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loganficsonly · 4 months ago

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smitten kitten

logan howlett x gn!reader, 2.7k SUMMARY: they say hanging out with a cat has health benefits—calms you down, slows your heart rate... but he's been experiencing the opposite. or maybe it's because you're in the picture. or, you and logan take care of a stray kitten together. WARNINGS/TAGS: i did not fucking edit this, thinking of x1/2 logan, no anatomical descriptions for reader, reader is a mutant with unspecified powers, reader loves cats obviously, slight grumpy x sunshine, logan has a thing for scents, FLUFF!!!, suggestive: minors do not interact!, domestic situations, mutual yearning but both are oblivious?, friends to lovers, i know nothing about cat maintenance AUTHOR'S NOTE: english is not my native language. my first logan fic! might be ooc but fuck it let him be soft!!!

He didn't think that this is how he gets to see you on your hands and knees in front of him.

The weather outside is nice and crisp, and he just felt like taking a smoke break. A quick fifteen minutes till his cigar turns to mostly ash before he has to take care of another History class. The breeze lured him outside, just by the backyard near the courts.

Perfect temperature. No kids running around—yet. All in all, a beautiful day.

He was about to light his vice when he saw you a few feet away, on all fours, fussing over something near the rose bushes. You don't seem to care about the way your pants and palms make contact with the dirt below.

An eyebrow raised. His thoughts are a mix of bemusement and... excitement, let’s call it.

When you were first introduced to him six months ago, having returned from a sabbatical that took you away from the institute, he remembered thinking that you’re going to get him into some deep shit if he’s not careful. Maybe it was the way you so easily addressed him. Offered a polite hello, an extended hand, and your name.

A real pretty name. As pretty as your fucking face.

Suddenly the what-ifs with Jean didn’t matter anymore. The magnet pull he feels around you is different than with the redhead, who he thinks he’s attracted to partly because she’s not actually available. A forbidden fruit.

With you, though...

He’s been around for too long to not be aware of the stuff swirling inside his ribcage whenever he sees you. The way his heart clenches ever so slightly when you greet him with a smile. When he sees you reading in the library, sunlight bathing one side of your face as you sit next to a window. When he trains with you, capturing your wrists to pin you down on the mat, forcing you to yield—the few sacred moments he’s allowed to put his hands on you.

Since you arrived, you and him have gotten along quite well with each other. Some would say you quickly became friends beyond your team-bound relations.

But Jesus, the things he thinks about late at night aren’t exactly friend thoughts.

He knows you could get him in trouble. Could hurt him if he lets you, inflict a kind of wound that he can’t regenerate from. The kind that stays. His survival up until now would not have been possible with a bleeding heart, no matter how tempting it is to fantasize about you being his every now and then—every night, more like.

So he swallows, shoves a hand in his pocket, and pretends to act normal. Even if your position is seriously testing his mental fortitude right now.

“What are you up to?”

You look over your shoulder behind you, still on all fours, surprised.

“Logan,” you sigh, neck craned in a weird position before you decide to focus on what's in front of you. “Come here. Slowly, would you?”

He can’t say no to you, but you don’t need to know that, so he silently walks over, eyebrows knitted as the grass beneath his boots crunches softly. Finally he sees it.

A grey tabby.

He blinks, looking down at it. It’s really small. The creature is tucked under a rose bush, looking at you and now him slightly warily. Though it looks reasonably trepidatious, there’s a hint of curiosity in the way its tail curls.

“I heard meowing while taking a walk,” you say, looking back at him with a smile. “Found this little thing.”

“What’s a kitten doing out here?” He huffs. Where they are in Westchester is nowhere near the usual stray cat grounds.

“I don’t know. I don’t see a mother, either,” you reply.

“So you’ve just been bent over here looking at it?”

You shoot him a chiding glare. “I’ve been meaning to get it out of there, but I didn’t want it to bolt.”

“Get it out and do what, exactly?” He stuffs the cigar he meant to light back into his jacket pocket. It’s clear he won’t have any time to smoke.

“Feed it, at least.”

You smile when you see Logan now hunched over the bush, keeping an eye on the kitten while you rush back to your room to get a cat treat. “Of course you’d have one,” he murmured before you told him to stay put and watch the little thing.

After a few months of getting to know him, you conclude that the man is like one of those filled bonbon treats. Hard shell, but once you bite through it, sweetness oozes from the inside. You’re convinced he’s the same, but instead of being encased in wafer and tempered Belgian chocolate, he’s caged in layers of adamantium bone.

The fact that he actually waited for you and watched the cat like you asked convinces you even more.

“Got it,” you announce, showing him the puree stick. “The good stuff.”

He allows himself a small smile, glancing at the packaging that says ‘tuna flavored’. If anyone would splurge on treats for strays, it would be you.

You slowly move next to him, sitting cross-legged on the ground as he towers over you on your left while you tear the treat open. Instantly the kitten reacts, four little legs practically hobbling over to your seated form as it meows incessantly. You laugh.

Sounds so pretty, he thinks.

When the kitten eagerly enters the space between your thighs, pawing at your hand, you lower the treat against its mouth. “Someone’s hungry,” cooing as your fingers stroke down its little body while it laps up the puree.

Logan sits down next to you, watching you quietly. He listens to the soft whispers you’re uttering, as if they’re only meant for the creature’s ears. Eyes fixed on the way your fingers slowly run up and down its furry spine.

“Good kitty.”

“That taste good?”

“You're so small, baby.”

He’s grateful that he’s the one with heightened senses for mutant abilities. If you were, you’d think he’s having a heart attack right now, with how fast the cursed thing is beating.

Cute. Too fucking cute.

“You like cats?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He lets out a non-committal grunt. You smile, taking that as a yes.

Come to think of it, he acts a little bit like one, too. A spicy stray that takes a while to socialize, but is sweet after some time, space, and tender loving care. Rough around the edges with mystery.

That sort of behavior just makes you want to peel back his layers, to see behind his hazel eyes, to know him. That’s why you make his coffee together with yours in the morning. Why you sit next to him at lunch. Why you accept invites to spar, despite knowing that within two minutes he’ll have your back pressed against the ground, his large hand caging your wrists above your head...

Yep, you tell yourself. Just curiosity.

Quickly, you thrust the treat into Logan’s hand and gently pry the kitten to sit on his knee instead. He lets out a noise of protest, surprised at the warmth of your hand over his and then the feather-light weight on his knee, but it’s too late. The ravenous beast puts its front paws on his hand, pulling it closer to its maw so it can continue to gorge on the treat.

He glares at you. You can tell it’s half-hearted, judging by the way his gaze softens when it lands back to the kitten. You purse your lips when you see his free hand petting the creature, the one not holding the treat. His hand is so big... compared to the cat, you quickly course-corrected your thought.

What a good day to have eyes.

You never thought you’d see Logan this soft—he has his moments, especially throughout the course of your friendship, but this is next level. You wish you could take a photo.

“What do you think we should do with it?” you ask softly, watching the rare scene before you.

“So it’s ‘we’ now,” he smirks. “You’re the one who fed it first.”

“You are now, too,” you retort.

“You know what they say. If you feed ‘em, they’ll come back.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

He looks at you, hazel eyes boring into yours, and you feel your stomach do a little flip. His voice is low and guttural. “You gonna take care of it?”

Your mind went elsewhere, the way he said that. When you speak, it’s soft, not wanting your voice to accidentally crack. “You’re not going to help me?”

He’s quiet. You look back at him expectantly.

There’s a slight roll of his eyes as he looks away. He thinks you can’t see. “Fine.”

You smile, pleased with yourself. The kitten licks at the plastic, cleaning up the last of the puree before it meows once at Logan, beady eyes meeting his sharper ones. Logan picks the kitten up by the scruff, setting it down on the ground next to him, but it still looks up at him expectantly.

“We should name—” you lift it up, peeking down between the creature’s legs, “him.”

Logan looks at you with a slight glint of amusement. “Yeah?”

Humming, you pet the cat absentmindedly as he begins to groom himself, licking his front paws and brushing his face. “What’s grey… Cloud? Sky? Storm? I don’t know if she’d appreciate that.” You murmur.

The kitten pauses, turning to look at you. You look back at it. It lets out a single high-pitched peep.

“Smokey?”

When your gaze shifts to Logan’s face, there’s an upturn of his lip, as if you said something funny. How apt, he realizes, that this entire ordeal derailed his smoke break.

“I like it,” he says. A delighted smile on your face melts something inside of him.

And that is how Logan ended up coparenting Smokey with you—or Smokes, as you like to call him.

You’ve gone to the city twice to get Smokey vaccinated and microchipped, Logan coming along with you both times. He claimed he had nothing better to do. You thought it was extremely nice of him to do—he must really be a cat person.

It got a little awkward when the vet initiated small talk by asking if you had a child at home to play with the kitten, flustering you into saying that you’re not with him like that.

“We’re just friends,” you said.

Friends who happened to be taking care of a cat together. That’s totally normal, right?

If Logan had fur it would’ve bristled right then and there.

But even he had to admit that taking care of Smokey had its perks. You didn’t want to bother Logan too much with the kitten and happily volunteered to keep Smokey in your room, at least until he’s big enough. This meant that Logan had a free visit pass to your otherwise private quarters. Once, you asked him to watch Smokey if he could while you taught back-to-back classes till late. He assented.

Little did he know it would be sweet torture, being in your bedroom. He noticed your blanket folded neatly on the bed, revealing the crinkles of the sheets outlining where you laid. He could see your body there, asleep. What do you wear when you go to bed, he wondered?

And God, don’t even get him started on your scent… It’s a spell on him, more of an addiction than his existing vices. Warm and sweet. Vanilla, honey, cinnamon. Like a fucking cake. The entire room smells like you, enveloping him. He’s not strong enough to fight that, wanted nothing but to bury his nose in your pillow just to get a lungful of you.

That first time, he only kept the cat company for less than half an hour before deciding that the raging tent in his jeans needed more attention. Preferably under a cold shower in his own quarters.

You, on the other hand, didn’t expect him to be so willing and involved.

He isn’t as affectionate as you are with the cat, of course, but he’s… softer. One time you came back to your room to see him sitting at your desk, a book in hand while the cat lies on his lap, belly up. The peaceful sight is enough to release a violent army of butterflies in your stomach. You’ve mentally filed that image for any coming bad days.

Also, you like how you’re much closer to Logan now. Not that you don’t love Smokey. It’s just that having the kitten around makes for an easy excuse to get to hang out with the man more. You went to town together to buy some cat supplies because he insists on splitting the cost. The two of you spent a good ten minutes deciding what collar color would go with Smokey’s eyes (you’re the undecided one, Logan was pretty much set on the dark green since the very beginning).

More brushes of hands, his palm clasped over yours when you hand him Smokey to carry. Speaking to each other quietly when in your room and the cat’s asleep, his voice a low baritone that you find yourself replaying at night when you slip into slumber, warming you up in more than just one place…

Friends taking care of a cat together. What a lie, you say to yourself before falling asleep.

Logan has had enough.

He realizes this as he watches you coddle the tabby after feeding time, a thing you do every so often. Smokey is on your lap while you sit with your knees close to your chest, nose-to-nose with you. You pinch his cheeks, showering him with soft coos of endearments and kisses, attention zeroed in to only him.

“Good job finishing the food.” Kiss. “You’re getting big, aren’t you, Smokes? So handsome.” Smooch. “Love you, baby.”

The cat purrs audibly like a damn motorcycle, eyes closed to form two slits while he surrenders himself to your affections.

Meanwhile, Logan’s jaw tenses as the scene unfolds. He knows what he’s feeling, and if it were a different time and place he’d laugh. He’s fucking jealous of a fucking cat. It actually hurts him a little to watch this, as pathetic as it sounds.

He takes a deep breath, collecting himself as he prepares to leave, hand on the doorknob. You notice, putting Smokey down before catching him by the doorway.

Logan tenses at a hand on his bicep. Your voice is calming, a genuine smile on your face.

“Thanks for helping out with Smokey again today.”

A crack in his hard-shelled heart.

You gasp when he turns, a strong hand on your shoulder pushing you inside the room, the door slamming shut the same time your back hits the wall next to it. His form looms over yours as he crowds you, an arm rests above your head, caging you in.

“Logan—”

He tilts his face as he moves closer, breath warm on your face. “I swear, if I hear you say that damn cat’s name again…”

A small noise escapes you as you feel him press his nose into the crook of your neck. The way you angle your chin up to give him more space is almost automatic, like you’ve thought of this before—because you have. He inhales shakily. A shiver runs down your spine when he pulls away just enough to look you in the eye, his other hand snaking up your waist.

You’re not the only one who’s thought about this.

“What about Smokey?”

He swallows, mouth dry when he hears your voice. Sultrier even as a whisper, baiting him. The way your eyes soften, looking up at him, half-lidded. He catches the drop of your gaze to his lips and feels his blood pump with some feral energy, an unbearable surge. Your hands snake up on his chest, fingers gently closing around the fabric of his shirt, pulling him a little bit closer.

Fuck.

You want him too.

“Sweetheart,” he growls, lips nearly against yours, “let me make you my pet for once.”

the fem!reader ending line would be:

"Sweetheart," he growls, lips nearly against yours, "the only kitty I care about is the one between your fuckin' legs."

that would be so unhinged ngl

#logan x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine #x men

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st6rly · 7 months ago

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❛ love me like how only you do. ❜

synopsis : 　 through every universe, every cycle of rebirth, he will always find you. in which kazuha loves all versions of you; in every timeline, every universe, every breath or non-breath he takes. 　 ╱ 　 word count : 　 1.7k

characters : 　 kazuha x gn!reader

categories : 　 fluff. mild angst. yearning. royalty au. country x city trope. hospital au. modern au. apocalypse & post-apocalypse aus. idol au. inanimate object / nature au?? lot's of aus. 8 + 1 fic.

warnings : 　rusty writing (it's been a hot minute my bad-). brief major character deaths. mention of blood / injury / violence / drowning. illness in characters + family members. fire. zombies. mentions / vague descriptions of death in general.

dedicated to : 　 @yuomizuu, from your stellaronhvnter secret santa :3c when i saw kazuha on your list, i jumped for joy; he’s one of my top genshin characters & im so happy to have an excuse to write for him! // playlist i was listening to while writing // art by @.mayu_mey on twt

In one universe, Kazuha bumps into you on the street.

Bundles of scrolls and parchment spill from your arms, delicate writing muddied with dirt as the commotion on the street barely comes to a halt. Onlookers scowl and grumble, moving past without a second thought as you scramble to collect your things from the footpath, movements hastened by the spear-tips aiming your way.

Cape a deep crimson with delicate fur trim, the Kaedehara family crest is embroidered on the back in gold thread. Kazuha always thought it was unnecessary to flaunt his status, preferring respect of the family name over awe of his wealth. But being a gift from a dear friend, he wears it more often than not. In cases like these, he wishes he hadn’t. Your eyes catch the glint of his garments, and you freeze, petrified.

Lowering to a crouch, Kazuha waves away his guards with dimmissive hand, gloved hands working to collect fallen sheets.

“Are you alright?” he asks, voice kind and with a smile. He holds out a scroll for you to take back. Your fingers brush his.

“Yes…” you mutter back, somewhat sheepish. You quickly rise to your feet and offer him a bow. “My apologies, Your Highness.”

“No need for it.”

He offers to walk you to your destination. You decline. He insists. The two of you both make it to the library in quick succession, the others on the road making way the minute the red of his cape is seen.

“This is quite unnecessary, Your Highness.” Kazuha looks over at you. You smile when he meets your eyes. “It was I who bumped into you. There was no need to escort me back.”

“Ah, but I wanted to.”

It’s when you’re inside, the door closed behind you, that Kazuha stops to stare at where you’d once stood. His cheeks are rosy with warmth.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?” one of the guards prods, hesitant. “You seem a bit… flushed.”

“I’m more than alright.”

The kingdom falls before he can see you again.

Flames engulf houses and shops; fire starved and ravenous, it becomes a glutton as it licks up the side of the library. His horse whinnies and backs away when the heat gets to be too much, but Kazuha can’t seem to pull himself away from the sight. He needs to leave. He needs to leave. Run. Run. Run. Run—

Some part of him hopes you made it out unscathed, heart heavy as the shouts of enemy troops chase after him. You would’ve liked the palace archives, he thinks, salt trailing down ash-stained cheeks as the ruins disappear in the distance.

—

In one universe, you’ve just moved from the city to the countryside.

As your new neighbour, Kazuha took it upon himself to welcome you. The rest of the area had heard about your reasonings: a relative of yours who owned the house you’d be staying in has fallen ill. You’re here to keep things in order while they receive treatment.

Basket full of fresh fruit from his own farm, he stands outside your door with a nervous frown. His heart beats erratically in his chest, pulse ricocheting off the bones of his ribs. It’s never like him to be so jittery when greeting others. Readjusting his grip, Kazuha sucks in a breath and knocks.

You shout back, “Just a sec!”

There’s a brief moment where Kazuha debates leaving, dropping the basket and running. He digs his heels into the ground. The door opens with a click. You smile and—

Oh.

He’s been here before, hasn't he?

Cheeks turning a soft pink, he grins back, holding out the basket.

“A little welcome gift,” he says, “from your new neighbour.”

You take the basket from him; your fingers don’t touch his. Is it weird that he wishes they did? Kazuha comes back the next day, handing you a bunch of mail and a package. You invite him to stay this time.

Kazuha swears he’s seen you before, that you moving wasn’t a coincidence judging by the butterflies that eat at his stomach lining. Whatever it is, you don’t remember him like how he thinks of you.

You return to the city months later, leaving the confession on the tip of his tongue.

—

In one universe, you are the wind that greets him every morning.

The hospital room is stuffy, void of colour except for the stack of “Get well soon!” cards and deflating balloons shoved by his bedside. He misses the farm, he decides, the vast openness of the trees and fields. The smell of medicine had stung his nose at first; now it’s barely there. Kazuha stares out at the sunrise, smiling to himself when a familiar breeze slips through the crack of his window. Bathed in gold with the sun speckled in his hair, he strains an arm and grasps onto a well-loved notepad and pen.

“One day,” he murmurs, voice airy as he jots down the date, “I’ll be out there too.”

—

In one universe, you’re a birdhouse and he’s the bird.

The seeds are kept well stocked; the shelter you provide is always dry. You both get swept away in a windstorm.

—

In one universe, he is a star.

Rubble and debris from what were once towering builds block any type of path you may have been able to venture. Despite the lack of them, the stench of walking death still permeates the air.

“Shouldn’t have taken that shortcut,” you mumble, grunting when your foot catches on another root.

The trees grow thicker and you swear you’ve passed this part of the woods already. You grumble a string of profanities, plopping down to the forest floor and leaning against the bark. You look up.

“You’re here at least.” The words are soft, much too gentle for the atmosphere. Kazuha doesn’t respond. Can’t respond. “You’d scold me for scavenging this late. I know it.”

The star grows brighter, as if laughing.

—

In one universe, Kazuha’s flesh can be tasted on your tongue.

Tied up in the corner, your arms pinned behind your back, he sits about two metres away in front of you on a broken crate. The gun lays loaded in his lap. Eyes closed with his head down, fingers resting on the cool metal, Kazuha’s lips stretch into a thin line.

“It’s not right,” he mutters, mainly to himself as you thrash in the corner, desperate to reach him. “It’s not my right to rob you of life.”

You snarl in response. Eyes bloodshot and crazed, he wonders if you can still understand him. Would you plead for him to shoot you? Would you beg to be spared? Could he bear to do either? He’s going to be sick.

“It’s not right,” he repeats, shaky hands curling in his lap. “It’s you and me. We haven’t come all this way just to end.”

The world has taken enough from him. Kazuha refuses to let it take you too; not without him.

He stands in front of you. The gun lays off to the side.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice screams at him not to fold. They wouldn’t want this, it wails, clawing at the walls of his skull. Another tells him, Do it. And so Kazuha undoes your binds, kisses you, smiles tearfully when your nails claw into his skin. Blood runs down his back, stains his tattered clothing. He hugs you. Your jaws clamp down on the junction of his neck and shoulder. His nose brushes against your jaw.

