose,” she said, her tone laced with something Feyre couldn’t quite place—frustration, maybe, or disbelief. “But you’re not going to convince anyone here that what you’re doing is right, Nesta. Especially when he’s your mate.”

For the first time, Feyre noticed the look in Cassian’s eyes—a mixture of hurt and something else that was harder to define. It was the look of a man who had been told, once again, that he wasn’t enough, despite the bond that should have connected them. Despite everything he had done, everything he had tried.

Nesta’s expression softened for a fraction of a second, but it was quickly replaced by the same implacable distance that had become her armor. She didn’t look at Cassian; her gaze was focused solely on Morrigan as she delivered the final blow. “You can think whatever you want, Morrigan,” Nesta said, the edge of finality in her voice unmistakable.

Feyre, feeling the weight of the moment, quickly pushed herself to her feet, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to interject. “Please, can we just—” she began, but Nesta stood before her, cutting her off with the sharpness of a blade.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome,” Nesta said, her voice flat and resolute, with no hint of the warmth that had been there when they’d first sat down. She didn’t look at anyone else, her gaze fixed straight ahead, as though she had made up her mind the moment Morrigan’s words hit her ears. “Taryn and I are leaving.”

The room was frozen in place for a moment, everyone watching as Nesta turned away without waiting for any further response. Taryn followed quietly behind her, picking up her bag, her expression unreadable. Feyre’s heart sank as she watched them both move towards the door. It had all unraveled so quickly.

Feyre, unable to stop herself, moved to follow. She felt a desperate need to fix things, to somehow make everything right, but she knew, deep down, that the damage was already done. “Nesta, please,” Feyre called softly as she reached her. “I’m sorry. Morrigan—she didn’t mean to make it worse, but she didn’t understand. I know, Cassian is your mate, and we all respect your choice, truly. But isn’t this something we should… maybe talk about? Please?”

Nesta stopped, turning to face Feyre, her expression still unreadable, though there was a glimmer of something behind her eyes—something Feyre couldn’t quite decipher. For a moment, they simply stood there, the weight of Feyre’s words hanging in the air between them. Nesta was silent for a long time, and when she finally spoke, her words cut through the tension like a cold wind.

“Is Elain talking to Lucien while flirting with Azriel?” Nesta asked, her voice low, but the challenge in it clear. Her eyes flicked over to Elain, who was still at the table, looking as surprised as anyone else. The comment was so pointed, so unexpected, that Feyre froze for a moment, unsure how to respond.

Feyre’s face flushed hot with a sudden rush of embarrassment. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she glanced over at Elain, who was equally flustered, her cheeks pink with the unmistakable hint of a blush. It was so obvious now—Elain’s soft laughter, her teasing looks at Azriel, and the way she seemed to be drawn to him more and more lately. Feyre couldn’t help the sudden, awkward shift in her own expression as she shot a quick look at Azriel, who had gone entirely still, his gaze focused on nothing in particular.

“Oh,” Feyre stammered, her face now burning. “I—well, that’s not exactly—” She trailed off, unsure of what to say. There was no denying it now. “I mean, she’s not… It’s not like that,” she finally managed, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew how it sounded—like she was trying to cover something up.

Nesta’s lips quirked into a half-smile, though it was more bemusement than anything else. “You don’t have to lie, Feyre,” she said quietly, a note of something almost sympathetic in her tone. “It’s obvious.”

Feyre felt her stomach twist. She had always been so attuned to the unspoken moments between her sisters, but this—this moment of embarrassment, of Nesta cutting through the tension with something so sharp—was entirely new.

“I’m sorry,” Feyre repeated, her voice small. “It’s just… It’s been a long night. I didn’t mean for it to go this way.”

Nesta, however, didn’t seem to hold any ill will. She nodded once, her expression hardening again, like she was already shutting herself off from any further emotional entanglements. “We’ll be going now,” she said softly, but the finality in her voice made it clear that there was no room for discussion.

Feyre, her heart aching with the weight of the evening’s tension, took a tentative step toward Nesta, her voice soft and sincere. “I would love to have you again, Nesta. Please, don’t be a stranger,” she said, her words carrying a warmth, a hope she desperately wanted to believe in.

Nesta paused as she reached for the door, her back still turned to Feyre. The dim light of the room flickered in the silence that stretched between them, and for a moment, Feyre thought Nesta might not respond at all. But then she heard her voice, low and steady, yet touched with something unspoken.

“We have a house now,” Nesta said, her tone even but undeniably firm. “Taryn and I. Every weekend, we’re at the taverns.” She finally turned to face Feyre, her expression unreadable but not unfriendly. “You’re welcome to stop by if you want. They’ve got live shows playing, and we always have a couple of drinks.”

Feyre swallowed, her breath catching as the words sank in. She had expected something else, perhaps a refusal, perhaps a coldness, but this… this was something different. It wasn’t an invitation with open arms, but it wasn’t a door slammed shut either. It was a line drawn, an offer made, but with distance—a distance Feyre knew she had no right to cross easily.

“I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind,” Feyre said, her voice softer than she intended, filled with a sadness she couldn’t quite suppress. “I hope you know you’re always welcome here too, Nesta.”

Nesta nodded once, her gaze flickering briefly to Taryn, who stood by the door, ready to leave. “Thank you, Feyre,” she said, the words surprisingly calm, though there was a finality to them.

As Nesta moved toward the door, Taryn paused, her gaze shifting from the retreating figure of her friend to Feyre. There was a quiet intensity in her eyes, a calm that carried with it a sense of finality. She took a breath before she spoke, her voice carrying a weight that made Feyre stop in her tracks.

