#i shouted in despair may times

[yogurrrttt]

these files really broke my back atop this mountain

[okwonyo]

✴︎ FROM THE START.

PREC𝒾S ⟡ cupid plays one last trick on you.

( 엔하이픈 정원 ) ୨୧ f .. r 14OO brother’s best friend au fluff getting together sort of ── awkward flirting skinship use of profanity mention of kissing mention of passing out choking on water ⠀ ｡｡ ⠀ recue𝑖l

ˊᗜˋreblogs&feedbacks 。C𝑙𝑖CK

DED𝑖CATED to ✶ to @bywons (jiru always alive and well)

“i’m home!” you shout into the space of the hall of the front door.

taking your shoes off, a heavy sigh coming from deep in your chest echoes in the empty house. of course, your brother is not home yet when he was the one asking you to come home as soon as possible. you should have listened to your guts and hung up right in his face, he doesn’t deserve your patience.

you sigh again as you head to your kitchen. the thought that you may have spoken too soon builds itself in your head when you hear someone moving inside of the room you were aiming for. you already get your annoyed tone and face ready before even seeing your brother.

“what’s wrong with you?” you start, stepping inside the kitchen and seeing a man’s back facing you. “i was on a d—”

cutting yourself off, your breath gets stuck in your throat when the person in front of you finally shows their face. you should have guessed it was not your brother by the height of the man in front of you. the latter seems as surprised as you are because he cuts himself too.

“dude, i’m going to leave if—” your brother’s best friend’s eyes meet yours. he holds a bowl of chips in his hands, comfortably, as if he belonged in this house. “oh.” he says before breathing out your name in a tone that makes your stomach close on itself. well, at least it feels like it.

it gets worse when his eyes drag on your whole form. meticulously eyeing every inch of your body as if he was scared it would disappear if he looked away for a split second. there is a smirk, that you know all too well, tugging on his lips as he goes on. his eyebrows shot up when he reaches your feet, then he goes back to locking eyes with you.

water. you need water.

you walk to the opposite side of where he stands, thanking god the water is right there, before he can notice the obvious blush on your face.

while you pour water in a glass you took from the cupboard hurriedly the silence between the two of you wraps around your neck and threatens to choke you. you hear the man shift behind you— his presence gets closer and closer to your circle of warmth. you shove the water down your throat.

“you look so fine,” he says and you choke.

putting the glass down you cough with a hand on your chest. you swear, if you die because of this idiot you will haunt him for the rest of his life. a punch almost lands on his nose when he puts his hand on your lower back, softly asking, “are you okay?” but you like that. his touch.

when you finally catch your breath, you sigh for the ninth time before turning your attention to him. the proximity between the two of you hits you in the guts, your hand puts itself on his peck, “jungwon.”

he holds his hands up in surrender. you push him slightly establishing a safe distance between him and you. the last time he was this close, it didn’t go very well.

leaning yourself on the counter behind you. you try to avoid jungwon’s stare but no matter how hard, your eyes won’t listen to your brain. “i-is riki not home?”

the man in front of you catches your stutter and he smiles, putting the bowl of chips on the plateforme in front of him. “no, he left a while ago and told me to wait.” he shrugs and embarrassment grows in your belly. “i was about to leave—”

you groan, leaning your head back in pure despair (jungwon has to stop himself from kissing your exposed neck), “god, what a moron,”

of course, out of all the possibilities on earth, you had to have a stubborn idiot as your brother. he thinks he can control people’s feelings and actions, as if he was some sort of cupid. thankfully, he is not. you don’t know what kind of couples you would see in the streets if so.

you want to tell him that you are not talking about him but maybe a little part of you is.

jungwon gives you a confused look, “you can leave if you’d like,” you hug yourself, suddenly feeling beyond shy and too much seen. “riki won’t come back.”

his eyes grow wide in realization before he chuckles softly, “let me finish,” he tells you. “i wanted to leave but not anymore.”

oh.

oh.

his words sink right inside your chest. your veins take them in, they melt inside your blood, his voice resonates in your ribcage, you can feel the weight of his strawberries scented words all over your body— the room keeps getting warmer. there is no way you can hide that flush anymore.

thankfully, jungwon clears his throat and speaks up. alas, you got relieved too soon. “were you on a date?”

you almost choke again. this just keeps getting worse and worse. your hand moves from your shoulder to your elbow, your chest rise as you let out a heavy sigh, “uh, yeah,”

jungwon stays silent for a long while and as he licks his lips, you cannot help but reckon the feeling of his hot mouth on yours. what a goodbye kiss it was. you dreamed about it for over a year. even last night. even a few hours ago. everytime you close your eyes. his hands all over you, his tongue licking the inside of your mouth, his body pressed against yours.

he interrupts your daydreaming when he talks again, “did riki made you end it?” he asks, worried. “you can go back if you’d like!” (you would find it funny how this flirt of a man can turn into a total stuttering mess in the space of three seconds if you weren’t as pathetic.) “i-i don’t want to—”

his tone gets more nervous as he goes on, begging for you to stop him before he gets out of breath and pass out, “no—no!” you exclaim awkwardly, your hands moves frenetically in front of his face to shut him up he finally stops and you laugh nervously, “it was boring anyway.”

you watch jungwon’s broad shoulders fall down after you talk. he nods softly, a blush appears on his face and you guess it is because he noticed that he panicked over nothing. he looks down, fidgeting with his fingers as you scratch the back of your ear.

you want to disappear into the ground.

he speaks again, “i-i know a place,” he doesn’t seem so confident anymore, you have to hold back a laugh. his gaze meets yours and he smiles, “we can, uh, go have dinner if you’d like,”

you think for a moment. after pressing your lips together you open your mouth, “i already had dinner,” there is a sense of satisfaction when junwgwon’s has the decency to look sheepish. you want him to feel the way you felt last time. you push it, “with my date.”

he nods, biting his lips. you stare at each other for a while. and although you resent him a bit, you can’t hold grudge forever. he left, but you are at fault too— you ignored him everytime he tried to reach out.

here he is now, trying and being better. this, if you stop messing around and let him.

“he is my age and he still sounded like he was thirteen,” you add after letting jungwon marinate in rejection. “maybe i would like to go with someone else,” you can feel yourself blushing down to your feet, “tomorrow.”

enthusiasm washes over his face and his smile becomes more teasing, more flirty. he eyes looks down, “i’m an older guy with brain and rythme,” he looks up, his irises look straight through yours, your heart explodes in your chest. “isn’t that better?”

you only huff, getting your lower back off the furniture behind you. you turn around, hiding your nervousness, takinf the glass of water that almost killed you in your hands, tapping on it, looking for something to say. jungwon is silent, moving to stand beside you. he opts for the pose you had earlier; leaning on the kitchen’s counter with his arms crossed.

his look seems weirdly satisfied, you look up at him with your eyes narrowed, “you know riki planned all this,” your brother’s best friend smiles wider, “right?”

“why do you think i stayed that long at first?” he questions back, bumping his shoulder in yours. maybe your brother isn’t that bad at playing cupid.

𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open !

(..◜ᴗ◝..) i love giving my works an hidden lore and barely explaining it ... hope this work felt like a pat on the head from me ^^

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Golden Girl

Chapter 1

Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Rating: Mature. 18+ (Minors DNI)  Summary: What happens when you discover your husband has been cheating on you? You call his best friend to help comfort you. Warnings: Dieter's POV, infidelity, heartbreak, some allusions to smutty thoughts but nothing extreme, pining, fluff, comfort, drug and alcohol mentions, Dieter's down bad for his best friend's wife. Words: 2,900

A/N: This was written for @punkshort's anniversary AU challenge. I received husband's best friend Dieter Bravo. I've been in the Dieter den lately, so of course I had a lot of fun writing this soft, pining side of him. The film featured in this fic, The Philadelphia Story, is one of my favorite movies ever, and I wanted to use it in this. Mike, Dex, and Tracy are all characters in the movie. FYI… the movie is free on Tubi. :)

Next Chapter

Masterlist

___

He can't do this. He absolutely cannot do this. 

“Dieter, I– can you just come over? I don’t want to be alone.” 

He has to do this. He absolutely has to do this.

Your voice is so defeated, bereft, empty. It pains him to even think of the despair you feel inside.

How fucking dare he. Fucking Warren. He wonders why he feels like he owes him his friendship, his time, his loyalty. Fuck that. Breaking your heart, leaving your bright light dim after taking everything from you. He’s sat idly by for years numbing the pain of watching his closest friend pilfer you, the girl of his dreams. 

Eight years of marriage gone in a blink of an eye just so Warren can fuck and supposedly fall in love with his brand new leggy blonde coworker. Warren’s always been good at taking what he wants. Hell, he took you away from him. Yeah, Dieter may have an Oscar… but he doesn’t have the girl. 

He drives to your house, the same home you used to share with your husband. He wishes he could trade in his mega mansion and live with you in the two story colonial made warm and inviting only under your touch. Warren liked to remind you he paid for it all, but what use is money when there’s no heart?

He locks his car and inhales a deep breath before taking the walkway to the side entrance, the one only close friends use. The fresh fragrance of the peonies that you planted all over the yard makes his heart ache even more for you as he opens the door. 

The house is quiet, save for the sound of your sniffles, a singular lamp casts the living room in a solemn umber tone. 

“Sweets?” He can’t help it, he’s called you that since the first night he met you in that Venice dive bar all those years ago. He was infatuated with you from the first time he saw you, smiling and laughing with your friends, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He introduced himself, you shouted your name back, grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor. He kissed you when you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. God, your lips tasted like sugar from those damn overly sweet drinks. 

Your head surfaces from the couch, the sight of you wounds him… red rimmed eyes, tear streaked face, and puffy lips. You look like hell and yet you’re more beautiful than any gorgeous actress he’s acted alongside. 

He joins you on the couch, gathering your blanket covered form in his arms trying to calm your shaking sobs with a kiss against the top of your head. He rocks you like a baby, shushing you and holding you tight. His big brown eyes blink back tears, tamping down the guilt he feels over how much he loves holding you. 

He’s never been good at these situations, he’s a great actor and can cry on command, but when it comes to consoling and emotions, he’s always easily overwhelmed. His mind races, too terrified to do wrong by you; all he can think of is your favorite movie. He grabs the remote, navigating the menu to play the film. He might forget where he puts his keys or what he has for breakfast but he always remembers everything about you. Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant battle for Katherine Hepburn’s heart. Ouch. He wishes he would have fought harder for you all those years ago.

You cuddle into his arms closer, sniffling out a soft “thank you” when the movie begins.

Tracy breaks Dex’s golf club. He hopes you’ll do the same to Warren’s once you summon the strength. 

Dieter also loves this movie, the both of you first connected over your shared love of classic cinema. You wanted to act, Warren put an end to that… he didn’t want to ‘share you’ with the world. He’s so tired of Warren’s bullshit, he’s so fucking pissed off, all of those wasted years you could have been happy alone… or with him. 

He’s so angry he could kill Warren. He reminds himself now’s not the time for vexation, settling deeper against the soft cushions, cradling and softly assuring he’s here for you. Dex walks back into Tracy’s life on the screen; he prays Warren won’t be able to do the same. He calms his anger at Warren by pretending he’s here watching a movie with his favorite girl, ignoring the reality that he’s holding your shattered heart and body, picking up the mess that his so-called “good guy” best friend made. He’ll take Warren’s mess any day.

Your bleary eyes focus on the black and white film playing on the TV. He wipes the tears from your cheeks and moves to pull his hand away. A tiny “no, stay” whimpers out of your mouth, his fingers remain. He doesn’t stop gently rubbing your soft skin through the whole movie. 

Mike professes his feelings to Tracy. “No, you're made out of flesh and blood. That's the blank, unholy surprise of it. You're the golden girl, Tracy. Full of life and warmth and delight. What goes on? You've got tears in your eyes.”

He feels the quote in his bones, in his heart, in every single drug and drink he’s taken trying to get you out of his head. You’re golden, Warren has left you rusted. 

It’s always been you. His marriage to Anika, he stood at the altar dreaming of you walking through that Las Vegas chapel doorway. The dissolution of those vows arriving soon after, he signed his name on the divorce papers while giddily anticipating your arrival to soothe him. His fuckboy ways he’s now so famous for, he always thinks about touching your body and hearing your moans whenever he enters whatever pretty person opens their legs for him. 

The credits roll. You sit up and stretch while he mourns the loss of your body against his.

“Do you need anything?” He asks, adjusting the blanket on your shoulders. 

“No,” you croak out, “I– thank you for coming over. I think this is it Dee, I can’t do this again. What did I do wrong?” Your head buries into your hands, a new batch of tears begin falling.

“No, no, no, baby, no,” he grabs your arms, wrapping his hands over yours and squeezing. “You’ve done nothing wrong, nothing wrong at all. Warren– he’s,” he sighs, “I don’t even recognize the friend I once knew.” 

Your solemn nod and downcast eyes almost causes his heart to break and fall on the ground next to yours. 

“Sweets, he’s a fucking idiot,” he tries to stop his words from coming out, but he loses the fight. Blame it on too many years of standing to the side and watching Warren slowly take away everything you loved brick by brick. “You a–you are brilliant, funny, beautiful, caring, y-you deserve the world.”

“You just have to say that…” your voice is so small, so infantile. 

“I don’t,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from divulging more. “Trust me Sweets, I–I don’t.”

He dreams of the moment he’ll be able to tell you how he feels, how he’s always felt, how hard it’s been to watch his closest friend snuff out the light of the girl of his dreams, how he’ll never forgive himself for standing idly by while escaping in a haze of drugs and alcohol. Easy vices he found that could never mend his envious heart. 

He changes the subject, distracts you, and mostly himself, from letting his true feelings out. “Did you want to watch another movie?”

“No,” you shake your head, “I really want a bath. I feel so dry, my eyes are burning.”

He tucks down the thoughts of you in a bathtub, on normal days he’d send himself down a spiral thinking of you naked, rubbing soap across your body, humming a contented sigh and stretching out your relaxed limbs. 

“I’ll go get it ready for you,” he says, rising off the couch and heading towards the stairs.

“C-could you do it in the guest room? I-I don’t want to be in… our room alone,” your voice cracks with embarrassment.  

He turns back to you, his head falls at your request and the look of shame across your face. He strides over and kneels in front of you, gathering your hands in his and holding them tight. “Whatever you need Sweets,” he stares into your eyes, “whatever you need.”

A small smile lifts the side of your mouth, his heart thumps against his chest at the realization he made you happy. “Thank you Dee, you’re the best.”

He nods before standing up and heading for the guest room upstairs. 

Each step he takes the more his sense of duty to help and improve your terrible day blooms inside of him. He walks into the guest room, the same room he stays in when he parties too much, usually because alcohol helps him numb the want for you he holds inside. He flicks the bathroom light on, admiring everything you designed, this house is your house, he’s going to fight like hell to make sure you keep it. 

He turns the tap on making sure the water is hot enough for you before placing a towel on the stool next to the tub. He wonders where you always get the fluffiest towels from, just another layer of your softness and care for the things around you. A bottle of bath oil lays on the tub edge, he picks it up and smells the sweet scent of almond and honey before pouring a bit into the warm water. 

He turns around when he hears you walk into the bathroom. A shy smile is on your face, you’re still so beautiful even when you look utterly devastated. 

“I think it’s warm enough for you,” he says, swishing his hand in the bathwater. “Do you want the jets?”

“I’ll take care of it Dee, thanks,” you begin unbuttoning your pajama top, revealing your light pink bra. You’re so comfortable in front of him, if only you knew the way he thinks about you. Dieter swallows, and with the heaviest most unreluctant body moves around you to the doorway. He’d do anything to watch this, but not tonight. You’re too vulnerable, he can’t take advantage of his dream. 

“Just let me know if you need anything,” he offers before shutting the door, hating that he knows it’s best to be a better man.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a guilty smirk develops when he realizes it’s the same bed he’d touch himself on whenever he’d overhear your moans as Warren took the body Dieter always craved. He plays with the gold ring in his ear, he wonders if Warren’s still wearing his wedding ring.

His head perks when he hears the sound of your feet dipping into the tub, your body settling into the water, and the sigh you let out as you relax into the warm bath. He fights the lust coursing through his body, you’re naked and only ten feet away from him. 

Distract, distract, distract, he thinks to himself reaching for the remote and turning the TV on to a rerun of South Park; he turns the volume down, he just can’t fathom drowning out the sounds of your bath, he likes hearing the whoosh of water as you move. 

“Dee,” you shout from the bathroom, “I–can you get me my robe from my room? It’s hanging up behind the bathroom door.” 

“Of course,” he steadfastly gets up, “I’ll be right back.” 

The last time he was in your room was when you and Warren purchased the house, he still remembers the jealousy he felt that day; watching Warren kiss his pretty wife in his brand new picturesque house complete with the shiny white picket fence. Norman fucking Rockwell could never paint a more perfect picture of suburban paradise. 

He looks at the bed with the pretty floral quilt laid atop it… you’re probably so warm and soft to sleep next to. There’s a frame on your bedside table holding a photo of you and Warren laughing on some grand vacation he probably took you on to get back in your good graces. He wonders what it would be like to feel your head against his chest, to have you so close he could feel your laughter vibrate against him. You have all sorts of lotions and tchotchkes on your table, quite a contrast from the clean table top on Warren’s side. He can almost hear his friend’s voice complaining about all of your clutter. 

He finds your robe and brings the soft downy fabric to his nose inhaling the scent of you, this must be what an angel smells like. So sweet.

He takes one last glance at your bed and imagines seeing you asleep under the covers, leaving you in your peaceful slumber every morning and going downstairs to make you coffee. He gets lost in his fantasy while walking back to the guest room, ignoring the photos of you and Warren that hang on the walls.

He taps against the bathroom door and holds out your robe, the thought crosses his mind yet again that you’re behind the ornate white piece of wood fully naked. You crack open the door, peeking your head out, your hair is wet, he tries to shush his brain thinking about how wet the rest of your body must be. You look better, more fresh faced; a sense of pride settles inside of him that he’s helped you tonight.

“Thank you Dee,” you smile and grab the robe before closing the door. 

He settles on the bed, stretching out on the mattress and resting his back against the headboard. Nervousness rears its head for what comes next. He knows he’s going to see you soon, your relaxed body will be wrapped in your soft robe… he has to be good and resist any sort of desire. He hasn’t been good at saying no to temptation, but you’re so much more special than a joint, a drink, or a pill. 

The bathroom door opens, there you are, freshly bathed and beautiful, your legs peek out from under the fleece fabric.

He swallows when you climb on the bed and sit next to him. Your legs are smooth and shiny from your bath, his mouth waters at the sight.

“He hated cartoons,” you whisper.

“I know,” he whispers back.

“I like cartoons,” you say, picking at a loose piece of fleece on your robe.

“I know. Cartoons are the best,” he doesn’t know how else to respond.

Your heart might be fractured right now, but the comfortable silence that’s shared between the two of you makes his heart race as the four kids from South Park get caught in hi-jinks. You chuckle as Butters gets adopted by Paris Hilton. He loves your laugh, hearing it tonight means even more to him. 

You scoot closer to him, he tries to calm his rapid heartbeat and breathing when you place your head on his chest. You smell of that saccharine bath oil he poured, he tamps down the thoughts of how it’d taste on your skin. 

“Dieter,” your head angles up to look at him, “c-can you sleep here with me?”

“Of course baby,” stop calling her baby, “a-anything you need.” 

“I’m just… I-I’m so tired and I don’t want to–”

“You don’t have to say a thing,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you closer. 

You yawn a “thank you,” as your eyes flutter shut against his chest. 

Fucking Warren, you’re a goddamn idiot rushes through his head. He would give everything up to feel this every night. The Oscar, the mansion, the designer clothes, the luxury cars, gone in a blink of an eye if he could feel this sensation over and over again. To protect you, to console you, to love you… He lays wide awake next to you, his arm stays wrapped around your beautiful sleeping form all night. 

He can’t imagine what the next few days, weeks, and months will be like for you, all he can do right now is hold you in this guest bedroom bed and vow to stand by your side once you wake. He wishes he would have intervened earlier, saved you from ever feeling this way, of ever thinking you weren’t worth the world. 

Soft snores escape your slightly ajar mouth, you look so peaceful and beautiful. He’s dreamt of being able to wake up to this sight every morning ever since that first night in the bar, when he should have been the one to take you home… not Warren. 

Next Chapter

[writeroutoftime]

pawns in your game

pairing: cassian x fem!reader

summary: when you get injured working a job with rhys, your mate - worried for your safety - loses it and finally lets go of his pent up anger

warnings: angst, injury towards reader, cass getting angry at rhys and also rhys kinda being a dick (look I have a lot of thoughts of conversations that never happened in acosf lol - I just hope this isn't horribly ooc)

words: 1.3k

a/n: first cassian fic! honestly, I know I said I'm in love with rhys, but it's the same for cass and az - so this one is for my fellow cassian people! wasn't sure how to wrap this up, so I left it open for a part 2. let me know if anyone is interested and/or has any ideas? but either way, please enjoy!! (also, if you could let me know what you think because I'm so nervous about posting this!)

tagging @captainsophiestark as requested! (hope you're having a lovely day!)

oOoOo

"Cassian, I need you to visit Windhaven and deal with Devlon. I'm getting reports of unrest, and I want this handled before it becomes a problem." Rhys commanded, not looking up from the papers on his desk.

Standing at attention, Cass nodded his head once, sharply. "Of course. I will go and pack, so that y/n and I may leave before the sun sets." He moved to exit the room, holding his hand out for you, but was quickly stopped before either of you got too far.

"Actually, y/n, I need you to accompany me." Rhys interrupted, directing his attention to you.

Your jaw dropped, caught off guard, and you hurried to school your features. It was not that you had to be paired with Cassian for all missions, but it had been that way for at least a century now since your mating ceremony. It served as peace of mind to you and Cass, and usually meant your missions were more successful compared to when you were separated. Surely, Rhys understood that.

"We will be leaving for the Spring Court in the morning, and I need my most trusted courtier with me."

Shock ran through your body, but you nodded your head regardless. It must be a serious matter, for you had not visited the Spring Court in many months. However, you instantly felt a sharp tug of your mating bond followed by waves of anger that poured off of Cassian.

"Spring Court?" he ground out, fists clenched at his side. "Why must you travel to the Spring Court? I thought we put that behind us?"

"Because I have official business to conduct with Tamlin that supersedes our personal desires. And I need the Night Court's courtier present for." Rhys snapped back.

You sent a soothing message down the bond, trying to calm Cass' anger you felt growing with each second that passed. "Cass, it's alright. Both of us will be fine."

"No. Rhys, you know what happened the last time any of us stepped foot there. You really want to risk it? Can't you send anyone else to go? Lucien, Mor, Feyre?"

Now it was Rhys' turn to growl. "Watch it, Cassian. I've told y/n she will accompany to Spring and that's enough."

"But can't you just-"

"I said that's enough!" Rhys shouted, his eyes darkened dangerously as the thread of his patience snapped. "I am your High Lord, and you will not push back against what I command."

A tension so thick that it threatened to choke you immediately filled the room. You kept your eyes locked on the ground, but you didn't have to look to know Cass wore a mask of despair on his face. It had been decades since Rhys had lost his temper like that.

Cassian merely bowed his head in mock respect before dragging you from the room. He did not speak for the next hour, only doing so to whisper his love and goodbye to you, before flying to Windhaven, not saying another word to Rhys.

oOoOo

The next day found yourself in the ruins of the Spring Court. What once was a beautiful court that thrived for all its citizens now lay dilapidated and lonely, a reflection of the court's high lord's own feelings. It had rattled your nerves to set foot on Tamlin's territory considering the rocky history between the Spring and Night courts, but you would not leave Rhys' side.

Now, you were utterly exhausted from mediating with two, stubborn males all day; only for no new development to transpire, meaning you simply wasted a day away from your own court and your mate. Your only relief came from the swift exit Rhys insisted on, making sure you would arrive home before the sun set.

Yet, the tension from the previous day lingered as you and Rhys traveled to the border to be able to winnow out. But as you both walked in silence, you couldn't help but feel uneasy. Like someone, or something was watching you. Before you could communicate any of this to Rhys, you caught a solider out of the corner of your eye with an arrow notched and aimed at your high lord.

"Look out!" you shouted. With such little warning, you knew Rhys wouldn't be able to deflect the arrow on his own. And with a rush of adrenaline, you pushed your body to reach Rhys.

Mere seconds before the arrow could lodge itself in its initial target, your body collided with Rhys', knocking him out of the way and safely to the ground. Instead, the arrow lodged itself deep in your shoulder, burning like a thousand fires. You let out a guttural scream, immediately dropping to the ground. 

Being part of the Inner Circle - the Court of Dreams - meant you were no stranger to pain, but this was unlike anything you ever thought existed. Very briefly, you recognized that Rhys had neutralized the threat and now hovered over your body. 