“It’s ok,” he whispers to ears that cannot hear reason, hold tightening, “we’ll be ok.”

—

In one universe, you two never meet. Not face-to-face at least.

Kazuha smiles at the camera, holding up a peace-sign, before the view switches to another member on stage. The clip goes viral very shortly after its creation. You come across it one day.

“An idol, huh…” you mutter.

You scroll away.

—

In one universe, he’s stuck behind a screen, a watcher to your world as you go through the motions of life.

Fate isn’t his, but he can’t seem to mind. When his splash art first coloured your screen, when he first witnessed that giddy look in your eyes, Kazuha knew he was smitten.

Even if you ult at the wrong times, run out of stamina in the middle of climbing, skip dialogue, Kazuha is there beside you. For every beginning, end, every plotline in between, he’s a staple of your team.

One day, you stop logging in. It was gradual at first; daily tasks, some resin here and there, you’d skip a day then come back the next. A day turned into two. Then three. A week. A month. Kazuha still waits. It’s funny how his world comes to a standstill when you do. He hopes you’re doing well.

—

In one universe, he is a leaf and you are a river cutting through the forest.

He drowns in your embrace, waterlogged and swept away as you carry him down stream. If he had a conscience, Kazuha would do it again.

—

In this universe, it’s finally Kazuha and you. (There is no need to say he loves you when his name is already beside yours.)

Kazuha watches as you pack up your things. He stands from his spot next to you, bag slung over his shoulder as he waits. Other students are already leaving the lecture hall, milling about as he admires you from this short distance.

In this universe, it’s been Kazuha and you since birth. Friends since forever, it surprised no one when both of you confessed. It would be nice if every universe were like this.

“You’re staring.”

He blinks, hand finding yours automatically. You squeeze back.

“It’s hard not to when you look like that,” he teases back.

“C’mon, the winter festival is starting soon.” You roll your eyes.

Foot catching on the chair, Kazuha steadies you before your books can fall out of your hands, giggling when you’re quick to apologize.

“I had a weird dream last night,” he blurts out once you’re back to standing.

“About me falling?”

“More than that.” He traces your skin with his thumb, lost in thought before speaking again. “I’ll walk you back to your dorm. Drop off your stuff and all.”

“Nah, I can just meet up with you.”

Would it be nice if every universe were like this? That’s silly, he thinks with a smile. No world could make me love you less.

“I insist.”

notes : 　inspired by multiverse concepts, including “everything, everywhere, all at once,” arcane, the "do you think we're together in every universe?" trend, and this one poem i read that i can’t remember. this ended up being shorter than i thought it would be, but there are a lot of parallels between scenes and such so i hope those were caught! apologies if the prose doesn't flow too well TwT

#hvntersecretsanta #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kazuha x reader #kazuha x gender neutral reader #! notepad.txt #genshin impact scenarios #genshin fluff #genshin angst #genshin impact x gender neutral reader

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sleepyhoons · 7 months ago

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He is so cute 😭 jihoon soft hours

☆ WOOZI BOYFRIEND HABITS

pairing: woozi x reader

genre: headcannons, fluff, established relationship, idol!au mentioned

a/n: 8th part of the seventeen boyfriend habits series (requested) !! sent an ask to suggest the next member! ask to be on the taglist or fill out the form!

back to seventeen boyfriend habits masterlist!

☆ refers or talks about you in his songs

woozi isn’t the best with words. he has a hard time expressing himself and his emotions and it frustrates him a lot. it frustrates him that he can’t express how much he loves you or the members, stuttering over his words and repressing his feelings even further when he tries and fails. but one thing he knows he’s good at is writing, songwriting to be more specific. he doesn’t know how or why but whenever he enters the studio, suddenly he’s able to write pages full, hundreds of words spilling out of his pen. you’ve always been a big fan of his and his group’s music, always listening to their latest releases and sometimes even purchasing the album when you could afford it. he knows you’re proud of him and his success and he constantly wishes he could show you how grateful he is. so one day while being cramped up in his studio, his love for you takes over and he starts writing. it comes naturally and hours later when he’s done, he can’t believe all the words of endearment he managed to write down. his mind is full of inspiration thanks to you and he hopes that whenever you hear one of their love songs, you will be able to tell it was written for you and about you only.

☆ tugs softly on your clothing to get your attention

like we all know, woozi has always had a hard time expressing his feelings. and when he needs your attention, he can’t just randomly burst into singing. so for a while, woozi never knew what to do when he was in such a situation. it was heartbreaking when you would realize after that he wanted your attention and you weren’t there to give it to him, facing a sulky woozi. what he did find out, however, was how sensitive to touch you were. you would turn around at the slightest brush against your clothes, looking around for whoever was the (accidental) culprit. so, even if he did feel a bit bad whenever you would frantically look around for whoever tugged at your clothing, he would sigh in relief when your eyes landed on him. it slowly and surely became a habit, woozi tugging at your shirt or sleeve to catch your attention and you immediately concentrating on him, worried eyes and a reassuring smile on your lips.

☆ tucks you in bed when you fall asleep before him

being an idol is very difficult, it’s common knowledge; being an idol in a relationship can be even more difficult. the distance separating you from your partner, the long work days, the exhaustion, etc. but even if life isn’t the easiest with his job, you two still manage to work everything out. woozi also knows your job is difficult too– you, fresh out of university, having to prove your worth against trained people in the field. he also knows that you can’t always stay up and wait for him to come home as he often returns past midnight and you have to get up early. he doesn’t mind one bit coming home to you sleeping peacefully in your shared bed but some days he finds you asleep on the couch, a blanket covering your body. he falls in love with you at the sight every time, touched by the efforts you do to wait for him. so whenever you fall asleep waiting for him, woozi carries you to the bedroom, taking care to not wake you up as he tucks you in, an ‘i love you’ falling from his lips when you nuzzle deeper into the sheets.

☆ always sends you a photo of his empty bowl of food

when you two were still only friends and in university, you were aware of his unhealthy habits when he was working on a song. woozi would often lock himself into his small studio until he was done working, only ever going out to go to the bathroom or eat– which was only sometimes. when you found out about his self-destructive behavior second year in university, you did everything possible to convince him to take a breather outside and leave his stuffy room whenever he was going through one of his phases. you were the one ordering take-out or cooking meals for him, slipping it onto his desk. woozi wasn’t very fond of you invading his personal space so often and one time he snapped, demanding to know why you cared so much. you snapped back, unpleased with the tone of his voice and woozi knew he couldn’t stop you, you were way too stubborn. years later, your unsteady relationship healed and your caring gestures were enough for woozi to want to take better care of himself– for you. and warmth would spread through your body whenever he took the time to send you a photo of his empty bowl of food, showing he had eaten and that you had nothing to worry about.

perm. taglist: @0x1lovebot @fairybinie @blaqpinksthetic @odetoyeonjun @pockyandme @soobin-chois @soobisms @junityy @kaimal @laylasbunbunny @jaeyunverse

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venuiscmind · 1 year ago

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Please write some skin to skin with Ellie. I need a break from her strap!! 😮‍💨😪😫

I need rubbing pussies together and desperate fingering 😩!!!

Skin. (Ellie Williams x reader smut) 18+

read this pls. and this too (info about the next strike.)

You and Ellie go out for a night on the town but things quickly get very heated.

W.C: 6.2K

Warnings: squirting (ellie squirts, i'll die on this hill), oral,semi public sex, tribbing, scissoring, fingering, multiple orgasms, getting called a good girl and a slut, spit play, tiny bit of anal, some sub dom dynamics (y'all are switches and like to change it up), small bit of exhibitionism, some degradation, praise, weed, smoking, alcohol.(please be responsible when you go out, do as I say not as I do.)

Genuinely think this is the nastiest fic I've ever written. I need to find god and touch grass.

Requests are open so keep giving me inspo cause it helps a lot.

Loved this request btw, I also got inspo from when I went out ooph.

</3.

You grinned at Ellie, looking at the girl exhale the carbon from your shared cigarette.

"What." she inquired raising her eyebrows at you, her tone flat. She wasn't even looking at you, staring at a broad woman checking IDs of people queuing to get into the cities most favoured club. You didn't miss the furrow between them, a dead giveaway that she was not happy at that moment.

You took the burning cigarette she held out for you. "Nothing." You smiled around the cigarette, taking a beat to look around at the streetlamps illuminating the dark pavements, letting you see the shutdown stores and closed cafes and restaurants, littered with girls strutting up and down them shivering much like you and Ellie were.

Smoke breaks were never warm but with Ellie's arm looped around you, and yours on her waist you didn't feel the cold as much.

You loved your city at night. Filled with old streetlamps, the orange and yellow white light making you feel free and grounded at the same time. Especially with your auburn-haired girl in your arms.

After weeks of rotting in the campus library you decided to go out, both of you dressing up for the occasion to make the most of the time you had with each other. Away from the textbooks and other students.

"There's obviously something you'd like to say so c'mon, tell meeee." You whined at her, flicking ash off the cigarette before exhaling to the side.

"All I'm saying is that bouncer didn't have to ask you to fuckin' smile to check your ID? The fuck was that even about." She mumbled looking off to the side at the bouncer who was doing her job checking the ID if some random girl trying to sneak in.

You giggled and leant into Ellie's side more, putting the cigarette back between her lips, watching her inhale before holding it between her pointer finger and thumb. "Ignore her," you said, looping your now free hands around her waist, under her oversized leather jacket and dark flannel around her waist. "I'm here to get into your pants not hers." you said looking into her eyes accentuated by the smoked out black eyeliner you had given her, parting your glossed lips trying to soothe the girl's building anger.

You took her jaw in your hand, angling it to face you before tilting it as if to ask if it was going to be an issue. She took the cigarette out of her mouth to take a breathe, never looking away.

She looked down at your face for a moment before her full lips curved up. She brought the smoke back up to her lips inhaling deeply "You're trying to get into my pants baby?" You felt a bead of sweat drip right by your temple. You couldn't tear your eyes away from her green ones as she gripped you closer to her. Her lips were so close to yours that you could feel her breath on them, and she ran a hand down your face.

"Maybe."

She looked you over for a moment before giving you a peck and stepping away from you breaking the standstill moment. She gave you plenty of those, where all you could do was focus on her. The slight buzz the nicotine was giving you accentuating the feeling.

"C'mon, before you freeze out her. Let's go back in."

You nodded and she put threw the cigarette on the ground, stomping on it to put it out. She held out her hand to you, quickly flashing both yours and her ID to the bouncer who said a gruff "Go on." Maybe she had witnessed yours and Ellie's public display of affection and wasn't happy with it you thought.

You hardly cared anymore.

All you could feel was the excitement of feeling the bass in your boots as you shrugged off your coat, leaving you in your red leather, skirt and black top. Both of which hugged your curves, letting Ellie see all that you had.

She did the same but took off her flannel too, leaving her in a black tank, jeans, docs brought out by a small chain and her rings. Fuck she looked good. Especially in the red, low lights of the club, with her smoked out eyeliner you had done for her before leaving the house. The black really brought out the green in her eyes, contrasting her pale freckled skin. You both stashed them behind some random couch of the room.

"Drink?" You saw Ellie mouth at you, her voice drowned out by a thumping song which was begging you to dance. You nodded, watching her flag down a bartender to pour you shots of tequila. You did however sneak in your phone to tap against the card machine before she could.

"My round!" You yelled into her ear, taking the shot from her smiling at her while raising the shot glass. She smiled and nodded, letting you pay for her this time. She always paid majority of the time, but you loved taking care of her too when you could. She raised her glass to clink against her before you both tilting your heads back to let the liquid go down your throats, burning slightly on the way. Ellie winced at the liquid while you grinned at her and said, "We have to dance!"

Ellie laughed letting you pull her down onto the dancefloor packed with other bodies. She always said the shots went right your hips rather than your head, always begging her to dance with you after taking one.

You slid right into the middle of it, taking her right under the lights. You hung your hands around her neck, placing your head right into the space between her neck and shoulder inhaling slightly. In turn she put her hands right on your hips. They burned into you as you both swayed to the beat of the song, slower one that you could slink against each other.

You sighed into her. You really did love this girl, despite the occasional anger issue she had with anyone looking at you. In her eyes you were her pretty girl, and no one should be staring at you like that but her.

The songs transitioned as the evening went on. You and Ellie had broken away from each other but were still tethered to each other by whenever your hands held onto each other, or you swayed together to the bass of the songs. You couldn't keep apart for very long, always wanting to touch the girl in front of you. You were both grinning, sweating and laughing under the red strobe lights as you danced together.

Ellie was never a dancer but with you she tried, keeping pace but also wanting to watch you under the lights. You changed when you danced. Watching your hips roll in a way she could never outside of the bedroom or when you ran your hands up and down your body to tease her. Your instincts took over and you knew how to move. These were on of the few moments your body knew what to fully do.

You loved dancing with Ellie because your body took over then too.

You never broke apart for too long, letting her twirl you under the red hue or you'd rock your hips against hers. You held onto both her hands tightly as you stole a kiss from her. You melted, feeling your glossed lips push against hers and her hands slipped down from your hips to your ass covered by a leather skirt.

You placed a hand on the middle if her chest as she deepened the kiss, slipping her tongue into your mouth but you pushed her back.

She looked confused before grinning at what you had felt. She grabbed your hand pulling you in and whispering into your ear "smoke break?" to which you eagerly nodded.

You both made your way deeper into the club, to find the smoking room. It was full of people who had either had enough of dancing or who had come to stand around here in the first place. You rubbed your ears as you could feel your eardrums re-adjusting to the lack of noise and easing into the chatter of the room.

Ellie stroked your hand, keeping you grounded as you stumbled behind her. She led you to the outdoor area which had hardly anyone in there. A few people who you suspected had the same intentions as you, judging by the smell.

You closed the door behind you, quickly joining your partner as she placed the joint she had rolled earlier and kept in her sport bra in case security patted her down and would confiscate from her in her lips. She cupped the end of it, sparking it with her silver reusable lighter patting the space next to her beckoning you to sit down so she could pass it to you.

She blew the ash of the end of it before holding it for you to take. You hummed and slotted it between your manicured fingers before holding it up to your lips and inhaling the way you had been taught.

"Still can't believe security didn't pat us down? Lucky fuckin' break ‘cause I didn't want my blunt going to that security guard."

You giggled "Ellie, you have got to let that go." You brought the joint back up to inhale, the end if it lighting up as you breathed before passing it back to you.

Now was smoking, drinking shots, and smoking a blunt the best idea? Maybe not. But you rarely went out and you figured why not?

You felt so safe with Ellie. Her tolerance was far better than yours, and if anything should happen you felt right at home with her. You peered out past the railing keeping you near the building at all the twinkling lights. You felt Ellie come up behind you to sneak her hands around your waist. She placed her cheek on your shoulder grumbling.

You laughed at her antics feeing her shake along with your laughter. You laughed even harder when you saw she was still holding out the blunt for you to take, it coming virtually out if nowhere but floating into your peripheral vision.

Instead of taking it, you had Ellie keep holding onto it while you leant down and inhaled from it. Your lips brushed her long digits leaving a glittery, brownish pink, you shaped smudge on her fingers.

She had straightened up at that point watching you, and you lifted your eyes to meet hers as you exhaled out the smoke.

"Never." She said rubbing her thumb against your glossed lips.

"That's a pretty colour, how come you've never worn this one?"

"It's new baby, remember you bought it for me last week?"

You kissed her hand, thanking her for her small, sweet gifts she always got you while out.

Ellie couldn't stop her mind from drifting. Maybe it was the weed or the shots, but she wanted to feel your lips somewhere else. She wanted to see your lipstick and eyeliner smudged with from your actions.

She coughed, clearing her throat and trying to keep herself grounded. She inhaled her last puff not wanting to overdo it and held it out to you in case you wanted more.

You did the exact same thing, keeping your eyes trained on your girl, watching her breath hitch, her chain glinting in the moonlight as her breathing became uneasy.

Distantly you wondered if people queuing outside the club could see you from down there, if people in their cars speeding down the streets could see you eye-fucking your girlfriend. You suspected the people in the apartments definitely could and the people in the smoking area absolutely cou-

Well fuck.

You definitely felt it.

You giggled and looked down at the ground as you felt the high slowly creep up over your brain. It was a slow acting bud Ellie had gotten this week so it would take a while for the feeling to peak but you could feel your limbs become lighter and heavier at the same time.

"You feelin' it pretty girl?" Ellie lifted your face to check on you. Your eyes had turned the tiniest shade of pink but were mostly still white. Your pupils had become a little big but not that noticeable unless someone were really looking for it.

Ellie knew though, because she was feeling the exact same thing. You were both fucked, she thought laughing along with you.

She felt you take her hands and hold them against your powdered cheeks and nuzzle into them.

"C'mere." She said tugging you into her arms. You groaned into her chest. Your nose was practically shoved down her black sports bra.

"You good down there pretty girl? Pretty sure motorboating is frowned upon in public spaces but I'm not gonna stop you."

You laughed pushing her away from you and walking towards the door back into the club. "I need some water, you comin?"

Ellie looked at you for a moment. Her eyes drifting up and down as she smushed the roach into the ashtray provided and joined you by your side walking into the club again.

You pressed yourself up against the counter of the bar, slumping into it while you waited for a bartender to stop in front of you. Once you'd had them you walked over to where Ellie had sat down on the couch, near where you had hidden your jackets.

You smiled down at her, gently handing her one of the glasses in your hands. You took a few sips looked her down, dark flannel, several buttons open, exposing her black sports bra underneath, and an expanse of pale freckled skin that you wanted to kiss right then and there. Her toned legs spread slightly open and although you knew you shouldn't, you sat down on one of them.

She pulled you across her lap, fingers digging into your hips as you both set down your glasses of water. You both studied each other's faces, you held a hand to her face which she leant into while giving you a fulfilled look. You were sure you had the same one on your face.

You were both pulled out of the moment by a song of both of yours playing on the dancefloor. You both grinned to each other as you got up and rushed back to the floor, dancing again. You both yelled out the lyrics, twirling each other and laughing together until the beat changed into something slower, something deeper more sensual.

You moved closer to Ellie, dancing with you. She had your hands all over you and maybe the weed had made everything feel so much more intense, but you thought you could feel them everywhere. You turned around but kept close to her to you. You could feel her breath turn shaky, pressed up behind you as her breath came down on your shoulder. You swayed against her feeling her hands on your tummy keeping you close to her.

You lowered your knees, keeping to the rhythm of the song to get closer to her centre and ran a hand through your hair in a way you knew would keep her eyes on you.

You suddenly couldn't breathe when your ass came in contact with her crotch. She kissed your neck hard enough to bruise trying to keep herself grounded as she felt herself growing more and more warm and flush all over her body.

You twirled back around, to take a look at your girlfriend which proved to be a massive mistake. The red lights had taken her, making her look more dangerous and devastatingly beautiful than ever. She looked at you, like she could take all of you then and there.

You bit into your lip, before yelling into her ear "Bathroom?"

Ellie nodded and tugged you, moving people gently out of the way so she could get you through them.

She pushed open the heavy wooden door filled with multiple stalls in normal dim white light.

You leant against the sink, taking yourself in for a moment. Skin flushed, eyes pink, hair dishevelled. Your eyes shifted as you laid them on Ellie, making eye contact with you.

You turned taking her face into your hands. Full parted lips, parted to try to keep breathing even though she knew it was futile. She was always like this when it came to you. Always breathing her last breath, and never taking in enough oxygen because all that was on her mind was you. Freckles, flushed skin and green eyes that were focused on your lips. They had a pink hue to them, letting you know that she felt the high too.

You leaned in to kiss her, pulling her jaw down to meet you in the middle. You groaned into the kiss, which had turned sloppy so quickly, or maybe you had taken your time with it but everything felt so fuzzy and warm you couldn't tell anymore. All you felt was the girl's lips gliding against yours, her tongue invading your mouth and all your senses. You moaned into her mouth, pressing yourself up against her to which she answered by letting her hands drifting under your skirt to your ass.