“She’s inviting you. It’s up to you and Elain to decide if you want to be a part of her life, not the other way around.”

With those final words, Taryn gave a small nod, the strength in her gaze undiminished. She turned toward the door to join Nesta, but before leaving, she looked back at Feyre once more.

“She’s trying, but if you keep waiting for her to come to you, you’ll lose her.”

The door closed softly behind them, leaving Feyre standing in the quiet, the sting of Taryn’s words echoing in the silence.

Feyre stood frozen, her mind racing as Taryn’s words replayed in her head. She felt a heavy, suffocating shame settle in her chest, a tightness that constricted her lungs. Her feet felt rooted to the floor, but the sting of truth washed over her like a wave, forcing her to turn back toward the room.

Taryn had been right. All of it—every single word.

The realization hit Feyre like a gut punch, and her face flushed with the heat of guilt. She had expected so much from Nesta—her loyalty, her presence, her willingness to return to them—without ever stopping to think what it cost her.

She hadn’t been fair.

#anti acosf #anti acotar #anti feysand #anti inner circle #anti rhysand #nesta archeron deserves better #pro nesta #anti azriel #anti cassian #anti amren #anti morrigan #anti nessian #anti night court #sapphic nesta

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solxamber · 1 day ago

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Has anyone requested: Diasomnia, 3, hurt/comfort yet? If not may I request it?

Strength to Believe || Sebek Zigvolt

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "I'll always be here" ; Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Sebek's sword sliced through the air with relentless precision, yet his expression remained taut with frustration. The training grounds, bathed in the golden light of dawn when he started, were now drenched in the pale glow of moonlight.

He had been practicing the same intricate moveset for hours, his determination unyielding despite the clear strain on his body.

From your spot near the sidelines, you watched him with unwavering focus. You'd been there the entire day, offering cheers, water, and snacks at intervals, though Sebek barely acknowledged your presence.

"Don’t overdo it, Sebek," you’d called earlier, only for him to reply, “I must master this, for Master Malleus deserves no less than perfection!”

As the hours stretched on and fatigue set in, his strikes grew sloppier, his movements less precise. Even so, Sebek pushed himself forward, the fire of his ambition refusing to dim.

It was nearing 3 a.m. when he finally executed the sequence flawlessly. His blade danced through the air, his footwork aligned with perfect grace. When he stopped, chest heaving, the realization that he’d done it slowly dawned on him.

“That was incredible!” you exclaimed, rushing to him with a wide grin. Before he could react, you wrapped your arms around him in a jubilant hug. “You did it, Sebek! I knew you could!”

Sebek stiffened in your embrace, his cheeks warming at your proximity. As he looked down at you, exhausted and flushed but beaming with pride for him, something unfamiliar twisted in his chest.

He replayed the day in his mind—the times he dismissed your encouragements, brushed off your care as unnecessary, simply because you were human. Yet you had stayed. You had believed in him.

“Why?” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Hm?” You tilted your head up at him, still smiling.

“Why have you stayed here all this time?” Sebek asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost vulnerable. “I… I have not been kind to you. I’ve called you ‘just a human,’ dismissed your words, and yet… you stayed. You cheered for me. You believed in me.”

Your expression softened, and you reached up to cup his cheek. He froze, wide-eyed, as your thumb brushed against his skin.

“Because I care about you, Sebek,” you said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I know how hard you work, how much you want to prove yourself. I’ll always be here to support you. No matter what.”

Your words struck him like a blessing, one he felt deeply unworthy of. His throat tightened, and for once, he had no retort, no haughty remark about his devotion to Lord Malleus. Instead, he swallowed hard and nodded, his usual bravado replaced by quiet gratitude.

“…Thank you,” he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. “For believing in me. For staying.”

You smiled, your fingers brushing his cheek once more before you dropped your hand. “Always,” you promised.

Sebek let out a shaky breath, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with his hours of training. As he looked at you—your tired yet radiant expression, your unwavering support—he felt an unfamiliar warmth take root in his chest.

And for the first time, he wondered if his greatest strength wasn’t just his swordsmanship, but the person who stood beside him, believing in him when he struggled to believe in himself.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #sebek zigvolt x reader #twst sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt #Sebek #𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 holiday event

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stargirlygirl · 2 days ago

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self-care day with the boys

denki, katsuki, kiri, shoto x fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — fluff, 2.1k words

kaminari denki

⭑.ᐟ it’s your day off, and your bf comes over to your place. you are exhausted from work lately, so you’re looking forward to spending the day with denki and relaxing.

you two try to bake a cake together. the kitchen looks like a bomb went off. a bomb of batter and flour. you’re both covered in it once you finally get the cookies in the oven. after cleaning the kitchen up, denki convinces you to shower with him and wash all of the goop off of you two. you lather each other up in body wash. once you’ve rinsed it off, you two stand there and cuddle. denki peppers your face with sweet kisses and tells you how beautiful you are. once you get out, denki wraps you in a fluffy towel before dashing off to your linen closet because you forgot to grab a second one.

after drying off, denki lets you tie his hair into pigtails and lather your favourite charcoal face mask onto his soft skin. he complains about how hard it is to talk with the clay mask on, the grey cracking around his mouth, eyes, and forehead creating wrinkles which you laugh at. he draws you back into his arms, bare bodies pressing together once more. he whispers into your ear what he’d like to do with you in such a vulnerable state. you can feel your face heating up beneath the clay. you tell him off and rinse your face mask off. you then apply toner, serum, and moisturiser to both of your faces. denki sighs in relief feeling your delicate fingertips soothing the cream into his skin.

once you two get dressed (denki keeps a few shirts and shorts at your place for situations like this), you check on the cookies. entering the kitchen, you can smell the stink of burnt sugar. denki turns off the oven, grabs the mitts and pulls the door down, revealing completely charred cookies. you two laugh and you playfully slap denki, scolding him lightly for taking forever to apply his face mask because he wouldn’t shut up. denki ends up trying one but immediately coughs it up and spits it into the bin. you heat instant ramen instead and have that for lunch.

afterwards, you two sit on the floor on opposite sides of the coffee table. denki lets you paint his nails black as you rant about work drama.