His face was contorted in pain and tears clouded his eyes. He moved to pull the arrow from your body, but halted the moment he touched it. Your scream reverberated in the stone courtyard. 

"y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." he cried, never seeing you like this. Quickly, Rhys gathered you in his arms and winnowed back to Velaris and directly into the med wing. He prayed Madja could mend the wounds, and he blanched at the thought of Cassian discovering the events that had played out. 

oOoOo

Meanwhile, in the Windhaven camp, Cassian was meeting with a handful of males, attempting to negotiate peace. His focus wavered, however, as a blinding wave of agony struck his heart through his bond. He froze on the spot, his heart stopped pumping blood. While on a mission, the two of you had agreed to keep the bond closed - for safety reasons. The fact that he could feel this immense pain, meant something very wrong had occurred. 

"I-I have to go." Cassian mumbled, not bothering to offer any more explanation to the Illyrians - consequences be damned.

Immediately, he took to the skies and started the flight back to Velaris. The already long flight felt like it took an eternity. The wind strung at Cassian's cheeks as he soared, but the pain didn't register like the way the bond sung in pain.

Finally, Cass could see River House in his site, and when he finally entered the house, he was met with the site of his family huddled together in the sitting room. All eyes turned his way, a mixture of pity and concern as they looked at him. 

"What happened? Where is y/n?" he demanded, fully stepping into his role as Lord of Bloodshed, eyes darkened and wings drawn out menacingly.

Before anyone could answer, another scream could be heard from the halls. Cassian's knees buckled, and he would have fallen to the floor if Azriel hadn't been standing by. Rhys blocked his path, unable to meet his brother's eye.

"She was attacked, brother. We were ambushed while visiting the Spring Court." Rhys whispered.

"And they attacked her?" Cass questioned, though he knew deep down that wasn't the case. When Rhys, or anyone else for that matter, refused to speak, Cassian growled. "What happened?"

Unable to speak, Rhysand gently scraped against Cassian's mental shields and projected to him the whole truth of what had happened at the Spring Court; the ambush, you pushing yourself into harm's way for the sake of Rhys, and the pain you felt from the moment the arrow struck your body.

As Rhys withdrew himself from his brother's mind, Cass drew, deep rugged breaths. The silence in the room was so thick it felt suffocating, but no one dared to move or speak first. However, instead of speaking, Cass pushed past everyone and demanded his way into your room to be by your side.

One look at your crumpled form, sent Cassian to his knees by your bedside. He reached out, hesitantly, to grasp your hand in his and allowed the tears to fall. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart." he mumbled.

Madja made herself known from the corner, approaching Cass the way one would a frightened animal. "The arrow she was shot with was laced with a terrible poison - much worse than faebane. I've done my best, but some of the poison already made it to her system."

"When will she wake up?" Cass asked, not allowing the possibility of you never waking to cross his lips.

The healer sighed deeply, looking over the famed general, now brought to his knees at the sight of his mate fighting for her life. "Only the Cauldron and Mother know. It will be up to y/n to bring herself back from the brink." Madja spoke slowly.

With a final, soothing touch to Cass's shoulder, Madja made her exit. Now off to deliver the same news to the rest of your waiting family.

"Please don't leave me. Y-you can't leave me." Cass whispered, clutching your hand. "I'm here with you every step of the way." he vowed.

oOoOo

And that was how it continued for the next four days as your body continued to try and heal itself from the inside out. Cass refused to move from the chair he had dragged to sit by your bed. Unwilling to leave your side for even a moment.

The rest of his family took turns sitting with you and Cass, bringing him meals, forcing him to at least take a bite. He knew that everyone else was suffering as well from your situation, but it felt like his heart was being torn apart, bit by bit, with each hour that passed and you still remained asleep.

He wasn't stupid. He knew the longer you went without improvement, the less likely it became you would heal. Cass heard the hushed conversations Mor and Azriel held outside your door, discussing what to do should the worst happen, Cauldron forbid.

It was on that fourth day that Cassian reached a tipping point. He heard the door creak open behind him, imagining it was Amren who would be sitting with him, based on the previous days' schedule.

What Cass had not anticipated was to see his High Lord approach the bed and pull a chair up on the opposite side of your bed. It was obvious to see the prominent dark circles that overtook Rhys's normally bright face, and the way his body and seemingly sunk into itself. But Cass could not bring himself to care for his brother's guilt or be the first to utter a word.

With a wave of his hand, Rhys summoned a tray of food for Cassian, and only sighed when he rejected the peace offering. Finally, Rhys found a sliver of courage and was the first to break the silence.

"Madja has yet to make headway on identifying the poison y/n was hit with, but she is not giving up. None of us are." he offered, unsure of how to breach the subject.

Rhysand could only imagine what Cassian was experiencing. The pain of losing Feyre had been so immense, but in a twisted sense, at least it had been quick. A blink of an eye and she was gone. Rhys didn't think he would have been strong enough to sit vigil, feeling her fade through the bond with each passing minute.

"Stop looking at me like she's already gone." Cass growled, eyes darkening towards Rhys.

"Brother, I only want to help her, and to support you."

"I think you've done quite enough. It's your fault she's even in this position to begin with." he spat, enjoying the way that Rhys flinched at his words.

"Now that's not fair, Cassian." Rhys tried to counter. "I never asked her to that for me."

Cass could only scoff at the High Lord's response. "Of course, you didn't have to ask. You're the fucking High Lord, of course she was going to risk her life for you. Isn't that we all do here?"

"All of you, y/n including, knew what you were getting into, what the dangers were, when you swore allegiance to my court. You don't get to throw that back on me. You think this doesn't hurt me just as it hurts you?"

"No, it fucking doesn't!" Cassian screamed, his blood boiling at this point. "Because you use us like your puppets to protect you and your mate-"

"Careful how you continue, Cassian." Rhysand warned, not caring for slander against his mate, even in Cass's state of grief.

"Ever since this "death bargain" you and Feyre struck, it's like the rest of us don't matter. All we do is making sure your asses aren't killed because Cauldron forbid the saviors of Prythian are stolen from us." Cassian blazed on. "Yes, you've lost your mate before, Rhys, but she came back to you, and you to her.

"Who will remake y/n if she can't fight this? You and your High Lady are so far up on your pedestal that you don't know what it's like for the rest of us. Yes, we understood what our duties would entail, but that doesn't mean we have to continue to stand for this." Cassian spat, finally allowing years of pent-up fear and anger to spill over.

With one last, murderous, glare, Cassian turned his back on Rhysand, letting his words ring out for all in the House to hear. His wings stretched out behind him, hiding both you and he from Rhys, the Night Court, and the rest of the world. If it was to only be the two of you against everyone else from that point on, so be it.

part 2

oOoOo

a/n: part 2?

[cosmicanakin]

Hi, can you do an imagine about pranking vinnie, and telling him to try not to annoy you today, please

★ PRANKS.

੭୧ . . . vinnie hacker x female!reader.

ᯓ you prank your boyfriend by telling him not to annoy you and it backfires, which wasn't what you expected.

warning(s) angst┆pranks┆emotional distress┆crying. 𓇼 thank you for requesting anon babe ! i'm sorry if it wasn't exactly how you wanted it but i hope you enjoy <3 mature content!

　✧⠀ ⠀⠀　𓈒　⠀⠀ ⠀૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ꪆৎ masterlist.

you wake up feeling mischievous, plotting a prank to play on your unsuspecting boyfriend vinnie. thinking up the perfect plan to really mess with him, you can't help the smirk forming as he slowly stirs awake.

leaning over, you whisper in his ear "good morning baby." however, your usually sweet tone holds an underlying edge of irritation that has vinnie blinking in confusion. before he can say anything, you continue in a clipped manner.

"i'm already annoyed so don't bother me at all for the rest of the day, okay? i mean it." his eyebrows furrow, clearly taken aback by your sharp words. searching your face for any sign that it's a joke, hurt washes over him as you give no indication you don't seriously want space.

"okay..." he says hesitantly, hurt flickering in his eyes as he climbs out of bed. part of you feels guilty seeing how your prank is already affecting him, but you're determined to commit fully to the bit. hopefully he'll catch on soon that you're messing with him.

throughout the morning, vinnie keeps his distance as asked, seeming uneasy and unsure what to do to not annoy you further. any attempts at jokes or affection are met with exaggerated irritation, cementing in his mind that you genuinely need space from him.

it grows harder to maintain your façade as his usual cheerfulness fades into guarded silence. by midday, remorse is gnawing a hole in your gut seeing how dejected vinnie appears. when he recoils from your touch with worried eyes, you can no longer take it.

"vinnie, i need to tell you something," you start, grabbing his arm as he tries to walk away. he pauses but doesn't turn, shoulders hunched in defeatedly. "this was all just a stupid prank baby, i don't actually want space from you."

whirling around, hurt and anger flash across his features. "a prank? i thought you were seriously pissed off at me! you had me questioning everything all day," he shouts, hurt turning to rage the longer he processes how badly you messed with him.

"i'm sorry, it was just a joke. i didn't mean to actually upset you,” you scramble to apologize but he brushes past, heading for the door. "where are you going?" panic surges through you, worrying you may have broken the fragile trust between you.

"i just need to be alone for a while, i can't even look at you right now," he spits venomously before slamming the front door behind him. collapsing to the floor, you pull your knees up to your chest as quiet sobs escape your lips.

hours pass with no word from vinnie, your texts and calls going unanswered in a painful silence. night falls heavily, adding to your despair wondering if you pushed him too far this time. just as you're about to give up hope, the door creaks open slowly.

lifting your head, you see vinnie standing uncertainly in the doorway, eyes puffy and red-rimmed from his own tears. without a word, he crosses over and falls into your waiting embrace, holding on for dear life. neither of you speak for a long while, simply taking comfort in being close again.

finally, vinnie pulls back enough to look at you with watery eyes. "i'm still so fucking mad at you but i love you too much to walk away. just promise me no more stupid pranks, okay?" he pleads brokenly.

"i promise, i'm so sorry sweetheart. can you ever forgive me?" you ask, cupping his face gently. he nods, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips in acceptance of your apology. holding each other tightly, you both silently vow to communicate better to avoid such hurt in the future.

your love proves stronger than any misstep could fracture, bonding that transcends fleeting fallouts. here in sanctuary of each other's arms rediscovered, all remnants of shadows melt under floods of forgiveness' warmth. two souls learn as one, growing through missteps refined to blossoms entwining roots anchored in understanding deeper than any sea. this you vow eternally, to cherish the blossoms arising where hearts intertwine.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Teeth

Part 21

Masterlist

Werepanther!Billy Russo x Female Reader

Warnings: Full moon insanity, angst, mentions of stalking, oral (f), consensual, rough, unprotected sex.

Hard shout out to @idaofinfinity and @ittybxttykxttytxtty for helping me so much through wanting/ not wanting to write. I push myself too hard, I know, and I am forever grateful that you both encourage me to take breaks. I hope this rocks your socks off.

It’s stuck in his head.

The way you looked when he told you he was leaving.

The pain in your voice, the smell of your despair in the air.

There was no one more sorry than Billy Russo right now.

He sits in the isolation room of his design, his head resting against the concrete wall, the panther whining like a pained animal inside his mind, agonising over the way he hurt you, begging him to go back to you and make things right.

He closes his eyes.

He hadn’t meant to do it like that, so suddenly, he was going to ease you into it, tell you he’d gotten a work call, that he may have to respond, and then apologetically depart a while later, hoping to free you of some of the pain.

Instead, he’d blurted it out in the same moment that you’d finally admitted to him that you were ready.

To be fair, that very admittance had been the catalyst that had shoved him into an early spiral, the beast inside of him had started roaring in his mind, he’d almost lost control right in front of you.

He'd done it to protect you, that’s the only thing that puts him at ease. The possibilities of what could have happened if he were to remain in your presence worried him. The first time you'd been together, he'd bruised your wrist, there was no telling what he might do accidentally with the full moon almost overhead.

He takes a deep breath in and he can smell you, your scent still lingers on him. He'll have to get rid of his clothes if he plans to stay sane in here.

The panther fights him, tries to force him to shift prematurely. He groans, his entire body aching as he tries to resist it. He falls onto his side, his teeth elongates, breathing shallow. 

He fights harder, tries to manage his breathing like Frank taught him all those years ago. He hates the way he doesn't have control the way other shifters do, that his past still affects him, even now.

He'll never be free of it, he worries he'll have to hide from you on every full moon to protect you from the beast inside of him, he'll always have to look over his shoulder, too afraid to lose control, too scared to give in to himself.

At least he can let go here, far enough away where he can't hurt you, or scare you with his bloodlust. 

One of the bones in his shoulder bends. He grunts, takes a deep breath, waiting for the impending break to happen, his body trying to reshape him before he's ready.

It's the fight that makes it more painful, if he was compliant in his loss of control, the shift would hurt less. The pain helps though, keeps him human. He feels the burn of sweat as it drips into his eye.

After a few agonizing moments, the wave subsides, and he can sit up once more, leaning against the wall. 

There are two screens across from him, built into the wall to protect it, one shows the live security footage surrounding the abandoned building he was in, near the outskirts of the city, the other shows the security footage of his home.

He's got a couple of cameras on the surroundings, but there's one in particular he watches, the only one inside of his house. It sits in the corner of his kitchen, overlooking the main hallways, and just in the corner he can see his living room as well.

He did warn you about the camera before he left, advised that he might check in from time to time. He wonders if that was your motivation for sitting at his kitchen counter and working right now.

He takes a deep breath, relaxes, watches the way you look while you work.

It sort of calms him, to see you, there’s just something so peaceful about you and the way you move. He wants to lie beside you and watch you, he yearns for those small moments where you're deep in your own thoughts.

Outside, he hears the soft drops of rain beginning to fall, like static, it fills the room, helps him focus his thoughts.

Now more than ever, he thinks about his dreams of lying next to you, something in his chest unknots, the idea of eternal peace at your side eases him into a shallow sleep.

.

The first night after Billy left was the worst.

It wasn't the silence, so much as the lack of his presence in the house. It's like you could feel his absence, as if something warm in the room had disappeared, leaving your very insides frigid. 

You'd tossed and turned in your own room, struggling with feeling too hot or too uncomfortable, fighting hard to succumb to your exhaustion, but nothing would let you. 

You’d drank tea to calm yourself, quiet music to soothe your mind, you’d even tried an audiobook that you’d listened to a thousand times because the voice actor had a particularly soothing voice.

Nothing.

There was always something wrong.

After a few hours of frustration, you'd sat up, pushed your sheets off, and stepped softly into the hallway.

You'd approached his room slowly, not out of fear, but with curiosity, wondering what his room would look and feel like when he wasn’t here to fill the space. Pushing his door open, you'd felt something so different overcome you.

It had been so much cozier in his room, the warmth you'd been searching for had cocooned you the minute you'd taken a seat on his bed. The sheets were soft on your legs, you couldn't resist lying down.

You could smell him, his earthy scent with just a touch of citrus and when you'd closed your eyes, you swear he was still here, right around the corner, out of reach, but still present.

It leaves an excited twist in your stomach, that you can curl up in his bed, grip the pillows he sleeps on, breathe him in.

It makes falling asleep so easy, that you could never understand what the problem was in the first place.

While getting ready for work the next day, you push open his closet door, searching for something of his that you can wear, to have him close. 

You grab one of his blazers, finding a way to match the aesthetic so that it looks like it belongs to you.

It’s a little big on you, welcoming still, and you steal a scarf as well to battle the chill outdoors.

At work, you feel a thrill at wearing his items, delight in the fact that no one knows you wear his things and you sleep in his bed.

Work is monotonous without him though, every little spare minute you have makes you want to amble up to his office excitedly, only for your thoughts to stop in their tracks at the reminder that he won’t be there.

Dinah even checks on you at lunch, and while you’re happy to see her, her responses are clipped and perhaps a little more frigid than usual. You wonder if it’s because of his absence, if the only reason she bothered to put up with you was because of him. 

You try not to overthink that. Maybe it was something as simple as her own job being frustrating.

She takes off shortly after checking in, leaving you alone with only your thoughts to keep you company.

It’s a big difference from life with him to life without him, the only thing keeping you intact is that there’s only one more day and then hopefully he’ll be back with you again.

At the end of the day, you smile politely at Sergei as he holds the door of the car open for you. Outside is freezing, and you’re glad to be in the warm vehicle, shedding your jacket and scarf as the heat soaks into your body.

The moon is full, and so effortlessly beautiful tonight, you can’t help smiling up at it, wondering if the myth about shapeshifters and full moons were true.

You marvel quietly at the realisation that you knew shapeshifters existed, and yet you managed to not tell a soul. You raise your hands, fingers tracing the panther hanging around your neck, hoping that wherever he was, that he was okay.

.

The back of his head hits the wall, sweat cascading down his neck as he pants.

All he can hear is his own rapid exchange of breath, and the sound of his fingers clawing at the concrete below him.

He grunts, pressing his teeth together as another wave of pain hits, his vision going dark, one of his ribs snap and he flinches, hunching forward.

It was almost time, the moon only hours away from its peak, he feels saliva drip from his mouth as his teeth grow too large for his mouth to remain closed.

The soft rain from before falls more intensely now, he imagines what it would feel like on his skin, uses the thought to steady himself. He’s been fighting the shift all day, but soon he’ll be able to give in, soon, the panther and him will become one.

Something on the monitor catches his eye. Someone moving through the downpour outside of the building. He can’t see their face, can barely make out the figure with the way his vision swims.

The cameras follow the motion, he watches something be left at the front door of the building.

He struggles to a stand, reaching for his phone hidden behind the monitor, uses his thumbprint to unlock the large iron door keeping him in the basement.

He tries to be quick, but his struggle with the panther slows him down, by the time he makes it to the front door, any trace of the stranger is gone.

He suspects it may be the stalker, but he can’t risk the chase right now, reaching to pick up the item left behind, a small lightweight box.

He gives it a hefty shake, hears the sound of fabric swishing.

He knows he shouldn’t be opening it, but instinct has taken over, he doesn’t smell anything dangerous, but opening a potentially dangerous package is still risky.

He blinks in confusion when he finds one of his scarves folded neatly in the box. Eyebrows drawn together, he pulls the scarf out, he can smell his own scent on it, and something else that drives him to bring the material up to his nose for a deep breath.

His eyes roll back in his head when he catches the pure scent of you, and when he finally breathes in your sweet pheromones, he finally realises the danger you’re in.

He scrambles back into the basement, tripping, the panther fighting him with full force. He initiates maximum lockdown and throws his body as far away from the door as possible. 

You’re ovulating, he can smell it on the scarf, and the timelines make sense. He shakes his head, clenches his fist as the clawing inside of his mind grows frantic.

The beast inside of him wants you. Now. It fights to go to you, to find you, wherever your sweet body hides. He wants you, to drink you greedily down until he’s satisfied.

He’s your biggest threat now.

He hits the wall, again and again, fighting something intangible with every bit of himself.

The scarf is at his feet, he doesn’t remember bringing it in, but it barely matters now, he reaches for it, brings it to his face again, before flinging it away.

The sound of his own heartbeat fills his ears, the sound of his breathing all accumulates into an overbearing din in his head. He tries to cover his ears but it doesn’t help. 

Everything is too loud, growing louder by the second, until it’s too much, until he can’t take it anymore.

Billy squeezes his eyes shut, and lets out a pure, unrestrained roar.

And then, everything quiets.

He straightens, takes a few calm breaths.

He finds his phone, typing in the four-digit pin, and answering the security question with ease despite his complete inability to think. When he’s done, his hand crushes it into fragments before dropping it to the floor.

He steps out of the room, the full moon above head, with only one destination in mind.

.

Your evening had been peaceful as you’d learned to appreciate being alone. You’d sipped on a warm mug of tea and sat in his sun room while the rain had poured all around you. 

It was calming, and when you’d closed your eyes, you’d imagined him behind you, tucked against you while the world moved around you. It was such a serene thought, it made you miss him so much more. You wanted that with him, and you could only hope that he would want that too.

The evening had been uneventful, you’d taken out your laptop and sat in his kitchen to get a little bit of work done, hoping that he would send you a message to tell you he was doing okay, but you know that was unlikely when he was this busy.

The rain had gotten progressively worse, and by the time you’d climbed into his bed, it was almost a full downpour.

You’re sleeping soundly in his bed when the sharp crack of thunder wakes you.

You wake with a gasp, vision hazy as you blink, another flash of lightning waking you up just a little more.

You sit up, rubbing one eye as you look around.

A large shadow looms in the corner of your eye and you gasp, turning to it, your heart jumping into your throat in fear.

The room is moderately lit, and you manage to discern Billy almost immediately, the panic in your body dissipating.

“Oh my fucking God, you scared the shit out of me.” You gasp, keeling over to rest your head against the pillow, trying to calm your racing heart.

He doesn’t say anything, and the next time you look up at him, he’s still in the same spot, staring at you. He looks a little damp, his hair slicked back and you figure he must have walked through the rain to get here.

It unsettles you a little, you tilt your head, examining his white t-shirt and joggers, noting that his beard has grown a little longer than when you last saw him.

When he tilts his head to mimic you, face stoic,  you gulp.

“Are you alright?” You ask, stomach flipping as he takes a slow stride toward you.

You study the serious expression on his face, wondering if he was angry at coming home to find you in his bed, even though he had offered it to you before he left. 

Maybe you’d overstayed?

“I can leave if you want.” You suggest sleepily, pulling back the sheets to begin climbing out of his bed.

“Stop.” He says, and his low voice, almost a grovel, sends tingles down your spine, though you’re unable to separate the excitement from that small seed of fright within you.

You watch him approach, and after a small second of thinking, you feel the need to voice your concerns over the intensity of his gaze.

“You’re scaring me a little.” You confess on a breath.

He blinks, and then stops moving.

“I’m sorry.” He finally says, taking a step back, “I- shouldn’t be here.”

For the first time, you finally see the Billy you’re used to.

“No, it’s okay.” You say quickly, climbing out of bed to take his hand in yours, his rough palm sending tingles up your arm.

“You just scared me a little, I wasn’t expecting you back, but you can sleep next to me, I don’t mind.” You tug him to the bed, but he pauses just before you can climb in.

You look back at him in confusion, and then your stomach flips when his other hand raises to cup the back of your neck. Though his touch is gentle, it warns of something untamed below, pulling you closer to him.

You blink slowly, as scattering sparks spread where he touches you, mouth parting at the feeling he gives you, so much need for him swells inside of you.

He pulls you against his chest, and you go easily, wrapping your arms around his torso to try making him feel more comfortable. Though his hands are cold, his chest is warm, reminding you of how badly you’ve been longing for him.

His arms wrap around you too. You feel his face press to the top of your head, hear him take a deep breath, before a low rumble leaves his chest.

“You smell good.” He says.

“Thanks?” You offer, unsure.

His hands move, reaching down to grip your hips, and then smooth over the small of your back. You suck in a deep breath to fight your own urges.

He kisses the top of your head softly, and then he’s cupping your jaw to tilt your face upward, eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet your forehead, then adjusting your head, to place another to your temple.

“You’re pretty.” He murmurs into your ear, before he kisses your cheek. 

“Thank you.” You breathe, more accepting to his compliments now,  eyes still closed as his lips roam over your cheek, growing closer and closer to your mouth.

When he gets close to your mouth, he pauses, making your chest grind with want.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, a hit of teasing in his voice, as if you would deny him, as if you could. You smile softly, tilting your head up.

“Yes.” You say in a hushed tone, biting down hard on your lip to keep you oriented.

“Sure?” He baits, his mouth at the very corner of yours, his breath, featherlight on your skin, your desire like a pit in your throat that refuses to be swallowed.

“Why are you being so mean?” You whisper, as his lips grow closer, your eyes are barely open, but you still catch his devious smile.

He pushes at your shoulders, a shocked gasp of surprise leaving your lips as you feel your feet slip from under you. You fall backwards, his soft bed catching you easily.

Almost immediately, you sit up, looking up at him in disbelief, unaccustomed to such… ferity. 

He doesn’t let you speak, or even think, before he moves, cupping your face in his hands and slanting his mouth over yours.

An explosion goes off in your head, your hands gripping the sheets almost painfully, eyes squeezed shut, trying to press your lips even firmer to his. Everywhere he touches, burns with blistering sparks.

You’re so much more than eager, beyond desperate for this taste of him, one that you’ve been yearning for, from the very first moment you kissed him.

A sigh against his lips, reaching your hands up to cup the back of his head, pull him closer so that he doesn’t come to his senses and pull away. You feel like a piece of a puzzle, relieved to be slotted into the place you belong, somehow knowing without a doubt that he was that place.

He groans passionately against your lips before pressing forward, guiding you to shuffle back on his bed so that he can crawl atop you.

You stay like that, sharing feverish kisses with each other, a quiet challenge between you to even think about pulling away. 