"Fuck." Ellie groaned between kisses.

"Are." Peck. "you." Peck. "trying to." Peck. "fucking kill me." Smooch. She turned your face to kiss every part of it causing you to giggle.

"Maybe. But I just want to keep kissing you right now." You said brushing strands of her hair out of her face, which kept falling whenever she kissed you.

Her hands were everywhere again but the touches more desperate than before. Under your shirt, under your skirt, squishing your cheeks to steal another kiss from you.

You didn't exactly remember whose idea it was to move into a stall, but you do remember walking backwards against the door of one and Ellie following you in with a predatory gaze.

She cornered you against the wall of the bathroom stall, kissing down your body murmuring pleas against the skin. You huffed out, letting your head fall back against the cool cement walls, as you felt her hot breath on your skin. You raked a hand through her short hair, stroking her cheeks as she pushed up your skirt to your tummy and pulled down your underwear, letting you step out of them before pocketing them.

"I hope you plan on giving me those back later Els..." you whined out.

"Wouldn't count on it." she said and finally ran a finger along your folds.

You took a sharp inhale as you felt her moving your slick, running it along your clit before dropping them as far as your opening. You shivered, "Els?" you huffed out.

She only responded with a soft "Hm?" appearing too busy with continuing your torment. "Please Els? Can you touch me properly?" You begged the girl, your knees buckling slightly as you tried to keep yourself upright while she touched you.

Ellie held your thigh, keeping you upright as well as keeping your legs open that buckles and shut slightly every time she moved.

"Dunno." She replied, casually as if nothing was wrong.

You groaned, knowing what the girl wanted and you couldn't deny her anymore. Not like this anyways.

"Keep 'em."

"Sorry I'm gonna need you to say that again. Didn't catch that."

"You can keep them Els, just fuckin' do something please."

"Keep what baby?" She said looking up at you as she slipped her middle finger inside of you.

You grabbed onto her shoulder to steady yourself as you felt her reaching inside of you, gently fucking into you, finding the spot that had you squirming away and simultaneously rolling your hips against her tattooed hand.

"Keep the panties, El, they're yours just don' stop." You sighed out, head facing the ceiling as you breathed out your words.

"Good girl." She rewarded your generosity by inching her face closer, to your pussy, and kissing your clit before latching her lips to suck gently on you.

"Oh, fuck Ellie." You sobbed out trying to stay quiet, grabbing gently onto her head to try and get her impossibly closer to your sopping folds.

The girl trailed her tongue down to your opening before shoving the muscle inside of you. At that point, you shut your eyes tightly, held your breath in an attempt to keep quiet and couldn't focus on anything except the feeling of Ellie inside of you, and her nose bumping against your clit.

It wasn't long before you came, riding out your high with the girl tucked between your thighs and you practically humping her face, trying to get her tongue and face as deep inside you as possible.

Ellie was trying to taste as much of you as she could, slurping and licking every bit of sensitive skin you exposed for her. When she spelled away you could see all the efforts of both your actions on her face, which was covered in slick, on her cheeks, lips, jaw and nose.

There was still a string attaching you to her lips.

"Oh." You said holding your hands up to your mouth, trying not to giggle.

"What?" Ellie said, furrowing her brows at you, wiping at her chin as she looked at you.

"What do you mean what? You have me all over your face Ellie." You said trying you help her clean herself off laughing softly.

"What can I say I got lost in the sauce." She grinned.

Your jaw dropped as you smacked her on her shoulder.

She laughed, rubbing at her face getting most of if off but missing spots on her chin.

"Here." You said taking her chin in your hands and kissing it off.

She looked back at you with glazed pink eyes, before kissing you again.

Fuck, you thought to yourself. This had been a bad idea. All you could think about was tasting her now. Your hands gently reached for the zipper if her pants as she took your wrist and said, "You don' have to if you don' want to you know?" She always got shy like this whenever you wanted to reciprocate.

"I know but I really want to Els. Will you please let me?" You blinked at her with doe eyes you knew would always work. She looked as you nuzzled your cheeks near the zipper of her pants, face brushing against her clit as you whimpered against the fabric, wanting to touch her. She ran her hands against your lip and nodded after searching into your pink eyes.

She stood up and let you unbuckle her belt, pull down her pants and boxes in one go. She was a mess, dripping onto her thighs, and all over her folds.

You plunged your head between her thighs and licked, slurped and sucked.

"Wanna fuck you again when we get home Ellie, can I?” You murmured against her clit.

"Oh, fuck you're really feeling it aren't you? So fuckin' needy,” she said taking your jaw in her hands to stare into your reddish eyes. You had reached the peak of your and wanted more and more of her. As much as she could possibly give you that night.

She lifted your face closer to hers and once she was beside your ear she said, "Open up for me." and she then proceeded to spit on your awaiting tongue, and you whimpered as you swallowed her.

You felt your legs getting soaked again as you grinded against nothing.

"That's my good girl" she sighed as you nuzzled your face against her thighs, nose brushing her pubic mound and clit.

You went back to tasting her when she grabbed the back of your neck and pushed you against her folds. You moaned into her, feeling her slick seep onto your tongue as you suck on her lips, clit and slipped your tongue inside of her.

She shivered at the sensation, looking down at you pushing into her thighs and entrance as she grabbed the back of your head pulling you in closer. "So fuckin' good. You love getting slutted out like this don't you baby hm?"

All you could do was nod against her. You pulled back to speak and look up at her before going back in for more of her. "Uh-huh. Love you els, love you so much."

"Love you too pretty girl-fuck."

Ellie whimpered as she came on your lips and gently pushed you away once she came so as not to get too overstimulated too fast.

She watched as you wiped your face off, licking off whatever was left off her on your hands on your tongue.

She knelt down to press a messy kiss against your lips. "So fuckin' nasty for me baby." She kissed you over and over before murmuring "You wanna get out of here pretty girl? Promise I'll make you feel so good when we get home." She groaned into your neck.

You nodded against her, letting her pull you onto your feet before dressing the both of you and making sure you looked presentable.

"Ellie my underwear, you gotta give 'em back." You pleaded with her.

She turned you around to look at your ass, pulled your skirt down and you squeaked at the sudden groping and quick smack she gave you.

"Nah, don't think so. You'll be fine it's just a 10-minute walk back to the apartment. C'mon I'll keep an eye on you." She said ushering you out of the stall, as you both washed your hands and cleaned your faces properly in the mirror.

You walked to collect, your jackets from the couch putting them on and walking back out to the street, Ellie keeping her hands on your waist. Unbeknownst to you, she looked back at the security guard who was watching you both strut down the street and smirked at her, watching as her mouth fell into a hard straight line.

She grinned and kissed your hands, trying to keep them warm.

Both your cheeks were pink from the cold, as you breathed into the air watching the air in your body turn to mist in the night sky as Ellie shoved the key to your shared apartment into the keyhole. You hopped around trying to stay warm till Ellie pulled you into the apartment. helped you take off your coat and pulled you in for a kiss.

You gasped and whimpered as she pulled your hair into a tight makeshift ponytail and tugged, causing your mouth to pry open as you felt her gaze on you. You looked up at her as she said "You gonna be good for me, pretty girl?"

You nodded, biting into your lip and humming an affirmative. She let go and smacked your ass telling you to "Get upstairs. I'll be with you in a minute." She said before pecking you on the cheek.

You giggled and ran up the stairs, following the girls demands as she pulled off her jacket and sighed. She took out the pack of cigarettes and lit one quickly while she walked over to the tap and got two glasses of water for you and her to drink. She sat down on a kitchen chair with an ashtray next to her. She heard a thump upstairs and frowned. She wondered what you could be getting up to there.

She took a last puff of it before she stubbed out her cigarette, took the two glasses of water in her hands and marched up the stairs to see what you were doing.

She was met with you, sitting at the edge of the bed, looking up at her and naked. That thump she had heard was the sound of you dropping your boots on the floor as you stripped off and had thrown your clothes on the floor. She shook her head grinning and said "Here." handing over the glass of water to you.

You took it and sipped from it before she took it back and placed it on the nightstand.

She took off her rings too placing them on the wooden surface.

She took your cheeks in hand, squeezing them together and kissed you. "You okay if I get a little rough with you?" she whispered in your ear, "Wanna make you feel it." She palmed your tits, groping and squeezing them making you whimper under her.

You kissed her back and said, "It's what I wanted in the first place, please Els."

She took this chance to push you back onto the bed and climb between the space of your legs, letting you hook them around her waist. She looked at you splayed out under her, tits bouncing from the push, hiding nothing from her. She slapped your tits, swatting one then the other, watching as you whined under her from the hit and groaned. Ellie leaned in to latch onto your nipples, sucking on them gently, rolling your nipples in your mouth with her tongue, and pulling on them with her teeth,

You moaned at this, carding your hands through her hair pulling her closer to you, your legs tightening your grip on her waist, grinding your sensitive exposed pussy against her, wetting the front of her jeans as she humped your back.

"What are you, a bunny or somethin' humping me like that? Fuckin' nasty slut." She groaned into your tits.

You loved when she degraded you like this. Made you get so much wetter which you were sure she could feel too.

She moved her hands down to your soaked entrance, rubbing around your juices before plunging her fingers into you again. You shrieked at this, arching your back against her as her middle and ring finger scissored in and out of you, letting you see her tattoo flex as she moved. You could feel your slick slip past your entrance dripping further down.

She kissed down your stomach, slurping again at your clit, then your entrance then-

Oh fuck.

She kept moving further and further spreading your juices with her tongue and fingers down to your asshole. She pulled back, spitting on the entrance before continuing licking and tasting you, pushing your knees back as you moved trying to escape the sensations.

"Mm, tastes so good all over, pretty girl." She hummed pulling back, before letting go and pulling back. She took off her flannel and jeans, leaving her in her black sports bra, silver chain and boxers.

She thumbed at your clit watching you squirm again under her.

"Wanna get on top pretty girl? Didn't you wanna fuck me? Make me feel good again when we get home?" She drawled, smiling at you under her.

She gently slapped your cunt, prompting you to give her an answer when you sobbed at her "Yes, Ellie wanna fuck you please?"

She stood up, pulling off her sports bra over her head, and slipping her soaked boxers, down her legs.

She sighed lying down on the bed, watching as you clambered up on her body. You ran your hands down her body, watching her nipples stiffen from being exposed to the air, her abs rising and falling as she took in unsteady breaths, watching you take over.

You hooked your leg over her hip, allowing you to straddle her. You took her chain under your finger tugging and pulling her up to meet her lips again.

You felt powerful on top of her seeing her under you, waiting for what you were going to do.

You shuffled upwards, deciding to plant yourself over her abs, sitting your wet pussy down onto it, moaning at the crevices and bumps as they brushed against your clit.

"Fuck." You groaned out, your eyes fluttering shut as your head fell back and you could see the white of your ceiling.

Ellie shuddered under you, feeling the wetness of you gather on her stomach, making the sloppiest mess she had ever seen from you. She loved watching you ride her like this. Something about seeing you take control of her like this, using her made her want to submit to your forever.

She huffed out, "Please move down baby I can't take it." She really couldn't. She was soaked wet, exposed with no friction or anything to ease the heat building up between her legs.

"Should've thought about that before you stole my underwear baby."

"'m sorry, okay? I'll buy you a fuck ton of new pairs just please do something y/n 'm dying here."

You looked at your girl under you, flushed and gasping, nails digging into your hips, and she clung on for dear life.

You hummed before moving down and grinding against her pubic mound. Fuck, you were gonna get another noise complaint but fuck that because this felt too good to give up.

Elle couldn't think or speak, feeling only white noise slip into her ears, as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, feeling you slip and slide against her pussy. She could feel the strands of slick from both of you, keeping each of you tethered to the other.

She felt her soul leave her body as you kissed her, slipping your tongue in your mouth to silence the girl under you but that didn't work. So, you pulled away listening to her sob for a moment while you kept watching her moan out before slipping your pointer and middle finger into her mouth.

"Gonna h-have to keep you -fuck- quiet somehow." You grinned at her, voice breaking from your moans. Ellie suckled on your fingers but ever the brat she was, she decided she wasn't going to take so easily.

She slipped her hands behind you before sliding a finger inside of your asshole, making you lean back and almost fall off of the girl.

You felt Ellie suckle harder on your fingers, keeping you somewhat grounded as you continued to bounce and slide on her clit. Soon you were both groaning out each other's names, creaming and cumming against each other.

You watched Elle ride out her orgasm, nails making crescents on your hips which would last and bruise, letting you re-live this for days whenever you saw them. Her face was leaning back into the pillows, mouth hanging open as soft moans escaped it with her eyes squeezed shut. Her silver chain glinting in the soft light of your bedroom with each breathe she took.

She rocked your hips back and forth pro-longing both your respective climaxes till you lifted off her, sitting on her thigh as you pressed your body against her, till you were close enough that she could feel your lashes against her face.

She pried open her eyes, laughing at how close you were.

"Can I help you? You're so fuckin’ close. Jesus. "

You giggled, kissing her cheek. "Can you give me another?"

Ellie raised her brows, at your question "Think so, what've you got in mi-"

She was cut off as she felt you slide a finger into her.

"Fuck me-oh my god!" She groaned as you picked a brutal pace to fuck into her, adding another digit, fingers hitting the spot that had been sensitive all night. She could feel a pressure building and thought about warning you about what was happening but couldn't get the words out.

All she could do was take it and whimper and hold onto your hip and free hand.

"Feeling good baby?" You murmured against her lip, echoing the words she had asked you earlier that evening when she had been tormenting you.

She fucked herself back against your hands, groaning a series of "Yes-fuck- yes so good."

You bent down to lick at her clit and moaned around her. "Can taste the both of us here Ellie, you taste so good with me like this."

She felt herself clenching around your fingers at your words and the sensations, as a clear liquid came from her as you continued pumping into her, draining her of all that she had. Ellie had soaked, your fingers, bedsheets and herself as you had planned for her to.

You pulled out of her gently, placing a gentle kiss on her forehead, until she grabbed the back of your neck pulling you in for a proper kiss.

You kissed her quickly before getting up and getting her a cloth to clean her with, before handing her an oversized shirt to sleep in. You repeated the process for yourself after handing her the glass of water she had procured for the both of you earlier.

You helped her up to guide her to the sink to wash her face and brush her teeth and go to the bathroom. As you brushed together you thought about doing this with her forever, loving her, taking care of her, going out with her for the rest of your lives together.

As you slid under the covers together, and pressed your foreheads against each other, you knew she had the same thought.

"Love you, Ellie." You whispered to her squeezing her hand.

She squeezed back before wrapping her arm around you, pulling you closer to her, as she whispered back, "Love you more, pretty girl." pressing a kiss to your forehead.

#ellie williams #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie x fem reader

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mischiefmanagers · 1 year ago

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Eris Vanserra Fic Rec Library 🍁❤️‍🔥

these fics are a mix of Eris x reader, Eris x OC, and a few general Eris fics with no pairing. if you've never read an Eris fic before, I highly recommend starting with the first rec below (gust & flame) because that fic made me fall in love with him. enjoy ✨

🌼 personal favorite 🥀 angst 💞 fluff 🔥 smut

by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

gust & flame (series) 🥀💞🌼

by @theostrophywife

here in your arms. 💞

like you wanna be loved 💞

by @acourtofmenandthirst

The Fox & The Hound 💞

by @leafsandstarlight

Destiny's Battleground (series) 🥀💞🔥

In Spite of Our Differences (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

Great Rite 🔥

The Prince of Blood

by @profound-imagination

Finding Home 💞

Rose Gardens

by @munsons-hellfire

Happiness in the Heart 🥀💞

by @sweetcarolina-24

Scorched Shadows

by @azrielbrainrot

Fire on Fire

Mind Over Matter 🥀

by @danikamariewrites

Rescue 💞🥀

Fake Sleeper 💞

Peace 💞

Seekers 💞🌼

Did You Just Say No?

Song of Death

Starfall Revelations 🥀💞

Guilt 🥀💞

Kisses 💞

by @redbleedingrose

Till the End of Time 💞🥀

Pretty? 🥀💞

by @b0xerdancer-writes

It Wasn't Supposed to Happen Like This 🥀💞

by @thisblogisaboutabook

Bad Idea, Right? 🥀🔥

by @azsazz

Cherries, Juniper, and Orange Slices 💞

Fire & Water 🥀🔥

by @honeybeefae

Cauldron Fated 💞🥀🔥🌼

Forgotten Ties 🥀

Valentine's Mini Fic 💞

A Court of Wings & Fire (series) 🥀

Past and Present 🥀💞

Coronation Day 💞

Potions 🔥🌼

by @we-were-beautiful

The Fox and the Hounds 💞

by @bubbles-for-all-of-us

My little flame 💞

Her 🌼

My tears ricochet 🥀

by @2thestars-andbeyond

The Fire That Burns Within (series) 💞🥀🔥

by @simkaswriting

What if…Eris had danced with y/n instead?

by @jeannineee

Daylight 🥀💞

Breeding 🔥

by @jdeclerc

a brother's intervention 🥀

by @azrielsdove

Playing With Fire 🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @cassiefromhell

Unexpected 💞🥀🔥Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @fieldofdaisiies

Late Again 🥀

Brother 🥀💞 no pairing

Falling 💞🌼

by @azrielsoulmate

Covered in you 💞

by @cupidojenphrodite

Morning After 🔥

by @acourtofwhatthefuck

Loose Lips 🥀🔥

by @thelov3lybookworm

Remember me? (series) 💞🥀 from Rhysand x Reader to Eris x Reader

Bloodshed 🥀💞

Not what I expected 🥀💞🌼

by @fineghkst

How Eris acts around his mate 💞

by @ladyescapism

fractured bonds 🥀

by @clairebear08

Woven 🥀

Use Me 🔥

by @historiaxvanserra

If I Can't Have Love, I Want Power 🥀🌼

I Am Not a Martyr, I'm a Problem

by @shadowdaddies

Autumn's Eden 💞

Bramble 💞

by @azrielslightintheshadows

Fake love. 🥀

by @crypticandmachiavellianaugustine

Sweet Nothings 💞🌼

by @readychilledwine

Death of Peace of Mind 🥀🔥🌼

Safe Haven 💞

Relief

Unconditional 💞

Leap 💞🌼

Kissed By Fire

Lapcat 🔥

Pack Mentality 💞

Tainted Love 🥀

by @throneofsmut

Bound In Flames (series) 🥀💞🔥

by @parkerslatte

Overlooked 🥀🌼

Warm Me Up 💞🔥

by @prythianpages

Like An Angel 💞

Cruel, Wicked Thing

by @saphirered

Frozen lake 🔥💞

by @thehighladywrites

Professor Eris 🥀💞🔥

by @thevanserrras

Breaking Point 🥀

Den of Foxes 🥀💞

Happy Equinox at Last 💞

Wake Up 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

Petty 🥀💞

by @secret-third-thing

Never An Honest Word 🥀 no pairing

by @nocasdatsgay

From the Ashes, the Wildflowers Grow (series) 🥀💞🔥🌼

by @lucienforhighking

Hounds of Love 💞

Dancing 💞🔥

by @callmeblaire

when fire and ice dance

by @moonlightazriel

Symphonies 💞

When no one hears your calls 🥀💞

by @sellyoursoulforagoodfic

Monstrous Secrets 🥀💞

by @florencemtrash

Flame, Shadow, Beast 🥀💞 Azriel x Reader x Eris

by @serpentandlily

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny (series) 🌼

Last Solstice 🥀💞🌼

by @fever-fluff

Unconditional

by @yearning-for-autumn

Would That I

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babyrubysoho · 1 year ago

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My illustration for the Good Omens Minisode Minibang 2024. It was so much fun to participate (my first time doing a minibang XD)!

I was lucky enough to get a fabulous fic set on the night of the burning of the Great Library of Alexandria (long hair Crowley, my beloved!😍❤️), by rainbow_salt.

Please do check it out if you're interested!