“what a bitch,” he gasps.

“i know right,” you say as you look up at him. he’s focused on your hand painting the glistening polish onto his nails.

you blow on his nails after you’ve finished and tell him not to touch anything (he knows the drill).

that night, you two cuddle up next to each other on the couch as you play animal crossing.

bakugou katsuki

⭑.ᐟ you’ve been super stressed out by work lately. you just finished getting dressed and were about to start on your makeup when you get a text message from your boss. he asks if you are okay since your bf had called in sick for you. you immediately text katsuki, asking him what the fuck was up.

you: suki

you: why did you call in sick for me?

suki pooki: cause your work sucks balls

suki pooki: i’ll be over in ten

and he was. he came barreling through your door. you meet him with a stern look, your hands on your hips. seeing your mood, he rolls his eyes and pulls you into a hug, rubbing your back and kissing your forehead. he tells you that today, he’ll be pampering you since you need a rest. he tells you to get out of that hideous uniform as he starts to raid your kitchen, whipping out ingredients for the fire breakfast he’s about to make you. you protest at first, but quickly let him take care of you. you know how determined he can be once he sets his mind on something.

katsuki makes you the most yummy breakfast that you both enjoy together. afterwards, you two cuddle on the couch and watch the next episode of the series you recently started together. katsuki then carries you off your bed and tells you to strip. you look up at him in confusion but he just gives you that sharp, cocky grin. he leaves and you do as he says, already bare under the covers when he returns holding a bottle of body oil. you stare at him even more bewildered until he tells you that he’s going to give you a full body massage. the tension in your muscles instantly dissipates as you let him coax you out from under most of the blankets.

he gives you the most relaxing massage. the scent of coconut is divine and the sensation of his hands pressing into your skin takes you to heaven. at first, he checks in with you to make sure that the pressure is okay, which of course, it is since he was being gentle with you. now, you’re about to fall asleep when he grumbles. it makes you laugh and you stretch, your fists opening and closing towards him in grabby motions. he lets you wrap your arms around his neck and you pull his body onto yours. the oil seeps into his clothes and he groans, trying to push you off. but you won’t move.

you two cuddle in your bed, katsuki asking you every few minutes if you’ve fallen asleep to which you mumble that you haven’t.

the rest of the day goes by in a blur of katsuki’s gourmet cooking skills, his grumbles, and his cuddles.

kirishima eijiro

⭑.ᐟ kiri knows that you’re exhausted because of a major project due at work. the day after it’s finished, you call him in the morning and tell him that you’ve got the day off from work. within the next half an hour, kiri is at your doorstep, telling you to grab your gym bag and put your activewear on cause you’re going to the gym. you groan but oblige, throwing on a baggy gym fit (baggy gym fit superiority, am i right?) and trudging out of your apartment with his arm around your shoulders.

he works you hard, motivating you every rep to keep pushing and going harder, perfecting that form every time. afterwards, you two walk to a nearby café and get some breakfast. you two sit outside, enjoying the beautiful weather as you munch on your brekkie. kiri listens as you rant about how stressful work has been lately, especially since your colleagues weren’t cooperating with you. but it was all over now, and that’s what mattered. he reassured you that you did the best job you could of given the circumstances.

“you’re so strong, baby. makes me so proud to see how well you did,” he says as he wipes your lips with a napkin. you giggle and nod, taking a moment to appreciate your bf.

in your sweaty gym gear, you two walk back to the car. but instead of taking you home (which you thought he was doing), he drives you to the aquarium. you scold him for not letting you get changed first. he apologises and pulls you into a warm hug, kissing you on the cheek. he holds you the entire time that you’re at the aquarium, first holding your hand and then your waist when your palms become sweaty. he takes candid photos of you gawking at the ginormous string rays, chuckling to himself about how cute his girlfriend is. you point to one of the sharks and tell him that it’s him and he laughs, pulling you close.

afterwards, he finally takes you back to your place and you two shower together. kiri kisses almost every inch of your body after rinsing the suds off of you, worshipping his gf’s divine body. your hands tangle in his hair, feeling his lips all over you. he finally stands up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into his chest. you ask him if you can return the favour. he shakes his head and gives you a deep kiss, saying on your lips something about this being your day.

once you get out of the shower, kiri dries you off and lathers moisturiser into your skin, placing kisses on any part of your body that he can reach.

you then curl up on the couch and cuddle, kiri doting on you and satisfying your every need until you fall asleep in his arms.

todoroki shoto

⭑.ᐟ it’s the weekend and you wake up to your phone ringing. you pick it up groggily. your bf’s voice hums in your ear, asking you what your plans are for the day. you groan as you tell him that you just woke up. he’s quiet for a few moments before telling you that he is going to pick you up in an hour. you hum in response, rubbing your eyes and muttering an ‘i love you’. shoto returns your sentiment and ends the call. you get up and brush your teeth, opting for a comfy outfit.