His hands move down, tugging your nightdress up so that he can fit himself between your thighs, your clothed cunt coming right into contact with his straining erection.

It feels euphoric, the burn of needing him, separated by only a few layers of fabric. He groans into your mouth, hands reaching to secure your hips in place, taking the opportunity to grind his cock against you in return.

You gasp, more a hitch of your breath than anything else at the delicious contact, turning your head away to try catching your breath.

It’s not something he takes kindly to, his fingers wrapping around your throat in warning, his thumb against your jaw to guide your face back to his.

His eyes are dark, almost bottomless with the way you can see no light reflecting off of them. You don't have much time to look at him before his lips are on yours once more, something searing hot, desperate clawing at you.

Your moan is broken against his mouth, your stomach twisting as you realise you need so much more than what he’s giving you right now.

“Please.” You murmur into his mouth, hoping he understands you. You arch your back, offering your body to him.

A low grunt leaves his throat, and suddenly the top of your dress gets torn into two. 

Your breasts spill out, and he moves from your mouth to kiss at your neck. 

You whine, tilting your head to give him more access, tingles spreading over your skin at the way his mouth feels. Your hands roam his back and shoulders, feeling at his damp hair, a painful desire to explore every inch of him you can reach with the tips of your fingers.

“Billy.” You hum, and you hear him moan in response, his hand reaching to palm at your breast, your clit pulsing in retaliation.

You shudder when he plucks at your pebbled nipple gently, rolling your stiff peak between his expert fingers. Your skin tingles where he touches, sparks cascading over you.

A sharp sob leaves you, your legs wrapping tightly around his hips, the friction there is only enough to tease. Your brain begs for relief from the ache of wanting.

Your head falls back against the bed, too much pleasure searing your system to focus, his mouth working your body into a boneless mass, desperate for him.

You whine when his lips seal gently around your nipple, feeling a delicious tug inside of you, his other hand reaching for your untouched breast.

The breath leaves your body, head tossed back, feeling him, the way you yearned for him in the last few days.

The sound of your dress ripping further draws you out of the fog of desire clouding your head, you look down, realising that he’s torn your dress right down the middle.

You blink, a little confused at the strength he must have to tear through your dress without even hurting you in the process. 

You suck in a deep breath, feeling some thinking redirect from your cunt to your brain, looking up at him, watching the way he studies your exposed form.

He lets out a shaky breath, withdrawing from you a little.

“I think you should run.”

“Billy?” You say his name for an explanation.

“I’m not- myself, and the things I want to do to you-” He huffs, drawing away completely.

There’s a war going on inside of his head, you can tell by the look in his eye that his desire is getting the best of him.

It’s exactly how you want it.

“I'll run if you promise to chase me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I mean.”

“I know what you meant.” You challenge, sitting up and climbing out of his bed, “Stop fighting yourself, and come take what’s yours.”

When you say your last words, you drop the tattered remains of your dress from your shoulders, watching his eyes refocus on you.

He stands too, large body looming over you, lightning flashes again, painting him in a sinister light for a few microseconds.

“You have no idea what I want to do to you.” He grunts, taking a step forward.

You take an equal step back, playfulness in your eyes.

“I think you want to chase me, and I think  I want to be chased.”

A primal sound leaves his throat just then, and your eyes widen in surprise. All you can interpret, is that it’s the pure sound of him letting go of his own resistance.

You take another step back, and then another, left only in your panties, you make it to the door of his bedroom before he begins to move.

Thunder cracks, somewhere in the distance, and you make it to his dark kitchen before he catches you.

His body is pressed firmly to your back as he wraps an arm around you.

“Telling you to run was a bad idea.” His hands reaches up to cup your breasts, you groan, tilting your head back as his broad hands explore you.

His voice drops to a whisper.

“It just made me want to catch you more.”

His hand grips your throat, tilting your head up so that he can kiss you.

It’s more passionate than before, mouth pressed hard to yours, tongue delving past your lips in an effort to devour.

His other hand slides over your stomach, all the way down until his slender fingers slip below the waistband of your panties.

You gasp when he touches you for the first time, careful fingers pressing in, no doubt feeling how wet you are.

He grunts, presses his mouth to your temple.

“You’re so wet for me sweetheart, is this what you wanted? Were you lying in my bed just waiting for me to find you?”

You can’t even speak, lips parted, eyes rolling back as he gently circles your aching bud.

Warm, all around you, his scent and his body, all of it filling your head with desperation.

His grip on your jaw tightens, and you peek your eyes open to look up at him.

“Answer me.”

“Missed you.”

He lets out a sharp breath, one that could be mistaken for frustration, if you didn’t know him, but you do, you can almost feel how hard he’s trying to hold on to his control.

He spins you, pressing you back until your behind bumps his kitchen counter, his eyes are so dark, and the only time you can see his face is when lightning strikes outside.

You don’t know what he’s going to do, but somehow, with the domineering way he looks, the last thing you expect is to watch him drop to his knees.

Eye level with your cunt, he leans in, closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“So fucking good.” He says roughly, voice low as if he meant to say it to himself.

He reaches forward, grips each side and tears the soft material into pieces.

When you’re finally bare for him, he looks up, sinister clarity in his eyes, no control left to be seen.

“Ask me.” He commands.

You gulp, unprepared to speak among the desperation in your throat.

“P-please.” You breathe.

He keeps his eyes on you, shakes his head slowly as if you've said the wrong thing.

“Don’t shy away from me now. Ask.”

“Can you- please-” You close your eyes for a moment, trying to find the willpower, “-lick my cunt?”

He's silent for a while, and you have to peek your eyes open to see him.

He looks calm, a devious smile on his face as he nods.

“Anything you want, sweetheart.” He vocalises, before leaning forward to kiss your thigh.

His kisses are meaningful, trailing from mid thigh all the way up, his beard scratching along your skin slowly, forcing you to grip the edge of his counter to keep your balance.

After a moment, he grows impatient, hands wrapping around your hips to pick you up and seat you on the edge of the counter.

You gasp.

Holy fuck, how did he just do that?

You don't get any time to reflect on it before he's spreading your legs, wide, wider, shouldering his large body between your thighs as if he owns the space, kissing at the seam of your cunt gently, as if asking further permission.

You groan, the torment of having his mouth so close burns at you, and yet you can't find the strength to say something, or even move, only able to feel.

He kisses, and kisses, and when you're sure his lips must be sticky with your arousal, he parts his lips to glide his devilish tongue against you.

Though you’ve felt the expertise of his tongue before, the sensation still draws a gasp of surprise, the reminder of what this man is capable of, flooding your head. He grips your thighs, you can almost feel the ardour in his grip, before he pushes upward, forcing you to lie back on his countertop.

You go slowly, settling for resting on your elbows while you watch him slide your legs over his shoulders.

His dark hair between your thighs sparks an untamed flood of desire, going right through you, burying its need directly into your bones.

His tongue slips against your clit, the motion so smooth that your mouth drops open at the pleasure he so easily delivers. With purposeful pressure, he tastes you, drinks you down, something insatiable blooming in his eyes as he glances at you.

He delves into your cunt next, reaching for a pure taste, sighing through his nose, you watch his eyes blissfully close for a moment as his tongue dips into the most intimate parts of you.

He groans into your cunt, warm breath across your skin, and then all bets are off.

Your clit is given attention next, swipes of his tongue that make you almost dizzy with the pleasure of it, licking at you just right, steadily pulling you closer and closer to the idea of an orgasm.

There’s no pretence of teasing behind it, his tongue gives an expert display of what he’s capable of, gliding in circles around your bud, licking you softly ever so often to let you catch your breath.

Your skin tingles, the air in your body held in an almost stasis state within your throat, being exhaled only to be inhaled in the same moment. 

Your elbows begin to protest the hard counter, and you let yourself drop against the chilly surface, appreciating the sensation against your burning skin.

He buries his tongue within you again, groaning, and then you feel as he drags the appendage out and back to your clit.

He caresses you with every part of his tongue, from the very tip making gentle flicks to the flat of it, that rolls evenly over you. Pleasure burns inside of you, building up, your body tensed and trembling slightly, silently begging him not to stop.

You whine, reaching down, in hopes that he’ll take your hand, and he does so easily, fingers interlocked, squeezing, desperate to come.

Ravenous now, the pace of his tongue increases to a near frenzy, outside, the rain matches his mindset.

Little sounds of desperation leave you, whimpers as he brings you close to your peak with just his tongue, doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow, he centres your whole world around his mouth in these moments, whether he intends to or not.

It’s gradual, it’s euphoric, you feel yourself so close to the precipice, with nothing but him on your mind.

You say his name, an appreciation of him, and all that he’s capable of.

Thighs trembling involuntarily, you raise your head to look down at him, your hand squeezing his tight, pleasure building, and building, a rubber band, pulled tight, about to be snapped.

You find his eyes on you, half-lidded, The appearance of calm, but somehow all you can see is a predator eager to devour.

It's that very look in his eye that tips you over the edge, falling back with a cry as you shatter against his dexterous tongue. You forget how to breathe as hot sparks of spread in your veins, burning, decimating your very ability to think. Your thighs tremble, chest heaving and you can feel the vibration of your heart as muted waves of bliss crash through you.

He licks you softly as you come, prolonging your orgasm, ensuring that every ounce of thought is wrung from your head with just his mouth.

When you've given him your final shiver, and you rest sated on his counter, does he finally lift himself up from between your messy thighs.

Lighting strikes when you meet his eyes, something odd about the way he's looking at you, that makes you feel like if you try to run, he would not be kind about catching you.

That is, if you could run, but your limbs are jelly at the moment, and all you can do when you meet his eyes is give him a look of adoration.

.

Control, is a distant memory, fading ever further with each minute in your presence.

Billy has only one trick left, and he’s not sure how long it’s going to last.

He watches you struggle to sit up, thighs still parted for him, and he can see your cunt, dripping hot arousal onto his kitchen counter.

His vision blurs, the panther trying to force him to grab at you, roll you over and mount you like an untamed beast. 

More ferarum, an old saying, the belief that though he may be human, and have a mostly human composition, his base desires was designed to be acted in the manner of beasts. 

To mount you like one, to fuck you like one, there’s millenia old genetics gripping his disposition by the neck and demanding he do what he was made to do.

And his solution? The answer to his problems, is the very thing driving him to insanity.

You.

Because when the beast inside of him demands your body, he presses his nose to your hair and takes a breath. When the beast demands to bite you while he takes you, he drops to his knees and tastes your cunt. 

And now, when the beast is demanding to rut into you like an animal, he takes a deep breath and looks into your eyes. 

How sweet they are, eager for him, willing to be devoured, and he knows you have no real idea of what you’re asking for.

He leans in, watching you struggle to move your body into a sitting position, and when you’re close enough, he grips your cheek and pulls you in for a kiss.

Heaven, the taste of your mouth, everything about you wraps him into knots, tangled in the web of your desire, and he’s not sure if he’s ever felt so eager to be owned.

But then your fingers reach for his shirt, and he has to stop you while he has the capacity to think, having distracted the beast with the feeling of his lips on yours.

Reaching out, Billy stops your hands as they reach for the edges of his shirt, looking into your eyes for a long moment, unsure of why he’s hesitating when he has you here, ready for him.

The idea of your hands on his bare skin makes the panther tug at his mind. Why was he stopping you? He could almost feel the promise of your soft hands, his stomach curling in desire.

He feels the beast take advantage of his muddled mind to seize control once more.

.

You can’t see too much in the low light, but you know there’s an internal battle being fought in his head. You try to be patient with him, to let him decide if he wants to continue or not, and try to be okay with whatever act he decides on.

You’re definitely not expecting him to reach through the darkness and grip your jaw.

But god, does it feel good. 

“Had enough?”

It’s definitely not something you expected him to say.

It’s hard to shake your head with his fingers pressing into your jaw but you do your best to anyway.

“Please,” You whisper, unable to voice your need, “Please.” 

You feel his grip on your jaw tighten.

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” His voice is so deep it washes over your bare skin like a gentle caress.

“You. I’m asking for you.”

He lets out a sharp breath.

“You shouldn’t want me.”

And yet, you do.

You whine, moving a hand slowly between your thighs, your intention is to either ease the ache inside of you, or get a reaction out of him.

You get the latter, with his hand reaching out to stop yours.

When he does nothing, you groan angrily.

“Please, please, please fuck me, Billy.”

In the darkness, you can’t see his grin, but you know it’s there from the way he says his next words.

“That was all you had to say.”

And then so many things happen at once.

He grips your hips, lifting you off the counter and bringing you against his body. You squeak in surprise, not enough time to marvel at his strength before one hand is under your ass, supporting your weight, and the next hand is gripping the back of your head to kiss you, hard.

You respond readily, wrapping your legs tightly around his hips while eagerly tugging his shirt up.

Smiling into the kiss as he has no choice but to let you undress him, raising the hand gripping your hair to help you get his shirt off one arm, and then switching hands to keep you supported while you pull his shirt free in totality.

Almost immediately, your hands are on his bare torso. You sigh happily into his kiss, reaching around to trail your fingertips over his back. He grunts against your mouth, taking you somewhere with smooth steps.

When your hands trail down the front of his body, he pauses his movement to assist you in getting his pants off. Perching you on his small kitchen table, he fumbles for the button and zipper of his pants before kicking it off. Your hands keep roaming his torso eagerly, over his defined biceps and shoulders, and when it’s not enough, you lean in to place open mouthed kisses all over his collarbones.

He groans, turning his head to kiss at your cheek, one hand tilting your head so that he can pepper kisses along the side of your face.

You look down, finding his swollen cock gripped in his fist, his open pants hanging low on his hips. The tip of his cock is a dark pink, almost a purple in the low light, a bead of precum slowly presenting at his slit.

You know he's going to hate that he's wearing his pants later, so while he's distracted by kissing your cheek and stroking the remarkable length between his legs, you push his pants down lower, hoping that he'll understand and kick them off.

You don't get the chance to make sure they're fully off- he grips your jaw, turning your head up to his.

Such a beautifully sinister face, the promise of pleasure so close.

“Are you ready for me?” He asks, his voice a husky timbre.

Honestly, you didn't know, but with the amount of arousal you were feeling, the way your thighs and ass were messy with want, the knowledge that your body was at peak fertility, made your odds look pretty good.

Plus, you didn't think you had the sanity left in you to make sure. You wanted him badly, and you wanted him now.

You swallow, eyes demure as you nod your head.

He grips your jaw harder.

“Say. It.” He hisses.

“I want you in me.” You breathe softly.

You watch his eyes roll closed, lips parted, breathing shallow. A sharp nod, before he’s lining his cock up with your entrance by feel alone.

You bite down on your bottom lip really hard- clenching the moment you feel the head of his cock press against you.

“Easy,” Billy soothes, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down your back, “Relax for me.” He whispers, bringing his mouth to your ear.

You give a shy nod, taking a deep breath as he eases the tip of his cock into you.

A little broken sound leaves your throat, your head falling against his chest. Your centre flutters involuntarily, clenching around him, pulling another soft whimper from you.

“I know, sweetheart, I know.” He hums, pressing deeper. 

When he hits an uncomfortable point, stretching your cunt wide, your breath hitches as you drag your nails across his arm, silently asking him to wait, please.  

He does, hands gripping your hips, aching for some semblance of sanity as he feels you all around him.

When you’re feeling okay, you shift your hips closer, silently asking for more.

It’s a trial, taking him, despite how wet and aching you are, even though you’ve been dreaming of this for days, your thighs tremble as you breathe evenly in an attempt to accept his girth.

“Billy.” You mewl, nails clawing at his biceps, squeezing tight as he finally fits the last inch of himself deep inside you.

You can feel him so eternally deep, the tip of his cock snug against your cervix while your lungs heave air, unable to comprehend the pleasure of being so full.

Trembling, your eyelids flutter as he draws out, and then back in again, thankfully, slow enough for you to accommodate.

He takes an audibly sharp breath, before you feel him lift you off the counter.

Your mouth drops open in shock, hands wrapping around his shoulders to steady yourself, and you feel his hands, their firm grip on your ass as he begins rocking you slowly on his cock.

There’s absolutely no way- he steals your thinking with a rough thrust- mouth dropping open as his cock rubs that delicious spot deep inside you.

He lets out a soft grunt that makes you clench, pleasure clouding your brain, removing each thought until you’re a puddle of want.

His pace is even, calm, he moves you as if you weigh almost nothing, lifting and dropping you on his own whim, his breathing is uneven, sometimes deep, and other times shallow, but you feel that has more to do with the grip of your cunt than the weight of you.

He clenches his jaw, eyes fluttering as he begins to make deeper strokes, you struggle to hold your body upright, leaning against him, your head on his shoulder while he uses you to please himself.

It’s more than good, better than anything before, he gives you just what you need and maybe a little more. You feel full, stretched, like this is what you’ve been craving for most of your life.

You sink your fingers into his shoulders, trying to fight the tears of ecstasy threatening to fall. His skin is warm, a little groan on each breath.

It flutters in your ribs, the tug of something intoxicating deep inside of you as he fucks you like this, as if he owns you and the very pleasure you experience. Your cunt clamps down around him, desperate, warning, that you were going to shatter around him very soon.

You say his name, head tipping back to allow more air into your system, as if that could help you manage the impending act of falling apart.

He makes a low sound, almost a growl, makes you shiver, your thoughts being scrubbed from your mind as his cock fills you repeatedly.

It's too much, and then there's a rush of pleasure inside you, starting from your center and working its way into your head. You sob, body rocking against his, locked tight on the brink of insanity.

A sharp cry spills from your mouth as your vision goes white, his hands tighten on the flesh of your ass, going still when you clench around his cock.

It feels like you're locked in that haze of pleasure for eternity, head tipped back, eyes closed, soft whimpers leaving your lips as you grip his cock like life depends on it.

Then comes the tremors, falling against him, your entire body quivers, waves and waves of sizzling euphoria, carving its way up your spine, pooling somewhere in the back of your head making all your limbs feel so sluggish.

He holds you through all of it, cock deep, kissing your deepest parts, breathing shallow, eyes dark, filled with want.

.

When you come on his cock, his thinking fragments.

All it takes is the flutter of your walls around him, the way you look while you take pleasure on his cock, the smell of your skin, your moans filling the air, he doesn't think he's ever been this far away from sanity.

His mate is beautiful.

Made just for him, and him for her.

The beast inside of him demands he claim ownership, raw instinct to bite into your skin and mark you, leave traces of his spit and his cum on you so that everyone will know that you’re his.

The taste of your cunt lingers on his tongue, he doesn’t remember that he’s a man in these few moments after he feels you come.

All he can think of now, is the magnificence of his soulmate, and the ways he’s going to ruin her, the ways he’s going to reshape her until she wants for only him.

He feels his teeth sharpen, feels you lean in to rest your head against his shoulder. 

It would be so easy, his mouth is so close, he could tilt his head and sink his teeth into your skin and you would barely feel any pain because he’d be fucking you through it, making sure you come at least three more times before he releases your skin from between his teeth.

He leans in, rubs his lips to your shoulder, to the very spot he’d bite, feels you clench around him in response, almost as if you’re asking for the same thing.

He closes his eyes, feels the push of the panther in his head, almost goes along with it.

It’s the smell of your skin that stops him. He stands there, breathing you in.

Fresh strawberries, making his mouth water, so deliciously ripe for him, all for him.

Sweet and small in his arms- hurting you would tear him apart.

It gives him the willpower to raise his head, to suck in a deep breath and remember that the predator was not all that he was, that he could choose differently.

He would simply, choose you.

.

When your orgasm finally subsides, all you can do is rest your head on his shoulder, clinging to him, in hopes that he never releases you.

He moves, holding you so easily that you have no idea how it’s even possible.

When your body is placed gently onto his bed, you only get a few moments to settle before his cock is pressing into you with more fervour than before.

It knocks the air right out of you, his thrusts are deep and fast, chasing his own orgasm now that he’s given you yours.

You moan, feeling him fill you so roughly, so deeply that you know you never want him out, you squeeze the walls of your cunt around him, silently begging him to stay deep inside of you, to empty himself there, a primal voice in the back of your head telling you that this is what you were made for.

His grip is tight on your hips, his breathing is shallow and hitched, broken up with low grunts, that makes your brain rattle with want.

He’s like a coiled predator, moving his body against yours, holding you firm so that he can plunder the deepest parts of you as he so pleases.

He leans down to kiss you, but doesn’t linger in favour of fucking you harder, your head tilted back, moaning in bliss to high heaven.

It works you up to another orgasm so quickly that you can only whimper in warning, trying to tell the amazing man above you that he’s your undoing without ever uttering a word. Your fingers grip his arms, wherever you can reach, nails pressed to his skin because you feel like you’re floating and you need him to tether you.

Something clicks in your brain just then, as he’s inside of you, the shallow pump of his cock lighting up every uncharted part of your brain, flooding your body with euphoria, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced.

It’s almost like self discovery, though, you’re not sure what you’ve found, all you know is that you’re open, and vulnerable beneath him, and through your watery vision- as the first hot tear spills from the corner of your eyes, and you catch sight of his parted lips and pinched eyebrows- you understand something you didn’t before.

That this is where you belong. With him, under him, taking him. 

“Good.” He grunts above you, and you force your eyes to focus on his gorgeous face.

“You feel so good.” He says again, and you whine, cunt clenching as he keeps his thrusts short. You can feel how wet you are in the ease of his motions, your body accepting him, you can feel him with the most intimate parts of yourself.

After a moment, he goes deeper.

You let out a strangled sound, barely capable of breathing with the sheer size of him in the deepest parts of you, you reach to grip the sheets instead as you fear you might hurt him, your body shaking with the desire to fall apart around him.

His mouth parts on a harsh breath, and your eyes drop down to his pink mouth, something odd about the way his canines look, your brain too blissed out to focus.

His teeth are sharp, and there’s something about his eyes.

“Please.” You beg, aching for another orgasm, lost in the rhythm of his cock inside of you, his thrusts growing so forceful that you shift up the bed with each thrust, the headboard bumping the wall each time as well.

“I-” You try to say, looking into his eyes, a low whine slipping from your throat, trying to tell him, to convey to him that you’re on edge and close to orgasm.

He understands, like you knew he would. Billy leans into you, taking up all the space around you, one hand sinking into your hair, holding you in place, his other hand interlocking with yours.

“Mine.” He rumbles, right into your ear, your skin tingles at the low timbre of his voice, you feel his teeth, scrape over your neck and you gasp.

“Cum. Now.” He orders, and your entire body shudders almost instantly. You cunt flutters involuntarily around his cock, you hear him let out a low moan as your clenching around is cock gets more intense.

A broken sound leaves your mouth, and then the dam breaks. 

You sob endlessly as pleasure overtakes your system, burning like wildfire in your veins, consuming everything and leaving only bliss in its wake. Your body thanks him, quietly, unable to do anything more than experience pleasure at the whim of his fingers and the steady motion of his cock. He holds you through all of it, an anchor that grounds you as you lose all thought. 

His lips pepper kisses over your neck, it only makes the pleasure that much sweeter. 

Above you, Billy growls loudly, you feel him make one final thrust, before he orgasms too, filling you with his cum, making you feel whole in a way you barely understand.

He stays inside of you for a while, cock twitching, you swear he fills you so much that it could almost spill out.

“I’m sorry.” Are the first words he whispers to you through shuddering breaths, his hands cupping your cheeks to encourage you to meet his eyes with your glassy ones.

“Are you hurt? Please tell me if I hurt you.”

You reach up to cup his cheek too, so happy to have him here with you, finally realising how much you really missed him.

Could he be yours? Really yours? Would he spend the rest of his days making you feel safe and loved and happy the way you were feeling right now?

Was that a real possibility for the two of you?

“I’m okay.” You finally gasp, thick emotion in your voice. You grip the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair to pull him down for a kiss.

Outside, thunder rumbles across the sky.

.

Your kisses are soft, meaningful, but it doesn’t take long for them to grow frantic again, and before you know it, his cock, having never gone soft, resumes fucking you once more.

Your body is ready for more, prioritising pleasure over whatever mild soreness you may feel. He fucks you to another orgasm before flipping you over onto your hands and knees.

He’s deeper now, your eyes roll back in your head as you rock your hips to meet his, a quiet slapping fills the room.

He reaches around, grips your throat to pull you up.

Your back pressed to his chest, his mouth tickles your ear.

“You can take it can’t you?” He asks, breathing laboured.

You mewl, nodding, his hips meet yours in another hard thrust.

 “Isn’t this what you wanted, sweetheart? What you-” He kisses your cheek, “ -and that pretty little cunt has been begging for?”

“Uh-huh.” Is your only vocalisation.

“So sweet for me.” He says, almost to himself, before he makes you see stars.

.

Your hair splays around you as your body falls to the bed, his cock filling you with his cum yet another time.

He stays inside of you for long moments, not pulling out until he absolutely has to.

You feel his spend spill out of you, you try to keep it inside.