@go-minisode-minibang

#good omens fanart #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #good omens minisode #aziracrow #babyrubysoho art

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smexy67 · 1 year ago

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Fluffy Trueform!Sukuna x reader 😏

tags: mentions of murder and blood. kissing, sukunas kinda oc but hes my fluffy baby. not rlly proof read

I know I introduced that one fic idea but I plan to release all chapters at once. I just wanted to feed u guys with this so I wouldn’t leave yall hanging. Thank u guys for being so patient with me!

trueform!Sukuna who finds you all battered and dirty, covered in ash after destroying your village. the curse had no remorse towards humans. in his eyes they were seen as weak and impertinent; full of desires they could never fully fulfill with their fleeting life span.

trueform!sukuna who takes you in, somehow tolerating you. he adores how small you were compared to him- how your cute face would brighten up a little when he would return from long missions. you were the only thing he looked forward to after mass murdering villages in japan.

trueform!sukuna who “doesn’t” comfort you when you have a nightmare. he can feel how you relax in his arms, his warmth coaxing the dark and painful memories that resided in your head to disappear. the king of curses refuses to acknowledge it but his heart truly does clench when he sees you tormented by your past.

trueform!sukuna who slaughtered his entire harem after he overheard them harassing you. his little precious flower, whom he treasures so dearly. the ruthless king of curses held you close, one of his four hands covering your eyes to shield you from the dead bodies of his harem.

trueform!sukuna who brings you little trinkets and presents after he returns from his trips that are sometimes covered in blood. his greatest endeavor is observing the way you tear up at his gestures, your little puny heart that is so utterly weak at handling emotions.

trueform!sukuna who sometimes accidentally makes you cry, his words can be cruel and insensitive. it angers him, and yet confuses the curse. when has he become so weak? was he always like this? he stays up at night thinking about you, and what he would be if he hadn’t come across you that day.

trueform!sukuna who makes it up to you by bringing you to a beautiful flower field, letting you braid flowers into his soft pink hair. his heart flutters when he sees you genuinely smile, and it makes the corners of his lips twitch.

trueform!sukuna who stops going away so often, instead opting to hold you close to his furnace like body, listening to your sweet voice read the dusty ancient books stored away in his library.

trueform!sukuna who finds himself staring at you all the time, and when he wasn’t, you would be on his mind. the curse who now loves to cup your supple cheeks and stroke your cheek bone with unseen tenderness.

trueform!sukuna who finally comes to term with his feelings, bringing you to that same flower field where he saw you smile for the first time. there, the king of curses held you so gently, admiring your glassy round eyes that adorned the darkest pair of eyelashes.

trueform!sukuna who kisses you for the first time, colliding his lips with yours. and to him it made him feel complete. the murders and begs of people who pleaded for their lives in the past couldn’t compare to what he felt with you. when he pulls away, he utters the three words that you longed to hear.

#jjk fic #jjk smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #ryomen sukuna #slow burn #true form sukuna #sukuna fluff #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna

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httpdwaekki · 10 months ago

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ash’s comfort fics

summary: a collection of my favorite fics to reread when i need a little comfort.

a/n: i am currently in the hospital (i’m okay just in some pain) and i wanted to make a collection of fics and authors that have been bringing me some comfort and hopefully you if you need it. ngl most of these are fake texts bc they’re the easiest to read when i’m upset lol but i do wanna make of list of my favorites so i’ll do that when i’m back home. i will be tagging everyone that i link but let me know if you want to be untagged. remember to eat, drink water and take your meds <3.

fundraiser

(pictures not mine! credit to owners!)

@bluejutdae

• wearing bf!skz’s clothes in public ot8

• bf!skz comforting you after a bad day at work ot8

• poly!skz helping you with a migraine ot8

• texts w/ bf!binnie s.c.

all of her work is amazing so please check out the rest of it!

thiana’s library

@bodybahng

• the rest of my years l.k.

• overworked b.c. | l.f.

• the only gift i need s.c.

all of louie’s work is soso sweet n soft and gender neutral don’t forget to check them out :3

louie’s library

@feelbokkie

• how he comforts you ot8

• long distance bf!skz ot8

• when you don’t feel like yourself ot8

• dad!skz when your kids cut their own hair ot8

i always read some of her work when i need a good giggle or warm feeling, definitely check her out!!

bokkie’s library

@giddyfatherchris

• i can’t sleep b.c.

• you’re sick pt.2 ot8

• you fainted pt.2 ot8

• you’re having a rough time pt.2 ot8

• comforting you through a rough patch w a friend ot8

my bug writes the most comforting n warm fics ever, anytime i need comfort her fics are my go to <33

ilya’s library

@hyunjins-orange-slice-too

• daddy!chan texts pt.2 b.c.

• when your period is close b.c.

• when you injure yourself at the gym s.c.

• poly!seungin k.s. | y.j.

another one of my go to’s especially when i’m having a bad day, her whole masterlist is amazing, these are just some of my favorites :3

emmy’s library

not alot but definitely some of my favorites that bring me some comfort on a bad day or just a good reread :)

#ash’s recs ✧˖°.#stray kids fic recs #stray kids fic #stray kids imagine #stray kids fluff #stray kids comfort

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sleepyhoons · 6 months ago

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DUDEE I LOVE ME SOME HIGHSCHOOL SHIT

Gonna read it now

HIGH SCHOOL SWEETHEARTS

yn and chan date since their freshman year and are truly high school sweethearts, but will chan’s dream of becoming an idol get between their relationship?

warnings: cursing words, kms/kys jokes, sexual jokes (not explicit)

status: on going

taglist: open (leave a comment or send me an ask to be part of it!

lua’s note: waaah here am i doing another smau! this one is way shorter than my first one (invisible string, my beloved one 🥲), but i hope yall shower high school sweethearts with love (if youre liking it, ofc lol)! since its a high school smau and yn and chan are seniors, the rest of svt members wont be mentioned in this project (just one of them). also, english is not my first language.. just so you know

yn’s friend group — chan’s friend group

chapter 01.

chapter 02.

chapter 03.

chapter 04.

chapter 05.

chapter 06.

chapter 07.

chapter 08.

…

#RAHHHHHH #highschool fics ON TOP #reblog because it HELPS DUDE #ash's svt!#ash's library!

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littlemissmentallyunstable · 10 months ago

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hi!! I’m very aware that this was requested on the 13th of August, and literally over a month later I’ve finally managed to write it up. I feel unbelievably guilty for not getting it done sooner and I’m sorry it even took this long. I really really hope you enjoy it and I’m ever grateful for the patience 🤍🤍

title: there’s always another mystery

pairing: jameson hawthorne x reader

synopsis: avery kylie grambs is spending a little too much time with your boyfriend than you’d like… but when jameson starts lying about it questions are raised and tension rises until it all bubbles over

warnings: mild swearing, violence, assault

a/n: the synopsis sounds really cringy so forgive me, this fic is kind of long and very dialogue heavy and ermmm… I hope you enjoy the ending ;)

tag list: @bewitchingkisses @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234 @adalia-jaycee @off-to-the-r4ces @lyra-kane @reminiscentreader @lyrakanefanatic @imaseabear @elizaa31

You sit on the bed waiting for Jameson to arrive. You wonder how long he’ll take this time. You’d just seen him and Avery ascending the set of stairs that lead to his dead uncle’s wing. Him and Avery. The pretty new comer with those big hazel eyes and long soft hair, pocketing a billionaire’s fortune overnight. She had it all: the looks, the brains, the humour. She was perfection and that bugged you greatly. She was a mystery.

Literally. When Tobias had finally decided to fall asleep forever, she was the result, the heiress, the consequence. She was big masterful puzzle had popped out of nowhere, from nothing. Not that you hadn’t had you fair share of experience with that. You’d earned yourself a scholarship to one of the most prestigious private schools in Texas and raised from the ashes into a burning flame. Then you’d met Jameson Hawthorne.

He had always been an interesting character, you had just never expected his interest in you. You were the scholarship kid nobody knew or cared enough to know and somehow he was intrigued. He had found you studying the the library one day and the two of you just clicked, it was like you’d known each other for years. He’d walked you home that night and had done so ever since. From that day on you were the closest of friends. It wasn’t long before you met his brothers, mostly absent mother and extremely judgemental grandfather. Hawthorne house became a second home. The two of you sat for hours, mostly on the rooftop, staring up at an endless sky of stars and talking about anything and everything. You actually don’t think there’s a topic you haven’t covered. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly… then he started dating Emily.

From the beginning, you didn’t like her at all, but you bit your tongue from pouring out your true feelings to Jameson when he’d asked for an opinion on her. You didn’t want to make his relationship feel awkward. She was everything you didn’t want him to be with. And she wasn’t you. It shattered you, but you saw how his face lit up when he mentioned her name and you vowed you wouldn’t ruin that for him. To see him that happy was worth it.

You should’ve trusted your gut. Everyday since she broke his heart, you beat yourself up for not saying anything. There were so many chances and you took none of them. She used him, abused him and left him to rot, you supposed she didn’t account for that fact that you’d be there to save him. And then she died. It was one destructive milestone after another. Explosion after explosion. But you helped Jameson through the hardest time of his life, you fixed him when he was too broken to mend.

It wasn’t until then that you realised you loved him. I mean you’d always known you’d loved him, but never in a romantic way, it had always felt so plutonic. But judging by the pure fury that built up inside of you when Emily was mentioned, the passionate way you protected and defended him in situations and the fact that you wanted nothing more than to kiss him until he couldn’t speak, you were pretty sure you were in love. But you never acted on the feeling, too afraid you’d ruin the closeness you had. It wasn’t until one night when you’d been stargazing together that he took your face in his gentle palms and kissed your tender lips. The whole act took you by surprise suddenly, but it didn’t stop you from kissing back. It felt so natural, so normal, like it was supposed to be this way. He was sweeter than you’d imagined but in the best way possible.

“I’ve always loved you,” he’d whispered as you’d pulled away, “always.”

“I’ve always loved you too,” you’d smiled shyly, cheeks flushed with colour, “and to be honest I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

You can’t remember when it was established that he was your boyfriend but from that kiss onwards, that’s what he was to you. He was still your best friend but in a different way. There was more chemistry and kissing, but the banter remained the same. The two of you were actually planning to go on a backpacking trip around Europe but then Tobias had died and it was another round of pain and healing for Jameson, who turned to alcohol for respite. But then the will happened and Avery Kylie Grambs had appeared out of nowhere and the old man’s final game had unfurled. So the mystery girl had been an adjustment for you to say the least.

Avery wasn’t bad. In fact you liked her a lot, you could see yourself forming a friendship with her, a tight bond but the problem was the sheer amount of time she was spending with your boyfriend. After discovering she was the key to solving his grandfather’s final mystery Jameson became obsessed. He craved the answers, thirsted for knowledge. You didn’t mind at first, you let him play his game, you only ever objected the dangerous parts when he risked himself getting hurt. Other than that you said nothing. Then he let on that this all had something to do with Emily. Emily had destroyed him, from inside out. A broken, bitter shell was formed over the real Jameson. You had worked so hard to get him to see that he wasn’t broken or damaged and you feared this might undo it.

But you knew how important Emily had been, how much of his life she’d ruined, you knew Jameson needed the closure and Avery would help him to get there, but after that you expected their interaction to die down. But they didn’t. Not in the slightest. You weren’t jealous at first, you trusted Jameson and didn’t see Avery as a threat, but after a while the meetings felt too frequent and too elongated. It was a little suspicious. When you’d asked Jameson he insisted it was all part of the game.

But then that game finished and it opened up another. Of course there always had to be more to a mystery. They were Hawthorne’s. But you’d had enough, you were tired of the endless myserties. Was it so selfish to want things to go back to how they were before? When the old man’s games were not as dangerous, a little less time consuming and uninvloving of recent billionaire girls.

You’re reeled in from your deep train of thought as Jameson walks in. You look up from your desk, placing your pen down. You flash him a sweet smile in which he returns.

“So where have you been?” you ask, a hint of a forged giggle in the back of your throat.

“Nowhere,” he shrugs, the blatant lie so easily escaping his lips cuts right through your heart.

“Nowhere with brick dust on your blazer and shoes?” you raise an challenging eyebrow, arms folded across your chest.

“I climbed a wall,” he says. Lie number two, you make a mental note.

“I saw you with Avery and Xander in Toby’s wing,” you say bluntly, your face expressionless so he can’t read it.

“Are you spying on me?” he replies, gaping.

You give a delicate shrug in response and don’t answer the question directly, “what were you whispering about?”

“What do you mean?” he furrows his brow, confused.

He’s playing dumb. Fine. He can play dumb. But he won’t able to for much longer.

“I mean what were you and Avery just whispering about,” you ask directly, your tone flat as the tyre you’d burst on his car earlier that morning.

He hesitates. He doesn’t want to tell you, that’s obvious.

“Oh, was it personal?” you ask, raising an eyebrow, opting a cold, curt, feigned sort of concern to your tone.

“Oh no,” he mumbles, “well kind of…Tobias Hawthorne is alive.”

You try not to the let your jaw drop, “your grandfather?”

How had that slimy bastard managed to fake his own death and-

He shakes his head, “my uncle.”

Of course, why hadn’t you seen it sooner? Him and Avery going into his wing, the sneaking around. But then how is the question, Toby had died before Jameson had even been born.

“And so the plot thickens,” you muse, pursing your lips.

“As always,” he says, flashing you a lopsided grin that was so like him, it reminded you of the old Jameson. The one that you got closer and closer to forgetting the less you saw of him.

“Who else knows?” you ask.

“The family,” he shrugs in response.

“And Avery?” you prompt.

“She knows,” he nods, not meeting your eyes.

You raise an eyebrow, “you didn’t mention her name?”

“She was implied when I said family,” he replies.

“She was and I wasn’t,” you ask, the words not being filtered through your brain before you blurt them out. You don’t know why it hurt you so much, it just did.

“It’s not like that,” he shakes his head.

“Okay,” you reply flatly

He shoots you a knowing look and sighs, “y/n.”

“What? I said okay,” you exclaim, throwing your hands up into the air, “that means it’s okay, I’m okay, we’re all okay.”

“You don’t sound okay,” he says gently.

“Well I’m fine,” you snap.

“I didn’t mean it like that, of course you’re part of this family,” Jameson replies, trying to make up for it.

“Forget it, I don’t care,” you retort.

“Common y/n,” he groans.

“No it’s fine, I don’t care,” you shrug, very obviously caring as your voice is high pitched and you’re being far too defensive, “do what you want.”

“She just worked it out,” he explains, “she found out that-“

“I said I don’t care,” you say sharply, eyes pinned to his.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, taking a step closer.

“No I don’t,” you shake your head in denial, “end of story, what’s for dinner?”

“I know I’ve been with her a lot recently,” he sighs.

“A lot is an understatement,” you blurt out, unable to stop the thoughts that circle your mind from finally surfacing.

“It was all part of the game, you understand,” he says as a statement, not a question.

“Of course I understand,” you reply, your voice a little colder than you’d intended but it’s too late to take it back.

For a split second hurt flashed across Jameson’s features but he swiftly continues, “it was the old man’s game.”

“It always is with you,” you say curtly, with an eye roll.

“You knew what you were getting into when you became my girlfriend,” he says, growing irritated, “I warned you-“

“Getting into?” you scoff.

“The old man always has a game,” he presses on, regaining his cool.

“And you always play it,” you snap, the fury inside of your raging a little too violently to be tamed.

“I have to play,” he says, his voice strained.

“No. You don’t. You think you have to play and your grandfather knew that,” you reply, “he knew you had a thirst to play and wouldn’t resist. Prove him wrong Jamie, make him stir for the flipping grave.”

“And what if I don’t want to do that,” he asks, raising his voice slightly.

“Then you’re not the Jameson I know,” you murmur in a low, dark voice.

“Maybe I’m not anymore,” he shrugs, “people change.”

“No,” you shake your head, “people have changed you, one person in particular.”

“Avery is just a friend,” he rolls his eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re getting so hotheaded about it!”

“You’re dimming yourself down for her,” you yell.

“So what?” Jameson challenges, making the volume of your voice.

“That’s not you,” you tell him.

“Maybe it is now,” he cocks his head to the side.

“You know you’re just talking shit,” you spit.

“I like her company,” he shrugs, “and I don’t want to prove the old man wrong, I want to make him proud.”

He’s trying to get under your skin and you know it. He’s doing a good job.

“You can’t live your life trying to prove something to him, he won’t be proud, he’s dead Jameson,” you snap.

“I know he’s dead,” he shouts, “I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Good, now that information is consolidated maybe you’ll come back and live your life,” you say, the harshness in your tone making your throat ache.

“I am living my life,” he retorts.

“Running off with girls to the Laughlin’s cottage at 3am, that’s living your life?” you ask.

“Is this still about Avery?” he asks, then laughs, “you’re pathetic.”

“I’m pathetic?” you yell, “you have spent the majority of the past few weeks at her side, working this shit out and I’ve been patient and I let it happen and I waited but now there’s more to this mystery and I can’t do it again and it’s not fair for you to put me in that situation again. So forgive me if I’m sounding a little pathetic.”

“Fair? My uncle is still out there, still alive,” he replies.

“You never even knew him,” I roll my eyes.

“He’s family,” he roars.

Something about Jameson was that he was loyal to the bone when it came to family.

I shrug, “so was your grandfather and look how he treated you.”

“Don’t speak a word against him,” he says, his voice low, warning, dangerous

“You were never good enough for him and that killed you,” I reply, my voice failing to stay stable, “he broke you and I helped fix you and now we’re going back around the same cycle. Why are you still letting him continue to break you?”

“I said don’t speak a WORD against him!” he tells, his voice powerful

You could cry. You feel like it. But you don’t. For some reason you’re past tears now.

“But when you did it was okay?” I scream back, “when you’d come to your bedroom a wreck and shit talk him, who listened to you then huh? Don’t throw this all back in my face now, don’t you fucking dare.”

“I’m not trying to-“

“Well you are,” you cut him off,

He runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head, “look I don’t know what the hell you’re on this afternoon but-“

“What the hell I’m on?” you scoff.

His face softens and so does his tone, “all this arguing we’re doing, it’s not us,” he says, “it never has been so are we really going to carry on this stupid fight?”

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask Avery?” you ask, it’s petty but you didn’t feel like being mature in this moment

“This keeps circling back to her,” he sighs with an eye roll.

“You have spent the entirety of the morning with her,” I stated “again.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with that,” he says.

“Seriously?” I ask, my jaw hanging slack.

“What?”

“You know what, it doesn’t even matter,” you shake your head and begin to walk out.

“Sweetheart,” he says, lunging forwards to grab your arm. You spin around and can see the desperation seeping from his eyes.

“I’m going out,” you tell him harshly,

“Where?” he asks immediately.

“For a walk,” you shrug, going to turn again. But he holds you firmly in his grip.

“I’ll come with you,” he says.

“No, I need headspace right now,” you snap coldly.

“Okay, that’s fine,” he nods, eyes wide with understanding. You hated that he was being so nice when you were supposed to be mad at him, it wasn’t fair, “but at least take a bodyguard with you.”

“No,” you immediately say.

“Yes,” he argues back.

“I’m not one of you, Jameson,” you quip. You can see in his face that pains him but you’re too furious to care, “people aren’t coming for me, I’m not taking a bodyguard.”

“Look I’m sorry about before but-“

“It’s not about you Jameson,” you yell, “I just need a walk.”

“Okay, but I’m still sorry and please baby, take a bodyguard with you,” he begs.

“I’m not going to,” you reply, “I need to be alone.”

“Fine, okay then,” he shrugs, pretending not to care, “yeah fine, go have fun in nature or something.”

“I will,” you snap, charging out, slamming the door behind you.

***

You start walking with no intention of going anywhere. In a headspace of anger, your pace is swift and dominant. You needed air, you needed a clear head, you needed to get away. Bringing a bodyguard felt claustrophobic. You didn’t want another person breathing down your neck. You just needed to be alone for a while. A million and one thoughts swarm your mind. He probably complained about you to Avery, you think, kicking a rock violently. He’s probably with her right now, telling her what an annoying, selfish, jealous person you are and she’s probably comforting him. The thought of it makes your stomach squeeze.