in an hour, shoto is knocking on your door. he’s holding the most beautiful bouquet of your favourite flowers and tells you that they’re for you. you smile, tears gathering in your eyes as you take them from him and dash off to grab a vase. once you put the flowers in a vase and set them on your dining table, you run over to him and give him the biggest cuddle. he returns your hug hesitantly (this touch-starved boy😭), his hands light on your back. you pull back and thank him, blinking back your tears. it’s been such a hard week at work and for him to surprise you like this meant everything to you.

shoto tells you not to hold back as he draws you back into his arms, this time with more confidence. for the next little while, you and shoto cuddle on the couch as you cry. his thumbs caress the delicate skin beneath your eyes, wiping away your tears. he gives you a small smile and tells you that you are one of the strongest people he knows.

after you’ve calmed down, shoto suggests getting some food to help cheer you up. you nod and you two head to the mall together. you sit down at one of the cafés and get tea and a pastry. the flavour explodes over your tongue, so sweet and the pastry is so crisp. you look up and see cream on the tip of shoto’s nose from his cream puff. giggling, you wipe it off his nose with the tip of your finger. but before you can draw your hand back, he grabs your wrist and licks your finger. the gesture has you blushing hard.

once you finish your pastries, you two walk around the mall together. you head into many different stores, shoto by your side the entire time. he holds any clothes you grab to try on and even waits outside the fitting room for you as you get changed. he usually tells you that the clothes look “nice” or “good” but, when you come out in something that he really likes, he freezes up. he can’t stop staring at you.

“shoto,” you call. he’s been looking at the dress you have on for the last minute in complete silence. “do you like it?” you ask. he gulps, adams apple bobbing. he opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. you cross your arms under your chest, wondering if you look so hideous that he’s been rendered speechless.

you sigh, “is it that bad?” at your words, shoto shakes his head vigorously.

“no!” he says enthusiastically, surprising you. “no, it looks—” he pauses, trying to find the right words. he mumbles, “you look very pretty.” his words have you giggling and blushing an instant.

you motion with your finger for him to come over to you, and he does. you shut the fitting room door behind him and give him a gentle kiss, surprising your poor boyfriend who watches you peck his lips with wide eyes and a stiff body. you pull away, trying to contain your laughter. he pulls you back in and captures your lips in another kiss. this one is far more passionate.

shoto buys you whatever you want with his dad’s credit card. he carries your bags around as you shop. by the end of the day, you go home with far too many bags. you used to be very shy about shoto spending all of this money on you, but you know that he wants to. you know that even if you broke up tomorrow, he wouldn’t regret any of it because that’s how much he loves you.

#i got a bit carried away #★’s works #bnha x reader #mha x reader #x female reader #fem!reader #established relationship #bakugou katsuki #shoto todoroki #denki kaminari #eijiro kirishima #kirishima x reader #bakugou x reader #denki x reader #shoto x reader #shoto x you #mha drabbles

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shybluebirdninja · 9 hours ago

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Bloodheat

Summary: His rough, feral mouth trails lower, and suddenly every vow you made to your husband burns away in the heat of Logan's desire.

Pairing : Logan Howlett x Fem!Human-reader

Note : Infidelity and cheating, cunnilingus, smut

The night air is thick, the kind that wraps around you like a heavy blanket, sticky and humid. The rumble of Logan's beat-up truck is the only sound cutting through the silence as he pulls off the road, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The cabin of the truck feels too small, too intimate, and your heart pounds louder than it should. You know this is wrong—so wrong—but fuck, the second Logan's hand brushes your thigh, all that guilt slips away like water through your fingers.

You glance over at him, his jaw set, eyes focused on the dark road ahead. There's something raw about Logan—something feral. His beard’s a little rougher tonight, and those strong hands gripping the wheel send a shiver down your spine. There’s no room for doubt, not anymore. You knew what you were doing when you climbed into his truck. You knew this wasn’t just a casual drive.

His voice breaks the silence, low and gravely, sending heat straight between your legs. “You wanna keep playin' house with him, or you gonna admit you’re already mine?”

That damn voice. It’s like whiskey and smoke, rich and dangerous. You don’t answer, but your body does, leaning closer, like it’s instinctual, like it’s always been him. Logan’s hand drifts higher on your thigh, his fingers rough and calloused, and you can’t stop the soft gasp that slips out.

He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest, and pulls the truck to a stop. The engine cuts off, leaving only the heavy sound of your breathing in the cab. His eyes meet yours, that familiar heat simmering just beneath the surface. “You got somethin’ to say, darlin’?”

You bite your lip, torn between the voice in your head telling you to run and the heat pooling low in your belly, making your skin buzz with anticipation. “Logan, this—” You try to speak, but he cuts you off with a rough, demanding kiss.

It’s not gentle. Nothing about Logan ever is. His lips crash into yours, a fierce hunger behind every move. His hands are everywhere at once, sliding over your waist, gripping your hips. It’s wild, untamed, and fuck, it’s everything you’ve been craving for weeks.

The guilt melts away, replaced by that electric fire he ignites in you every time he gets close. You kiss him back just as hard, fingers threading through his thick, dark hair, tugging him closer. You can feel the low growl vibrating in his chest as he pulls you onto his lap, his big hands sliding under your shirt, calloused fingers rough against your bare skin. Every nerve in your body is alive, buzzing with need.

Logan’s mouth moves from your lips to your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. He bites down just enough to leave a mark, and you gasp, arching into him. “Fuckin’ missed you,” he mutters against your skin, voice thick with need.

Your hands fumble with the button on his jeans, desperate, but Logan grabs your wrists, holding them still. “Not yet,” he growls, his eyes dark and dangerous, pupils blown wide. “I got plans for you first.”