He’s covered in a sheen of sweat when he crashes next to you, breathing rapid just like yours is.

You look into his eyes, and you see the corner of his mouth tick up into a smile, both of you fully understanding that this would not be the last time you fuck tonight.

.

When he takes you against the window, your legs wobble. He solves the issue by picking you up once more.

One hand pressed to the glass, the other under your ass, you’re not even sure how it’s possible that you’re being fucked in this position, but honestly you don’t care as long as he keep filling you with his deliciously large cock.

.

It’s almost morning when you finally fall into a deep sleep, wrapped in his arms, his fingers trailing in slow circles around the small of your back.

You breathe contentment, a bliss you’d never even thought was achievable, sated in his arms and you know there’s nowhere on earth that could be better than this.

.

You groan when he slips your still tired body into the warm bath.

You barely peek an eye open, feeling him slide in behind you, you turn so that your front is pressed against his.

His hands are firm yet gentle, washing the dried sweat from your skin, pouring warm water onto your shoulder, carefully swiping his fingers through your hair.

“ Wha’ time is it?” You mumble sleepily, lips half pressed to his collarbone.

“After twelve, we slept for a while.” He murmurs softly, sleep still clinging to his voice.

“We fucked for a while too.” You sigh.

He chuckles.

.

You ride him in his sun room after breakfast.

Or maybe that was lunch, the details seem irrelevant.

He piles you high with toast and eggs, bacon that tastes almost as good as the sex had been, and when you’re full, you can’t help the way your hands wander over his skin.

It’s not on purpose at first, you just want to enjoy his presence, tracing your hands up his shoulders to play with the hairs near the nape of his neck.

But he closes his eyes, makes a soft groaning sound when you gently scratch his scalp.

And then of course, you have to kiss him.

One soft peck, and then another, you find yourself pressed against him, tongues dancing, the grip of his hands on your hips, pulling you closer and closer.

He seats you on his lap and you can feel his stiff erection through his thin boxers and all bets are off.

You place a kiss on his lips after, telling him you’ll be right back, taking the empty dishes down to the kitchen and using the bathroom before heading back.

You find him lying on his front, sleeping in a beam of sunlight.

He’s face down, the light of the sun revealing his true hair colour to be more of a dark brown that the black it usually looks like, his breathing is soft and even, and you curl your hands into fists to resist reaching out to touch his bare back.

You smile fondly, noticing he’s not where you left him, figuring he must have moved into the sunlight before falling asleep, very much like a-

Like papers reshuffling, you feel your thoughts build a conclusion you didn’t even know you were looking for.

Of course, it had been right in front of you all along, staring you right in the face and you hadn’t even realised.

You raise a hand, touching the pendant hanging around your neck.

The memory of the way his teeth looked last night- that you’d sworn was just a trick of the light, the unexplainable way he’d lifted you- effortlessly strong in a way that you’d never seen a man do.

The way the animal had come to you, bringing your most beloved possession back, after you’d cried in his arms about the very thing.

You let out a soft breath, leaning against the doorframe to come to terms with the undeniable truth, that Billy, was the panther protecting you.

.

.

.

A/N: I didn't initially intend to stop here, but the length of the chapter grew to unmanageable lengths, I'm very sorry about the unintentional cliffhanger.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 12, Unlucky - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, mentions of injury, descriptions of violence, 2nd hand embarrassment, Jade Carthage.

Word Count: 1.5k

Previously On...: You were out for a celebratory dinner with Bucky, Tony, and Pepper, where the conversation got a little loaded, but it was all good, until Tony got a phone call from Bruce, informing him that members of your team had returned from their mission, and one of them was seriously injured.

A/N: I don't even know what to say for these next few parts. Just get ready, I guess?

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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The four of you rushed into the med bay, looking completely out of place in your formal dinner clothes. Tony immediately began shouting for Banner, desperate to know what had happened to his best friend, and you were worried sick. For as long as you’d known Tony, Rhodey had been a part of your life, too. You gasped and put a hand to your mouth when you eventually turned a corner and found your team gathered around Rhodey’s lifeless form hooked up to Dr. Cho’s Cradle. He was lying so still inside you were afraid for a moment that he was dead, but the steady beeping of the machines let you know that, for now, at least, he was still alive. You felt Bucky take a quick inhale as he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into him.

“Someone tell me what the fuck happened, right now!” Tony bellowed. He’d lost his tie somewhere between the restaurant and the Tower, and with the amount of tugging he’d done at his hair and the look of utter despair on his face, he looked like he was coming completely undone. Pepper was rubbing circles on his back, doing her best to calm him down before he gave himself a heart attack.

“He’s stable,” Bruce said, stepping forward to put a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “That’s the important thing.” Tony let out a barely audible sigh as Bruce continued. “He took a couple of bullets– one punctured a lung and one hit a major artery. He’s lost a lot of blood, and there may end up being some brain damage. But if Sam hadn’t gotten him into the Quinjet’s on-board Cradle in time, well…” he shrugged, leaving the ominous conclusion unsaid.

Tony took three long strides over to where Sam stood, Falcon suit completely covered in Rhodey’s blood, and wrapped him in a tight embrace. Sam’s eyes widened in shock as he slowly reached his arms up to return the hug, awkwardly patting Tony on the back.

“Thank you,” said Tony, taking a step back. “What happened?”

Sam cast a glance to the corner of the room, where you now noticed Jade Carthage, tac-suit pristine– not an ounce of blood on her– with her arms wrapped around herself, as though trying to take up as little space as possible. 

“Wilson.” Tony’s voice was threatening.

“We spent the last two weeks getting Hydra intel, like we were supposed to do,” Sam said. “We knew it was a fact-finding mission, only. We weren’t looking for a fight, I swear.” He cast an angry glance at Jade. “Last night, Carthage said she got word about an abandoned Hydra base. No agents left, but maybe a goldmine for intel. She wanted to check it out. Rhodey and I tried to convince her that we should follow our orders, call home for back up so we wouldn’t be met with any surprises we’d be outnumbered for, but she insisted it was safe, her intel was good.”

Sam took a deep breath. “She… she took off on her own. We weren’t just gonna let a teammate go in solo, super soldier or not, so we followed her. It was… it was a fucking ambush, man. Was like they knew we were comin’. The place was crawlin’ with Hydra agents, like a goddamn ant hill. They started firing, and before Rhodey could activate his suit, he took two hits. I screamed for Carthage to cover me and was able to get my wings up– deflect any more bullets from hitting us, and I picked him up and dragged him to the jet. Got him into the Cradle just as she was runnin’ up the plank, and we got outta there as fast as we could and headed straight home. I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Tony shook his head and patted Sam on the shoulder. “Don’t be sorry, Birdbrain. If not for you, Rhodey wouldn’t have made it.” He turned and took a few steps toward Jade, eyes narrowed. “Carthage, on the other hand, what the hell were you thinking?!”

Jade dropped her arms from where she held them across her chest. “It’s not my fault,” she said, holding her chin out defiantly. “I got bad intel; it was just unlucky.”

“Unlucky?” Tony asked, shocked. “Unlucky?!” He was shouting now. “Your recklessness could have gotten your entire team killed and you chalk that up to a lack of fucking luck?”

“Stark,” Bucky warned from beside you.

“Bucky, don’t,” you pleaded softly, desperately. 

“You can’t seriously be blaming me for this!” Jade argued. “I was trying to neutralize a threat. Isn’t that what we Avengers are supposed to do? How is it my fault Rhodes wasn’t prepared for battle? Huh? How is it my responsibility to make sure he had his armor ready before going into potentially hostile territory. Sounds to me like your friend’s the one who was reckless and you’re just looking to find anyone else to blame.”

The group collectively gasped. “Jade,” Steve began in his Captain America voice, “perhaps this isn’t—”

“You weren’t even supposed to be there!” Tony screamed at her. Jade flinched inward on herself, and you had to put a  hand on Bucky’s arm to keep him from going to her. “You disobeyed direct orders and jeopardized your mission. You followed up on intel that you hadn’t verified, you needlessly risked the lives of yourself and your team, and you can’t even take responsibility for your actions! You’re fucking benched, Carthage! You’re a liability in the field and I won’t have you putting any more of my people in harm’s way because you’re too fucking stupid to do your damned job!”

“That’s enough, Stark!” Bucky broke free of your grasp and moved to stand between Jade and Tony as Jade quietly began to sob. “I get that you’re upset about Rhodey– we all are, but you’re outta line. Yeah, she fucked up, but that’s no excuse to attack her like this in front of everyone.”

Tony scoffed at Bucky’s words. “Get her out of my sight. Before I do something I’ll really regret.”

Bucky put an arm around Jade’s shoulder and began to lead the sobbing girl out of the med bay.

“Oh, and Barnes?” Tony called out before they could make it to the door. Bucky stopped and turned to face him. “Wanna remind us all again who your actual girlfriend is? Cause it sure as hell seems like you’ve forgotten.”

Bucky blanched as he turned to look at you, but you couldn’t meet his gaze, too mortified by his actions and the way they’d been so obvious that Tony called him out in front of everybody. Without another word, Bucky turned and escorted Jade out of the med bay. Any joy you’d felt earlier today in your accomplishments with the C-PAS had vanished with concern for Rhodey and abject embarrassment from your boyfriend.

The rest of the team had the decency, at least, to avoid looking at you.

Tony heaved a sigh and walked up to you. “I’m sorry, kiddo. I shouldn’t have drug your business into that mess.”

“You fucking think, Tony?” You shoved him hard in the chest with both your hands. “That was beyond shitty! I get you’re hurt and you’re scared– I am, too! And trust me, no one wants that bitch gone more than I do, but what you just did was— was—” You couldn’t even find the words for how horrible and small his actions had made you feel. You were, without a doubt, far more upset with Tony at that moment than you were with Bucky. Bucky, at least, had been trying to protect a friend from Tony’s wrath, however justified you personally felt it may have been, but what Tony did was unnecessarily cruel. And even worse, it wasn’t just cruel to Bucky, it was cruel to you. You couldn’t be mad at Bucky simply because he was being kind, even if you did wish he was being kind to literally anyone else on the planet.

“Tony,” Bruce called from where he stood by the Cradle. “I need to go over some more details about Rhodey’s condition with you.”

Casting you a final sympathetic look of apology, Tony turned and walked to Bruce’s side.

Nat came to your side, concern showing on her face. “You okay?” she asked softly.

“Yeah,” you said. “Is it pathetic that I’m not even that mad at Bucky?” The question came out with a half hearted laugh. 

“No,” Nat said. “I get what he was trying to do. Might not have been the smartest way to go about it, but he’s always been the protective, guard dog type.”

You breathed in a sigh of relief. If Natasha Romanoff agreed with you, it either meant you were doing something very right, or something incredibly stupid. 

Sam came up to you both after a moment. “Hey,” he said, voice low. “Did you mean what you just told Tony? About wanting Carthage gone?”

You snorted. “Yeah, since before Day One. Why?”

“It’s a shared sentiment,” offered Nat.

Sam glanced around, then back to you and Nat. “We should go somewhere private,” he said. “I think the three of us should have a little chat.”

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 19

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k

Warnings: heavy themes, character death, mention of violence, death, grief, (somehow) a sprinkle of fluff

Note: hello! finally we're here, this is looking like the second last chapter, which is bitter sweet but I suppose it has to end at some point :( also I know this one is shorter than usual, and since it is very plot driven it may not be as fun to read but I hope the fluff makes up for it! the next chapter will definitely be longer and hopefully less depressing overall lol. anyway, that's it, as always endless thanks for your patience. hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character

You can feel heat prickling your skin, the quidditch pitch is a fiery blaze and you could only afford to stare in helpless despair.

The quaffle hoops once stood large and tall, you've flown by them countless times during quidditch practice, and multiple house matches. One of the best memories you've made at Hogwarts– reduced to ash.

Now the wooden stands are nothing but kindling for the fire that devoured them, they come crashing down in pieces of hot red ember.

Smoke is all you can smell in the air, thick hot ash and fear.

You can't move, still– you observed as the flames licked another banner, Gryffindor or Slytherin, they were no match for it's fiery wrath.

More students sprint past, careless and panicked, nudging you in the process. Now you are forcefully pushed further into the doorway.

It works as a shock to your system, a part of you astrayed amidst the chaos, but you had to keep running, in search of Hermione.

You propell down the main hall, soon approaching the gallery.

“Y/n!” Blessedly, you finally hear your love call out to you, but it was a shout of warning.

Somehow, you manage to narrowly dodge the curse coming your way. “Avada Kedavra!” You cast in return, without thought, almost second nature.

The Death Eater is thrown backwards, slamming through a broken wall and into a pile of bricks.

Your plan to advance forward is interrupted as you feel a presence fall into you, arms wrapped tightly around your neck.

The scent of your girlfriend's perfume is now smothered by the smell of sweat and dirt, but it provides you comfort all the same.

“I thought you were– I thought I lost you.” Hermione mutters, scattered, and all you want to do is hold her, kiss her, and take her as far away from the castle as you possibly could.

But as much as you would like it to be, fleeing is not an option.

Instead you cup her face in your hands, committing each feature of hers to memory, every dip and freckle.

“I'm sorry.” You say.

“It all happened too fast, I don't know how we got separated.” You finish, still trying to make sense of mayhem. You've both come face to face with death half a dozen times tonight, maybe more.

None of it makes sense.

“Guys, come on!” Harry's voice forces Hermione to break your gaze, she then tugs on your arm, guiding you with her.

Soon you find yourselves in a steady jog down the hallway, you turn a corner only to be met with a sight that stops the four of you in your tracks.

Greyback was bent over the body of a girl, his jaw clamped firmly on her neck, draining all life from his victim.

“No!” Hermione shouts. Frantically, she throws a curse, causing the werewolf to crash through the wall behind him. Now the beast has been vanquished, but it is too late.

Atop rubble and ash, Lavender Brown laid stiff and colorless, entirely unlike herself.

Her eyes are open, yet they held no trace of her. The girl's mortal soul, taken by death– ever merciless and violent, tonight, he spares very few.

Harry is first to snap out of the terror induced trance that you found yourselves in, consequently followed by Hermione.

Soon you move as well, but as you glance at Ron, you can't bring yourself to take another step.

Despite yourself, you find your hand reaching out to grab his shoulder. “Come on, mate.” You coax, but the man doesn't react to your touch, or your voice.

He continues to stare at Lavender– and the sheer absence of her.

“She's gone– she isn't suffering anymore.” You offer, hoping Ron would find some solace in your words, however minute.

He does.

Nodding, the ginger haired boy tears his eyes away from his deceased lover. The four of you continue your journey through the courtyard and down the winding stairs towards the boathouse.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

Hermione's ironclad grip on your forearm doesn't falter as you follow Harry's lead, quietly approaching the boathouse. The four of you immediately crouch out of sight as you caught movement inside.

Voldermort's voice, faint and unsettling, it makes your blood run cold.

He continues to deliver his thoughts with a tone closer to a whisper, the four of you are forced to strain your necks to listen.

Soon you make out a second voice, and you share a quick look amongst yourselves. Trying your hardest to make sense of what was being said between the Dark Lord, and Professor Snape.

“Tonight, when the boy comes, it will not fail you, I'm sure of it.”

“It answers to you, and you only.”

Unsettling silence fills the air once more, and you feel inclined to shift closer to Hermione.

“Does it?” Voldermort finally inquires, and it is followed by a lack of response, for a beat, you wonder if Snape was still present.

“My Lord?” The Professor eventually says.

“The wand, does it truly answer to me?”

“You're a clever man Severus, surely you must know.”

“Where does it's true loyalty lie?”

“With you, of course. My Lord.” The Professor replies with just a gleam of hesitation, and for a reason unknown to you, it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand.

“The Elder wand cannot serve me properly because I am not it's true master. The wand belongs to the wizard who killed it's last owner.” Voldermort continues.

“You killed Dumbledore, Severus.”

“While you live, the elder wand cannot truly be mine.”

“You've been a good and faithful servant, Severus, but only I can live forever.”

Then, Hermione turns to you, and you give her a similar look of horror in response.

“My Lord-” Severus’ response is strained.

None of you are given a chance to react before a loud thud is heard, you see the Professor's silhouette hitting the glass before you.

“Nagini, kill.”

The panel vibrates violently, but miraculously, it doesn't shatter.

The sound of Snape's body hitting the glass repeatedly with every deathly blow, makes the four of you jump.

Then a cold gust of wind surrounded the boathouse, and soon, it was quiet again. Only the sound of water, and the noise of a boat hitting the wooden dock everytime it swayed. Snape's shallow breathing, unsteady and helpless.

Harry is first to move, he enters the boathouse, and the rest of you can only trail after him silently.

“Professor–” You stutter as you catch sight of the man laying on the ground.

Snape was a formidable man, one you used to fear, even respected.

He has never looked so small.

Harry crouches beside him, he places his hand on the man's neck as Snape lets out a sob. The sight was so foreign that you had to look away.

“Take them– take them.” The man pleads, incoherent at first, but quickly Harry understands his request.

“Give me something, a flask, anything.” The chosen one orders, extending his arm toward Hermione.

Your girlfriend does as she is bid, fishing out the object from her bag before passing her best friend an empty vial.

You watched with bated breaths as Harry held it up to Snape's cheek, collecting the Professor's tears. Once he was done, he cuped the vial firmly in his grasp.

“Take them to the pensieve.” Snape orders with all that's left of his strength.

He was slipping away, you could see it, the way his head was nodding to the side as he slowly fell limp against the glass, his gaze far away and vacant.

The man whispers something intelligible to Harry, perhaps intended for his ears only. In half a heartbeat, Snape was dead.

–

Harry reaches over to gently shut the Professor's eyes.

You step closer, with the intention to lay Snape on the floor properly, so he may be put to rest with some dignity, but before you can suggest it, a blinding pain courses through your arm.

It makes you groan aloud.

Hermione reaches out for you, but then a voice penetrates the air, sudden and invasive.

The Dark Lord is merciless in his attempt, he has lost every ounce of patience– you could feel it in your arm.

Hermione clasps her hands over her ears as Voldermort delivers his second message.

“You have fought valiantly, but in vain. I do not wish this.. every drop of magical blood spilled is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat, in their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity.”

“Harry Potter, I now speak directly to you. On this night, you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor. Join me in the forbidden forest and confront your fate.”

“If you do not do this, I shall kill every last man, woman and child, who tries to conceal you from me.”

═══════════════════════════════════════════

As the four of you walked through the empty courtyard, you can't help but notice just how quiet it was, something that would usually be considered a comfort, is now incredibly unnerving.

“Where is everybody?” Hermione asks, but her question is soon enough answered once you push the doors open to the Great Hall.

The space is unrecognizable.

A scene from a nightmare.

There is not a candle in sight, everyone operating on the bit of light provided by the moon. You spot Mr Filch, sequestered in a corner, miserably sweeping piles of rubble out of the way.

Your stomach turns as you make your way through, an endless line of bodies laid upon makeshift cots.

You can't help but look upon all their faces, one by one. All these bodies– they were once sons, daughters, somebody's friend or lover.

The air is snatched out of your lungs as you spot a familiar face.

Nymphadora Tonks lay unmoving beside her husband, their hands outstretched as if to touch each other– even in death.

“No..” You mutter in disbelief and Hermione follows your gaze, she let's out a sharp gasp.

It could have easily been you laying on that cot.

It could have been Hermione.

The thought alone made you nauseous, you could physically feel your stomach turn. You decide you had to get away before you wretched.

Before you could however, a desperate wail snatches your attention. You look up to find Ron in the distance, he sobs uncontrollably as he knelt over his brother's dead body.

You watched as Ginny held him, now they are both sobbing helplessly.

Molly could do all but console them. What agony it must be, to watch your children die before their time.

There is so much pain, too much– you had to get away.

You turn to leave the Great Hall, or what is left of it, with no destination in mind. You simply needed to escape.

Away from grief, away from death, if there was ever a chance of evading it tonight.

“Y/n!” Amidst suffocating torment, no voice has ever sounded as sweet. Hermione swiftly catches up to you, her hand slips into your own.

Your palm now felt calloused and rough. It is caked with dirt and dried blood, but Hermione holds it firmly in her own still.

“Don't leave without telling me like that, we can't separate again.” Hermione scolds, and you offer an apologetic look.

“I just need to get some air.” You explain, but Hermione doesn't question it, in desperate need of an escape herself.

“Come,” She merely coaxes, tugging on your arm.

You soon realize she aims to guide you somewhere secluded, but it seemed impossible. Everywhere you looked, it was death and destruction. Your home; a battlefield.. a gravesite.

After wandering for some time, you finally find a place to sit, the flight of stairs leading up to the Headmaster's Tower remains vacant and mostly intact. Although pieces of stone would break off from the sides ever so often, when compared to the rest of the castle, it was hardly worth acknowledging.

Hermione takes a seat on the step, gesturing for you to do the same next to her. Your girlfriend runs her fingers through your disheveled hair, tenderly moving it out of your face.

Neither of you speak just yet, even after all that's happened tonight, she manages to smile at you, honest and bright. It nearly breaks you.

The thought of living even a day without her was excruciating, you can't lose her tonight, under any circumstances.

“We'll be okay, we've made it this far.” Hermione utters out loud, as if she had just read your mind.

“It'll all be over soon.” Your girlfriend says, but you catch the faint tremor in her voice. She was fighting back tears.

Yet, you could only wrap your arm around her as she rests her head on your shoulder.

After a prolonged silence, you decide to redirect the topic of conversation, however macabre it may seem, you somehow saw it as the perfect opportunity.

Afterall, you could both use a little bit of joy right now.

“There's something I've wanted to ask you– it is going to sound mad, but I need to say it. before it's too late.” You stammer, a sudden sense of nervousness setting in, you take in a deep breath to calm yourself.

“What is it?” Hermione inquires, by the way her brows furrowed you could tell she was concerned as you spoke vaguely.

You quickly realize that it was too late to back out, you needed to take the leap, and hope that Hermione will catch you.

Amidst a sigh you stand up so you could move a step down.

“This is definitely not how I planned to do it, but–” You mutter, looking around before it occurred to you to utilise the ring you already had on your finger.

You take it off as you got down on one knee, albeit somewhat ungracefully. Hermione's eyes widen at the sight, but she doesn't say anything as of yet, watching you intently.

You extend your hand in front of you, and your girlfriend's gaze shifts to the Slytherin crest ring pinched between your index finger and your thumb.

“Hermione Jean Granger, if we make it out alive tonight– would you do me the incredible honor of being my wife?” You finally manage to utter the words you have longed to say.

Hermione's eyes were no longer wide in shock, but her expression is now unreadable. You couldn't tell if she was about to burst into tears or laugh in your face.

In the end, she does neither, but she still struggles to find the words.

“Y/n, I–” She stutters before averting her gaze.

“Are you sure?” Hermione finally asks, meeting your expectant stare, and you can't help but let out a chuckle.

“I have wanted you since the first moment. I knew I loved you from the first time you smiled at me. and I knew I wanted to marry you the first time you ran your fingers through my hair. and then our first kiss– I truly thought if we couldn't be together, I'd die.” You spoke from the heart without missing a beat, not caring about just how dramatic you might have sounded.

“I used to think that I'd be just fine on my own. I didn't believe that I could ever care for someone the way I do for you.” Your voice breaks ever so slightly, you swallow before continuing.

“Hermione when I'm not with you– it feels like I can't breathe.” You barely manage to say, your throat tightens, as a tear escapes your eye.

“my love–” Hermione coos, her own eyes now welling up with tears. She approaches to grab your forearm, although not harshly, she guides you back on your feet.

Your faces are mere inches away from each other before she would crash her lips against yours, a kiss that is restless and unchecked yet somehow equally tamed and loaded with love.

“Of course, I will marry you.” She declares once your lips part, she wipes the tear away with the pad of her thumb, and your heart sings.

You are unable to contain the large grin on your face, one Hermione had no issues reciprocating.

“Really?” You ask, mainly in relief rather than actual disbelief.

Hermione pauses as if thinking of an adequate response

“Well, I do think we should at least wait a year or two, at least until after we finish school.” Hermione admits, and you scoff, even in the midst of a war her priorities remain unchanged.

“but–” Hermione says, grabbing your face so she could force you to meet her gaze once more.

“It is a yes, without a doubt. I can't imagine spending my life with anyone else.” Your girlfriend states earnestly, and your smile returns.

You eagerly grab her hand so you may slip the ring onto her finger.

Hermione stares at the piece of jewelry, silently inspecting the intricate carving of a snake, before finally kissing you again.

The feeling of Hermione's lips against your own allowed you to forget the impending threat of death. With her you believe that you could survive anything. This war will be over soon, and you will marry her. Whatever it takes.

Hermione breaks the kiss only when you are both gasping for air, she embraces you tightly, as if trying to savor the feeling as much and for as long as she could.

-

Harry emerges from seemingly out of nowhere, you open your eyes as you hear footsteps. Hermione releases you so she may turn to her friend.