It was getting darker and colder by the second. In your rage you’d forgotten to bring a hoodie and now you’re absolutely freezing. The street lights flicker on and you suddenly realise you have no idea where you are. You’re cold, alone, lost and a little hungry. You pray it doesn’t start to rain. You get out your phone quickly to look on google maps, but two red words flash up: no connection. Great. Just when you thought today couldn’t get any worse. You wish you hadn’t left the house now, but didn’t know which way to turn to walk back. You walk around the corner of a tall white building, hoping to see a signpost nearby.

That’s when you notice the footsteps of someone behind you. You turn absentmindedly to see a stranger dressed in all black clothing. You couldn’t properly see their face or decipher whether they were a man or woman. Feeling a little sceptical, you choose to cross to the other side of the road, trying to shake or anxious feelings that were creeping in. You spin the ring on your finger, trying to breathe in and out slowly. You side glance at the figure a few times to see that they’re still on the opposite side of the road. You exhale and turn the corner, feeling stupid for getting so het up over nothing.

You hear more footsteps and paranoid you look behind. You feel sick. The mystery stranger is back. Panic seizes your throat and you walk a little faster, noting their feet also pick up the pace. You turn a second corner. So do they. A thousand and one questions flashed up in your mind. What did they want? Why were they following you? And more importantly how long had they been following you for? You’re breathing heavily, maybe too heavily. You don’t want them to know you’re scared.

You fumble to reach your phone, hurriedly finding your contacts. You click Jameson’s name but the call fails. Your eyes flick to your internet, still none. You try again, the cycle repeats. Tears well up in your eyes. You were hopeless, helpless and frightened to death. You begin to fiddle anxiously with your necklace trying to work out what to do next, but your mind was blank. You couldn’t think. The person was a good few meters behind you now. A silent tear of rolls down your cheek as you carry on walking forwards, pretending you’re going somewhere in hope the follower might get bored a leave. They did not. You bite back and audible sob and notice one bar lights up in the top right hand corner of your phone screen. You have one bar of internet and you’ve never felt more relieved. Your finger rushes to hit the call button. One ring and he picks up. It’s a miracle.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, a sense of relief and a smile in his voice.

“Jamie,” you say, your voice more panicked than you’d intended.

“What’s wrong?”

His voice is immediate and assertive but thick with anxiety. He can sense there’s something wrong, he knows.

“Jamie there’s someone following me,” you hyperventilate, the sharp sudden breaths hurting your chest.

“Where are you?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” you say, your voice shaky, “and I’m panicking.”

“Okay, don’t worry, just keep walking straight,” he instructs, “okay sweetheart?”

“Okay,” you murmur.

“Just breathe,” he soothes, “I’m tracking your location.”

You exhale unevenly and carry on walking.

“Are you near any buildings?” Jameson asks, strategically. You can tell he’s concentrated.

“There’s a housing complex and a few shops across the street,” you describe.

“Good,” he replies, “cross the road and go into one of the shops and stay in there.”

“Okay,” you answer, jogging across the road, taking note of anything that might help Jameson find you.

“What’s the name of the shop you’re going to go into?” he asks, “it might help me track you a little faster.”

You step back to read the cursive white letters, “Betty’s,” you reply, stepping in.

“That’s it?” he confirms.

“That’s it,” you say, carefully stepping inside, seeing the follower cross the road in the refection of the shop window.

Your heart thuds in your chest as the little bell rings to announce your entrance in the shop. It was one of those little knick-knack type shops, small but compact. You pretend to admire a china tea set.

“Are you inside?” Jameson asks, his voice washing some sort of comfort over you.

“Yes,” you say quickly, subconsciously tracing the tablecloth deign with your index finger.

“Have they followed you inside?” he asks.

“No,” you reply, though you haven’t looked up, the shop bell definitely has not rung since your arrival. You are the only customer in this shop. You look up and see them standing outside, you catch their eye and fear flicker through you as you quickly turn away, jolts of sheer nauseating panic runs up and down your abdomen, “Jamie they’re waiting outside, oh god Jameson they’re waiting outside, for me to come out, oh god.”

“Hey! Hey! You have the stay calm,” he says sharply but kindly, “as long as you’re in there you’re safe and I’m on my way now.”

“You found where I am?” you breathe, sounding too much like a child than you care to admit.

“I’m getting into the car as we speak,” he replies.

He’s coming. You tell yourself. You’re going to be okay. You say in your head.

“Stay on the line with me,” you blurt out, “please.”

“Of course baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he says, the concern in his voice made you yearn to be in his arms.

The other end of the phone goes silent except for the sound of a car engine, gently groaning in motion. You try to distract yourself by admiring the little collection of ceramic mouse figurines and try to give all of them a name. That’s when you catch the stranger in your peripheral.

“Jameson I’m scared,” you bite the inside of your cheek, “I’m really scared.”

“I’m coming, just hang in there okay,” he comforts “breathe for me.”

“Jameson,” you exhale, your hands becoming increasingly more restless.

“Hey, sweetheart, take a breath with me okay?” he says, “together?”

“Together,” you nod, despite the fact that he can’t see you, but somewhere deep down you know he knows you’re nodding.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth, okay?” he replies.

I’m through your nose and out through your mouth. You repeat the motion over and over with him over the phone, until you’re bored.

“I’m nearly there,” he mentions after a while.

“You promise?” you say, your breath hitching.

“I promise, just stay where you are,” he says calmly.

“Okay,” you reply.

“Sorry honey we close at 11:00,” comes a voice.

It makes you jump at first, as you yelp in surprise at the old woman beside you. Where had she appeared from? You drop your phone and it crashes to the floor. You realise for the first time how tightly you’d had it pressed to the side of your face as the cold air rushes to that spot and you feel the sticky sweat. You scramble to pick up your phone.

“I’m fine,” you reassure Jameson quickly, before turning the the woman, “sorry, would I be able to stay a few more minutes?”

She glances disapprovingly at you and then her watch, “I don’t think so.”

“It won’t be long, I promise,” you rush.

“I’m sorry but I have to lock up now,” she shakes her head and waves the keys between her fingers.

“Just until my boyfriend gets here,” you try again, desperation slicing through your tone.

“You’re not purchasing anything and it’s closing hours,” she replied sternly, “I need to lock up.”

“Please,” you beg.

“Store policy I’m afraid,” she shrugs flatly.

“I’ll but the whole damn place of you let me stay,” you exclaim, not really sure why the sentence left your mouth but it was too late to take it back now.

“This place isn’t for sale,” she says sourly with pursed wrinkled lips.

“Not literally,” you sigh, “look I’ll make a purchase.”

“No purchases after 11:00,” she responds, blunt as a baseball bat.

“But you just said-“

“We’re closed,” she snaps.

“Please just let me stay for five minutes,” you ask, hoping by some miracle she’ll agree.

“I really can’t do that,” she sighs, with an almost apologetic look on her face “I’m sorry.”

“Two minutes?” you try to compromise.

She stares through you, “I’m going to call the police.”

“There’s someone out there following me outside,” you burst, “so please, if you’re going to call the police on anyone, do it on them.”

The woman gently cocks her head to see the mysterious figure outside the window, her eyes widen by the tiniest fraction and she stares back at you. You wonder what she’s thinking. She chews her lip thoughtfully for a while and then finally replied, “there’s a back way out, I can take you through to there.”

“Thank you,” you exhale in relief.

She walks hurriedly walks away and you follow her, ending up at the very back of the shop. It couldn’t be seen from the window, but how long would it take for the follower to realise? Not long enough, you pray, hoping Jameson would arrive in time. There is a small green door with a lacy translucent curtain across the window.

“Here,” she nods towards it, “get home safe.”

“Thanks,” you say gratefully.

You almost trip out of the back door but managed to stabilise yourself, the old woman slams to door and it nearly clips your heals. You quickly press your phone back to your ear, realising Jameson is still on the line.

“Jamie?” you say.

“I’m still here,” he replies, reading your mind, “Betty’s a bitch.”

You choke on your own spittle, “what?”

“Betty,” he states as if it’s obvious.

“Betty?” you question, hoping he’ll elaborate.

“Well I assume it’s her name,” he says, you could practically hear him shrug, “the woman who just kicked you out of her shop.”

“Oh, you heard all of that?” you say.

“I did,” he confirms, “but I’m two minutes away now.”

“Two minutes?” you check, hope returning your voice.

“Yeah,” he confirms gently.

“I’m still at the back,” you mention, “but I’ll walk to the front to meet you.”

“Okay,” he replies, “I’m so close sweetheart, don’t worry.”

“Okay I-“

All the air is knocked from your lungs as you turn the corner and someone grabs your shoulders and it’s so sudden you forget to scream. Fear runs cold and thick through your veins. You can’t move. The grip is strong and foreign, their hands are callous and your arms ache the longer you’re in their hold. Paralysed, you fail to struggle free. It all happens in a blur. You feel yourself being thrown to the side and you land on the pavement with a hard thump after rolling over your ankle. Pain seizes through it and you bite back a yelp. You look up, struggling to your feet and see Jameson has arrived.

Jameson. Jameson. Jameson.

He’s fighting the mysterious follower who you can now see is man. He’s a few inches taller than Jameson and has much more muscle but Jameson is quicker, more agile. You wish you could help him but the searing agony deriving from your ankle would’ve only made him slower. So you’re now just watching. It’s a tête-a-tête of frantic hits and blocks, all scarily aggressive. The look in Jameson’s eyes is not one you recognise, it’s like the green had been frosted over with ice. The follower lunges at him suddenly and an audible gasp escapes your lips. He has Jameson in a headlock. You stumble forwards, ready to attack him from behind when Jameson twists the man’s arms in an awkward direction, leaving him vulnerable. In the split second Jameson knees him in the stomach and begins to punch him repeatedly.

Jameson’s jaw is clenched, his hair is ragged and wild. A flow of crimson red liquid falls from one nostril and from a new wound just above his eyebrow. His eyes are fierce and gleaming, like a predator on its prey. You’re not sure you know who this man is, he’s not Jameson, he’s a mutation, a weapon, a unrecognisable being.

“Jamie,” you murmur, your voice shaking. You can’t stop yourself, you’re too scared.

He can’t hear properly, he doesn’t even acknowledge you. He carries on punching and punching but the follower seems to be cold out.

“Jameson stop! You’re scaring me!” you yell, fear in your throat but fire in your belly.

He looks up and he freezes, all but his hands that are shaking from the adrelenline rush. He looks down at his bloodied knuckles to the limp figure on ground, then back to me again. He can see the fright in my features that I’m so desperately trying to conceal.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” he says, “it’s okay, let’s go home.”

“Is he dead?” you say, the words so much harsher than you intended.

“No,” he shakes his head gently, “just knocked out, I promise.”

“I-“ you can’t finish the sentence.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs tentatively, wrapping an arm around you to still your trembling torso.

“I’m fine,” you say, trying to sound strong, but synthetic strength only made you sound weaker.

“You’re not fine,” he shakes his head.

“Let’s just get out of here,” you sigh, then look at him with sparkling eyes, “please?”

“Of course,” he says, concern bleeding across his features.

You begin to walk but have to bite your lip as pain rips through your ankle with weight pressing down on it.

“What wrong?” Jameson asks, his reaction instant and lightning fast.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, trying to carry on without displaying the pain.

But he’s too vigilant for his own good, “are you hurt?”

“No, it’s fine,” you reply, in denial, “I’m fine.”

You’ve found that things are easier to believe if you say them out loud. Unfortunately not in this case.

“Where?” he asks, stopping still, pressing gently down your arms to check for tentative pressure points.

You pull away, “Jamie I’m-“

“Where?” he asks firmly, giving me that look.

“I just rolled over my ankle,” you sigh, “it’s not a big deal.”

“Do you want me to carry you?” he offers.

“No,” you say quickly, too quickly.

The truth was, you did want to be carried. The thought of being in his protective arms, pressed up against his chest was very appealing. But just like he could see your winces and hear your sharp breaths in, you notice his. The fight hadn’t been easy on him, no matter how stubbornly he tries to hide it.

“Just support me and I’ll support you,” you reply.

“I don’t need support,” he says.

You stare at him, “you don’t have to be the knight in shining armour with me, I thought you’d stopped that.”

You’d made a pact at the start of your relationship that Jameson couldn’t play that role. You were there for each other, it wasn’t one or the other.

“Fine,” he grits through his teeth, “we’ll support each other.”

You both walk, labouring, limping and leaning on one another. In the silence of it all you have time to think about all that had happened, a chances you hadn’t previously had with your mind always preoccupied on something else. A tidal wave of guilt almost drowns you.

“I’m sorry,” you burst out suddenly, feeling all of a sudden emotional, as tears run down your face.

You didn’t realise how much yours been keeping it in, your fear, your pain, your guilt, your sorrow.

“Hey, shhhh,” he soothes, caressing your cheek, “shhh shh stop that now, hey, hey.”

“I shouldn’t have left,” you shake your head, “I shouldn’t have got so angry and walked so far alone and it was dark-“

“Y/n, breathe,” Jameson murmurs, “I’m not angry, it’s not your fault, I’m just glad you’re safe now, okay? I would never let him hurt you, you know that right?”

You nod.

“Let’s get to the car and then we can go home, okay?” he suggests softly.

“Okay,” you murmur in response.

He wraps his arm back around your shoulders and holds your hand with the other, steering you towards his car. He walks around to your door, looking over his shoulder cautiously, making sure you are in and safe before he thinks of himself. You’ve never felt safer in a car, your back pressed up against the seat. Your leg bobs up and down uncontrollably, even when your try to stop it. Seems the adrenaline had gotten to you more than you’d thought.

Jameson is swift to get into the driver’s seat and start the car. He silently places his hand on your upper thigh to still the shaking. The warmth of his familiar touch relaxes some of the built up worry in your chest. One knot has been untied from the incomprehensible ball.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

You nod numbly. You didn’t reply with words in fear that you’d spill out the truth. Lying to Jameson was a challenge.

“Stupid question,” he mumbles, “of course you’re not.”

“I think I’m still trying to process what just happened,” you murmur, not a complete lie. You’d only processed parts.

“Okay, that’s fine, take as long as you need,” he says reassuringly, “I’m here if you want to talk.”

You nod again. Then take a breath.

“I’m sorry,” you say, choked up with emotion, “I’m sorry for fighting, I don’t know why I get so annoyed it’s just-“

“It doesn’t matter, all that matters is that you’re safe,” he tells you gently.

“Safe,” you repeat, the word has an odd texture on your tongue.

“You are safe,” Jameson replies firmly.

“I am safe,” you repeat, believing it a little more.

***

The two of you had gotten back to Hawthorne House late. No one was around so no questions were asked. But whilst you showered and changed Jameson insisted on getting the security team on it and you didn’t object. You join Jameson in your shared room after your shower, he’s already waiting with open arms. You clamber into the bed and fall onto his chest. The smell of him indescribably addictive. He wraps his arms around your torso and you wince, tenderness spreading across the tops of your arms and upper back.

“What hurts baby?” he asks, eyebrows knotted with worry.

“Nothing,” you reply, shrugging the pain off.

He looks at you, “you don’t have to lie to me.”

You’re silent for a few beats but then finally murmur, “my arms.”

“Let me see,” he says.

“It’s okay-“

“Let me see,” he whispers, sending a hot shiver down your spine.

You slowly slip of your jumper and expose the rounded bruises from the follower’s fingers. You’d discovered them moments ago in the bathroom, it must’ve been from where he’d grabbed you. You can’t see Jameson’s face but judging by the thick blanket of tense air that had enveloped your surroundings, you have a good idea of what he’s thinking.

“He did this?” he asks, tracing every bruise so delicately it nearly tickles.

“Jamie he grabbed me,” you explain.

“I’ll kill him for laying a finger on you,” he spits, a foreign violence in his tone you weren’t sure you liked.

“Don’t say that,” you say before you can stop yourself.

“What?” he looks at you in wild disbelief.

“Talk of killing him,” you close your eyes, “you’re not a murderer.”

He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you dare argue with me,” you snap, a raw intensity in your voice. You struggle to recall where you found it.

Silence you like a car hits roadkill. Swiftly and out of nowhere with a sickening thud.

“You know you scared me back there,” you murmur, meeting his eyes shyly.

“Me?”

“When you were punching him…” you trail off, “you looked so angry.”

“I was angry” he retorts, “no one should do that, especially not to you. Never to you.”

“Yeah but I really thought you might…” you stop yourself.

“I might what?” he urges you to continue.

“I don’t know,” you say trying to brush it off, “it doesn’t matter.”

“No it does,” he replies, “you thought I might kill him right?”

“It just wasn’t you punching that guys, it wasn’t my Jameson,” you murmur.

“Your Jameson doesn’t protect you,” he yells and you flinch slightly.

You don’t meet his eye, “no, not like that.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I just…” he sighs, “I never would’ve forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

“It would’ve been my fault for storming off like that, god I’m so stupid,” emotion rises thick in your throat.

“Hey, stop beating yourself up about this,” Jameson says, “it was my fault in the first place.”

“No it wasn’t-“

“Yes it was, let’s just forget about this okay,” he insists.

“But what if he comes back? What if he knows where I am? What did he want with me Jamie? What if-“

“It’s all going to be sorted okay, we have so many staff on it right this second,” he says tracing the outlines of your knuckles, “you just need to breathe.”

“I am breathing,” you grit through your teeth.

“What’s worrying you then?” he asks softly.

“I don’t know,” you reply, biting back a sob.

He senses the emotion, “come here.”

You practically collapse into his arms, keeping your tears at bay just barely. There’s something about being in his arms, against the warmth of his body that made the bad things go quiet for a second, that stopped the overwhelming voices in your head, that silences your thudding heart. But even now, things were unusually playing on your mind, despite the comfort.

“I don’t know Jamie,” you murmur into his chest, “I’m scared and exhausted and anxious and I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Let me help you,” he whisper, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“I don’t think you can,” you mumble, your eyes grappling to stay open.

“I will find a way,” he says, you almost laugh at his stubbornness.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you reply, your voice breaking, “I don’t know anything bad to happen.”

“You’re not going to lose me and I won’t let anything bad happen,” Jameson kisses the top of your head, “I promise.”

“I don’t feel safe,” you admit.

“What’s making you feel unsafe baby?” he asks, aching concern in his voice.

“Before today I’d never even imagined potentially being kidnapped and it just happened today,” you ramble, “and that means there’s so many other things that I couldn’t ever have imagine that might happen.”

“If we spend our whole lives in fear of what might happen we’d forget to live,” Jameson says.

You meet his emerald eyes and try not to melt, “I’m scared.”

“There’s no need to be,” he comforts, “I’m here.”

“You promise?”

“Always,” he says. His voice is so sure, so strong. It almost makes you believe.

“And you’re not going anywhere?”

“Not anywhere without you,” he grins lopsidedly, the real Jameson shining through making your cheeks tint a pale pink.

“I’m sorry,” you say again, the residing guilt flowing back in.

“If you apologise one more time I’m going to do a lyrical dance routine to ‘hot stuff’ only dressed in sequinned hot pants and a top hat,” he says.

“I think I’d quite like to see that,” you can’t help but smile, “I should apologise more often.”

He chuckles softly and kisses the top of your head. You nuzzle into the nape of his neck and allow one tear to slip from the under your mask. Just one.

“I’ve got you baby and I’m not letting go,” Jameson whispers.

“Please don’t let me go,” you murmur, sounding as small as a child.

“I’m not, never ever,” he murmurs, kissing your nose, then cheeks and then a soft kiss on your lips.

You smile, a fluttery feeling in your chest and you kiss him back. His hands snake around your waist, the tentative touch making you tingle a little. You wish you could just focus on Jameson and nothing else but the problem was the scene kept replaying in your head. The man grabbing your shoulders, the bruises left on your skin, the smell of his cologne in your hair. He was everywhere.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s okay,” Jameson soothes, “you’re safe now.”

It’s only then you notice how your entire body is shaking, your bones rattling together. You try to stop but you can’t. He brings you into deeper his arms and holds your quivering limbs together. You wonder if he let go you’d fall apart all together.