Before you can process his words, he’s sliding you off his lap, pushing you back onto the worn leather seat. His hands are on your jeans, undoing the button and yanking them down in one smooth motion. The air hits your skin, cool against the heat radiating from your body, but that’s the last thing on your mind when Logan settles between your legs, pulling you closer with that trademark Wolverine smirk on his lips.

He spreads your thighs wide, eyes locked on yours, and the way he’s looking at you—like he’s about to devour you whole—sends a shiver of anticipation through you. There’s nothing rushed about the way he leans in, taking his sweet time, letting you feel every second of his lips ghosting over your skin. “You taste so fuckin’ good, y’know that?”

Your breath hitches as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, so close to where you want him, but not close enough. “Logan, please…” The words fall from your lips before you can stop them, need dripping from every syllable.

He grins against your skin, rough and teasing. “Beggin’ already?” He lets out a low chuckle, then finally—finally—his mouth is on you. His tongue flicks out, slow and torturous, and your back arches off the seat as pleasure floods your body. It’s like he’s claiming you with every lick, every pull of his lips around your clit, and it’s so fucking good you can’t think straight.

His beard is rough against your inner thighs, rubbing deliciously against your skin as he works you over with his mouth. You can’t stop the soft moans escaping your lips, can’t stop your fingers from tangling in his hair, pulling him closer. Logan groans against you, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

“Fuck,” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, but Logan grips your thighs, holding you down with that impossible strength of his. His tongue moves faster now, flicking and sucking, and the tension inside you coils tighter and tighter, ready to snap.

It’s too much, too good. “Logan, I—” You can’t get the words out, and he knows exactly what you need. He sucks hard on your clit, and that’s it—you’re gone, your whole body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

The pleasure hits you like a freight train, intense and overwhelming, and you feel yourself gush, the slick wetness covering Logan’s mouth and beard. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps licking, keeps sucking, drinking up every drop like he’s starving for it, his growls vibrating against your sensitive skin. You whimper, overstimulated, but he just smirks, beard soaked and glistening in the dim light of the truck.

“Damn, you taste even better when you’re comin’ all over my face,” he growls, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, but the glint in his eyes tells you he’s far from done. He leans back, eyes raking over your still-trembling body, and the hunger in his gaze makes your breath catch. “Think you got another one in you, darlin’? 'Cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

You can only nod, the words lost somewhere between the lingering pleasure and the heat building inside you all over again. Logan’s already got you addicted, and you know you’ll never be able to go back.

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witchygagirlwrites · 1 day ago

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Consider Me Gone-Part 1

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader x Jay Halstead/ Gerstead x Reader

You know your guys love you but when a case brings up bad memories and they don't turn to you? That makes you begin to doubt yourself, your relationship, everything.

You could still remember the look on your sister’s face when you told her you were deploying. The fear, the apprehension. She was afraid of you not coming home, afraid that if you made it home you wouldn’t be the same woman that left. You knew the risks that came along with the path you chose, you also knew the risks of not taking it. You had to do something with your life and that was the only path you could’ve taken at that point in your life.

When you were tasked to the 75th regiment you’d nearly questioned your commanding officer. There were men and women in the 68W that had a lot more time under their belt than you but he’d been content with your record and next thing you knew your boots were hitting the dirt in Korengal Valley.

When you reported to duty you were introduced to your unit, the men and women who you would be responsible for keeping alive under fire. Two men stood out amongst them. One with sky blue eyes, the other seafoam blue. Both of them equally gorgeous with smiles that would’ve stopped you in your tracks had you met them under different circumstances. They watched you intently from the moment you said your name and the commanding officer told the unit to be welcoming to you because “She’s gonna keep your sorry asses alive”

It took all of a half an hour before Jay Halstead and Greg “Mouse” Gerwitz were introducing themselves to you. “Mouse huh?” you asked and he’d given you a grin that showed off a set of dimples “It’s a stupid nickname but I’m the first to admit it” you cut your eyes at Jay “How’d he get it?” he winked at you “Oh sweetheart you gotta earn that story” From that day on the three of you always seemed to find each other.

One day you had just stepped out of the med tent to catch your breath, the scent of blood heavy in your nose. You had lost someone, you knew it was hopeless from the moment he’d been brought in. You hadn’t told him that. The letter in the pocket of your pants felt so much heavier than a folded sheet of paper. He’d pressed it into your hand and begged you to make sure his boyfriend got it.

You took a deep breath, trying to find air that didn’t burn your lungs on the way down. “Doc, you feeling ok?” you turned at the sound of Mouse’s voice and forced a smile onto your face “How many times do I have to tell you I’m not a doctor Gerwitz?” he grinned “You seemed pretty doctorish to me” you shook your head “Where’s your shadow?” he nodded across the way and you spotted Jay talking to Anderson “We just got back in” “Nice to see I’m not having to put either of you back together” you teased and he shrugged “We try our best to stay outta your way”

“The rest of the unit in one piece?” you asked and he nodded “Yes ma’am” both him and Jay always did that. Why, you weren’t sure. “Good, less people in my tent, the better” he nodded “We’ll be back for a few days. If you don’t wanna be alone” “You asking me to spend time with you? Aww that’s adorable” you teased and saw him bite back a grin “You’re a pain in the ass at times, you know that?”

You grinned “You and Jay wouldn’t hang out with me if I wasn’t and I damn sure wouldn’t have lasted this long in the rangers” he laughed “Ain’t that the truth” Jay started your way and smirked when he saw you “If it isn’t my favorite medic. Feel like giving me a once over yet doc?” you shook your head “I’ll sew your lips shut Halstead” he grabbed over his heart “You’re killing me sweetheart, killing me”

Athena, the only other woman out of your unit walked up and shook her head “Easy boys. The only one spending nights with our medic is me” she slung her arm around your shoulders and winked at you “Isn’t that right sugar?” you grinned “Damn right” and busted out laughing at the look on Jay and Mouse’s faces.