Harry's stare was distant, troubled. In truth, he looked sick. You dread to find out exactly what he's witnessed within Snape's memories, neither you nor Hermione mustered the will to ask.

Unexpectedly, Harry is first to break the silence.

“Where's Ron?” He mutters, finally looking between Hermione and yourself.

“He's with his family still.” Your girlfriend explains. Then the chosen one nods, and he starts to fade once more, disappearing into his own head.

“Harry what is it?” Hermione asks, when Harry looks up at her again, his eyes are glossed over with tears.

“There's a reason I can hear them, the Horcruxes.” He remarks. “I've known for awhile, and I think you have too.”

The newfound resolve in his voice makes your entire body stiffen, soon Hermione is crying again.

Harry possessed a bravery you once envied– but no longer.

He plans to confront the Dark Lord and the thought of it made you ill, he shouldn't have to go through it alone. It seems your girlfriend shared the same sentiment as she spoke her next words amidst soft sobs.

“I'll go with you–” She suggests, but her best friend is quick to turn her down.

“No, kill the snake.” Harry says, glancing between the two of you.

“Kill the snake and then it's just him.” He asserts. Hermione practically throws herself into his arms.

You watched as she cleaved to him hopelessly, Harry doing the same in return.

Soon, The Chosen One shifts his gaze towards something behind you, and you swiftly turn around to see Ron standing a few paces away.

The expression on his face suggests he had been standing there for some time.

His eyes were tired, glazed over with what resembled apathy– or perhaps the harrowing inevitably of acceptance. You could not say for certain.

One thing you did know; in order to defeat Voldermort, Harry Potter has to die.

[joanquill]

Tea Time

Seeing William enjoying tea despite the sun being out, you decided to visit your reclusive vampire companion.

William James Moriarty

A/N: Since I couldn't write Halloween requests last year, I thought writing some shorts could be compensation ^^" The monster versions of the guys will just be based on the Halloween merch(?) I found :)

Tag/s: Vampire!William, Modern!Reader

Warning/s: Profanity

"For a vampire, you sure look anemic," you greeted William as you walked into the garden, watching him enjoy tea while wearing a sun hat, sunglasses, and long sleeves.

"Good afternoon to you as well, (Y/N)," William calmly greeted as he sipped his tea.

"Isn't it dangerous for you to be outside even if the sun's setting?" you asked, using your shadow to shield him from the sunlight.

"It's fine. I put on some sunscreen earlier, and a little sunlight every once in a while is not so bad," William reassured, making you hum as you sat across from him.

"Well, you look very pretty," you grinned, earning an unamused look from William as he kept his smile.

"What brings you here today?" he asked as he poured you a cup.

You shrugged your shoulders, tapping the cup lightly as you stared inside.

"Just wanted to visit..." you answered, taking a sip as William observed you.

"Nothing else?"

"Nope," you confirmed, focusing on drinking the tea.

"...He cheated on you, didn't he?" he asked, making you freeze as you set down the cup.

"Five times! Can you believe that asshole!?" you scoffed in anger as William poured you another cup, lending an ear.

"Ugh, I swear every decent guy is either dead, gay, or taken..." you muttered in despair with your face flat on the table as William listened to your woes.

"Sounds difficult," William mused, drinking from his cup as you looked up at him.

"Can't you introduce me to someone? Maybe a descendant of a friend of yours?" you joked, making William breathe out a smile.

"Unfortunately, no," he answered, making you sigh in disappointment.

"May I ask why you are in such a hurry to meet someone?" he asked, making you raise a brow.

"Don't people get married and have kids really young in your time?"

"Perhaps I can give you a history lesson during your next visit,"

"Never mind!" you quickly turned away, remembering the math lecture he gave you last time.

You let out a deep sigh as you nursed your teacup, "I swear I'm going to die alone..." you grumbled, sliding down to the table.

"Hm... I'll be sure to visit," William monotonously added, making you scoff as you threw the table napkin at him.

"You are no help at all!" you chuckled, making William smile as he effortlessly caught the napkin with a smile.

"Now, will you answer my question?" he asked, making you stop and bite your lip.

You dragged out a sigh as you sank into your arms.

"I don't know... Everyone around me has been getting married and having kids, and it... it just feels like I'm falling behind," you answered, making William look at you solemnly.

"(Y/N)-"

"And I know everyone goes at their own pace... but I just want to be with someone, you know? Don't you?" you asked, catching William by surprise.

"What? Don't you have a special someone?" you half-jokingly asked, making him awkwardly smile.

"I did... but that's all in the past now," he confirmed, surprising you.

"...Sorry," you sheepishly apologized, making William chuckle.

"Don't worry, it's been years... And they died of old age," he reassured, perking your ears.

"What were they like?" as you asked William, the alarm on your phone went off.

"Ah, shit... Sorry, let's continue this tomorrow," you hastily said as you fixed yourself.

"You're welcome to visit anytime you wish," William reassured, waving goodbye as you rushed out of the garden.

"But hey!" you shouted, catching William's attention, "Maybe they got reincarnated? Maybe we can try to find them tomorrow!" you suggested, waving goodbye as you rushed out of the manor, not wanting to deal with the late-night traffic.

William breathed out a smile as he watched your retreating figure, a solemn smile on his face as he kept his eyes on you.

"Seriously... They haven't changed at all,"

[paleroze]

Blade Imagines

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Crossing paths with the person you've sworn to move on to, you stand in disbelief and despair as memories flood your mind.

"General, what a surprise to see you here." You smiled at his greeting while you stand gazing through the sky, endless possibilities crossed your mind as you prepare to embark on your journey.

"To be able to bid my farewell, I think I should meet you for the last time before you take on the sky." You laugh, "How... Delightful." Jing Yuan smiles at you, his eyes turn to the stars.

To think that you will not depart without someone saying their last words to you, this place will serve only as a memory the moment you step on the ship, you will be across the universe where you will meet different species, new people, see new places.

"Should I send you a signal if.. he returns?" You can tell Jing Yuan hesitates to mention the man, and to avoid wounding your fragile heart any longer. Yet, the price was too good for you and him that this conversation couldn't be avoided even if you yourself will disappear to the cosmos.

Your weakness is him, your strength, your life, your suffering..

"There's no need. I doubt they will even reach me."

As you take the ship, Jing Yuan waves to the craft you are maneuvering out the Xianzhou Luofu, his words did not reach you.

"Him or the message?"

The universe does not spare the weak, nor the unlucky ones.

Whichever planet you try to reside, he would find you. You will face him, now different than what you used to see him. He changed, but you remain as ever the same as how he loves you.

"How should I call you," You asked, pinned on the wall in his grasp. "Yingxing?" You test the waters. You can tell that he flinched as you uttered his name in whisper how you used to under the sheets with him. The grip on your shoulders tightened.

"Must I be a part of your vengeance, Blade?"

He never raised his weapon at you, but you still end up wounded, hurtfully inside, your heart churns as you turn to look at him. His silver hair gone to be in a shade of navy blue, the tip fades into red. His eyes that used to shine like the sea have turned scarlet that you're now a stranger to.

He will never be the person you fell in love with. That man died a long time ago..

Blade despises that he is but now an immortal being, and that suffering he also has to endure is to not be able to die with you.

"Must you torture me this way? All these years I try to run away from you, yet you show up every time. In what planet must I hide in for you not to track me down?" You screamed, anger evident in your words.

Blade will never let you escape from his grasp, not anymore he will let another person he cares about disappear, especially you. You may get angry, kill him, yell at him, but you don't get to disappear.

This never-ending chase gets tiring, but you never give up. Just to get away from him.

He's not Yingxing. He will never be Yingxing.

"No matter how many times you run, I will come to you. You're.." everything to me. The only thing that keeps me sane. His co-worker's words be damned, when he remembers your face and name, the demons within him crumble into dust, his mara that torment his life dissipates when he thinks of you.

Besides, no matter how many times he has found you, even if you shout words that flew right past his head, one thing he will never ignore is..

You never say you don't love him anymore.

[silassinclair]

Introduction!! Yandere Wild West Outlaw x Reader

CONTENT WARNING: Guns, Violence, Fem Reader, For 16+ Readers Preferably (Ik i cant stop you younger little shits from being here)

Mayor John L/n should have known better than to attract the attention of Maddox Graves; the West's number one most wanted criminal and outlaw. But Y/n L/n's Father, John L/n, is a fool.

It all started when John L/n rode into town on his fine horse. Tonight he was going to drink at the bar and chat with the other townspeople about some small town drama. When John arrived outside the saloon however he noticed all of the posts had horses tied to them already. John looks around and sees a free spot! Just as John hopped off his horse to tie the rope around the wood post another man beat him too it.

The man shoulder checked John as he tied his black horse to the post.

“Hey I was about to tie my horse there you brute! And how dare you hit me!” John says angrily.

"I had my horse tied here first old man. Go find some place else to tie yours." The Mexican American man says; his accented voice rich and deep. The bottom half of his face is concealed by a dark red bandana. His cowboy hat is a dark brown color, a contrast to the black attire he adorns.

"Do you know who I am young man? I own this town! Now get your filthy horse out of my way before I teach you a lesson!" Mayor L/n shouts aggressively.

The outlaw frowns disapprovingly under the cloth of his bandana. This greedy old fart dare insult his stallion? And threaten him?

The outlaw brings his masked face close to the older man, making the older man back up nervously. Bringing his rugged hands to his hips the outlaw moves his long black leather jacket to the side, revealing one of his two revolvers. Each revolver being a stunning silver color with black metal engravings. No other gunman in the west had such weapons, no one other than Maddox Graves.

The mayor notices the shining gun and he gasps in fear for his life. "Those guns! Y-You’re M-Maddox Graves!" He shouts in newfound fright.

"That's right old man. You fucked with the wrong guy. Telling me to move my horse and insulting him in such a way? You're a real old fart I tell ya. Ya had some real balls o’ steel to threaten me too." The outlaw says as he pats the back of his midnight black stallion.

The mayor doesn’t waste a second as he goes to his horse as quick as possible. He gets on it's saddle to ride off. Luckily, he escapes the outlaw. However the outlaw already knows where the mayor lives.

And he will not let him get away with what he has done. No one disrespects Maddox Graves unless they want to end up in their own grave.

.

.

.

"Father? Are you alright?" A young woman says. The woman's name is Y/n L/n, and she's the one and only daughter of Mayor John L/n. In this shit stain of a small town that is on the bottom corner of maps, she brings light and joy. The townspeople adore her presence and work ethic. Though she is wealthy and the daughter of the mayor she does volunteer work in local farms and helps look after the town’s children.

Though Y/n L/n has no Mother, not anymore. So John L/n protects her with his life. She’s all he has left and he may have just lost her tonight for what he has done.

"How can I be so foolish?! Oh god what have I done!" The old man says in despair as he rushes over to his daughter. He embraces her in a desperate hug which she returns gently with a pat to his sweating back.

"Father whatever is the matter? What has you in such a stress?" She asks with genuine concern.

The old man holds her plush face gently in his wrinkled palms. He gazes into her eyes, for it may be the final time he get to do so.

"I have made a mistake Y/n... I insulted a dangerous outlaw and he may come here to our home. I need you to hide okay... Whatever you hear, do not leave your hiding spot."

Y/n feels her Father tremble. "Father I don't understand! Please whatever it is let me hel-"

"NO! I CAN HEAR HIS HORSE OUTSIDE! GO UPSTAIRS AND HIDE NOW!"

The poor young woman yelps as her Father pushes her away. She is about to argue but the desperation in his eyes makes her only nod and run up the stairs and do as she's told. Y/n goes to her bedroom and opens the door to her oak wardrobe. She hides behind a few gowns and shuts the door enough for there to be a crack.

There are sounds of talking downstairs. Y/n can hear the voice of her Father and another. The other voice is deeper and strikes fear into her core. She can hear how desperate her Father is as he pleads for his life.

“You got a little girl right? Would be a shame if she lost her Father.” The deep voice says.

“Yes! So please spare me Graves! I’ll give you money, anything you want! So please leave us in peace!” The old man begs on his knees.

“Hmmm.” The dark outlaw ponders.

BANG

Y/n covers her mouth as she yelps in horror at the sound of the gunshot. Her body trembled, the silence now was frightening. No longer did she hear the sound of her Father begging for his life. All that was left was a deadly silence.

Her Father was dead.

“Come out girl! Your Father isn’t dead~ He’s just sleeping.” Maddox taunts as he blows the smoke from the end of his gun before returning it to its holster.

Tears fell from Y/n’s eyes as she struggled to steady her breathing. She could hear his footsteps ascending the stairs. Slow, and taunting. He was taking his time.

“I don’t like playing games. Now come out before I kill you.”

The hiding woman refused to make a sound. Her survival instinct made her once trembling body as still as a statue when she heard his footsteps enter her room. She felt frozen as his steps stopped right outside the closet door.

“I know you’re in here little girl. Now come out.”

She didn’t.

“Okay, you asked me to do this.”

Light flooded into the wardrobe as Maddox nearly ripped the doors off the hinges from swinging it open so hard and fast. Inside he heard the scream of a woman and suddenly a boot clad foot coming out from behind gowns kicked him in the groin. Keeling over in pain he clutched his jewels and fell on his knees.

“OO- YOU BITCH!” He yells. His eyes widen when he sees her though. She peeks her head out from behind the dresses and gowns. Her face is soft and stained with dry tears. Rather than a young girl who he thought, it was a pretty woman who looked to be a few years younger than him.

“You’re a disgusting man!” She says angrily and runs out of the closet past the kneeling outlaw. Dashing down the stairs she sees her Father on the ground, bleeding from his side.

“Father!” She calls to him desperately as she kneels by his side and cradles his head. He’s still breathing, thank god. But he’s losing a lot of blood. So Y/n grabs the hem of her dress and tears off a strip of the fabric and ties it around his torso.

“I-I’ll run to town and call for a doctor Father.” She says with a weak smile. His eyes are closed, he seems to have passed out from shock.

Just as Y/n stood up to run out the door to get help a gunshot rings out and the bullet hits the doorknob she was just about the grab. Whipping her body back in shock she looks up and sees Maddox at the top of the staircase, his smoking gun aimed at her.

“You’re a wild one aren’t you missy?” He says with a smirk. A freshly lit cigar hangs from his mouth.

Y/n stands by the door as still as a statue as Maddox comes down the stairs. Now standing before her the height difference is very stark. Her head only reaches his shoulders.

“Let me leave… My Father is dying. I need to get to a doctor.” She says with a wavering voice.

Maddox blows smoke in her face and laughs.

“He may as well be already dead girly. He’s lost a lot of blood. And besides, even if you did make it to town you would come home to him dead. There ain’t enough time for dilly-dally.”

He was right, unfortunately. Y/n tried her best to hold back her tears. She had to stay strong, she couldn’t show weakness to this bloodthirsty killer. But she could only handle so much.

She looks behind the outlaw and sees her Father grow more pale as the seconds tick by. The moment she noticed her Father’s chest still… and a final breath escape his lips.. Y/n felt like her life was over. Her Father was dead. All hope is lost for her as she crumbles like an ancient statue.

“F-Father, my Father is dead! You killed him-!” She breaks down and grips her hair in her hands, sinking to the floor. Maddox only watches with a small grin as he tosses the cigar to the side.

“He was an old man who was gon’ kick the bucket soon anyway. I only sped up the process a lil’ princess.” Maddox says with a mocking coo. But Y/n looks up at him with a piercing glare. Her hands turn to fists and she strikes. Her fist collides with his face, causing him to whip his head to the side. Y/n stills as she awaits his reaction. He is eerily silent and his downcast gaze is dark.

But then she is suddenly met with a chuckle. His deep, rich laugh radiates throughout the home. Like an infection that invades the young woman’s eardrums. She can’t stand it.

“You hit hard little lady, I like that in a woman.” Maddox grips her chin, squeezing her face and puckering her lips.

“Such soft lips… Wonder how they’d feel against mine. Poor lil thang like you needs a strong man in her life.” His condescending tone sparks rage in Y/n. This man, no… this beast. This murderer. She needs to take revenge. To kill the man who killed her Father in cold blood. But not now. No, she would have to wait. She needs the right moment to strike.

And she doesn’t mind playing the long game. She’ll play along for now.

Hey yall, it’s me. I’m SLACKING so hard. School and work has been busting my balls and writers block is eating me alive. But this Oc got me out of the gutter. Hopefully yall like him! I plan to write for him more.

[anonymooseforever007]

CATastrophe

(Alfie Solomons x Wife Reader)

Summary: Alfie said the kitten could stay on ONE condition: It couldn't make a mess of anything. And you'd promised him the cute little furball wouldn't dream of spilling even a drop of milk.....Unfortunately the kitten made no such promises....

A/N: Hi y'all! No warnings for this one. This is for Flor's ( @raincoffeeandfandoms ) 2.7k celebration! That I wrote like a year ago before I disappeared, so I'm sorry it took so long 😂😅! But you're amazing!!!❤️ I hope you enjoy this! You said the theme was cats and this idea popped into my head and I ran with it! It's about 90 percent comedic/fluff about when Y/N and Alfie met their kitten, which happens to be on the same day Alfie meets Tommy. So I have changed that part up from canon just a little bit for my own devices.

WC- 7.5k

Main Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh no. No no no no no! Get off that! Off! No! Whhhyyy did you dooo that..... why."

Slight panic swept through your body as you quickly snatched up the ink stained papers off Alfie's desk. 

"Please don't be important. Please don't be important. Please don't be impo.... and they're for the new guy.... great.... Maybe we can clean it off... nope. We are absolutely screwed."

Giving another groan of defeat and burying your head into your arms, you slouched down in your husband's chair. The rain outside seemed to grow darker with your mood. You'd only fallen asleep for fifteen minutes.... but evidently that was all it took for catastrophe to occur. 

"Meow."

And CATastrophe really was the right word for it, given how the instigator of this entire mess was already ignoring your despair... in favor of playing with a loose string on the couch. The small creature wasn't paying any mind to the paw printed papers he'd ruined, nor the blue ink still mattered upon his tiny mitts. Ink that was yet to dry, resulting in a small path of blue paw prints across the stone floor.... And on the desk... And the couch.... And basically everything in the office. There was even a single blue print on the fur right under a sleeping Cyril's nose.

"Oh don't say that. You know what you did."

Sighing again, you stood up and pinched the small kitten up by the back of his neck. You weren't hurting it, instead you'd grabbed it in the hold you'd seen mother cats do many times when carrying their babies down the road. It was the exact grip that would render your captive immobile while you came up with a plan to fix his mistake. Or maybe to escape.

"I mean really?! You heard what Alfie said earlier." Still holding the guilty party gently, you wagged your pointer finger at the naughty thing, much like you did Cyril when he got stole steak off the table. Narrowing your eyes slightly as the kitten only stared, you continued your admonishment, "He said if you made any trouble he'd put you back in the dumpster I found you in. And while he may not actually do it, he'd certainly give you away to someone else. And we can't have that, can we."

The kitten only let out a small noise as if agreeing. Though it would seem that would be enough to melt your frustrated heart. Huffing, you pulled the cat closer to your chest and started petting the top of his head, paying no mind to the ink slowly dying your dress. Moving to the couch you sat down, remembering what had occurred only that morning....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few hours ago....

"ALFRED!!!"

Jumping slightly at the sudden shout, your husband raised his head from the dozens of papers on his desk. He barely had time to open his mouth before the door to his office swung open with contrasting gentleness from your previous tone. As you stepped through the frame, he could see your coat bundled tightly to your chest. He'd never admit it, but the way you shook your head to get the rain drops off reminded him exactly of Cyril. Like mother like son he guessed. As if your particularly bouncy disposition shouldn't have been enough to tip him off, the look in your eyes told Alfie were this conversation was headed before it even began. Or so he thought.

"We have a cat."

"......No, we don't. We have a dog."

"No, Alfie. We have a cat."

"Cyril's a dog." Alfie was confused now. You did understand that Cyril was a dog right? Did you get brunch with your sister and have too many cups of her special 'tea'? Alfie's brow pulled together as he thought, and a quick glance to the mutt, confirmed that he was indeed looking at a dog. A very big one, who wasn't anywhere near cat size.

"No. Alfie. We. have. a. CAT." You stepped right up to his desk, and placed a small ball of fur right onto his top hat. Just like it was a podium in which to share the world. If Alfie had to guess, he'd have thought you'd placed a clump of Cyril's fur on his hat, but then it started to move. 

In no time, Alfie was matching gazes with a pair of brilliant blue eyes that could rival Tommy Shelby's. Or so Alfie had heard, he was only meeting the man for the first time today, because apparently a simple 'Hello' constituents as a fucking 'Come on over for tea and biscuits, we'll be fucking friends,' in Birmingham... But the brilliance of Tommy's eyes wasn't the biggest thing on the Jewish Gangster's mind right now.

"What the fuck is that?"

"It's a CAT, Alfie. Haven't you been listening to a word I said?"

Sliding around the desk, you pushed Alfie's chair back, just enough so you had space to sit on his good leg. You only grinned, watching the small kitten begin to play with the feather in your husband's hat. Alfie was slightly still stuck in the whole Cyril: Dog or Cat? debate he'd gotten into his head.

"Ok Dovey, but why is it here?"

With a loving sigh, you took Alfie's face in your hands, mindlessly rubbing a thumb over his bearded cheeks.

"It is here because our newest child needs to meet his new daddy." Turning his head so he could see who exactly was 'the child' in question, you continued, "I was bringing back lunch. I heard something mewling from the dumpster. I went over to the dumpster. I found him gnawing away at a half eaten fish head. He was adorable. He was alone. Now he is ours."

The final sentence was said kindly, but firmly. In fact, your whole statement was spoken so 'matter of fact' like and simply. Alfie knew the conversation was already finished. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy it.

"Ours? Dovey, I don't know. I'm not really a cat fella. You know that. Besides I've got a meeting in a bit. I don't have time to be taking care of a feral cat. What kind of man would this Peaky fucker take me for if he saw me walking around with a cat on my shoulder?"

Grinning, you gently tapped Alfie's nose as if he'd said something adorable.

"Well, Ally. That's just because you've never had one before. You have to have something to become a something sort of person don't cha? Besides. It's not like you're gonna be the only one taking care of him. I'll be there too! To help you along the way." Then raising and eyebrow you made sure to catch his eye contact before you continued, "Also, before I forget, Alfred. I know it's important to make an impression on possible business partners, but how about this time we keep those impressions non physical, yes? I have no issue with you pointing a gun in their face, but just please stop getting blood on your rings. Try to take them off if you must. I'm tired of having to take your rings to the jeweler to get them fixed because you just had to make a 'lasting impression' when they decided to say one thing you didn't like, alright?"

Leaning your head on his shoulder, you continued your plea for one month without having to get his rings fixed, "Do it for me and sweet old Miss Haversnash who always thinks you've been mugged every time I bring them in. She's 83 years old, and her memory's not what it use to be. Half the time she thinks you've gotten into another boxing match like when you were 16. And the other half, she thinks you're an actual baker with a bad hip who's being constantly being picked on and bullied by the teens who throw glass in the allyway behind her house at night."

Alfie's eyes shot to yours at that statement.you could practically taste the offense coming off of him.

"Wait Dovey... Are you telling her I'm a weak fucking thing that can't even scare off a few kids?"

"No," your sighed, slightly rolling your eyes at the one think you knew would get his attention in that sentence. "I've told her again and again that you can take care of yourself, but she just won't have it. Hell, last time I spent ten minutes convincing her to not take her gun and go shoot the 'cowardly fuckwits who dared mess with such a sweet injured man.' Becca was there too and she can tell you just how hard it was. So I'm asking again Alfie: For all of our sakes, please don't beat this man up today unless he really deserves it."

"And what exactly would really deserving it mean Dovey? Because you know me, I'm a man of honour and I'm not gonna hit a fella unless he's got it coming for him." Alfie clasped his hands together as he spoke, like if he did so you'd agree with him.

"Right," you nodded in response, somewhat mocking him. Technically he wasn't lying, by you knew there were times when your husband's definition of 'deserve' varied greatly from the average person's. And while he didn't regularly beat up any poor workers for a simple accident, some of the more annoying ones might as well have been walking on snowflakes over a volcano during his bad days. "Alfie, good behaviour today, deal. Because remember? The longer I spend at the shop getting your rings fixed, the less time I have to get ready for tonight. And Alfie?" You questioned as you leaned your lips to his ear, "I got a pretty new nightgown I've been waiting to show off. It would be a shame if you were to miss it because you were too busy dealing with another man and I fell asleep waiting for you..."

"Is that so poppet," Alfie chucked quietly, moving his hand to you hips and rubbing slow circles. With a sly smirk you nodded, moving one of your own hands down to his upper thigh. Groaning softly, Alfie leaned back in his chair to draw you face towards his for a deep kiss that would probably result in him being late for his meeting. 