***

You didn’t go to school the next day, instead you stayed curled up in Jameson’s arms as he gently traced spirals across your back with his index finger.

You can’t remember the last time you’d felt so in love.

***

Thursday rolls around far too quickly and you know you have to go back. Word about the stalker had been kept quiet but you know you couldn’t stay under your duvet forever. No matter how badly you wanted to. So you wake up early and take your time getting ready. Jameson sleeps like the dead all the way through it, even when you blow dry your hair. You meet Xander who is already at breakfast, eating muffins. You’d promised the week before you’d come and observe his biology project for him, so he could have a second opinion and you didn’t want to break that promise.

“You know you really didn’t have to come,” he says, still chewing, “after you know…”

“I want to Xand, really,” you say, “I can’t avoid it forever and I want to see your project.”

“If you’re sure?” he checks, with an eyebrow raise.

“I’m sure,” you nod, “I swear.”

“Well then, have a muffin or two and then we’ll be on our way,” he grins, handing me one from the plate in the centre.

“Roger that sir,” you smile back, saluting him as you take a bite.

***

School was difficult that day, not the content, just the energy. The problem was you had none. And it was one of those long modified timetable days where your first break of the day was lunch and it wasn’t even until 2:00pm. That in itself was a mood killer. On top of that you couldn’t get the follower out of your head. The events played on some sort of endless loop in your head. You wonder who it might be, why they might have been following you of all people. It was known you were dating Jameson but not that known. Apparently, according to Xander, Oren had been put on high alert and Alisa was working on finding their identity. That should have brought you solace. It didn’t.

But the more you thought about it the more your realised that part of you selfishly didn’t mind that it has happened too much because last night you’d felt more connected to Jameson than you had in forever. It had been a while since it had just been the two of you, no mysteries, no arguments, no Avery. Yesterday had solely been the two of you, all day. Just in the presence of one another but, at school, you hadn’t seen Jameson all morning, seen as you’d left for school early with Xander but he had sent you a string of text messages that you only see at first on your very late lunch break.

morning sweetheart

are you okay??

I know you left early with Xand but I’m still worried about you

text me for ANYTHING okay??

I love you xx

And then an hour later…

you still haven’t text back

are you okay??

I bribed the woman at the front desk for your schedule so you’re probably in class right now

unless you’re not!!

just answer me when you can okay

I love you

Then in the next hour…

ARE YOU OKAY!?

I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN THE HALLWAYS

PLEASE ANSWERRR!!!!

I love you ;)

You almost laugh at the cuteness of it all. You type a couple of messages in response incase he bribed the headteacher to let him use the announcement speaker to find you next.

I’m fine Jamie, don’t worry

late lunch break sorry I couldn’t text sooner

They bleep through one after the other, sending through.

meet you after school for our plans

You close your phone quickly and get to the next class, holding your books tightly to your chest. The next few periods better go fast.

***

They didn’t go fast. In fact every millisecond felt like an hour, the day seemed endless. You get out of class and don’t pass Jameson in any hallways yet again sk decide to go to your usual meeting spot after school. You send him a quick message.

waiting outside business studies

You wait for him by the curb. One minute passes, he’s been a minute late before, many times. So you figure it’s okay, leaning on the wall behind you. Five minutes go by next and most kids are leaving or have left the school premises. Maybe his class has run over, your brain suggests. Then it is ten minutes, barely anyone is walking out. The odd person, sure, but never Jameson. You begin to wonder where he might be. Detention? No, he always finds a way out of those. Basketball court? No, he doesn’t like to play with the other guys. Classroom? No, he wouldn’t spend longer than he had to in the school. You sigh, ten minutes isn’t that long after all. Maybe you’re overreacting. Still, you send him another text ‘hey, are you nearly here?’ Half an hour passes. That’s when you get really confused. He should definitely be here by now. Slowly you wonder down several hallways, checking your phone for any messages, calls or voicemails, but there are none. Few students are around and every time you look into a classroom Jameson isn’t there. You make your way back to your original spot, incase he turned up. Forty minutes pass and you try his phone for the last time, ringing him rather than just texting but it goes straight to voicemail. So you resort to calling Xander, hoping he’ll be able to help and ease the tightening knot of worry growing in your chest. There is only two rings.

“Hello y/n,” Xander’s cheerful voice says down the other end, “is there any reason you’re phoning the best Hawthorne on this fine afternoon?”

“Yeah, sorry Xand,” you reply, “but have you seen Jamie anywhere?”

“Don’t be sorry,” he tells me, “and I think I saw him come in earlier, I just presumed you were with him.”

Too many juxtaposed emotions hit you at once. Relief, he’s okay, he’s alive, he’s at home. Hurt, he left without you, abdomen or forgot the plans you had. Annoyance, he’d left without sparing you a second thought.

“No,” you mutter, “I wasn’t.”

“You sound annoyed,” Xander comments.

“I’m fine, sorry Xand,” you reply, putting some more life into your voice to wash away and tense notes, “it’s been a long day.”

“Don’t I know it,” he sighs, “but hey it’s the weekend now, fancy a game of strip bowling when you get back?”

Strip bowling was one of your favourites, mostly because you were very good at it and barely had to strip and also because Jameson usually ended up in his underwear. Xander must’ve sensed the false happiness in your voice and suggested it to be nice.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you say, trying to let him down gently. You did appreciate the gesture, but the thought of playing stop bowling right now did not match the mood.

“Yeesh your day was that bad huh?” he asks softly, playing it off as jokey.

“I’ll be okay,” you reassure him quietly.

“I’m here you know,” he reminds you.

“Thanks Xander,” you reply, but don’t elaborate. You didn’t feel like talking right now.

“Talk to Jamie, he’ll know how to make you feel better,” he suggests sweetly.

You smile through your pain, “yeah, I’ll give it a go.”

You hang up and exhale slowly, he doesn’t know that Jameson is your problem.

***

You get back to Hawthorne house about twenty minutes later. It sounds relatively empty, though it always does, seen as there were so many possible places for people to be. You wander through the entrance, trying to think where Jameson might be. You hear footsteps approaching and spin around to see a blonde in a suit. Wrong brother.

“Have you seen Jameson?” you ask him before he can greet you.

“He was upstairs earlier, with Avery,” Grayson replies.

All the air is knocked from your stomach, “Avery?”

“You didn’t know?” his expression flashed for a fraction of a second into something between guilt and shame before it is composed.

“No…” you trail off.

“Oh,” he replies, with an unreadable expression back on.

“Well thanks anyway,” you say with a synthetic smile.

You walk away quickly before he can respond, looking up with glossy eyes. You ascend the stairs quickly and don’t look back. You feel you need to see for yourself did this is true. But where would he take Avery? You could only hope it wasn’t the roof where the two of you stargazed, that would hurt like hell. You trail down a hallway where voices are coming from and stumble upon a door that is ajar. Inside, Jameson talking to Avery. Your stomach rolls uncomfortably. He’s positioned barely a foot a way and he’s laughing. He looks so beautiful when he laughs, but now it’s ugly. It’s like biting into something sweet and getting a sour taste. It’s not the fact that she made him laugh, it’s the fact he’s laughing like he laughs when he’s with you. That’s the thing that cuts deep. The way his eyes are sparkling and his smile is wide and carefree, you thought he reserved those kind of smiles only for you.

Clearly not.

You turn your back on the scene and rush to your bedroom. You swing the door open forcefully and then slam it shut behind you. So he’d ditched your plans for her. Great. You sigh as you collapse down on your bed feeling an unwelcome tightness squeezing across your chest. Tears well up in your eyes. You didn’t like to cry, you rarely ever did. But right now, you couldn’t do anything about it. The tears just flowed down your cheeks and your whole body shook with each sob. Your heart physically ached, something you hadn’t thought was possible until this moment. A searingly mournful agony rippling through the left side your the chest. You felt so vulnerable, so exposed. You didn’t stop crying the blanket was soaked through, weighted with wet emotion and your throat was so raw it was numb.

***

You binge movies for the rest of the evening, the only feeling left in your system was anger, you’d cried all the sadness out. You felt so done with feeling shit and binging movies gave you that outlet of doing nothing, thinking nothing and feeling nothing. Exhaustion is beginning to win the ongoing battle between the two of you when you hear soft footsteps approaching. Jameson had been practically out of your mind the whole evening, Disney movies are a good distraction, but that is until he walks in. You hear as the door handle turns and he enters. Your eyes flicker to the clock, it’s just gone midnight.

“Hey sweetheart,” he murmurs, taking his suit jacket off and undoing his top button, “you’re up late.”

“What do you want?” you ask, eyes glued to Elsa’s performance of ‘let it go’ on the tv screen.

He immediately notices something is off and walks over, “woah, hey, what’s wrong?”

“Oh so now you care?” you scoff, looking him dead in the eye.

“What did I do?” he asks quickly, cluelessly.

“You are unbelievable,” you exclaim, switching the movie off before hurling the control across the room.

Jameson stares in disbelief, “why are you so pissed off?”

“You don’t know why I’m annoyed?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“No…” he replies hesitantly, like he’s treading on egg shells.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously,”

“Oh my god,” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head, “tell me you’re joking, please.”

“I’m not joking,” he says, the desperation and worry evident in his tone.

“Do you even know what we were supposed to do today?” you ask with a withered look.

A moment of realisation strikes and you notice as his eyes widen and his jaw drops a little.

“Shit. I’m sorry, I forgot,” he says, actually looking guilty. You almost feel sorry for him.

“Yeah I know,” you deadpan, folding your arms across your chest.

“There’s just been a lot going on lately and with the following and then I was days behind on the thing with Toby and-“

“Am I some sort of burden,” you retort, eyebrows raised.

“What? No! I never said that,” he exclaims, his voice raised.

“Okay,” you shrug, nonchalantly. The small display of passive aggression would get under his skin, prickling it like an unscratchable itch.

“Last time we argued it ended with you being followed, I don’t want you in that situation again,” he says, his voice dominant and definitive.

“You’re making this about you!” you yell, rage blinding your vision, “what you want, for me!”

“Oh so you want to be followed, stalked?” he asks, with a forced cruel laugh.

“That’s not what I said,” you snap, eyes narrowed.

“Sounds like it,” he bites back, the bitterness in his voice hurting you far more than you cared to admit.

You don’t say anything for a long while but eventually cut through the long silence, “I even text you about it,” you say quietly.

“What?” he replies, head cocked to the side, confused.

“About tonight,” you say, raising your hands into the air with an eye roll.

“No you didn’t!” he yells back, defensively.

“Yes I did,” you scream.

“Look, this is the last message I got,” he exclaims, shoving his phone’s bright screen into your face.

‘late lunch break sorry I couldn’t text sooner’

You stare at the message and then quickly open your phone to double check. Your message hadn’t gone through, you look up glaring at him. You were mad he didn’t remember, mad the message never went through and just mad in general.

“It didn’t go through, I couldn’t help it,” he defends.

“You still forgot,” you press on, getting mor annoyed by the second, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that you have plans with your girlfriend.”

“Look, I’m really sorry,” he replies and you can see the meaning in his face, “we’ll reschedule.”

“I don’t want to do it anymore,” you tell him nonchalantly. You know you’re being petty, but you can’t help it.

“Oh common y/n,” he says.

“No I don’t,” you shrug. He’d messed it up, that opportunity was passed now.

“Look I just needed to-“

“What you needed to do was stick to your word, what you needed to do was remember when you had things plans, what you needed to do was think before you acted,” you say in a low voice, interrupting him, “but you did none of that.”

“I can’t have a life now?” he scoffs, growing irritated, “that’s not you.”

“What’s not me?” you scowl.

“This, right now,” he says, “you’re being so controlling!”

You raise your eyebrows, almost laughing, “controlling? You started this argument!”

“No I didn’t!” he argues.

“You know what, if you didn’t want to have it out then you shouldn’t have asked why I was angry,” you roll your eyes, “so just forget about it.”

“Oh would you STOP doing that,” he yells.

“What?”

“The whole ‘forget about it’ thing, it’s so fucking annoying,” he retorts, anger creeping up in his tone.

“You know what else is annoying?” you ask him, “when your boyfriend is hanging out constantly with some random girl who inherited all his grandfather’s money, that’s really fucking annoying.”

He’s silent. Nothing to say for once. No witty reply, no deflection, nothing. His face is impossible to read, blank.

“Hang on, that’s not quite the right word,” you continue, “what about aggravating, demoralising, hurtful-“

“You know I never would’ve pinned you as a jealous possessive girlfriend,” he shakes his head, with a cruel chuckle.

“I’m not!” you snap, “but you lied Jameson, why did you feel the need to lie!?”

“Lie?”

“You told me a few days ago you’d climbed a wall and if I hadn’t known any better I would’ve believed you,” you say, “but you weren’t climbing a wall, you were with Avery.”

“This,” he says exasperatedly, “this is exactly the reason I lied.”

“What?” you ask.

“This overreaction,” he explains, making some weird hand gesture.

“I’m overreacting?” you scoff, as your eyebrows shoot to your forehead.

“Completely,” he exclaims.

“So let me just get this straight,” you begin, “you’d have never pinned me as a jealous possessive girlfriend but you lied to me about ditching our plans to spend time with another girl because you were worried about an overreaction? Right, that makes sense.”

“I’m sorry,” he exhales, “I’m sorry.”

“No you can’t just say sorry and then think it’s all going to be okay,” you shake your head, “sorry is just a stupid word, it means nothing.”

“I didn’t mean to say what I said just now and I am sorry that I hurt you,” Jameson says desperately, “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s not just that! You blew off our plans for her,” you yell with a sob, “so yeah that kind of fucking hurts.”

“Sweetheart I didn’t mean to-“

“Yeah well you did,” you laugh bitterly, aggressively wiping away your tears, “and I’m crying over it which is just stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” he tells you gently.

“Yes it is stupid Jameson,” you snap, the tears only flowing thicker and faster, “I feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t,” he insists.

“Well I do, I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot for fighting with you, I’m an idiot for getting myself followed, I’m an idiot for thinking that someone could actually love me, I’m an idiot for not seeing the signs sooner and I’m an idiot for crying over it all now,” you snivel, roughly scrubbing your tear-stained cheeks.

“Woah, hey,” he says, “sweetheart I love you. Just you.”

“Well it doesn’t feel like it lately,” you say, choking back a sob desperate to leave your throat.

His face softens, “sweetheart…”

He reaches out to touch me but you flinch away. His gentle touch is only a reminder of the good person he is and how much you love him for it. And you can’t afford to fall for it, not again, the pain was too much.

“You’re hurting me Jamie,” you say, your voice breaking as you jab a finger to your heart, “this is hurting me.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, as his eyes mellow.

“If you want to be with her I’d rather you just tell me,” you whimper, “it would save me the pain of all this back and forth and sneaking around and finding out. Just tell me straight.”

“I don’t want to be with Avery,” he says, “I never have.”

“You don’t look at me how you look at her,” you say bitterly, getting it off of your chest.

“You’re right I don’t,” he agrees. Your heart plummets, here it comes, the confession, the break up, the empty sorrys and eyes filled with tears. “I don’t look at you like I look at her, because I look at her like any other person on this planet, but when I look at you I’m looking at my world. And I’d sure as hell hope that differs from the look that I gave to everyone else.”

A wave of emotion coats your skin, soaking you through. His world. The words repeat over and over and over until you feel delirious.

“Do you mean that? Do you really mean that?” you whisper.

“Of course I do,” he sighs, “don’t you understand? I love you, it’s always been you, it will never not be you! You’re my person, you’re my other half, I was supposed to meet you and fall in love with you. You give me purpose and passion and so much more. When you called me the other night after our fight I’ve never been more frightened in my life, I was freaking out over here. I’ve never felt so panicked, so sick with the thought of someone being hurt. I’m in so love with you that I can’t even explain it and I can’t believe I led you to doubt it. Avery is a friend, I promise, she means nothing to me compared to you, trust me. How can I prove that to you?”

“I don’t know Jameson,” you shout, your head aching from this endless circle of arguments.

“Then marry me!” he yells, then his voice softens, “marry me.”

You freeze, every muscle in your body suddenly falling into a state of paralysis, “what?”

“You heard me,” he says, his expression too serious.

“Jameson,” you murmur, barely getting his name out.

“Marry me.”

a/n: I’m a sucker for fat dramatic impulse decisions (it’s a problem, you may have gathered from my more recent fics) SOZ GUYS 😘😘 anywayyysss the time frame is roughly (and I mean very ROUGHLY) based around chapters 11-13 of the Hawthorne brothers incase you were wondering

thanks for the req anon, so sorry again for the wait, hope you enjoyed the read 🤍🤍 if you made it to the end and didn’t DNF halfway through, well done!! can you guys tell I got way too carried away, this fic was so all over the place but I posted it anyway bc yolo

there will be no part 2!! sorry!! I really need a break from reqs… you decide how you answer 🤭🤭

TIG masterlist

#bella writes 🤍#the inheritance games #tig #jameson hawthorne #jameson hawthorne x reader #i love jameson hawthorne #jameson winchester hawthorne #jameson x reader #jameson #jameson hawthorne x you #jameson hawthorne one shot #the brothers hawthorne #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #tig fics #tig fic #jameson x avery #jamesonavery #javery

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shadyfestivalperfection · 13 days ago

Note

Hi! So I have this really specific niche of x reader fics that I like where it's _____ x Fae!Reader.

Not really like booktok Fae but leaning more into like classic interpretations of them, so I'd love if you could do Loki x Fae!Reader (Gn, or Female). Maybe meeting on Asgard or somewhere similar and having somewhat of a forbidden romance type deal?

Could be fluffy, could be angtsy, I really don't have a preference I'd just thought I'd ask. It's okay if you don't though 💜

Where Starlight Dies~Oneshot

Summery: Where Starlight Dies follows a forbidden love between a Fae princess and Loki. When their secret is exposed, betrayal forces them apart—but not even realms or chains can stop them from finding their way back.

Characters: Loki x f!reader

||Main Masterlist|| ||Oneshot Masterlist||

Asgard-

The silence in the Grand Library was never quite still.

It was heavy—a hush pressed tight into the polished gold walls, heavy with the weight of forgotten knowledge. A thousand candle flames flickered across inked parchment and gilded scrolls, casting restless shadows on the floor like ghosts. Somewhere in the far corridor, a page turned. Somewhere else, a rune whispered against stone.

And in the very heart of it all sat Loki.

He looked entirely out of place—too alive in a place so ancient. His long black coat, his dark hair swept behind one ear, the thin scar along his jaw barely visible in the golden light. He was hunched over a table of forbidden texts, eyes glittering with something dangerous.

Curiosity.

The kind that killed gods.

His fingers traced the torn edge of a scroll—fragments of ink fading from time. He had pulled it from behind a sealed shelf, behind a false wall, behind another illusion. It should not have existed.

And yet.

“The Realms That Were Lost: Before the Time of the Nine.

The script was old,It pulsed faintly beneath his hand, reacting to him.

“I knew you were hiding something, old man,” Loki muttered, voice a silk-wrapped blade. “You always are.”

He flipped the page.

“Beyond the Nine Realms lie those that chose to disappear. One of which was Elarindor, Realm of the Fae—beings of starlight and memory, born before war ever touched Yggdrasil’s roots. Once allied to Asgard, until the War of Silver Night.”

His eyes narrowed.

“The Allfather struck first—”

And there, the text stopped.

The rest of the page was burned clean through. A jagged tear of ash and magic.

How convenient.

Loki leaned back in his chair, the candlelight catching in his green eyes. He tilted his head, thinking—not like a prince, not even like a sorcerer—but like a predator.

Elarindor.

The name rolled across his tongue like crushed velvet. He had heard it only in myth. Songs sung by wandering bards too old to be trusted. The Fae were said to be illusions, not people—spirits shaped like mortals, living only to trick the weak-hearted and seduce the strong.

And yet… the name was real. Hidden. Erased.

He didn’t know why that unsettled him so much.

But it did.

“Loki.”

He didn’t jump. Thor’s voice was far too loud for stealth.