You spent two tours in that place. With Jay and Mouse it wasn’t so bad. They were your best friends, never looked at you like you were less because you were a woman and you felt comfortable around them which said alot.

The day you knew you had to get out was hell on earth. That damn convoy still haunted your dreams. Having to pull your unit out the flames, being forced to move on from the ones you couldn’t save and simply stabilize who you could and pray a chopper got there before you lost them. Mouse and Jay were medically discharged and you took your discharge as well. You couldn’t face it anymore.

You never would’ve thought that the years spent over there would result in you falling in love with those two rangers who were always such a pain in your ass yet here you were.

You groaned when you tried to stretch but movement was inhibited by two sets of strong arms wrapped around your body. You slowly opened your eyes to see that Jay was curled up to your back, hands holding your hips and face pressed between your shoulders, while Mouse had his arms thrown over your stomach and his face resting on your breasts as pillows.

At least they were comfortable. You shifted, trying to figure out a way from under the mess of limbs when Jay’s hands tightened on your hips and you felt his erection pressing into your ass “Princess, it’s a little too early for you to be making sounds like that and squirming up against me like that”

You shot him a playful glare “If my boyfriends didn’t act like I was going to run away in the middle of the night maybe I could get up to go get coffee” Mouse’s lips teased across your bare chest “Well if it hadn’t taken us years to convince you to want us maybe we wouldn’t be worried”

You turned your head back towards him and he was grinning up at you from where his head was still laid on your breasts. “You two were flirts then when we got home we didn’t see each other for a while then well let’s not talk about then” he moved up to brush a gentle kiss against your lips “No let's not talk about then” Jay slipped a hand around your neck to gently tilt your head back to him “Let’s talk about now” his lips were feather light but being in their arms were always like a fire being set inside of you. It had been that way since you finally let yourself give in that first time.

“We’re all gonna be late for work” you reminded and Jay grinned “I set the clock back an hour so we’d have more time” you shook your head “You’re horrible” he shrugged “We love our girl, what’s horrible about that?”

You felt Mouse’s hand slip down between your thighs and when you let them fall open without thought he chuckled “Looking like you don’t care too much about being late love”

By the time you parked at med Will was already texting you asking where the hell you were at. You didn’t dignify your dear brother in law with a response and simply pocketed your phone and headed inside.

When you passed the front desk Maggie smiled “Good morning” “Mornings Mags. Where’s Halstead? He’s blowing me up like I’m not still five minutes before my shift” She looked behind you and grinned. You turned around and glared up at Will “What’s the rush?” his eyes widened “They have baby nurses from the med school here. If I didn’t have you they’d stick me with one of them” you shook your head with a laugh “Oh honey”

You knew as much if not more than most of the doctors here but you hadn’t had the desire to get the doctor title. Registered Nurse suited you just fine, besides they knew what you could do here. Most of the time you either worked side by side with Will or Ethan. Neither of them ever questioned your call. You waved a hand “Fear not big red. Your favorite nurse is here. Let’s start the day”

He slipped an arm around your shoulder and pulled you into a side hug “I don’t know how my brother ever got lucky enough to get you” then pointed you towards his first patient’s room.

_______________

You were just sitting down in the breakroom when your phone chimed with a text from Erin Mollys tonight? Please?? You laughed lightly and texted back I’ll meet you there dear. Let the boys know their choices are either go out with me or I’m going alone

You opened your water and barely got a bite of your sandwich before two texts popped up in the group text thread between you, Jay and Mouse that read We’re coming and Baby, don’t play like that you shook your head and texted back was just giving you options geez

Ethan walked in and sat down across from you, leaning back in his seat. You cut your eyes up “You good Choi?” he nodded “Yeah, just beat” you nodded in agreement. This shift had been back to back. Your lunch break was supposed to be four hours before. You’d managed to eat a pack of the crackers Maggie kept in her desk between running tests but that had been about it.

“You working tomorrow?” you asked and he shook his head “No, how about you?” you shook your head “No, I’m off for two days? I think.” he looked up “Our schedules sync up then” you grinned “Good, I like working with you and Will” he laughed “That’s just because we both know you’re a trauma specialist you just don’t have the title” you grinned “Exactly”

When you got home Jay and Mouse were already there. Jay was laid across the couch when you walked in and you could hear Mouse somewhere in the house. Jay grinned when you walked in “There’s the sexiest medic that ever walked”

You shook your head “Easy ranger. Just a trauma nurse nowadays” he reached a hand out so you let him pull you to him, having to straddle his waist to keep from just falling across him. His eyes flickered across you and even in your scrubs, with your hair falling down he looked at you like you were the most gorgeous woman he ever laid eyes on, then again he’d looked at you like then when you wore ACUs.

His hands gripped your thighs gently “I love you baby” you smiled “I love you too Jay” you leaned down to steal a kiss from him and the moment your lips met you heard Mouse “Oh I go to finish the laundry and get left out”

You looked up from where you were on Jay and grinned “He got me time I walked in, sorry” Mouse shook his head “Thought we agreed a long time ago, we both got her” Jay looked up at him “Can you blame me? Look at my view?”

You shook your head and kissed Jay before climbing off of him. You walked over to Mouse and pulled him into a kiss before checking the time “I gotta shower so I can meet Erin and Kim” That was all it took for Jay to jump up off the couch and Mouse to snap to attention “Want some company?” you shook your head, that was what had taken so long finding this place, a shower big enough for three.