"Mrrrrrroooow!"

Remembering there was audience, you pulled back from your husband. Alfie made a noise of his own, one of almost offended shock, crossed a confused huff. Looking at the cat, he narrowed his eyes. It wasn't that he already regretted letting the small thing stay this long, but Alfie never enjoyed your attention being torn away from him. Especially when he could have used that attention to make you think of him for the rest of the day. Though you paid no mind to that.

"Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I'm still gonna keep you safe. Come here sugar, time to say hello to your new papa."

Reaching across the desk you picked up the kitten from his 'podium'. Pulling him closer, you gently laid the creature on Alfie's chest in a way that forced him to cup the animal in his hands so it wouldn't fall. You knew once Alfie touched the kitten he'd be sold. And to further your luck, as soon as the kitten was settled on Alfie's chest, it had stated purring in contentment. You may have been Cyril's preference, but there was no doubt who this baby favored.

"See! He loves you! You can't give up on him now. He's already so attached. Even Cyril likes him!" You stated, indicating to the curious pup who was already sniffing gently at the kitten. The baby cat also seemed curious, reaching out a tiny paw to gently bat the dog's nose. In response, Cyril jumped back and barked happily, bending down into his playing position. However it seemed like the poor kitten was not as eager to start playing. With a tiny hiss, he startled, scratching Alfie's hand to be released, before clawing his way up the man's chest under the safety of Alfie's beard. 

"Oh for the love of....fuck. Grab it will ya?" Alfie huffed, his eyes raised to the ceiling as he couldn't lower his chin or risk crushing the cowering cat. Laughing when your eyes met brilliant blue, you couldn't help but coo as you carefully detangled the pair.

"Shuu. It's alright baby. It's ok. Cyril didn't mean to scare you. He's only excited to have a new brother. I promise we'll work on being gentler." Comforting scratches under the cats chin seemed to finally relax its fears. Still sitting on Alfie's lap, you held the cat with one hand and stuck out your other for Cyril to sniff. Seeming to take the hint, Cyril slowly inched forward until his head rested in your palm. Though he was standing still like a good boy, Alfie could practically feel the dog's urge to wag his tail and lick the kitten again. Over the next few minutes you slowly moved the kitten closer and closer to the dog again until the pair was right next to each other.

"See baby, Cyril's just a bug ole fluff ball. He didn't mean to scare you." Still remaining calm, both you and your husband grinned, watching the cat reach out and cautiously climb from your hand onto Cyril's head. Making a small circle and a few biscuits, the kitten seemed to be satisfied and promptly curled up on Cyril's head. By now the dog couldn't contain his excitement and his tail could be seen wagging happily as he tried to stay still.

"There! They already love each other! Isn't it the cutest thing you've ever seen?"

"It may very well be cute love, but do I look like the type of man who should be surrounded by cute?" With an arched eyebrow, Alfie raised his hands as if to show off all the "cute" things currently not surrounding him at the paper filled office in the middle of an illegal distillery.

As Cyril made his way back to his dog bed, the kitten still perched on his back, you took the time to turn to your husband and cuddle into him more. After all, a little bit of affection never hurt your cause before did it? But Alfie still seemed a bit uncertain.

"Well you certainly don't have any problem being surrounded by me, do ya? And you were saying just last night how cute I was whe.... Hello Ollie! Do you like our new cat? I still haven't thought of a name yet. Any ideas?"

Immediately you switched topics as the tall man walked through Alfie's open door while bearing papers. Though judging by the blush on his ears, he'd already over a head the last sentence and knew where it was going. Alfie just grunted quietly and shifted you on his lap a little as the memories of last night came to his mind. He had absolutely no qualms about Ollie hearing about your marital bliss, but you still tried to spare the younger man's feelings. He'd been married six years and had three kids (with another on the way), but how the man still blushed at the word sex, you didn't know. His wife certainly didn't have the same issue, which is why you made a point of having her for tea at least once a week. She was the mousiest little thing ever, but boy did she have some fun ideas. And she always knew the most interesting books for a a good read. Plus, she made really good chocolate pound cake. Yes, it was safe to say if (heavens forbid) you ever cheated on your husband, it would only be with Ollie's Rebecca. She would have jumped on the cat idea without hesitation. In-fact, she would have already made the animal his own little coat by now. 

"Oh...you have a cat now," Ollie sputtered out, ignoring Alfie's slight 'don't encourage her' glare. Partially because he wasn't afraid of Alfie when you were there, and also because he knew if the cat didn't go with you, it would end up at his house...again. So humoring you was likely his best bet if he wanted to keep what little remained of his space on the bed. "That's nice. Seems to get along with Cyril well."

"Don't they! That's just what I was telling Alfie. Such close friends already, how can you tear them apart."

Still uncertain, Alfie tried one more weak plea.

"I don't know Dovey... It's not even trained. I don't want a cat tearing up my papers before a meeting."

But once more you only smiled, and brushed away his concerns. 

"Alfie. That's ok. He's just a baby now. There'll be time for training. Besides, he's been perfect so far. I promise, this cat will be absolutely no trouble at all..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Present time...

"You are in so much trouble mister."

Again the kitten only meowed and continued to gently bat at your necklace. You still hadn't settled on a name for him yet. So sorrow you'd just taken to calling him the many different pet names you also used on Cyril, Alfie, Goliath, and occasionally Ollie. This entire conversation really was one sided. Your criminal counterpart (well the four legged baby one) couldn't care less about the words coming from your mouth. Glancing around the room you tried to think of a plan. 

"Ok, first thing's first sugarstop, we need to clean you off before you can go signing any more important documents..... But the closet sink is in the kitchens. That might pose an issue." 

Alfie had gone out to meet Mr. Shelby about half an hour ago leaving you, Cyril and, 'the furball' to your own devices. Considering, if Alfie actually decided to play nice today, that a tour of the bakery would take about an hour...You had to be very very quick. But also considering that Alfie always took the same route for his tours, you'd also have to be sneaky because the bakery (the real one) was right at the front of the shop by Alfie's office. Which meant if he hadn't decided to kill this new fucker, then they'd be headed your way and very soon. 

Looking down at the kitten again you knew you'd have to find a way to sneak him to the kitchens, or his blue paws would give up the whole gig. Glancing around the room your searched for something nonchalant to hide the cat in for the short journey. Suddenly your eyes landed on an object sitting by the corner of Alfie's desk..... purrrfect...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy / Third Person POV

Thomas Shelby didn't know how to feel about Alfie Solomons. 

But he knew one think for certain.... This Alfie was fucking insane. A partnership with this man might kill him even more painfully than a gang war against him. But then again, Tommy had stopped caring if he'd die long ago, so the way it happened really didn't make much difference these days. As long as his family didn't go with him he figured he'd be just fine. And so if a deal with a mad man was what it took to beat Sabini, then a deal with a mad man he'd make... and hopefully not become one in the process. 

These were the thoughts running through Tommy's head as he followed the other man around the 'bakery', while pretending like he'd already regained feeling in his left elbow and that the ringing in his right ear didn't exist. He really didn't care what Alfie was saying, or about the front the man had put up for his rum business. As far as Tommy was concerned, he just wanted to make the damned deal and go to Ada's house to sleep. But seeing Alfie pause during the tour (again) only too to berate a random worker didn't raise his hopes up. Resisting the urge to knock his head into the wall, Tommy just raised an eyebrow at the scene and waited for Alfie to be done. Suddenly, he heard a fast paced yet soft clicking noise. Like someone was headed towards them, but walking on their toes in an effort be quiet. Unconsciously, he reached for his gun, only to freeze when the approacher turned the corner. 

It was a woman with blue ink stains on her dress and (more oddly) wearing a top hat far too large to be hers...

Tommy could barely see her eyes from under the brim of the hat, and it seemed her vision was just as limited. Head ducked down, she seemed more interested in the ground than anything else. Or maybe like she was trying to hide something. Unconsciously Tommy reached for his gun again. He'd been tricked by a pretty woman before and he didn't plan on letting it happen again. While Alfie continued to quietly threaten talk to his tenth worker of the day, Tommy'a gaze remained fixed on the woman walking towards them. 

Suddenly Alfie slammed his fist against the wall, before he grabbed the man by his collar and pulled the worker towards him. It was so close in-fact, their noses were almost touching. Both Tommy's head and the hat woman's shot over to the angry man. But while the Birmmingham man said nothing, the mystery woman wasn't so silent now. And Tommy didn't know to be more confused or amused when he woman pulled a button out of her pocket and threw it at the bearded man's head to get his attention.

"ALFRED!"

Dropping his wide eyed victim back on his feet, Alfie stepped back and raise his hands in mock surrender. It was evident that this was regular conversation in the bakery. Spinning around to face the pair of onlookers, the bearded man barely even blinked at the hat upon the woman's head. That must have been a regular occurrence too.

"Oi! Why aren't you back at the office?! We agreed you were staying there until this was finished."

Raising an eyebrow at his harsh tone, the woman mimicked Alfie's crossed arms and tilted her head just slightly. It was then Tommy thought he heard a slight mewl coming from her hat, but chalked it up to his still cracked skull. After all, why would a hat be making cat noises? Though before he could question it, the woman spoke again.

"First off, I am not one of your workers. Alfred, You will not use that tone with me. I am not the one who pissed you off, I am not the one who gets the backlash. You know how it works. Second, we never agreed on anything of the matter. You just got up and left when you heard Ollie trying to keep someone out. And third.... I... I wanted to wash my hands in the kitchen. I spilled some ink when writing a letter."

Both men heard the slight hesitation in her last sentence, and while Tommy didn't care enough to question it, Alfie wasn't so convinced. Again Tommy heard a small meowing from her hat, and thought he saw it shift slightly on her head. Almost like someone had just barely bumped into the woman, jostling it slightly, which was odd seeing as there was at least an arms length distance between her and anyone else. Then the noice came again, more frustrated this time and he wasn't so sure it was fake. Additionally by now, the Birmingham gangster had realised this woman obviously wasn't just a random secretary. No, this little conversation was one that took place between two of a far more intimate relationship.

"You spilled ink writing a letter? Really?.... wait. Dovey? Why are there tiny paw prints on your dress? Did the fucking rat do it?"

Having been completely forgotten by, what he assumed was a couple now, Tommy watched as the woman gasped slightly and unconsciously placed a hand over her hat. What was she protecting? And why wouldn't that fucking cat noise go away? Maybe he should have stayed in the hospital for longer. The hat shifted again seemingly by magic.

"Rat?! Alfie you know he's not a rat! And just because he's a bit mischievous doesn't mean this was his fault."

This time it was Alfie's turn to raise his eyebrow. "What do you mean 'this' Poppet? It was only a letter wasn't it? A few spots of ink? He didn't cause any trouble, did he? Where is the little runt anyway? And why've you got my hat on?"

But before anyone could speak again, a determined yowl released itself from the hat, as the object forcefully flipped itself off her head. Unable to hide his shock and confusion, Tommy watched with wide eyes as the hat practically flew towards the ground until it was caught by Alfie. 

Silence reigned in the warehouse for a few moments. Everyone was staring at the 'magic' hat in suspense, waiting to see what it would do next. 

Then, with a rather satisfied purr, a blue pawed kitten popped his head out of the hat.

"....is that a cat?"

It was Tommy who (for once) spoke first, breaking the human silence that still hovered over the group. Forgetting the mess back in the office, the woman finally turned towards him, as if just registering his presence.

"Yes, it is! Isn't he just the cutest li....Alfie!"

Her words had trailed off and then turned to shock as she took in the state of the stranger before her.

Putting it nicely, Thomas Shelby looked like shit.

With a bruised up face and blood shot eyes, there was also a small drop of blood beginning to run from his nose, almost as if he couldn't get it to stop bleeding.

Holding the cat hat in one hand, Alfie raised the other in self defense and pointed at Tommy accusingly.

"He came like that, Dovey! It wasn't me. Doesn't have a single fucking ring mark on him, I swear!"

Observing his torn up state again, the woman gave Tommy another once over, before looking back at Alfie and sighing like she had the confirmation she wanted. With that her shoulders relaxed again and it was like she wasn't giving any more thought to Tommy's beat up state since Alfie wasn't the one who'd done it.

"....Alright, I believe you. Are you sure he's not just gonna dro...."

"I'm Thomas Shelby....And you are?" Having enough of not knowing who this woman was, Tommy interrupted the couple before they could start another conversation. 

Turning to face Tommy again, the woman suck out her own ink covered fingers to shake his outstretched hand. 

"Right, I'm Y/N. You must be the new man Alfie mentioned. It's nice to meet you." 

Tommy politely nodded in agreement, and stepped back once the introduction was over. Behind Y/N, he noticed Alfie's narrowed gaze, as he made physical contact with her. Truthfully, the imitating glare was dampened by the small cat in the hat Alfie was still holding on to. Especially when the animal started reaching up to play with the string on Alfie's necklace. 

Before another silence could settle upon the group, Alfie leaned off the wall he was resting against and promptly handed the hat/cat to his wife. Then throwing his arm almost amicably around Tommy's shoulders, he turned the pair of them around and started walking towards the exit. 

"Well this has been a nice fucking meet up hasn't it? Lovely meeting you, the tea was great, blah, blah, blah. You'll be headed out now."

As the men reached the door, Alfie let go of his grip Tommy and released the man for a hand shake of his own. And while Tommy was truthfully glad to finally be leaving this made house, he couldn't help but be curious and slightly confused about what was going on. 

"What about our deal?"

"Well, we'll just have to cover that next time you invite yourself over here won't we treacle. This was just a fucking warm up, meet and greet. I don't know if I want you lot poking your noses where they don't belong just yet do it. Come back tomorrow and we'll have a chat."

"Next Friday."

Turning, both men looked at Y/N who had followed behind them, and apparently wanted to change the date of their next meeting.

"Huh, Poppet?"

Gesturing towards Tommy's less than healthy state, she explained the situation to her husband. 

"Alfie look at him. A half-blind elderly ladybug could kill him right now." She also made sure to catch Tommy's eyes as she continued, "You can come back at the end of the week. Three O' Clock. Not sooner and if you're going to be late at least call first."

Tommy couldn't only nodded in agreement and slight confusion. Something about the way she spoke told him she'd already decided how this conversation would go. With a short nod he made his way out of the bakery and back to his car. Truthfully he was glad to finally be able to leave. He was tired and his head was killing him, and quite frankly there was something off putting about Alfie. But he couldn't put his finger on it. Now just yet. As he drove to Ada's house there was only in thing on his mind...

No matter how bad the relationship got between the two gangs, Y/N Solomons was never to be touched. Because Alfie Solomons was fucking crazy. And SHE might have been the only bit of sanity he had left. And Tommy didn't want to see how much blood would run when that bit was lost...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N / Second Person POV again a few minutes later

"So. How many papers am I going to have to type up again because furball here decided to go ink happy in the office?"

Humming innocently, you continued to avoid eye contact with your husband as  the pair of you walked back to his office, clean kitten in hand. After Tommy had left, you made the unspoken decision to clean the cat off first and then discuss the situation. But now as Alfie's office door approach once again, you couldn't help but feel slightly nervous. 

It wasn't that you thought Alfie was mad. Truth be told, you knew he wasn't. Having married him over a decade ago, you'd gotten to know every one of his little quirks and signed to his emotions. Just like he knew yours. And you knew if he really was frustrated or wanted to talk to discuss something important with you he'd never do it in-front of someone else. 

It was something you both agreed on when you'd gotten married. Being mad at the other was alright. No relationship is perfect and conflict is bound to occur. But that didn't mean it would be healthy for those feeling to stew. So upon the wedding day you'd talked and agreed on three things. First: if the other hurt your feelings or made you mad, let them know about it with words. Actions may show passion, but words speak clarity. Second: Never let the anger stew longer than a day. Try not to go to bed angry and make amends of the day. So the small bump doesn't become a mountain by the end of the week. And Third: NEVER bring down one in the presence of others. Unless the other is about to do something really wrong, you'd stand as a united front through thick and thin. Fighting may be fine, but it would be done out of everyone else's business. You marriage was a private matter and besides, no one liked being the onlooker to a shouting couple. And while the rules had become a bit deeper and more complex and your marriage lengthened and love continued to grow, you'd both still held each other strictly to them even today. 

And that's how you knew Alfie wasn't really mad about the interruption. If it really had irked him, he would have sent Tommy with Ollie and talked to you in the office alone. But he hadn't. Sure he'd accidentally been a bit rude when you'd first come upon him. But that was mainly because he was still channeling his frustration at the man who'd pissed him off. Besides. You were probably right to call him out that time. For his tone though.... and maybe a little bit for threatening a new young worker who simply mixed up the words bread and rum when being asked directly about the rum. But it was an important distinction AND he did have to show Tommy he meant business. Especially since he wasn't allowed to leave a 'physical' impression, this time either.... Maybe next time though. Alfie had told Tommy he didn't want to make a deal yet, but that wasn't quite true. He'd known the moment the bastard walked in, that this man could be either really good (or bad) for business. Alfie had also knew this man needed a better sense of humor too.

That was another thing too, you noticed. Alfie hadn't held back on the quips he'd be making during your initial 'interrogation' AND he'd actually let Tommy shake your hand. What the Birmingham gangster had yet to realise is that Alfie Solomons did in fact like him. If he hadn't there would have been a Shelby shaped blood stain on the dock ground minutes after he'd stepped off his dingy little boat he'd sailed down the Cut in. So the fact Alfie hadn't "accidentally" tripped the man down the stairs for interrupting you was definitely a positive sign that you'd be seeing the blue eyed man very soon...

"Fucking Hell! Little devil spawn really did a number didn't he?"

Distracted from your own inner thoughts, you met your husband's gaze as he finished his spin of the office. It was evident that Ollie (bless him) had already been through and cleaned up most of the scattered papers and toppled plants. During your short nap the cat had managed to undo the two hours of tidying you'd done just to curb your boredom that morning before finding the clawed culprit. So despite Ollie's best efforts, there was still a stark trail that someone else hadn't been on his best behaviour. Namely, the royal blue trail of tiny paw prints that lead on just about every surface in the office. Seeing them again, you couldn't help but feel guilty for you part in this.

"I'm sorry Alfie. I really didn't mean for this to happen. I fell asle..."

"Oh hush Dovey. I'm not mad at you."

Curiously, you couldn't help it as you tilted your head. You knew he wasn't furious, but you figured he would at least be a little frustrated that his couch was permanently covered in the cutest little stains ever. 

"What do you mean? You're not mad about the mass rampage?"

Shaking his head, Alfie only opens his arms to pull you close as he settled down in the couch.

"Nope. Infact I think it's rather nice timing the little bastard had isn't it?" And for the first time that day, Alfie willingly stretched out his hand for the animal to sniff. After two seconds, you both chuckled and the kitten practically faced planted in his effort to cuddle Alfie's hand. Shoving his nose as deep as he could into Alfie's palm, the kitten began to curl up right there. 

"Nice timing? Alfie, not only did he ruin the papers for your deal, but he quite literally almost threw himself to death trying to get your attention," you retorted, brushing a single finger along the cat's back. "And I have to add to Love, seeing you hold him in that hat wasn't exactly the message you were hoping to send was it?" 

"Na Dovey," Alfie shrugged and settled leaned further against the couch. "Those weren't the papers I was gonna give him. Just a draft of it if he wasn't a total prick. But I'd say he fail that test, Love. It's a good thing you came when you did. I'm not to sure how I feel about that fella. Bit of a bore if I'm being honest. Needs to be a bit less serious."

The last part of his words were mumbled as Alfie tilted his head back towards the ceiling again. Happily, the kitten had once again climbed from his hand to right below his beard. 

"Now what's that mean?"

Alfie didn't answer, only grumbled. Evidently you weren't suppose to hear that last part.

"Alfie...."

Shrugging innocently, Alfie avoided making eye contact until the moment you took his face in your hands again. You couldn't help but smirk, as his face fell into a small pout, reminding you of Cyril when he didn't get extra treats for his bedtime snack.

"....He didn't like any of my jokes? All those wonderful little tidbits that I spent so long thinking of to break the tension, and not even one little snort?" Alfie complained, his nose wrinkling as he thought of the stoic man's manner. "I mean really Dovey, he didn't even smirk at my 'Fucking Biblical' quip! How am I suppose to work with a fella who can't find the humor in that!

Gasping dramatically, you frowned sympathetically and ran you fingers through the hair behind Alfie's ears.

"Awe! He didn't even laugh at your Fucking Biblical joke? Wow, Alfie, Darling that's just cold. I'm not even sure how you survived such a mean man." You cooed, talking in the voice you did when you were mocking Cyril for not having opposable thumbs.

"EXACTLY! Barely got through one meeting with the fucker and that wasn't even about the important stuff." 

"Aweee, you poor dear. All that hard thinking and not even a smile? Maybe he was just a shy fella Alfie?" Smirking you,  placed a finger under your husband's chin and lifted it up as you tried to ease his 'sorrows' from a 'tough' meeting. "And by the next meeting he'll open up and become a real hoot?"

"Maybe Dovey. But I suppose we'll have to see then won't we? And if he still hasn't pulled the stick out of his ass by then we'll know what kinda man he really is," Alfie declared. "Any man who can't take a good joke ain't a man I'm gonna be working with."

"Alrighty then. I suppose it's settled."

"Damn right it is Dovey. I got a code yeah. And I'm gonna stick by it no matter what some suck up little Birmingham horse fuck thinks of it."

Jokingly ruffling Alfie's hair you laughed at his deceleration. "Good on you Love, sticking your ground. If he can't handle a bit of fun then he's not worth the time is he?"

"Not a single thought Dovey, not a single thought." Alfie stated, closing his eyes as his head remained facing the ceiling. The kitten once again meowed as if agreeing....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A peaceful quiet settled over the office. Cyril was asleep at your feet again, and you had taken to leaning against Alfie's shoulder watching the rain fall outside. The kitten was still snuggled up under Alfie's beard. Only his small but sharp claws and Alfie's reclined form were keeping him from sliding down your husband's chest. Alfie's eyes remained closed but eventually he had freed one hand to gently stroke the kitten's side. If one were to looked over at the pair they would have seen a small tail poking out from between Alfie's beard gently swishing happily. 

It wasn't until Ollie's phone in the next room rang that the serenity your little family had found was interrupted.

The sudden high pitched ringing scared the small creature taking refuge under Alfie's beard. With a whining hiss, the kitten clawed his way out of Alfie's beard and up onto his head, trying to get to as high of ground as he could. Alfie cursed as the small claws hit his face. And while you half expected Alfie to drop the cat in your lap and find the number for the nearest shelter, instead he surprised you. Before the kitten could put out one of Alfie's eyes, the man grabbed the creature gently and held him aloft by the back of his neck like you had done earlier. 

"Alrighty mate. Now that's just fucking rude isn't it," Alfie began, talking to the kitten with authority, much like he did with Ollie. "Because that old thing in there isn't gonna hurt you, and you should know that. It's just noise and there isn't any reason for you to go off like how you did, Furry. Here I am trying to be nice and let you curl up on my chest, when I could very well be cuddling up with me darling wife, your mum, over there yeah?" With a tilt of his head, Alfie motioned to you as if clarifying who he was missing out on in his efforts to be nice. Then with a manoeuvre you didn't understand, Alfie gently rolled his hand so the kitten was lying belly up in his palm. With a stare, your husband continued on his ramble, "And now you may not yet be familiar with the rules in this house yet, but when a man offers you a warm place to lay, you don't go trying to put out his eyes now. Unless he's trying to hurt ya or something and the warm chest was a trap. In that case, you draw as much blood as you can and give no fucking mercy, ya hear? So there isn't gonna be any more of it when I'm around yeah? We don't do that here and you're gonna stick to that alright?"

It was a rather amusing sight. Your big 'scary' husband telling off an animal that weighed less than a bottle of rum with the same tone he would his new men when giving them instructions for the bakery. You finally understood how true Alfie's words were when he said he wasn't a cat person. Cyril he had been able to comfort right from the start, but now it was as if Alfie was holding a small man who hadn't been meeting his daily quota. This man truly had no idea how to care for a cat. And it was hard to hold off a laugh as Alfie ended his speech with a gently poke to the cat's stomach for good measure.

While laying in Alfie's palm the kitten's limbs had still been somewhat curled up. But as soon as his finger hit the animal's stomach, his little legs shot out like a star. Pausing, Alfie moved his finger back, and watched as the kitten's legs pulled back into their original position like on a spring. The with childlike curiosity almost, you watched your husband slowly poked the kitten's stomach again, gaining the same reaction as before. And then again, and again, and again. Soon enough Alfie was playing a hilarious version of 'stick them up' as a small smile grew on his face. 

"So I take it he can stay?" You gently interrupted. Pausing in his movements, Alfie turned towards you and then looked towards the kitten and then back to you. Pursing his lips he tilted his head from side to side for a few seconds, thinking of his answer. Then with a heavy sigh as if making a tough decision he shrugged his shoulders.