Loki turned with a patient sigh. “Yes, Brother?”

Thor stepped into the candlelight, arms crossed. “What are you doing here? The council meets in an hour.”

“The council can survive one day without me insulting them.”

“I’ll tell them you’re sick.”

“Tell them I’m dead,” Loki offered brightly. “They’ll be more optimistic.”

Thor frowned, noticing the scroll. “You’re not supposed to have that.”

“I’m not supposed to have many things.”

“What is it?”

Loki hesitated. Then tapped the parchment. “Do you know anything about a realm called Elarindor?”

Thor blinked. “That’s… a Fae myth, isn’t it?”

“It was. Until I found this.”

Thor walked forward and scanned the remaining lines. His eyes flicked to the burnt mark. “Fae are dangerous.”

“So are we.”

“They manipulate memory. Bend time. Their queens are sorceresses older than the Void. We don’t speak of them for a reason.”

“Because Father made it so?” Loki snapped. “He erased this realm from record, Thor. Burned history. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”

Thor frowned again. “You don’t trust him.”

Loki’s voice lowered. “Neither should you.”

There was a long beat of silence.

Then Thor shrugged, the discomfort twitching at the edge of his jaw. “You’re chasing smoke. Don’t let it burn you.”

Loki smiled tightly.

“Too late.”

Later that night, Loki stood at the edge of the Northern Forests, just past the invisible border of Asgard’s wards. The air there was different—thinner. Wild. He could feel it in his veins, like static rising beneath skin.

He held the rune-stone he had stolen from the vault.

Whispered an old word in a dead language.

And the world cracked.

It wasn’t a loud noise, but a pressure. The air shimmered. The trees groaned. And then—

—a slit.

No wider than a heartbeat.

But through it, he saw stars. Not the ones above him. Different stars. Purple and white, low in the sky, twisted in spirals that bent like ink in water.

And then—green.

A forest beyond the veil.

A realm that should not be.

Elarindor.

Loki took a breath.

And stepped through.

The moment he crossed the veil, the magic hit him like breath in winter.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

The ground beneath him was soft and silvered. Trees towered in impossible arches above, their bark glowing faintly. The sky pulsed like moonlight caught in a mirror. Every blade of grass shimmered, and the wind whispered in languages that didn’t belong to any realm he knew.

And then he saw her.

She stood at the edge of a small lake, no more than twenty feet away, barefoot on the moss. Her hair was long, pinned back with strands of glowing vine. Her robes looked like spun mist and indigo silk, wrapping around her body like clouds.

Loki stilled.

He did not speak.

She was humming.

Softly. Like the wind.

A tiny moth—bright blue, glowing—circled her hand, then settled on her wrist.

When she turned—

Her eyes met his.

And for the first time in centuries, Loki felt something hit his chest that wasn’t rage or ambition or bitterness.

He didn’t know what it was.

He only knew he never wanted it to leave.

“You’re not from here,” she said, her voice like rain in a dream.

Loki blinked. “No,” he replied.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

A faint smile touched her lips.

“You’re an Asgardian.”

He nodded, cautious. “Is that a problem?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

She tilted her head. “Whether you plan to lie to me.”

Loki smiled—genuine, amused, curious.

“Not yet.”

—

She watched him vanish between the trees.

The moment he passed back through the Veil, the moss beneath her feet stopped humming.

Only then did Y/N exhale.

The stranger—no, the Asgardian—had left her realm alive. That alone would enrage the council. Her aunt, Verity, most of all.

But she hadn’t stopped him.

Worse—she had let him speak. Had listened.

And stars above… she had wanted to.

The way he had looked at her—steady, alert, curious, but not like a predator. Not like a conqueror. His words were veiled, yes, but not cruel. He didn’t speak to her like a myth, or a threat. He spoke to her like she was real.

And he hadn’t run when he saw her eyes.

She sat on a smooth stone near the lake and let her fingers trail over the surface of the water, watching the ripples dance. Her voice was quiet, half to herself:

“What kind of fool steps into a realm no one returns from… and smiles at the one meant to guard it?”

Later that evening-

Elarindor’s heart—the capital known as Velaris Taloré—was built in curves and glass. It shimmered with magic older than time. Her people did not walk in straight lines. They moved like wind. Like smoke. Like sorrow.

And so did Verity.

“You spoke to him.”

Y/N looked up from the small woven blossom crown she was crafting by her balcony. “He found the Veil, Aunt. I didn’t invite him.”

“That realm is sealed,” Verity hissed, stepping into the moonlight. Her gown shimmered like liquid obsidian. Her white hair, braided with dark leaves, glowed faintly. “Not even Odin can pierce it anymore. You think he found it on accident?”

“I don’t know,” Y/N admitted. “But he didn’t come with weapons. Or soldiers.”

“He came with a name,” Verity snapped. “That’s worse.”

Y/N went still.

Verity softened, but only slightly. “Do you know who he is?”

Y/N nodded. “Loki. Of Asgard.”

“The Trickster. The Son of Lies. The one Odin shelters even now.”

“He asked about us,” Y/N murmured.

Verity’s lips pressed into a thin line. “They always do, when they want something.”

“But he didn’t take anything,” Y/N countered. “He listened. He watched. He was—”

“Careful?” Verity barked a laugh. “They all are. That’s how you lose yourself.”

Y/N stood now, straightening her back.

“I’m not a child.”

“No. You’re worse.” Verity’s voice lowered to a whisper. “You’re your mother’s daughter.”

Silence.

And then—

“Keep away from him,” Verity warned, turning toward the arch. “No matter what he promises. No matter what he makes you feel. A serpent can sing like a dove before it strikes.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

She only stood in the soft dark, crown half-finished, heart aching with something she didn’t yet have the name for.

She saw him again on the seventh night.

He stepped through the Veil slower this time, as if not wanting to disturb the forest.

She was waiting, arms crossed, a single glowing moth perched on her shoulder.

“You came back.”

“I was invited.”

“I never invited you.”

Loki smirked. “Your eyes did.”

Y/N blinked, thrown off balance.

“You’re not what I expected,” she muttered.

He tilted his head. “And what was that? Hooves and horns? A glamour and a blade?”

“No. I expected fear. Or at least arrogance.”

He took a slow step forward.

“I’m saving that for the third visit.”

She rolled her eyes—but the corner of her mouth twitched upward.

They walked together in the grove. Slowly. Like they were both afraid of what might break if they stepped too fast.

She told him her name.

He told her about the Bifrost. About how Odin kept records of old realms—only to destroy them. About how most Asgardians believed the Fae were long extinct.

“We aren’t,” she said quietly.

“I know that now.”

He looked at her then—not like a god looking down, but like a man looking across. With respect. With quiet fascination.

“I’ve never met someone like you,” he murmured.

“And I’ve met too many like you,” she replied. “But somehow… you’re different.”

“Because I listen?”

“Because you look like you don’t believe yourself half the time.”

He laughed. “I’m still deciding who I am.”

She tilted her head. “That’s dangerous. Especially here.”

“I like danger.”

“I am danger.”

They both smiled.

And neither of them walked away.

Later That Night – Y/N’s Chambers

She couldn’t sleep.

Not because she was restless—but because her mind was full. The kind of full that made everything else seem pale.

She could still hear his laugh. See the way he looked up at her, not like a threat—but like a secret he wanted to unravel. He hadn’t tried to charm her. He hadn’t tried to kiss her.

And gods help her… she wanted him to.

She stared at the ceiling and whispered to herself.

“This will not end well.”

But she didn’t stop smiling.

Elarindor, Three Weeks After the First Crossing-

He kept coming back.

At first, Y/N thought it was just curiosity—some trickster’s challenge. Then perhaps a fascination. But now?

Now he came like someone starved.

And she, like someone starving.

She didn’t ask why he always found her by the moonlit lake. Why he walked the same moss-covered path or whispered the same phrase when passing through the Veil.

She didn’t need to.

She was already waiting.

Every time.

They never met under daylight. Never in the palace or the gardens where Verity’s spies wandered like shadows. Only here—beneath the trees, with the soft hum of starlight above and water below.

Tonight, he brought her a book.

“It’s Asgardian poetry,” Loki said, handing it to her gently.

She raised a brow. “You stole it, didn’t you?”

He grinned. “Only from a vault no one visits. It’s practically charity.”

She flipped through the first page. Her fingers slowed. “This one… it’s about a lover turned enemy. A union that ended a war.”

He watched her carefully. “You believe that can happen?”

“I don’t know,” she said softly. “But I believe war ends far slower than love begins.”

Loki didn’t answer.

Not with words.

He simply looked at her.

And Y/N felt her breath catch in her throat.

Asgard, Two Days Later-

Frigga stood beside Loki on one of the lesser balconies of the palace, her pale blue shawl wrapped around her arms as the morning breeze lifted her silver hair.

“I haven’t seen you at council,” she said gently, eyes not leaving the horizon.

“I’ve been… busy,” Loki replied, gaze distant. “Studying.”

“You’ve always been clever,” she said, “but never this quiet. This careful.”

He didn’t respond at first.

Then: “There’s someone.”

Frigga turned slowly.

Loki’s jaw clenched. “She’s not—what you’d expect.”

“Is she kind to you?”

He blinked, surprised. “Yes.”

“Does she see you? Not as a prince, or as Odin’s son. But you?”

He swallowed hard.

“Yes.”

Frigga smiled, almost wistfully. “Then she is already more precious than any throne.”

“But she is Fae.”

Frigga did not flinch.

She only nodded.

“Then you must be ready for a war no sword can win. Not against realms. But against those who think love is a weakness.”

Elarindor – Verity’s Private Garden

“Your sister’s daughter is losing herself.”

Verity didn’t look up as Alaric spoke. She was tending to her black-glass roses, her fingers glowing faintly as she trimmed a thorn.

“She is finding herself,” Verity corrected. “In a way that leads to ruin.”

Alaric folded his arms. He was taller than most Fae, eyes as sharp as onyx. Where Y/N wore starlight, he wore shadows. Protective. Scarred. Loyal.

“She’s not naïve. She knows the risks.”

“She knows only half of what he is,” Verity hissed, finally turning to him. “Odin’s serpent son. A liar. A master of illusion. He cannot love her.”

“Maybe he already does.”

Verity’s gaze narrowed. “Then she is already doomed.”

Alaric was silent.

Then: “If you harm her to protect her… you’ll lose her anyway.”

Verity’s lips twisted into something unreadable.

“I’d rather lose her to hatred than to the chains of a god.”

Asgard – Later That Night

Thor leaned against the doorframe of Loki’s chamber, arms crossed.

“You disappeared again.”

“I go where I please.”

“You don’t answer summons. You vanish for hours—days. And when you return, your mind is somewhere else.”

Loki looked up from his desk, where old star maps and realm charts lay scattered.

Thor stepped in. “Is there someone?”

Loki didn’t reply.

“I saw you looking through forbidden texts. About the Veils. About realms that no longer speak to Asgard.”

Loki stood.

Thor’s tone dropped. “Is it her? One of the Fae?”

“You would not understand.”

“I understand betrayal. And what it costs.”

Loki’s voice was ice. “Then perhaps you should consider why our father tried to bury them in the first place.”

“Because they are dangerous!”

“So are we!”

They stared at each other.

Then Loki softened.

“She’s not what they say.”

Thor’s voice cracked. “Neither were we. But they still feared us.”

Elarindor – One Week Later

They didn’t talk about politics that night.

Or war.

Or family.

They simply sat. Barefoot at the lake’s edge, shoulders nearly brushing. Their hands rested between them, fingers curled in separate worlds.

Y/N spoke first.

“What if we were just… people?”

Loki glanced at her. “Without names or crowns?”

“No history. No expectation.”

He chuckled softly. “I think I’d still find you.”

Her lips curved. “I’d still pretend not to notice.”

He looked down.

And then—

He reached out.

His fingers brushed hers. Just barely.

But in that instant, the magic between them hummed—soft and warm, like candlelight behind silk.

Her breath caught.

His thumb gently traced the back of her knuckles.

Neither pulled away.

The wind stilled.

Even the moths above them paused mid-flight.

And then—very softly, almost like a question—he whispered, “Tell me to stop.”

Y/N turned her palm, letting their hands intertwine.

“I can’t.”

Elsewhere – Deep in Elarindor’s Spire

Verity stood before an obsidian mirror. It shimmered with memory, showing Y/N and Loki—fingers linked, eyes glowing, bodies leaning toward one another like the world had narrowed down to just them.

A voice echoed from behind.

“You were right to start the watch.”

Verity didn’t look at her spy. “Love is the most dangerous illusion of all.”

The mirror pulsed.

And her eyes burned cold.

Elarindor – City of Velaris Taloré

Y/N had never snuck out of the palace before.

She had wandered the outer forests, bathed in the moonlake’s quiet silver, played hide and seek in the veiled ruins with Alaric when they were children—but never the city.

Not like this.

Not cloaked in illusion.

Not with him.

Loki’s disguise wasn’t elaborate. A change of his coat into something longer, simpler—stitched in threads of deep forest green with a hood that fell low over his brow. His magic dulled the blue shimmer of his eyes into something gentler. Mortal.

“You’re certain we won’t be recognized?” he asked, the edge of a smirk on his lips.

Y/N turned, lips tilting. “Only if you forget how to walk like someone who isn’t a prince.”

“I’m insulted,” he murmured, stepping beside her. “I can be perfectly common.”

“You wear secrets like armor,” she replied, brushing her fingers along the stone railing. “There’s nothing common about you.”

“And you speak like someone who’s trying very hard not to fall in love.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “Let’s go.”

He grinned.

They slipped through the lesser warding gate behind the Summer Courtyard, stepping into the nighttime pulse of the city.

Velaris Taloré was unlike anything Loki had seen—even in dreams. It was alive. Floating gardens drifted on glowing lotus pads down pale rivers. Bridges of woven light arched across streets lined with wind-chimes and mirrored glass. Music drifted from balconies where fae strung harps of silver hair. Every scent was soft spice, crushed fruit, magic.

Y/N tugged him down a spiraling path lit by hovering fireflies.

“No one here knows us,” she whispered, her hand briefly brushing his. “We can just… be.”

He let the words settle.

Not princess. Not prince. Not daughter of ruin or son of lies.

Just two people in a city that had forgotten their names.

They reached the open square at the center of Velaris, where lanterns hung from ancient branches of the Worldtree fragment buried deep beneath Elarindor’s capital.

A low melody played from an elven horn—haunting and beautiful. Fae couples drifted between ivy-covered columns, dancing barefoot beneath moonlight.

Y/N turned to him.

Her hand was outstretched.

“Come on.”

Loki hesitated. “If I step on your foot, consider it a political offense.”

Y/N grinned. “Then you’ll owe me a war.”

Their hands touched.

Warm. Real.

And then—

He pulled her close.

They danced beneath the stars.

No titles.

No histories.

Her dress spun like mist in the wind as Loki guided her through slow turns and winding steps. He didn’t lead as a king might. He followed her rhythm, matched it. Like he was listening. Like he wanted to learn her language.

“You’re better than I expected,” she teased, catching his eye mid-spin.

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmured. “You should know that by now.”

He dipped her low, and she let out a surprised laugh—quick and bright, like birds scattering from a tree.

She didn’t realize how tightly his hand held her waist.

He didn’t realize how her gaze burned through him more than any spell.

Later, they slipped away from the crowd and climbed a vine-laced stairwell that led to a secluded garden rooftop overlooking the river.

They lay on their backs, side by side, breath still shallow from laughter and running and almost being seen.

Y/N handed him a vial of glowing nectar from a local stall. “Fae dream tonic,” she said. “Drink it and see your truest dream.”

Loki stared at the blue liquid. “And what if I already know mine?”

Y/N turned on her side, chin resting on her hand. “Then say it aloud.”

He hesitated.

Then: “It’s here.”

She blinked.

He glanced toward the river, then back to her.

“This city. You. A night like this with no gods watching, no duties waiting. Just us. I didn’t know I could want something so… quiet.”

Y/N’s throat tightened.

“I used to dream of burning Asgard down,” he continued softly. “But then you showed me a world where I didn’t have to destroy anything to feel real.”

She didn’t speak.

Not at first.

Then, without thinking, her hand moved toward his, resting gently against his palm.

“I don’t want this to end,” she whispered.

And that was the truth.

Moments Later —

They heard footsteps.

Too heavy.

Too sharp.

Loki’s head snapped up.

Y/N pulled back, panic flashing through her expression.

“I know that stride,” she said, grabbing his wrist. “It’s Noren. One of my aunt’s inner sentries.”

Loki’s hand was already glowing with illusion magic.

“Stay quiet,” she whispered. “Come with me.”

She led him down a side stair, through an old alley beneath a fallen archway. The walls shimmered faintly—traces of old protection runes.

But the footsteps grew louder.

And then—

Y/N stumbled against a hidden root in the stone, and Loki caught her.

Pressed together. Hidden in the shadow of ivy.

Her back against the wall.

His chest against hers.

The breath caught between them.

Her hands gripped his coat, and his fell to her waist to steady her.

“Don’t move,” she breathed.

His forehead rested gently against hers.

And suddenly, silence fell.

Except for the sound of their hearts.

Except for the way his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Loki whispered.

Y/N blinked. “Why?”

His smile was soft, aching. “Because I’ve wanted to since the lake. Because I may not have another chance.”

Y/N’s hand slid up to his jaw.

“Then don’t wait.”

And he didn’t.

The kiss was slow.

Warm.

Not a battle—but a confession.

Their lips pressed in the hush of the alley, a moment stolen from time. It wasn’t desperate or hungry. It was soft. Reverent. As if each of them were terrified the other might disappear if they kissed too hard.

She tasted like moonfruit and breathless laughter.

He tasted like salt wind and something deep beneath the surface—bitterness softened by wonder.

When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead to hers again.

“I don’t want to go back.”

She nodded. “Then don’t.”

But they both knew he had to.

The moment passed like the shadow of a wave.

But the kiss remained.

Asgard – The High Tower

The air in the High Tower was colder than usual.

Thor stood in the shadows of the observatory, hidden behind the pillar of a golden arch, eyes locked on the Bifrost’s horizon.

He had seen Loki vanish again that morning.

Not for errands. Not for mischief.

But for her.

His brother’s voice had changed—softer, like he’d been speaking to someone who saw him. And that terrified Thor more than any blade.

Because love made Loki reckless.

And recklessness always drew blood.

Thor turned and began his descent through the stone halls, jaw set.

Tonight, he would follow him.

Elarindor -

Verity didn’t scream.

She didn’t curse or raise her voice or strike.

She simply stared at her niece with a silence colder than winter.

Y/N stood in the chamber like a girl awaiting a sentence, though she wore no guilt in her posture.

Only dread.

Verity’s hands were folded neatly in front of her. A single glowing crystal hovered beside her, pulsing like a heartbeat.

“A scout saw you entering the city alone,” she said at last.

Y/N didn’t move.

“No escort. No warding. And,” Verity stepped forward, “you left with someone.”

Y/N’s fingers curled at her sides. “It wasn’t unsafe.”

“You are heir to a realm that bleeds starlight,” Verity snapped. “You don’t have the luxury of wandering. Especially with Asgardians.”

The silence shattered.

Y/N’s voice was calm, but the tremor in it betrayed her. “You’ve been watching me.”

“I’ve been trying to protect you.”

“From what?” Y/N asked, louder now. “From him? He hasn’t hurt me.”

Verity’s eyes flared. “Not yet.”

Y/N took a step closer, chest rising. “He’s not what you think. He listens. He doesn’t see me as a title or a pawn—he sees me.”

Verity turned her back.

And in a voice colder than iron:

“He will break you.”

Y/N whispered, “Or save me.”

Verity didn’t reply.

Only dismissed her with a flick of her hand.

But her heart raced behind her ribs.

Because love was the most dangerous war.

And Verity had lost it once before.

The Forests Between Realms-

Loki landed softly, boots brushing the moss. His hood still low, illusion spell humming faintly around him.

But the wind had shifted.

He sensed it immediately—something tense in the branches, something sharp in the magic.

She wasn’t at the lake.