“Come on then. No funny business or I’ll kick you out of the shower” you warned, leading the way to the bathroom and feeling their hands teasing you on the way. “You didn’t say no funny business before the shower” Mouse teased, lips close to your ear.

You walked into Mollys between Jay and Mouse. Jay had your hand in his, his fingers curled around yours and Mouse had his fingers hooked in your belt loops. You’d teased them that you looked like a flight risk. They’d replied that they were just keeping a hand on you.

When the music hit you along with familiar voices you looked around and spotted the rest of intelligence at the end of the bar, well minus Voight and Al. “There she is!” Erin called and you dropped Jay’s hand and pulled away from Mouse to pull her into a hug. She grinned over your shoulder at the two of them “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna keep her”

____________________

“I’m just saying, I have seen a t-shirt and some duct tape save a leg” you laughed and Adam raised an eyebrow “Did you do it?” Jay leaned up over your shoulder considering you were currently sitting halfway in his lap “Yes she did”

You cut your eyes back at him “You weren’t even there sir” he shrugged “No but Anderson told me about it” you shook your head and looked back at Adam “Point is in the moment you’d be surprised what could be useful Ruz”

Mouse walked back up with Kevin and the drinks they’d gone after. He passed you your then handed Jay his beer before brushing a kiss against your lips. You grinned then he sat down next to you. “How did you ever get stuck with these two anyways?” “Watch it Lindsay” they both warned playfully. You laughed “They were already a bonded pair, if I took one I had to take the other”

Everyone started laughing at your response but you made sure to lean back against Jay and reach out for Mouse just in case they took your teasing to heart. “Is that the trifecta?” you heard a voice say and your eyes widened. Only one person ever called you, Jay and Mouse that.

You jumped up from Jay’s lap, He was on his feet and Mouse was too as Athena walked up to your group. She looked how you remembered. Five foot nine, honey brown hair tied up and bright amber eyes. You never did understand why the boys went for you while she was there but you were glad they did. She’d been a heaven sent amongst the testosterone during those days. More than one night had been full of laughter in your shared tent.

“Athena!” you hollered, pulling her into a hug. She squeezed you tightly, nodding to Jay and Mouse “Hey boys” Once she let you go she hugged them both. “What are you doing in Chicago? Last time we talked you were in D.C?” you asked because she was stationed at the marshal office there. She nodded “I’m in town working a case. Heard this was a good place to get a drink. Didn’t expect to find my unit here”

“Are we gonna get introduced?” Kim asked and you laughed lightly “Oh Athena this is the unit Jay works in and that Mouse is a tech expert for” you introduced them one by one. She nodded “What about you fireball?” you grinned “You know me, I’m at the hospital” “Trauma specialist?” she asked and you shook your head “Trauma nurse” “Close enough. You know more than any of those M.D.s do”

___________

The four of you caught up a little but then she needed to join the people she’d come with so all of you traded your newest numbers before she left. You noticed Erin and Kim both cutting their eyes at her as she walked off but didn’t think anything of it until Erin whispered “Do we like her?”

You nodded “She’s good” “Are you sure. Cause if you don’t like her, we don’t” Kim whispered and you laughed, making Mouse shoot you a look. You shook your head “You don’t wanna know baby” before telling them both “She’s ok. She was in the same unit as us. The only other woman. She had my back a lot” “Ok” Erin said after a moment and Kim nodded too.

“That was insane seeing Athena again” you laughed, walking into your house. Mouse nodded “Yeah, been a while since we saw anyone out of the unit” “Yeah” Jay agreed.

You tried and failed to stifle a yawn which made them share a grin “I think we need to put her to bed” Jay laughed. “Only if you two come with me” you pouted and they both shook their heads “She’s so damn spoiled. What happened to that medic that used to threaten to sew my lips shut?” Jay asked and you grinned “I figured out I like you being able to use your lip and your tongue and other things”

He cut his eyes at Mouse “I say we make sure she gets a good night's rest. What do you think?” Mouse’s eyes were glued to you “I say that’s a damn good idea”

Two days passed and you didn’t really think too much more about Athena being in Chicago. You ended up pulling doubles at the hospital and Intelligence had just finished wrapping up a drug bust worth a quarter of a million.

You stood at the front desk, rubbing your hand across your eyes. “You good?” Will asked and you looked up at him “Aces” he grinned “I swear you act too much like you’re with my brother at times. You can admit if you’re tired or something” you shook your head “I’m fine Will, really. I need some coffee and maybe some water too then I’ll be good as new”

He nodded “Do me a favor and add some food somewhere in that mix? I’m gonna get my ass kicked twice over if you pass out on my watch” you grinned at him “Don’t worry if they kick your ass while I’m out I’ll take care of it when I wake up. We have the same base training”

You rotated your neck in a tight circle and got ready to go back to work but your phone started ringing. You pulled it out and saw it was Erin. “Hello?” you answered and her voice was low “Can you talk?” “Yeah, why?” your stomach knotted at her tone. She took a deep breath before saying “They probably wouldn’t want me to tell you but we caught a case that I think may have triggered something for your fellas. I overheard Jay and Mouse talking about Henderson? It sounded like they were arguing and that this case had enough similarities to remind them”

Your hand flew out to the desk to steady yourself. Memories of the shape Mark had been in when he was found flew through your head, how hard you worked to stabilize him and the striking realization that all you had to offer his wife was that after all the hell he suffered he died with a friend at his side.