"I suppose we can keep him around for a bit longer Dovey. He's proved his worth."

Beaming you leaned over to give Alfie a kiss on the cheek ... which he turned into a kiss on the lips. Finally giving up his game with the kitten, Alfie placed the small animal on Cyril's back again so he could pull you over to his lap. It was you who initiated the kiss as you leaned farther against him, deeper into the couch. But this time, it was actually Alfie who pulled back first from the kiss before it got too far.

"Say Dovey, have you given any thought to what we're naming the Furball yet? Because I'm not calling it Baby or Sweetheart forever."

Pulling back, you sat up and thought. Then your eyes landed on the stained papers and an almost wicked grin grew on your face. 

"I can think of one name. But you have to promise to hear me out."

"Yeah? And what's that Dovey?"

"....Tommy."

"Fuck no," Alfie shot up with furrowed brows. "Why the fuck to you want to name the cat that? Not after that boring sickly fucker back there do ya? What's so great about him that he deserves a nice little thing like this being named after him."

"Well you just said why yourself Love," you chuckled. "You know exactly why it is a fitting name for him."

"Yeah and what's that....?"

"I mean, he is just a little thing after all...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down the hallway, Ollie jumped, startled by the deep laughter of his boss echoing from the office. But at the same time he smiled, know he hadn't lost any more space on his bed. Not today at least. The same thing wouldn't be said next week. When at the same dumpster, Y/N and Becca found three more kittens...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Main Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ TAG LIST (Based on what I've gathered from before I got off and what I think I refound, if I'm wrong and you wanted to get off a tag list or on one you can look at this post here and let me know :) )

Peaky Everything-

@raincoffeeandfandoms @zablife @theshelbyslimited @tommyshelbywhore

Peaky Romantic -

@optimisticsandwichgladiator

[seulgiwifeee]

I need a seulgi x reader when she comforts the reader that's going trough a family issue pls

( bcs I just discovered that my parents are divorcing and I need comfort)

🎀 anon

♡ Member: Seulgi x Femreader

♡ Theme: Angst, fluff

♡ Warning: Going through a parent divorce

Word count: 2.6k

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That look on your face—it's one Seulgi knows of too well. The underlining despair melded in the contours of your features, your absent-minded gaze, the unshed tears that gloss over your eyes as the late afternoon rays seep past the gauzy curtains and shine over them, making them glisten in a way that Seulgi believes accentuates your beauty effortlessly, making you look ethereal despite yourself. However, it also leaves a heavy ache in her heart, striking her with a pang of guilt and pity as it's only a sheer reminder of the amount of pain you're enduring internally.

It's been a rough week for you, to say the least—your main emotions mostly consisting of sorrow and apprehension. Recently, there has been an influx of conflicts stirring between your parents, some new, some old, and some that have stuck around since you were a small child, barely old enough to add numbers without using your fingers and shielded with a mask of innocence that, at the time, prevented you from fully comprehending the weight of their ongoing feud. But it didn't take long before you, eventually, were deprived of that same innocence, and each day you mourn and strive to cling onto any remnants of purity that may have survived throughout the years just so you can ground yourself to a semblance of sanity and serenity at times you need it most.

It was always a displeasure growing up having to witness every unfiltered argument that unfolded, all cruel and loud. Painfully loud that it was near impossible to block out any words echoing past the already paper-thin walls, every unforgettable word of hatred and resentment exchanged forever ingrained into the back of your mind. Still at quite a young age, your ears grew accustomed to the arguments, the muffled voices becoming almost indistinguishable from white noise any time you managed to zone out.

You had become desensitized quite a bit, though your sensitiveness still crept just beneath the surface, ready to unsheathe your true emotions any moment if you were provoked the right way. And you were beginning to accept the fact that there would never rest a day where you weren't woken up for breakfast to pancakes and deafening shouting with a side of torturous migraines caused by your sleep deprivation, but one day—a day you had never expected to occur in a million years—your parents suddenly decided to turn a new leaf and change all of that.

Deciding this a few years back, the two felt it would be best to try and settle their disagreements once and for all, hoping to someday reconcile that spark of love and trust that once rendered their bond and relationship. They also just wanted to make their everyday life easier, wishing to recoup a sense of normality and stability back into yours as well. It was all truly a miracle; you believed the angels above had finally listened to your desperate pleas and prayers.

Things were guided back on track, arguments rarely broke out, and it finally seemed like things would come out well in the end, but after one unforgiving slip-up, chaos unfurled and things had gone from 10 to 10000 within a matter of days, being 10x worse than what you were living through prior their attempt at reconnection. The damage inflicted has no means to be rekindled, and in recent months, their disputes have worsened to a point that what you once felt was unfathomable has become more than a possibility, more of a reality.

Seulgi knows all about your parents' issues, it was one of the first things you'd ever wrought up the courage to confide after the two of you had curated a bond where you two were comfortable enough to confess sensitive topics to each other such as this. She's witnessed all your breakdowns, seen the tamed and ugly aspects, and has always been there to comfort you on tough days well like this one. But on this day in particular, Seulgi can tell things happen to be hitting you a lot harder than usual.

With a tender gaze, Seulgi watches you from a distance, her eyes growing duller watching sadness consume you profoundly, your face contorting with anguish. She can tell you're trying to evade your emotions, withholding your tears desperately, not wanting to unleash them for whatever reason it may be.

Motionlessly, you sit on the rear end of the bed, your knees tucked into your chest and your chin rests there as you glance down at the carpeted floor. You're well aware that Seulgi's standing at the bedroom entrance, observing as you sulk, but you don't say anything and she doesn't expect you to say anything to her either, at least, not on your own accord.

"Y/N?" Seulgi calls out softly in hopes you'll grow responsive to the timbre of her voice, but your body remains still. You don't even flinch. All the thoughts racing through your mind right now make it nearly impossible to hear or focus on anything other than it; it's insanity!

Exuding a low sigh, Seulgi forces her weight up from the doorframe and limply ventures deeper inside the bedroom. She meets her end in front of you, slightly blocking out the sunlight as her body stands in the way of the curtains. Her expression is sympathetic looking down at you, and her chest tightens examining a better look at your sulky expression.

Stepping aside, Seulgi situates herself in the space next to you, miming your posture as she hurls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Her hand tentatively reaches out to your side, but she suddenly retreats, creeping it back to herself. Seulgi's unsure of whether or not to touch you right now, not knowing if any sudden contact would agitate or spoil your mood further. So she just sits there in the silence with you, mindlessly clawing her nails into her thighs as her thoughts run in conflict with each other, struggling to join in a unanimous agreement on the best way to approach you.

Seulgi herself is quite the awkward latter, she's not the most confident at handling people's emotions or consoling others since she never really knows what exactly to do. Because everyone reacts differently when moody, she's never 100% certain about what may be the appropriate response, so she's always extra cautious with her wording and actions, hoping that she doesn't adhere to the person's woes. And even though she's known you for almost three years now, dating you for half of that time, and has consoled you plenty of times before, she still hasn't reached a high level of confidence or sureness in herself.

But after fighting the internal battle against her own thoughts, Seulgi settles on what her heart's urging, what she's certain is the right thing to do, even if you end up rejecting it. She slightly shimmies her body closer beside you, the movement barely going unnoticed. Her body scoots again, this time, her shoulder now on par with yours as she rests her legs down, allowing them to hang over the edge of the bed.

Gingerly, Seulgi extends her arms, encircling them around your huddled frame, and holding you in a gentle embrace. Her face rests in the nuzzle of your neck, her breath light and warm against your skin, and she adjusts her grip, making sure you're secure in her hold. Her hand soothingly rubs up and down your back, feeling the way your body tenses beneath her, hoping to tranquilize your nerves.

Right upon feeling her touch, you're reluctant. Your muscles clench and your jaw tightens, almost like you're trying to resist her, as if she's an alien force, but the longer she holds you, her hold unyielding and comforting, you find yourself easing into her ministrations. First, your muscles relax, unclenching as your stress levels dissipate, then, your body adapts to the warm touch and learns to accept the embrace, falling more lax in her arms.

You slowly unravel your arms from your knees, extending your legs out and allowing them to freely hang over the edge of the bed. Your posture right now is quite awkward and uncomfortable, but you remain silent and at a still, continuing to look off with your faraway gaze, your eyes yet to connect with your lover's.

For a few minutes, you're both motionless and don't speak a word, sitting amid the room's silence, save for the soft buzzing of the fan. You take the time to sit in and ponder your emotions, but suddenly, a part of you cracks. It all becomes too overwhelming—you can't take it anymore.

Like a coil spring, your body jolts up and you jump into Seulgi's lap, squeezing your knees tightly around her waist and clinging your arms around her neck, leeching onto her as if she's guaranteed to disappear any moment. Heavy sobs escape your lips, your back heaving up and down erratically as your body shivers with emotion.

Seulgi's left stunned by the abrupt shift in, well, everything, but she quickly adjusts to your weight and unrelenting hold, hoisting you atop her lap in a position that's less awkward and causes less discomfort and grasping onto your lower back securely, making sure you won't slip off anywhere. Your muffled sobs ring throughout the bedroom as Seulgi comfortingly rubs her hand up and down your back, her hand lingering on the small of your back.

"Y/N.." Seulgi trails off, glancing down at you with hurt and slight panic in her eyes as she tries to configure the right words. "It-It's okay, Y/N. It's okay. Just let it all out."

You nod at her reassuring words amid your breakdown, though your tears remain uncontrolled, and you begin to hiccup, making you unable to voice out any coherent words if you attempt to speak any. Your sobs are unceasing, seemingly looking like they're not going to end anytime soon, which is no bother to Seulgi; she doesn't want you to rush your emotions, if anything, she's encouraging you to unleash all of your pent-up sadness. But.. you've never wept this hard before, your body's never shaken this intensely between sobs, you've never had to cling this desperately onto her just to seek out an ounce of comfort, and that worries her, deeply.

For what feels like an eternity, your sobs somewhat relent, though not coming to a complete halt. With a sniff, you withdraw your teary face from the crook of Seulgi's neck, suddenly getting stricken with embarrassment as you notice a large section of her gray shirt now dampened to a darker gray from your tears. Your gaze averts upwards, and for the first time today, both of your eyes meet.

Seulgi feels a tight strain in her chest as she takes sight of your bloodshot eyes, swollen tear bags, dampened lashes, dry lips, and mascara ruins smudged all around your eyes and stained in long streaks down your cheeks. Her heart is sore, causing her more distress, and if it clenches any more it'll surely implode.

All Seulgi wants to do is hold your face back down, cradle you into her as tightly as she can, and assure you again and again that everything will be okay; she just wants to strip away all of your pain completely. You stare at Seulgi through blurred vision and rub the back of your hands over your eyes, clearing away any tears. Your lips part just barely, and the sibilant words that slip past your throat leave Seulgi appalled.

"They're getting divorced."

Seulgi's eyes stretch wide, her throat going dry. "S-Seriously?" Seulgi mutters, her voice shrinking to a breath. With a despondent expression, you give a confirming nod, feeling a second breakdown already attempting to cut through as you whimper dejectedly.

Your girlfriend frowns and looks down in her lap; she's still unsure of what to say. Seulgi of course feels terrible about the news, pitying that the outcome had to be like this, but she doesn't want to end up saying the wrong thing or respond with something that may offend or worsen your mood. Should she sympathize with you? Or should she tell you all is going to be okay, even though the worst possible scenario, the one thing you had feared most, has become your reality? Seulgi's never gone through anything like this before so it's not like she can even empathize with you or find something to relate with.

Her lower lip is caught between her teeth, and she sighs, lifting her gaze and staring at you lightheartedly. "I'm so sorry this is happening, I really am. I wish I could just reverse time and change something that could somehow prevent any of this from happening or something."

Seulgi places her palm on your cheek, watching your lips tremble as she uses her thumb to swipe a stray tear. She sighs lowly before continuing. "I know I may never know how it feels to go through something like this, and I'll never fully know the true depths of your emotions and what underlies them, but I know that you'll be alright. It may be hard to adjust to, but just know I will always be with you on your toughest days and be here to listen to your hour-long vents. You're not alone. And remember that they both still love you and I love you too."

Seulgi leans in, placing a quick and chaste kiss against your lips, not caring if hers gets coated in a mix of your salty tears. Once she reels back, she takes a second to look at you before leaning in again, pressing a gentle kiss slightly off-centered on your forehead, her lips lingering longer than before.

You thought it was going to be impossible to feel any amount of happiness or emotions kin to it today, yet, you start to feel the tiniest pull of a smile tug the corners of your lips. For some reason, you fight against it, almost as if you're trying to stay in your somber mood, but eventually, you lose authority over your lips and flash Seulgi a bittersweet smile, your eyes gleaming with appreciation and love.

You thank the universe each day for bringing Seulgi into your life; you're not sure if there's anyone else in the world who's capable of sitting with you through hectic moments like this, take the time and patience to console you, even if you resist, and still manage to pull you out of such a mood, making you feel invigorated, and bringing a sense of solace and serenity upon you in a way that makes almost all of your worries wither away as if they never took place. You're so incredibly grateful for her.

"T-Thank you, b-baby," you stammer out, your breaths still uneven as your heart pummels against your ribcage. "I really appreciate you for this."

Seulgi's heart warms at your voice, a rewarding change from the heavy feelings she's been dealing with for the last twenty minutes. She reaches out to hold your face in her palms, and once you lean into her touch she doesn't say anything, she just takes the time to study your features, looking at you lovingly.

Your hand grazes up her arm, and you stop once your hand falls on top of hers, letting it rest there, "I love you so so much."

The two of you lean in, meeting your lips once more as you melt into the kiss, along with any remnants of your worries, anger, and sadness. You know the next couple of months are going to be rough, and you're not so sure if you're prepared to endure them yet, but as long as you have Seulgi by your side, you're sure everything is going to be okay just like she said—like she had promised.

Everything's going to be alright.

Hi 🎀 anon! I know this is like a month late, but I hope everything’s going alright rn, I know this must be tough having to go through☹️. How are you doing?

— Seulgiwifee ໒꒰ྀི♡˵ᴗ͈ . ᴗ͈ ꒱ྀི১

[redxixi]

~`All ours part 2~`

Part 1

~`Pairing: Viking!141 x reader

~`summary : after the raid you and the rest of the survivors were taking to price's village where your fate awaits.

A/n : OMG THANK YOU ALL FOR SO MUCH LOVE FOR THE PREVIOUS FIC. Since you guys loved the previous one so much i wrote a longer version and i hope i live up to the expectations. Also huge thanks to anon from this post for the idea for this part. AGAIN THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING SHIT. Also my asks are open for ideas

!WARNINGS! : slightly NSFW, simping over john price, being kept prisoner, mention of slavery.

~`wordcount : idk.

Blackness. Pitch blackness. Thats what it felt like. You felt it consume you slowly..bit by bit it was eating everything. All the memories you had, all the times you laughed and cried...it all felt worthless now that you were being consumed.

Slowly you opened your eyes. Everything was blurry at first but bit by bit your vision was returning. You looked around and tried to move only to realize both of your hands were bound by some kind of rope to your back. You also realized that you were moving or atleast you were on something that was moving. You carefully sit up and observed your surroundings. You were in the back of what looks like a wagon with a buch of the survivors from your village, you could see some familiar faces and some bruised and bloodied faces.

"What happend...where are we going" you asked to the old woman that sat closest to you

"The raid happend...everything was destroyed and burned...they took us from our homes and loaded us up onto theire ships like cattle and made us beg for food. We then got off and then they loaded us up here.....our next destination may be our last"

The old lady said with a look in her eye that was a mixture of fear and despair. You remember the killing, the stealing and you remembered the men who did it. You also remember failing to escape...a mistake that would change your whole life.

After what seemed like eternity the wagon came to a halt. You could hear people calling out and children's voices. A village?

"THEY HAVE RETURNED!"

"Look they're back"

"Lord price is back!!"

You heard people and children shouting and praising. Lord price. That was the man. The man who murdered hundreds and led the raid. Why are people praising this monsters return? And why are they calling him lord? Thats when it dawned on you. You were in a village. His village. This is the home of those monsters. You could hear footsteps aproaching the wagon and tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was about to come. It was the man with the skull mask that approached the wagon with keys in his hand. he opened the cage and ushered everyone to get out.

"All of you. Out. Now. "

He said in a stern and terrifying voice. Afraid and terrified of what the man would do they started to get out slowly one by one. And since you were all the way in the back you had to wait until your turn finally came. You slowly tried to crouch walk to get out of the cage without looking him in the eye but just as you were about to jump out you lost you balance and almost fell out. You were sure you were about to fall face first into the dirt but you didnt. You opened your eyes and looked up and saw the masked man holding you bridal style.

"Be careful. You arent going to be of any use if your injured"

He put you on the ground again and you joined up with the rest of the captives.

"Move"

You heard the masked man say from behind you lot. Slowly as a group you started walking. You looked around and saw tents, huts, homes, children and woman. You all walked on the main path with several people staring at you lot with disgust.

"I'd say this haul is fairly successful"

"I wouldn't call only getting weat and goats successful. They had almost no gold."

You turned you head and saw the 2 men who slaughtered your home speaking amongst themselves. One was dark skinned one and the other apears to be a woman. You were so into their conversation that you didnt look where you were walking and bumped into what felt like a wall of a chest.

"Wadda we 'ave here. If it isnt the pretty little thing that tried to run away from us"

You recognized this man with a mohawk haircut and immediately lowered your head as to not offend him. You tried to move with the group so you dont fall behind but he wasnt having it.

"Oh come on now i just wanna talk it'll fun commonnn."

He said in a low sultry voice. His hands then wrapped around you waist and he pulled you towards him.

"This here is my home. What dont you like it?"

He said in a mocking voice. You tried to squirm away from him without making eye contact.

"JOHNNY" you heard someone yell.

"Ah duty calls. here hold onto this for me will ya. I will find you again mkay"

He handed you what seems to be a small wooden plate. Carved into it was the name "Johnny "soap" mactavish". You quickly put it into your pocket of your dress and tried to catch up with you group. What did he want? What does he mean he will find me? Why did he hold me like that? These questions were like the plague. Dangerous for your body and soul.

You and the rest of the survivors where escorted to the back of the camp into what looked like a prison of sorts where you were to stay until you found out what in gods name they wanted with you.

"We can't keep them here without them dying of starvation John. And we certainly do not have enough food to feed everyone. Why did you bring them back here?"

"I have a plan kate."

"Care to share it with us boss" Johnny said as he entered the tent with simon right behind him.

"I will sell them. Easy. Graves informed me that he needed more slaves for his buyers. So we will sell him the survivors as slaves in exchange for more food and weapons" john said with a serious look on his face while sitting on his throne like chair signing some kind of papers.

"Sound good to you kate?"

After a moment of silence laswell sighed then nodded her head in approval.

"Now if you dont mind i have work to attend to" john said as he was getting up and ready to leave.

For the next week or so you spend as their prisoner you seen alot of things. Monsters tho they may be they also care about this village. But at night they are like feral beast. Each night they all have different women and sometimes they dont even wait till night fall. You gathered this much from seeing and hearing things. The masked one is called ghost but his friends refer to him as simon. He doesnt bed a woman often but if he does he is certainly ruthless with a stamina of a horse. The one with a mohawk is refered to as soap but also as Johnny. He is a real ladies man. With him its every night and sometimes there are more than just 1 women. Then there is the dark skinned one wich you rarely see but when you do he's usually hurt or just came back from hunting. Just like simon he sometimes has a woman come with him to bed. He is probably a passionate lover if anything else and then there is the captian. John is his name. Everytime you see him its like something inside you burns. Tall dark handsome. You shouldnt be liking him but you cant help it. It also doesnt help when the woman he beds let out such moans you can only hope to make one day.

You snapped out of your daydream when simon aproached the cage and unlocked it.

"Everyone out now"

Fearing him everyone quietly obeyed and one by one exited the cage. What was going on? Is this the day you would die? These questions where eating at you.

"Follow me" simon said as he walked in front of the group until he reached a small dock with a couple of boats and ships. Simon then waved at one of the ships and soon the crew of the ship started to come to the dock with small boats.

"All of you get on"

"W..whats happening? Where are you taking us" one of the elder ladies asked with fear lached into her voice.

"Your being sold" said the voice from behind us. Price walked up to us with soap right behind him as he started to speak.

"Your being sold as slaves in exchange for supplies. It is only right i tell you your fate."

Your felt your heart sinking and your breath started to get unstable. Sold? As slaves? You can't be a slave? Soon all the captives started to cry and plead for their lives but simon forced them onto the boats until it was finally your turn. You pleaded him for mercy while crying.

"Wait not her" price spoke up and you saw johnny behind him grinning like a mischievous cat.

"Why not"

"Well she will be ours ofcourse" price said nonchalantly to simon. Simon in turn released me and i watched as the rest of the captives where being hauled away. Confused you asked

"Why...why me"

Price looked at you amusingly and smiled.

"A pretty little thing like you belongs here. With us ofcourse. You are ours now. And as for why well.." price looked back at a grinning johnny and continued.

"Someone requested you so as a favour now your ours."

Price took a few steps forwars until he was close enough for me to hear his heart beat. He took my face in his hand and pulled it upwards toward him. Slowly and in a low voice he whispered in my ear.

"All ours."

Ahhh finally done with this part and next part will be spicy i can assure you that and as all ways my asks are OPEN. Also i am making a taglist for everytime i post a fic so feel free to comment if you want to be part of the taglist. Also i apologize for any mistakes cuz english is not my first language. THANKS AGAIN FOR THE LOVE <3

[awkward-imaginations]

| Reunions and Rivalries |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. He didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had just transferred to Nekoma High and somehow you had piqued his interest.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff, slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my silly story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, enjoy).

word count: 2659

former chapter | masterlist | next chapter

The familiar sound of Karasuno players shouting to each other filled the air as the Tokyo team approached. You walked next to Yaku, chatting casually, when suddenly two familiar figures came sprinting toward you.

“Y/N!” Nishinoya shouted at the top of his lungs, while Sugawara waved enthusiastically from behind him. Before you could even react, Noya wrapped you in a tight hug, nearly knocking poor Yaku off his feet in the process.

“Noya! Suga-Chaaaan~!” you grinned, pulling Sugawara into the hug as well. Noya, now gripping your arm dramatically, suddenly shifted his expression to one of exaggerated misery.

“Y/N!” he whined, pushing you away just enough to meet your eyes, still holding onto your arm. “You have no idea how terrible school is without you. It’s been torture!”

You laughed, playfully pushing at Noya’s shoulder. "Oh, come on, Noya. It can't be that bad."

"It is that bad!" he insisted, throwing his head back in exaggerated despair. "Ever since you transferred, it's like the life has been sucked out of our classroom. I can't even focus on anything anymore!"

Sugawara chuckled, shaking his head at Noya's antics. "I think you just miss having someone to cheat off of during tests."

Noya pouted, clutching his heart as if he’d been gravely wounded. "How could you say that?! I would never cheat! I just… I mean, maybe I miss having Y/N to help me out once in a while, but that's totally different!"

You smirked, crossing your arms. "Uh-huh, totally."

Nishinoya groaned, burying his face in his hands. "You don’t understand! It’s like no one else gets me. The energy in class is so dull now, Y/N! I'm completely doomed."

You rolled your eyes affectionately, patting Noya on the head. "You’re being a bit dramatic, don’t you think?"

"Not dramatic enough!" Noya cried, throwing his arms wide for emphasis. "It's been painful without you. Seriously, how do you survive at that new school? Do they at least let you sleep through class?"

You chuckled. "It’s not so bad, actually. I’ve made some new friends, and I still get plenty of sleep."

Noya looked betrayed, his eyes wide. "New friends? What, and you didn’t miss us at all?"

"Of course I missed you guys!" You reassured, smiling. "But you know, life moves on. Besides, we still get to play Guild Wars together."

„Yeah, nice raid yesterday,” Nishinoya exclaimed, fist bumping you.

Kuroo, watching the scene from a few steps away, furrowed his brow slightly. “So, she's close with the volleyball team at her old school too?” he asked casually, glancing over at Kenma.

“Hm?” Kenma blinked, only half-listening. “Obviously,” he said with a shrug. “Why? You jealous or something?”

Kuroo scoffed, his expression tightening for a moment. “What? No,” he replied, though his gaze drifted back to you, now laughing a bit too hard—at least from his perspective—at something Sugawara said. His jaw clenched involuntarily.

“You sure?” Kenma muttered, still not looking up. “Because it kind of seems like you are.”

“I’m not,” Kuroo grumbled, crossing his arms defensively. “Why would I be—”

His words trailed off as Daichi approached you, a calm but warm smile on his face. He greeted you with a firm hug, his arms wrapping around you in a way that spoke of years of friendship. “It’s been too long, Y/N,” Daichi said, his voice soft. “It’s a nice surprise you’re here.”