He found her pacing near the willow glade instead, arms folded, brow furrowed.

“Y/N?”

She turned too quickly.

“You shouldn’t be here tonight.”

Loki frowned. “What happened?”

“My aunt knows.”

The words hit him like frost.

“How much?”

“Enough.”

He stepped closer. “Did she threaten you?”

“No. Not yet.” Her jaw clenched. “But I saw the way she looked at me. Like I was already lost.”

Loki reached out, fingers grazing her sleeve. “We don’t have to stop.”

Y/N looked up sharply.

“You say that now. But you weren’t born here. You weren’t raised to obey Verity. You don’t know what she’s capable of.”

Loki’s hand found hers. “Neither does she.”

They stood in silence, hands linked.

Until—

“I’m not afraid of your aunt,” Loki said. “But I am afraid of losing you.”

Asgard – Frigga’s Private Garden

Frigga found Thor seated on the marble bench, arms crossed, head bowed.

“You followed him,” she said softly.

Thor nodded.

“I saw them. Together. Laughing. Dancing like children under lanterns.” He looked up. “She’s not like the stories. She’s not a monster.”

“I know,” Frigga said.

Thor blinked. “You knew?”

Frigga nodded. “He told me weeks ago.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“I saw what I never have before in his eyes, Thor. Hope.”

Thor’s voice broke. “But what if it ends in war?”

Frigga looked toward the horizon. “Then the realms must decide whether to protect peace or punish love.”

Elarindor – The Observatory Tower

That night, Verity met with Alaric.

The room was dim, carved from living crystal that hummed with truth-sensing spells.

“She’s crossed the line,” Verity said, circling the stone table.

Alaric leaned against the pillar, arms folded. “She’s in love.”

“Then we must stop it before it costs her everything.”

He said nothing.

“She is your sister,” Verity continued. “Your blood. Don’t let her be blinded.”

“I see her,” Alaric said at last. “More clearly than you do.”

Verity narrowed her eyes. “Then choose.”

He turned away.

And in that moment—without a word—Verity knew she was losing him too.

The Lake – Later That Night

Loki and Y/N sat beneath the tree where their first real conversation began.

She rested her head on his shoulder.

He was quiet.

“I saw something once,” Loki whispered. “A vision. Years ago. I was falling. Through smoke. And there was a voice—yours, I think—telling me I wasn’t meant to be alone.”

Y/N turned to him.

“What if we ran?” he said. “Tonight. Before they tear this apart.”

“Where would we go?”

“Anywhere the stars still shine.”

She paused.

And then—quietly, heartbreakingly:

“Would they follow?”

He didn’t answer.

Because he knew they would.

The Hidden Chamber – Elarindor

The chamber was cold, its walls lined with silver mirrors that reflected the flickering light of the hearth. The air hummed with ancient magic, the scent of dust and burning incense heavy in the room.

Odin stood before the stone table, his one-eyed gaze focused on the array of maps sprawled across the surface. The veils between realms shimmered under his scrutiny. But it wasn’t the maps that occupied his thoughts.

It was the choice his son had made.

The sound of Verity’s soft footsteps approached. She entered without a word, her presence a shadow in the dim light. The Queen of the Fae didn’t need to speak to make her power known. Her very being thrummed with it. And now, it seemed, her power would be used for something darker.

“We can’t let them go,” Verity said, her voice low and steady. She didn’t need to elaborate. The weight of the words was enough.

Odin turned, his single eye piercing. “They’ve crossed the line.”

“She’s the heir of Elarindor. My blood,” Verity snapped, stepping closer. “And Loki is—”

“A fool,” Odin finished, his voice colder than the northern winds. “I’ve watched him play with fate for too long. This ends now.”

They stood in silence for a long moment, their thoughts interwoven. Both of them understood the consequences of what had just transpired: Loki and Y/N, the forbidden lovers, had gone too far. They had taken it upon themselves to defy the realms—defy them.

And now they would pay.

Verity clenched her fists at her sides. “We will imprison them,” she said, her eyes burning with resolve. “I’ll personally make sure Y/N can never cross the Veil again. We’ll lock her away, where she can’t tempt him.”

Odin’s lips twitched in a semblance of a smile, but it was anything but warm. “You’re not doing this alone. We’ll use the chains of silence. The ones forged in the deepest forge of the Fae realm. They’ll keep them bound. And the Veil will be sealed.”

“Not even love will breach it.”

“Not even love,” Odin agreed, his voice dark with finality

The Edge of the Forbidden Forest – The Night of Their Escape

Loki and Y/N walked beneath the canopy of stars, the night air thick with unspoken promises. The quiet hum of their magic blended as they walked hand-in-hand, hearts light for the first time in days.

They had made their choice.

There was no turning back.

Loki’s magic wrapped around them like a cloak, hiding them from the eyes of any who might be watching. They passed through the forest silently, and yet every step felt like a victory. Every whisper of the wind carried the memory of their last stolen moments in Elarindor.

Y/N looked up at him. “Where will we go?” she asked, her voice soft, unsure. Her grip on his hand tightened

Loki smiled, his eyes warm with the intensity of his love. “Anywhere the stars guide us.”

But as they neared the edge of the forest, something shifted in the air.

A crackling sound. A ripple in the wind.

Y/N froze.

“What is it?” she whispered, sensing the change in the magic surrounding them.

Loki’s expression darkened. “They know.”

“What?”

“The Veil is closing. They’re coming for us.”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them trembled. A surge of raw, unstoppable power pulsed from behind them—a wave of Fae magic that made the air grow thick and oppressive.

Y/N’s heart raced. “We have to move. Now.”

But it was too late.

The Hidden Chamber – Elarindor

Odin and Verity stood together, their hands weaving through the air, the power of the Fae and Asgard combined. The Veil had already begun to thin, the air warping with the raw magic they summoned.

“It’s done,” Verity said, her voice cold with determination. “They’ll be ours.”

Odin nodded. “Loki will understand what it means to defy me.”

They both turned toward the shimmering, thin veil of magic—a rift that connected the two realms. With a flick of Odin’s hand, the rift began to close, trapping Loki and Y/N in a web of impenetrable magic.

“We move now,” Odin commanded, his tone cutting like a blade.

The Edge of the Forest –

Loki pulled Y/N to him, his eyes scanning the trees.

“Run!” he shouted, but the words were barely out of his mouth before a blinding light consumed them.

A crack echoed in the forest as the Veil shimmered into existence around them. A prison.

They had fallen into it. And they hadn’t even seen it coming.

Loki’s heart pounded in his chest as his magic flared to life, but it couldn’t break through the barrier. The chains were already forming.

Y/N reached for him, her eyes wide with terror. “Loki—”

A figure emerged from the shadows.

Verity.

Her eyes were like cold stones, her expression sharp and unforgiving.

“You should have listened, child,” she said, her voice icy.

Y/N’s voice broke. “Aunt Verity, please—”

“You’ve broken the laws of both realms,” Verity interrupted, her hands glowing with Fae magic. “And for that, you will pay the price.”

Before Loki could react, the chains of silence descended upon them, wrapping tightly around their limbs and locking them in place.

Y/N screamed, but the sound was muffled, as though the very air was smothering her.

“Stop it!” Loki shouted, his voice rising with panic as he struggled against the chains. “You can’t do this!”

“You both belong to us now,” Odin’s voice came from behind Verity, cold and commanding. He stepped forward, his single eye narrowing in fury. “There is no escape, Loki. You were warned.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat, and she turned to Loki, fear flooding her chest. She could see the helplessness in his eyes, the same despair that she felt.

Loki’s voice cracked as he looked at her. “We won’t be separated. I swear it.”

But even as he spoke, Verity raised her hand, and the magic around them tightened.

They were trapped.

And their love, as powerful as it was, could do nothing to stop the chains that bound them.

Moonstone Spire –

They called it the place where starlight died.

It stood alone on the cliffs of Elarindor’s northernmost edge, where even the winds refused to sing. Carved from pale obsidian and moonstone veined with old magic, the spire rose in a spiral of silence. Its halls absorbed voices. Its windows let in only enough light to make shadows.

And in the highest chamber, behind three locked doors and a veil-charm thicker than memory itself, the heir to the fae throne sat in silence.

Y/N had not spoken since they locked the gate.

Not to the priestesses who brought her food.

Not to Verity when she appeared at the threshold, sorrow bitter in her eyes.

Not even to the ghost of Loki in her mind.

She sat with her legs folded, her back straight, her hands clenched in her lap.

Each day passed in a blur of dusk-colored light and quiet meals untouched.

The stone walls began to whisper. Not with sound—but memory. With grief. With the way her heart screamed in the hollows of her chest.

Her fingers still held a small river stone.

From the lake.

From the night he made her laugh until she cried.

She gripped it so hard it left bruises in her palm.

But she did not weep.

She would not.

“Speak to me,” Verity said softly, her silhouette ghostlike in the doorway.

Y/N sat unmoving.

“I begged them not to hurt you,” Verity went on, stepping closer. “I did what I could.”

A pause.

“I thought love would make you stronger. But it made you reckless.”

Still, no answer.

Verity’s expression wavered. “He is not one of us. You don’t know what he’s capable of. Loki will destroy everything.”

Y/N’s voice—when it finally came—was hoarse, sharp as splintered glass.

“You already did.”

And then she turned her back.

Verity left without another word

The cell stank of iron and magic.

Deep beneath Asgard’s golden palace, where light could not find the corners, Loki lay chained to the wall in silence.

His wrists bled where the cuffs bit too deep. His shoulder had dislocated during the struggle and was still out of joint. His magic—it pulsed behind his ribs like a trapped animal, but it could not escape. The chains had seen to that.

When the footsteps came, Loki did not flinch.

He expected Thor.

But it was Odin.

The Allfather stepped through the barrier without ceremony, his golden cloak dragging ash along the floor.

“You shame me,” he said simply.

Loki did not look up. “Then look away.”

Odin moved closer, voice low. “She is a distraction.”

“She is my salvation.”

“She is your ruin.”

Loki turned his head, just slightly, and spoke through cracked lips.

“She is the only reason I didn’t burn every realm that ever spit your name.”

Odin’s eye flared.

“You would betray your blood?”

“You did it first,” Loki hissed. “You killed hers. You buried her family beneath diplomacy and lies. Do not speak to me of betrayal.”

Odin’s silence was heavy.

“You are nothing without Asgard,” he said at last.

Loki’s smile was soft.

“I was nothing with it.”

Odin left him in the dark.

But Loki’s eyes burned brighter than ever.

The war room of Elarindor pulsed with residual magic. The air was thick with enchantments—every map hovering, glowing, twitching like something alive.

Alaric stood before the central sigil, his jaw clenched, his hands curled.

“She hasn’t spoken in three days.”

Verity turned from the map. “She’s grieving.”

“She’s suffering.”

“You think I don’t know what this does to her?” Verity snapped, her voice breaking. “I gave her everything. And she threw it away for an illusion.”

“No,” Alaric said, stepping forward. “She found truth. Something this court hasn’t shown her in years.”

Verity’s mouth tightened.

“If she continues—if she tries to escape again—she will lose her title. Her place in the realm.”

“She already lost you,” Alaric said.

And he walked away before Verity could stop him.

That night, Alaric opened a forbidden book hidden beneath the Hall of Bones. He traced the Veil-breaking runes with shaking fingers.

He whispered her name into the dark.

And the dark answered.

The first cut was shallow.

A line across her palm.

The blood was red—but shimmered faintly silver under the moon.

Y/N pressed it to the stone.

And began to whisper.

The words were old. Older than Verity. Older than the realm. Taught to her in songs by a mother who sang to stars no longer living.

They spoke of bridges between souls.

Of flames that outlived death.

Of spells that no chain could bind.

With each word, her magic answered—hesitant at first. Flickering like a dying flame. Then stronger. Stronger still.

Symbols bloomed across the walls, invisible to fae eyes. Runes that twisted like vines. They grew behind her bed, beneath the floor, in the cracks of the tower’s stone bones.

And when she finally opened her eyes, the room felt different.

Less like a prison.

More like a seed.

Waiting to bloom.

—

The spell bloomed slowly.

Y/N could feel it beneath the stone, weaving itself into the bones of the Spire, defying the silence that had once smothered her. The runes she had carved with her blood pulsed softly now, invisible to the untrained eye, but thrumming with ancient power. With memory.

The tower didn’t fight the spell—it welcomed it.

The Moonstone Spire had always been a prison, yes.

But it had also been a tomb for starlight.

Now, it began to wake.

Each day, the wind that slithered through the narrow window whispered a little louder. Each night, the shadows curled into shapes she could understand. Her magic stirred in her blood, and for the first time in weeks, her hands did not tremble.

She no longer cried when she touched the stone.

She listened.

—

Alaric stood before the Spire’s sealed gate as dusk bled across the cliffs.

Two guards stood at attention—young, loyal, oblivious.

He dismissed them with a wave of his ring. The seal of the fae royal blood still held power, and his voice—stern, controlled—left no room for question.

He climbed the spiral alone.

The Spire moaned under his boots, as if warning him, as if remembering another time.

He reached the chamber door and pressed a hand to it.

“Y/N.”

Silence.

“It’s me.”

More silence.

He let out a breath.

“You can hate me. You can scream. You can curse my name. But I’m not leaving until you look me in the eye.”

A pause.

Then—a soft voice. Faint.

“You’re late.”

The door creaked open.

She stood on the other side, thinner than he remembered, her skin pale, but her eyes glowing like embers.

Alaric’s throat tightened.

“I thought they broke you,” he whispered.

“They tried.”

A pause.

“I’m still me.”

He stepped forward. The runes caught his attention instantly—faint, tangled symbols etched into the cracks of the floor, hidden between shadows.

He met her gaze, suddenly fearful. “You’re using Veilcraft.”

“I’m reclaiming it.”

Alaric swallowed hard.

“If Verity sees this—”

“She won’t,” Y/N said softly. “Not until it’s too late.”

—

Thor stood before the throne of Asgard, golden armor glinting beneath the high glass dome. Odin sat atop it, fingers drumming on the carved lion’s armrest. The Hall was empty, save for them.

“I’ve come to speak of Loki.”

Odin sighed. “I’ve heard enough of him.”

“You haven’t heard me.”

The words struck like a challenge.

Odin’s eye narrowed. “Speak then.”

Thor stepped closer. “You always feared him. Even when he was a child. You feared his mind. His power. You punished him for using it.”

“He was manipulative—”

“He was alone,” Thor growled. “And now, for the first time, he isn’t.”

Odin rose slowly. “She is dangerous.”

“She is what he chose.”

“And what happens when she chooses vengeance?”

Thor’s voice dropped. “What happens when we are the ones deserving of it?”

Odin froze.

“You’re becoming what you once fought,” Thor whispered. “A ruler who fears love more than war.”

They stared at each other, thunder pulsing between them.

Odin turned away.

And Thor knew: the storm had only just begun.

—

Loki lay still in the darkness.

He had stopped counting the hours.

Stopped measuring the passing days by the water trickling through the cracks.

Stopped hoping.

Until tonight.

A breeze touched his cheek—impossible, in this sealed cell beneath Asgard.

His eyes snapped open.

And then he saw it.

A single white moth.

Its wings shimmered with moonlight and stardust. Not conjured. Not illusion. Fae-born.

Loki sat up slowly, every nerve humming.

The moth fluttered toward him, landing on his bound wrist. Its wings beat once, twice, and then—collapsed into a single line of ancient runes.

He read them slowly.

A message.

The walls are cracking. I remember the stars. Do you? — Y

Loki’s breath caught in his throat.

He pressed the moth to his heart, whispering a shaky laugh.

“Yes,” he said.

“I remember.”

—

Later that night, Y/N sat cross-legged in the center of her chamber, hair braided back, eyes closed.

The spell was nearly complete.

Alaric had returned to her with stolen pages—ripped from books Verity thought long buried. Fragments of enchantments used in the first war between realms. Runes that once unmade the Veil itself.

Y/N’s voice was steady as she chanted.

Every word carved into the stone. Every note resonating deeper.

As she whispered the final phrase, the walls of her prison breathed.

Not crumbled. Not shattered.

But responded.

Like they were no longer holding her back—but holding her up.

The stars blinked through the slit window above.

She raised her head.

And for the first time since the day they were torn apart—

She smiled.

The walls of the Moonstone Spire had stopped humming. Now, they listened.

Y/N stood before the sealed archway that had held her for weeks, her hand glowing softly with silver and violet light. The runes she’d etched into the floor were complete now—threaded with Alaric’s power, stitched with the spells of the oldest Fae bloodlines. They shimmered, rising in thin glowing lines like vines around the door.

And then, with a breathless whisper—

The lock gave way.

The ancient seal cracked.

And the door that should never have opened for anyone—

Opened for her.

Alaric was waiting in the corridor, hood drawn over his dark hair, his sword glowing faintly with ward-breaking magic.

“Now,” he said.

She nodded once, heart hammering. “Let’s go.”

They vanished into the corridor’s shadows like starlight dissolving into mist.

—

The escape through Elarindor was a test of blood, bone, and memory.

Y/N knew the palace well—but not like this. Not from its underbelly.

Alaric led her through forgotten tunnels buried beneath the royal archives, crumbling halls from the time of their great-grandmother’s war. The stones whispered of betrayal and secrets and spells long buried, but they let them pass.

“I laid false tracks,” Alaric murmured as they ran, his voice tight. “Verity will think you’re still in the tower.”

“For how long?” Y/N asked.

“Long enough.”

They reached the outer chamber—the edge of the Veil.

Here, reality shimmered like a curtain underwater. It was not a door but a boundary. One only a fae with royal blood could tear.

“Are you sure this will work?” she asked.

“No,” Alaric admitted. “But if it doesn’t, she wins.”

Y/N placed her hand against the Veil.

It recognized her.

And it parted.

They stepped through.

—

Asgard smelled of fire and metal and old thunder.

The tunnel they emerged in—carved from deep stone and long abandoned—led straight beneath the Golden Palace. Y/N felt the weight of Odin’s kingdom above her like a pressure behind her eyes.

“This is reckless,” Alaric muttered. “Even for you.”

“I’m not leaving him here.”

Y/N gripped the spell in her hand—the one she had bound to the moth. She could feel him. Weak, fading, but alive.

They reached the base of the prison.

Wards shimmered along the walls. Sharp, furious, ancient.

Alaric studied them quickly. “I need three minutes.”

“You have two.”

She pressed her hand to the wall. The magic resisted—then bent, recognizing the same signature she’d sent in her message.

A door appeared.

The scent hit her first—blood, sweat, iron.

And then—him.

Loki lay against the far wall, bound in gold-threaded chains, pale but still burning. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of her gasp.

“Y/N…”

She ran to him, fell to her knees beside him.

“You came,” he whispered, dazed.

“You think I’d let them keep you?”

His smile broke something in her chest.

“I told you,” she said, reaching for the shackles, “they can’t keep me from you.”

Her spell hit the chains like fire on dry parchment.

The gold snapped.

The room shook.

Alaric shouted from the hall, “We have to go—now!”

Y/N hauled Loki up with shaking arms. He was weak, but his strength returned with every step—his magic bleeding back into him like a tide returning to the sea.

They ran.

Behind them, alarms began to sound.

Faint, distant—but rising.

Verity stood in the Moonstone Spire, her hand on the cold stone where Y/N’s blood had once dried. Her eyes widened as she saw the runes—twisted through the walls like veins.

“Alaric,” she whispered. “You treacherous fool.”

She turned toward the horizon—toward the trembling Veil.

And for the first time in centuries—

The Queen of Elarindor looked afraid.

—

They emerged in a clearing on the borderlands between realms—the forest where the stars grew low and warm, hanging like lanterns above the trees.

Y/N collapsed to her knees, gasping. Loki fell beside her, leaning heavily into her side.

Alaric dropped to one knee, pressing his palm to the ground. “We’re hidden—for now.”

Loki turned to Y/N, reaching for her hand. “You broke the Spire.”

“I sent a moth,” she whispered, eyes shimmering. “You followed it.”

He laughed, breathless. “Gods, I missed you.”

She kissed his forehead, trembling.