You vaguely registered her calling your name twice before April touching your arm snapped you back to the present “Yeah? Um thanks Erin for letting me know. If they start arguing and cause interruptions to the case, call me?” “Of course”

You hung up with her and looked at April who was staring at you with an unspoken question written plainly across her face “I’m ok April” she shook her head “You know I live with someone who served, right?” you offered her a smile “I promise, I’m ok” she smiled slightly “If you need someone to talk to I’m here and if you need someone who’s been there Ethan is always there for you too” “Thank you” you told her and she nodded “Of course”

She walked off so you slid your phone into your pocket. They would call if they needed you, if not you’d talk to them that night. Mark was a hard spot for all of you. His wife’s cries still haunted your dreams on some nights.

About an hour before you were getting off Jay sent a text in the thread We’re gonna grab a beer after work ok, normally they would have worded that do you want to grab a beer after work. Were they not including you? Just you two? You asked and felt your heart hit your feet when he texted back Thena is still in town so she’s gonna meet us. We won’t be long. We love you

Was it the memories of Mark’s final moments, the ghost of his wife gripping to you begging you to say it wasn’t true or the slap in the face of knowing your guys were hurting and not seeking you out that forced the tears from your eyes? You weren’t sure but angry hot tears slipped down your face before you could stop them.

“Woah, what’s wrong and don’t you dare say nothing” Will asked and you hadn’t even realized he was standing over you. What were you supposed to tell him? Will loved you like a sister, yeah but Jay was actually his brother. How could you explain you were crying because your boyfriends wanted to get a beer with someone out of their unit? It’s not like they were being sneaky and hid it. They told you.

“Um, bad day Will” you whispered and he slipped his arms around you, pulling you into a hug. “Want me to call Jay?” “NO!” you said a little harsher than you meant to. He pulled back and looked down at you “Are you sure you’re ok?” You nodded “Yeah, just had some stuff trudged up. I just need to make another hour, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry the guys”

“If you need me, I’m here” he reminded you with a smile before kissing the top of your head “I am your favorite brother in law after all” you shook your head “Mouse is an only child” he grinned “Even more reason for me to be your favorite”

Once he walked away you let your face fall. Maybe you were reading too much into it? That was all? You just needed to focus. You couldn’t split attention at work. Lives were at risk.

You parked next to Jay’s truck and took a deep breath. You wouldn’t push. If they wanted to talk to you, they would. God please let them talk to you.

You grabbed your belongings and headed inside. You needed to start a load of your scrubs. You went through two pairs this shift alone and they had to be washed separately.

_______________

You walked in the door and they were sitting on the couch, watching the Blackhawks game. “Hey baby” Mouse greeted with a smile. “Hey” you replied, moving past them towards the laundry room. “You ok sweetheart?” Jay called behind you and you rolled your eyes to not bite off a comment you may later regret “I need to start a load of my scrubs. I went through two pairs this shift”

You heard them moving as you walked into the laundry room and turned to see they were at the door “I washed them love. They’re in your dresser” Mouse told you with a smile. “Oh, thank you” you replied, dropping the dirty bag to the floor and pulling the scrubs out to pretreat.

You saw them exchange a look before Jay asked “Did we do something we don’t know about?” you didn’t look at them and just shook your head “No” “How long have we known you sweetheart? We know what that no means” Mouse pushed so you dropped the scrubs in the washer then turned to face them “Nothing is wrong, ok? I had a long day, I’m tired. You two are apparently aces so I’m gonna go shower”

________________

You started the washer then pushed past them to get out of the room. Both of them reached out to grab you, Mouse around the waist and Jay your arm “Uh uh” “What is it baby?”

You took a deep breath then said “Erin called me about the case. Said you two were talking about Henderson” “Oh” “Oh”

You nodded slowly “Oh, so we don’t communicate anymore?” Jay shrugged “It’s not that big of a deal. This case, the victim..he was tortured for information” “It was really similar to Henderson” Mouse added. “Are you two ok?” you asked, looking from one to the other. You knew them. Mouse would need to talk it out when old memories were trudged up and Jay would try to bury it all unless you forced him to talk.

“Yeah, that’s why we grabbed the beer with Thena, talk with someone who was there” Jay explained and he could have punched you dead in the gut and it would have hurt less. “Someone who was there?” he realized his wording and looked to Mouse for help on backpedaling.

“Baby he didn’t mean it like that” you shook your head “Fuck it. I need to shower” you stormed past them, shrugging their hands off your body. “Alone”

________________

You could hear Jay and Mouse both outside the door, trying to talk to you but you ignored them, turning the water on as high as you could get it and sinking to the floor of the shower. “Someone who was there” nice to know everything you went through didn’t mean a damn thing.

You didn’t even realize you were crying until the salty tears hit your lips. You didn’t try to stifle your sobs. What were they gonna do? Go talk to Athena about it?

______________

When you got out of the shower and dressed you opened the bathroom door to find Mouse sitting on the floor on one side of the door and Jay on the other “What are you two doing?” you asked and Mouse said “Waiting for you, we heard you crying” “I’m fine Greg” you sighed and walked past them to the bedroom.

You crawled into bed, curling up in the middle where you usually slept. They quickly disrobed and climbed into bed on either side of you. “Can we touch you?” Jay asked and you nodded. You felt them slip their arms around you and closed your eyes trying not to let his words play through your head yet again. “I love you sweetheart,” Mouse whispered. “I love you too Greg”

“I love you princess” Jay whispered and you nodded “I love you Jay” you forced your eyes to close. You desperately needed sleep, maybe you’d feel more clear headed come tomorrow? Maybe you would be able to form calm enough thoughts to approach the whole “Someone who was there” comment without tears or screaming coming into the equation but for tonight you needed sleep.

@desimarie12

@alterna123

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