You smiled, your face lighting up. “It feels like ages.”

Kuroo watched the exchange, feeling his heart sink just a bit. Daichi’s hug wasn’t overly affectionate, but there was a sense of familiarity between you two that stirred envy in him. He tried to brush it off, forcing a smile, though it felt stiff on his face.

“The third years used to be in the same class as her brother since Kindergarten,” Kenma said quietly, as if reading Kuroo’s thoughts. “They’ve known each other for a long time.”

Kuroo exhaled, rolling his eyes, though the slight tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “Great. Old friends,” he muttered, his smile feeling more and more strained.

Kenma smirked. “You’re terrible at hiding your feelings.”

"Wait… she has a brother?" Kuroo asked, his tone sharper than he intended.

Kenma gave him a surprised look. "You didn’t know? Yeah, L/N Ryouta—he goes to Nekoma too."

Kuroo’s mind raced. "L/N Ryouta? I don’t think I’ve met him."

Kenma shook his head. "Probably not. You’re in the university prep class, and he’s in regular courses. Still, kind of strange she didn’t mention him during one of your study dates."

Kuroo’s lips tugged into a slight frown. "We’re studying, not chatting." The fact that you had a brother he didn’t know about made him feel a little out of the loop. He didn’t like it.

Kenma shrugged. "It makes sense she'd be close with them. They’ve been hanging out since she was little."

Kuroo watched you laugh with Daichi and Sugawara, Noya had left you to help Tanaka “protect” Shimizu. You clearly had a lot of history with these guys. The way they greeted you, how easily you fit into their circle—it was obvious you were used to attention from boys. It bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Just as he was about to look away, you caught his eye and waved, your smile brightening. For a split second, you seemed to hesitate, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as if you hadn’t expected him to be watching. Kuroo smirked, feeling a little more at ease now.

Daichi, noticing your reaction, raised an eyebrow. "Who's that?" he asked, his tone casual but curious.

You turned back to Daichi, still smiling. "Oh, that’s Kuroo, Nekoma’s captain. You should probably go introduce yourself."

Daichi nodded, though his expression became a little more guarded. "Right. I’ll go say hi."

As Daichi walked over, Kuroo straightened up, masking his emotions behind his usual confident grin. Daichi extended his hand, his smile polite but strained. "Daichi Sawamura, captain of Karasuno."

Kuroo grasped Daichi’s hand, matching his too-firm grip with one of his own. "Tetsurou Kuroo. Captain of Nekoma."

Both captains forced smiles, but in the back of their minds, they had the same thought: I don’t like this guy.

“So… you’re not their manager?” Sugawara asked, giving you a playful nudge as he leaned against the wall next to you in the gym, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Nope,” you chuckled. "I’m just here for moral support.”

Sugawara laughed. “Then I can support you supporting. We've got a cracking new setter, so I'll probably be on the bench the whole time.”

There was an ease between you and Sugawara that came with familiarity. You caught up on everything—school, mutual friends, and volleyball, of course. Time slipped away as the two of you talked, oblivious to anything else happening on the court.

Except someone was paying attention.

From across the gym, Kuroo’s gaze flickered toward you more than once. He tried to brush it off, but the more you laughed with Sugawara, the harder it was to ignore the twist in his chest.

“Oi, Kuro,” Kenma muttered, not even looking at him as he noticed the subtle tension radiating off his captain. “What’s up with you?”

Kuroo blinked, dragging his gaze back to the court just in time to see one of Karasuno's players miss a spike. “What do you mean? Nothing's up.”

Kenma sighed. “You’ve been staring over there for the last ten minutes. You’re distracted.”

“Distracted?” Kuroo scoffed, though his eyes flicked once again in your direction—watching as Sugawara leaned in to say something that made you laugh. Why does he get to make you laugh like that? Kuroo felt his jaw tighten. “I’m not distracted. Just… keeping an eye on the competition. You know, strategy.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow. “Sugawara isn’t even playing.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, “You mean Suga-Chaaan~,” he mocked your greeting only to feign indifference afterwards. “I’m not watching him. Why would I care about some third year who isn’t even in starting lineup?”

Kenma looked at him blankly for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know. Why would you care?”

“I don’t,” Kuroo huffed. “As I already said, it’s not like I’m jealous or anything.”

Kenma eyes flicked toward Sugawara, then back to Kuroo. “I didn’t say you were.”

“I’m not,” Kuroo added, a little too quickly. “I mean—”

“Kuro,” Kenma interrupted, his deadpan expression growing sharper.

“I—" Kuroo hesitated, suddenly aware of how ridiculous he sounded. “I’m just looking out for her.”

Kenma’s lips twitched into the slightest hint of a smirk. “Sure.”

Across the court, Sugawara was finishing a story, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. You laughed, leaning in a little closer. Kuroo’s eye twitched.

“It’s not like they’re flirting,” Kuroo mumbled under his breath, though his voice lacked conviction.

“What was that?” Kenma asked, not bothering to look away from the ball on their side.

“Nothing!” Kuroo snapped, a little too loud, drawing some curious glances from nearby players.

You and Sugawara, still chatting, were blissfully unaware of Kuroo’s growing frustration. Every time Sugawara made you laugh, it felt like a small jab, not because he disliked Sugawara, but because… well, he wasn’t entirely sure why. Or at least, he wasn’t willing to admit it yet.

The match was in full swing, as Shimizu joined you and Sugawara at the side, observing as the teams went back and forth on the court. You’d fallen into an easy rhythm with Sugawara, catching up and making jokes, but now that Shimizu had joined you, the conversation was a bit more reserved.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Shimizu turned toward you. “You’re not their manager, yet you’re wearing their jersey,” she remarked softly, her eyes following the ball.

“Yeah, it actually belongs to Kenma, we're about the same size, thought it would boost the team spirit” you replied, smiling fondly.

Shimizu nodded thoughtfully, glancing between you and Kenma on the court. “He seems to enjoy your company.”

You blinked, catching the subtle implication in her tone. “Wait, do you mean…?” You hesitated, feeling a slight blush creep up your neck. “You think I like Kenma?”

Sugawara, who had been listening in with a bemused expression, chuckled under his breath. “Oh no, Shimizu,” he said, shaking his head, “you’re way off.”

Shimizu tilted her head slightly, giving Sugawara a questioning look. “Really? I thought—”

Sugawara waved her off with a smile, clearly amused. “Trust me, I’ve known Y/N for a long time. She doesn’t go for the quiet, brooding type.”

You narrowed your eyes at Sugawara, half-embarrassed. “Hey, I can like quiet guys,” you defended, though it came out more as a weak protest than anything else.

Sugawara gave you a teasing smirk. “Maybe, but not that quiet.” He leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Kenma’s great and all, but your type’s always been more… I don’t know, bad boy. The kind of guy who’s a little rough around the edges, gets under your skin.”

Shimizu blinked, her curiosity piqued. “Bad boy…?” she repeated thoughtfully, then her gaze drifted toward the court where Coach Ukai stood, arms crossed, observing the match with his intense focus. She nodded in his direction. “Ah. You mean someone like Ukai?”

You nearly choked, waving your hands in protest. “What? No way! He’s… hot, sure, but he’s way too old!”

Sugawara burst out laughing, and even Shimizu’s usually calm expression cracked into a smile.

“Nah, I wasn’t talking about Ukai,” Sugawara chuckled, nudging you playfully. “I had someone more… age-appropriate in mind.” He pointed subtly across the court to where Kuroo was setting up for a block, his sharp gaze focused on the game, his usual smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I was thinking more along the lines of that bad boy.”

You froze, suddenly feeling like all the air had been knocked out of your lungs. “Kuroo?” You hadn’t even realized it, but the moment Sugawara mentioned it, something clicked inside you—like a light had been switched on.

Sugawara’s grin widened as he saw the realization dawning on your face. “There it is,” he said, his voice smug but not unkind. “Ryouta told me you just can’t shut up about him.”

You could feel the blush deepening, the heat spreading up to your cheeks. “I… I don’t…” you stammered, not quite sure how to deny it now that it was out in the open.

Shimizu watched you carefully, her quiet gaze perceptive. “So, it is Kuroo?” she asked softly, her voice neutral as ever, though there was a trace of curiosity.

You glanced at her, feeling a little trapped but knowing you couldn’t lie, especially not with Sugawara there, reading you like an open book. You sighed, defeated, and ran a hand through your hair. “Okay, fine,” you muttered, embarrassed but kind of relieved to admit it. “Yeah… I think I like Kuroo.”

Sugawara looked like he’d just won a game. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I could tell from the beginning.”

Shimizu gave a small nod, her expression thoughtful. “He does seem like someone you’d get along with,” she said quietly.

“Well…” you began slowly, a shy smile creeping onto your face, “he is pretty great. He’s been really nice to me, even when he’s annoying.”

Shimizu gave you a small, knowing smile.

Sugawara’s grin softened a bit, turning more genuine. “Sounds like you’re smitten.”

You shot him a playful glare. “Don’t make it sound so cheesy.”

He chuckled. “Hey, no judgment here. I’m just glad you finally realized it.”

You groaned, half embarrassed but secretly hopeful. “Great, now I’m going to be overanalyzing everything he says to me.”

Sugawara laughed, clapping you on the shoulder. “That’s part of the fun. Just keep me updated.”

Later that night, the team piled into the bus, the soft hum of the engine filling the silence as the Nekoma players settled into their seats. You slid into a spot next to Kenma, Kuroo sitting in the row just ahead, his head tilted back against the seat.

As the bus started to roll down the road, you pulled out some flyers Sugawara had given you earlier and turned to Kenma and Kuroo. "Hey, by the way, Sugawara invited me to a festival nearby. His and my brother’s band, Secondhand Youth, is opening." You held out the flyer so they could see. "You guys listen to pop-punk, right?"

Kenma glanced up from his DS, raising an eyebrow, but before he could say anything, Kuroo replied a little too quickly, "Sure!" His voice was overly enthusiastic, and his eyes darted to you for a reaction.

Kenma blinked, clearly unimpressed. He gave Kuroo a sideways look, stifling a smirk as he mimicked, "Sure." His tone was flat, dripping with sarcasm.

You snorted, trying to hide a laugh, but Kuroo shot Kenma a mock glare. “What? It’s not like I don’t listen to it.”

Kenma couldn’t resist. “Name one band.” He leaned his chin on his hand, watching Kuroo with a blank stare, knowing full well his friend didn’t have a clue.

Kuroo paused, clearly stumped, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for a band name. “Well, Secondhand Youth, obviously.” You couldn’t help but giggle, and Kuroo turned to you, his expression a mix of mild panic and frustration.

"Okay, fine, maybe I’m not a huge fan," Kuroo admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "but I’d still go. For the experience, you know?"

Kenma rolled his eyes but kept a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, the experience of pretending to like music you’ve never heard of.”

You nudged Kuroo’s seat playfully from behind, your smile softening. "You don’t have to, Kuroo. But… you’re welcome to come, if you want."

Kuroo’s eyes met yours, his expression softening as well. “Nah, I wanna go,” he said, his voice sincere this time. “Could be fun.”

Kenma returned to his game, though he couldn’t hide the amusement in his eyes as he watched you and Kuroo interact.

[annaelizabethhenry1]

Echoes from the Past

Summary: River visits his grandfather post season four at the care home. The visits conjure memories of River’s childhood and teen years as he grapples with his grandfather’s declining mental health and how once he’s gone he’ll have no one left. Warning – spoilers for all four seasons!

There’s a certain slant of light On winter afternoons, That oppresses, like the weight Of cathedral tunes, Heavenly hurt it gives us, We can find no scar, But internal difference Where the meanings are. None may teach it anything, ‘Tis the seal, despair, - An imperial affliction Sent us of the air When it comes, the landscape listens. Shadows hold their breath; When it goes, ‘tis like the distance On the look of death.

Emily Dickinson

Chapter One

The car’s tires crunched to a halt on the gravel drive. River shut the car off and stared into the distance. The steel grey sky cast a gloom over the care home’s edifice in a way River hadn’t noticed on his previous visits.

River’s thoughts swirled back to a different time before he ended up at Sough House – he remembered a conversation in his grandfather’s study. One where his grandfather jokingly called care homes ‘God’s waiting room’ and how he insisted if he ever needed one he’d rather be dead. At the time there was no need for one and River reassured his grandfather he’d never allow it. But now…needs must…River sighed and forced himself from the car.

He braced the cold February afternoon and turned up the collar on his green corduroy coat up as he jogged the length of the path to the front door, pushing it open, he was greeted by warmth and chatter – and the slamming of a tray along with the clatter of dishes and cutlery. River recognized his grandfather’s raised voice and almost turned back around.

No, no I can do this…he and Nan raised me…I owe him no matter how hard.

Entering the wood panelled dining hall where other elderly residents were gathered for lunch, River spotted his grandfather off to the side at a small table near the fireplace causing a scene.

An orderly busied himself with cleaning the mess on the floor while two women – Sylvie, who River already knew was trying to soothe David Cartwright and while another petite woman attempted to tidy him up after some of the food had landed on his sweater.

“Stop! I’m not a baby!” David shouted, swatting at the smaller woman.

“Granddad, don’t get handsy with the ladies,” River said with a forced half smile and a raised brow, trying to lighten the situation.

“River take me home! These harpies are treating me like I’m an invalid!” he shouted, then stood up, grabbed his cane and pushed past them, hobbling away.

“Granddad you know I can’t…” River went to grab him.

“No leave him be,” the petite woman said.

“But…”

“It’s best to let him settle down. I’m Orla by the way, you’re the grandson?” she asked offering her hand with a kind smile.

Orla had warm, but sharp green eyes that reminded him of his grandmother, Rose. Freckles sprinkled the bridge of her nose and cheeks and red curls bounced, just reaching her shoulders. River had never seen her before today.

“Yes, River Cartwright. Nice to meet you,” River shook her hand and smiled back.

“I’ve just been brought on board with recreation at the home. Seems we have some very sharp retirees here who need more challenging tasks to occupy them.”

River knew that all the employees were specially vetted and aware that the bulk of the residents were former service or higher ups in government with a few military veterans sprinkled in for good measure.

“Yes, this lot aren’t your run of the mill pensioners,” River said wryly.

“I look forward to the challenge. I’m glad you’re here though as we have been having trouble with your grandfather. I was curious to know a bit more about him to see if I could find a way to reach out to him.”

River flushed, wondering how many other times his grandfather, the OB or the Old Bastard to many, threw a tantrum making more work for the staff here. “I’m so sorry he’s been…difficult. I know he’d rather be home, but it’s just not safe for him and I live in London and can’t commute here all the time…” River rambled.

Orla put a hand on River’s arm, “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain. He does have dementia and that is bound to make him act out. The staff understand. Why don’t you come to my office? We can have some tea and chat.”

Orla led River through the large and very windowed recreation room where some staff were setting up for what appeared to be arts and crafts. There was a small side door that went down a narrow passage and onto hallway with a number of highly polished doors. Orla pushed one open and led River into a cheerful room filled with small potted plants, a well-organized desk and a low bookcase filled with books and what appeared to be files.

“Tea or coffee? I have a fresh lemon drizzle loaf from home – happy to share.”

“Whichever is easier for you. Uh, yeah, sure, thanks.”

Orla chuckled. “You’re making it too easy for me.” She switched on the kettle on top of the bookcase. “Have a seat. Let me go find a knife for the cake and some milk. Make yourself comfortable.”

She handed River a pamphlet about coping with the transition to a care home for family members as she breezed out. River was tempted to chuck it into the bin, but thought the better of it as she was just being nice. Everyone always was so damn nice, which made it harder somehow. He wanted to shout at someone as if that would make him feel better about the situation. Demand to see someone in charge and lodge complaints as that would be easier than someone smiling and handing him a slice of his favourite cake.

River sat back in chair, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He thought back to the time when he was almost seven and he had that first slice of lemon drizzle loaf in his grandparents’ kitchen.

It was a rare sunny afternoon in late winter when River’s mother, Isobel knocked on the front door of a large stone house in the countryside. River was in awe by the size of it. He had mainly lived in small flats and tiny houses with his mother and whomever her current boyfriends were at the time. This was like a palace to him.

“Mum, is this like a castle?”

His mother laughed. “God no. It’s just a house. I hope they’re home. I can’t keep Pedro waiting we have tickets to Spain.”

As if on cue he honked his horn from the car in the drive. Isobel rang the doorbell again and knocked on the door.

River stood silently, freezing in a jacket that wasn’t suited to the current weather. He clutched his rucksack on his shoulder and clung to his bunny, Mr. Hoppinheimer. “Mum, where are we going?”

“You’re going to stay here with your grandparents. They’ll look after you.”

Finally, the door opened and a stunned David Cartwright appeared. “Isobel?”

“Yes, father. I’m rather in a hurry. This is River. Here are his things. I’ve got to go.”

“What? You can’t leave him here. Isobel, come inside. What’s going on – are you in trouble?” David asked, his features etched with disbelief and his eyes wildly going between his daughter and the blonde little boy with big, sad blue eyes looking up at him. They reminded David of a favourite spaniel he had as a boy growing up that he loved.

“Father I don’t have time! Pedro is waiting,” Isobel pointed to the car in the drive.

“Sod Pedro, he can wait. You can’t just leave him here like this Isobel. We never met him.”

“Who? Pedro?” Isobel asked.

“No, you bloody idiot – River.”

River shrunk back to the side of the doorstep. He learned from living with his mum how important it was to fade into the background when necessary. It was key to not being yelled at or getting in the way.

“What’s going on?” Rose asked stepping out into the cold, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself to shield her from the brisk wind despite the bright sun. “Isobel, I’m surprised you’re here. Where’s River?” Rose searched and finally found him almost hiding behind a potted evergreen perched to the side of the front door. She bent down and smiled at him as he just stared back. “Oh, love you must be freezing,” she touched his shoulder and nudged him into the warmth of the large stone house as he clung to his bunny and rucksack.

“Mum, I don’t have time for you to coo and coddle over him because it’s a bit chilly out here. I’ve got to go,” Isobel said coming into the foyer.

David came in as well. “You can’t expect us to take him just like that Isobel. Where are you going? What’s going on?”

“Yes, I can and I’m off to Spain. Once I get settled I’ll send you my address.”

“Spain? What if he gets sick or something,” David asked.

“You raised me and managed to keep me alive. I suspect you’ll do just fine – thanks – ta!”

“Love, wait! Don’t you want to say goodbye properly to River?” Rose asked. She already had River in a sideways hug, ruffling his hair.

Isobel hesitated and went back to the doorstep to retrieve a luggage that she deposited in the foyer. “These are the rest of his things. He’s no bother, he’s usually quiet except when he’s got a million questions about something. Be good and don’t cause any trouble for your grandparents,” Isobel said and blew River a kiss.

Rose looked over at River who didn’t bat an eye or show any emotion at her leaving him. “David do something!” she hissed.

“What? She always was so out of control. I told you that artistic streak would lead to nothing good. We should never have indulged it.” He shut the door.

Rose sighed. “River dear, I’m grandma Rose, but you can call me Nan if you like. I’ve sent you cards and gifts – I do hope they made their way to you.”

River nodded and held up his bunny.

“Oh, excellent love, you still have it from a few Easter’s ago,” she said smiling but her eyes welled with tears. “David take his luggage and rucksack up to the guest room. You look hungry sweetheart – let me take you to the kitchen. Would you like some cake?”

“It’s not my birthday,” River finally uttered something.

“No love, I know that.”

“Is it your birthday?”

“No, you don’t just have cake on birthdays.”

“Oh.”

Rose looked to David.

“Come along dear, bring your bunny. Does he have a name?”

“Yes, Mr. Hoppinheimer.”

“Really, love,” Rose said ushering him into a warmer room still. There were lovely smells and lots of sunlight.

Rose had him sit down at the small table while she busied herself about the kitchen. She put the kettle on, went into a cupboard pulling out dishes and things. River just sat there with his bunny on his lap watching. Rose finally put dishes down on the table and a small mug that had a woodland scene on it.

“This was your mum’s when she was little. It’s a scene from Beatrix Potter.”

River looked at it curiously seeing a rabbit dressed in a coat. “Why is he wearing a jacket?”

“It’s Peter Rabbit. He’s a character from her books. Do not know them?”

“No.”

“Oh, I see, well don’t worry we have the books here.”

“Rose, a moment, please,” David stood on the cusp of the kitchen.

She nodded and joined him. “What?”

“The boy hardly has anything in his luggage. It’s appalling Rose,” he whispered.

“He seems scared. I’m worried how she’s been living…what if the men in her life…”

“Rose, don’t…”

“He’s ours now, David. She’s never taking him back. I won’t allow it. Look how sweet and quiet he is…”

David rubbed her shoulder. “Yes of course. He stays. He’s better off.”

The kettle whistled and River jumped. “What’s that? Is something wrong?”

“No, love – it’s just the kettle is boiling, which means it’s time for tea or in your case hot chocolate!”

“What’s hot chocolate? Is it like when a candy bar melts?”

“No, its special warm powdered chocolate. I trust you’ll like it.”

“So young man, do you have any interests? Dinosaurs, airplanes, horses, trains or even cars?” David asked.

River shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Rose put a slice of lemon drizzle cake on River’s plate and filled his little mug with hot chocolate and then dispensed tea and cake for herself and David.

“Go ahead, have some cake, love,” Rose urged.

River picked up the slice and sniffed it. It smelt like lemons and sugar. When he bit into the slice it was like heaven. He never tasted anything so wonderful and he smiled over at his Nan and she smiled back at him.

The reverie was broken when Orla fluttered back in cheerfully with a knife and little carton of milk. “Sorry that took longer than I hoped, it’s tough to get the elevator down to the kitchens at meal times, I had forgotten that since I’m new.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“You looked like you were a million miles away,” she said as she opened a box of tea.

“Yeah, well…it’s not easy seeing granddad here. I promised him once I’d never do this.”

“The hard reality of caring for someone in his condition and balancing your own life tends to make these situations impossible,” Orla said as she prepared tea.

River sighed. Orla was right. It was unsafe for him to be alone, especially given how confused he became, but there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot going on in his life at the moment that he maybe couldn’t have made this work. Slough House wasn’t buzzing with anything important to do. As to his personal life that was non-existent. Sure, he’d love to have what other normal people had, but he found it so difficult to connect. River had spent too many years alone in the safe little bubble his grandparents had created for him after he’d been dropped off. River’s unique situation in life always set him apart from his peers and made him feel unwelcome as he didn’t exactly fit. No one else at school was raised by their grandparents, but even before that when he was with his mum, they moved around so much he never had a chance to make friends then either.

“Thanks,” River said almost shyly, “What is it I could help with to make things better for him?”

“Well, Sylvie tells me you do visit often, which is great, but it doesn’t seem to help his mood.”

“Yeah, that’s because he’s angry at me for putting him here.”

“Milk first?”

“Umm, sure.”

“You really are the least particular person I’ve met,” Orla said with a smile.

River chuckled. “I learned early in life what actually matters, and how your milk goes in isn’t one of them.”

“I’ve seen that point hotly debated in the dining room here, so I disagree.”

Orla sliced some cake and handed River a small paper plate and a mug of tea.

“Thanks. I do want to help my grandfather, he’s just very stubborn.”

“Can I ask – what did he do before he retired? I know he’s former service – someone mentioned you are also in the service.”

“Yes, I am service, too. When granddad retired he was first desk,” River said feeling that he just misrepresented himself. Slough House wasn’t service in anyone else’s mind at the Park.

Orla’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, he was very important…okay…no wonder he feels helpless here.”

“It’s also why he has to be here. He knows too much.”

Orla nodded. “Of course. Let me have a think on this and see if we can come up with something that makes him feel more useful and engaged.”

“I’d appreciate that, thanks,” River said.

About fifteen minutes later after tea and cake, River made his way to his grandfather’s room in the east wing of the care home. He found him sitting in the leather chair near the window, just staring blankly out into the front garden. He knocked and said, “Granddad, how are you?” River walked over and crouched next to the chair.

His grandfather looked over at him blankly. “I told you, I don’t want any lunch – it’s bland!”

River furrowed his brow and frowned. “Granddad, it’s River. I don’t work here, I’m your grandson,” he touched his arm and tried to rub it and forced a smile.

“Go away! I don’t have a grandson,” David Cartwright shouted, pulling away from River’s touch.

River bit his lower lip and tried to contain himself. He knew it wasn’t his grandfather’s fault he couldn’t remember, but sometimes River did wonder if he did remember and just acted like he didn’t because he wanted to punish River for leaving him in a care home. There were times when David was very lucid and they would share a memory or a story from his work days. Maybe it wasn’t an act and he wasn’t torturing River on purpose. He just felt so helpless when his granddad looked through him. The doctor told him there would come a point where David would not remember River anymore. It’s not like he didn’t already know that, but to hear it from someone in an official medical way made it all the more final.

Read Chapter Two here