#me tumbling down flights of stairs in the dark

[kerosene-saint]

I fucking hate this math class and I have cried so many fucking times over it and I've done TWO FUCKING ASSIGNMENTS IN TOTAL.

[hp-hcs]

i didn’t realize the riddle brothers were a "buy one get one free" type of deal, but alright — simp! overprotective! yandere! riddle brothers x gn! oblivious! bullied! slytherin! reader

requested by 🎀!

2.5k words, not to brag 😌

i love writing the bros’ interactions with each other as like, actual sibling-core yk? they r just so cutie patootie

the reader's patronus makes an appearance in this, but i tried to make it as accessible to everyone as possible, so it's never explicitly stated what animal it is. it is implied that it’s able-to-fit-under-a-table sized though

also this is totally just pre-slash nothing that interesting happens

warnings: couple mentions of blood, mild descriptions of wounds, implied violence, implied bullying, murder

not edited!! this is my first like, really long fic so constructive criticism is welcome!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A well-timed shove to the small of your back sent you tumbling down an entire flight of moving stairs. 

You groaned as you hit the bottom, sprawled out on your back on the cold stone floor. You laid there for a moment, winded. You could hear the occupants of a nearby painting titter at your gracefulness (or lack thereof), so you rolled your head to the other side to give them an award winning smile and an unabashed middle finger. 

You could hear them all grumble about kids these days and how I never would’ve treated my elders this way. You just rolled your eyes at their pettiness. 

“Uh…what are you doing?” A decidedly alive voice interrupted your momentary satisfaction.

“Ah- evening, Riddle!” You said cheerily as soon as you recognized the speaker, scrambling to your feet and dusting off your uniform. “Nothing! Just…tripped. Couldn’t see very well in the dark, that’s all.”

Tom blinked, his lips twisted into a frown. “.....Fine. But don’t let me catch you out of bed past curfew again. You’re a Slytherin, for Salazar’s sake. Act like it.”

And that was it. Tom turned on his heel and continued down the hall without another word. Tom Riddle: prefect, teacher’s pet, and obnoxious hardass extraordinaire—he just...let you go, with no threats of detention or loss of house points. 

Huh. 

~~~

Tom, having just returned from a full night’s shift of prefect hall duty, flopped face-down onto his bed, his cheeks aflame as he let out a muffled shriek into his pillow. 

His brother, in the process of getting dressed for the day, paused at the scene in front of him. 

“Dude, what’s your deal?” 

“L/n,” Tom said by way of explanation, kicking his feet as he shrieked into his pillow again. “They acknowledged me. And they know my last name.”

“Most people know our last name, Tom,” Mattheo rolled his eyes.

“No- you don’t understand,” Tom said emphatically. “L/n is like…the cutest person to ever exist. And they’re so sweet, and smart, and funny, and-”

“And terrified of us?”

“Well…”

Mattheo rolled his eyes, putting his hands on his hips. “You talk about them too much. It’s getting insufferable.”

Tom just scowled and flicked his fingers to cast a wandless spell that straightened Mattheo’s tie and neatened his uniform. “The way you dress is insufferable. Slob.”

Mattheo stuck out his tongue at his brother before ruffling Tom’s hair to purposely mess it up. “Dick.”

“Idiot.”

~~~

Mattheo glanced up at you as you hovered uncertainly by the corner of his desk. 

“Can I sit here…?” You mumbled shyly, your cheeks flushing as the pretty dark-haired boy in your year smiled up at you.

“Course!” He grinned brightly before realizing that might have been too enthusiastic of a reply for eight in the morning and quickly tried to cover up his slip. “Uh…Y/n, right? I’m Mattheo.”

“Yeah, I know who you are.”

Mattheo’s stomach dropped.

Fuck, that’s not good.

“You let me copy your homework in third year for that essay on the properties of wormwood, or whatever.” You said offhandedly, like it wasn’t batshit insane to remember that pointlessly tiny detail. “Thank you for that, by the way. Potions sucks ass.”

Before Mattheo could even think, the words left his mouth. “I could tutor you if you want.”

You looked at him oddly, but grinned after a second. “Yeah, sure. That’d actually be really helpful. Snape hates me, man.”

“Really? Even though you’re in Slytherin?”

“Mhm, his baseless nepotism only extends so far.”

Mattheo barked out a startled laugh as your deadpan humor caught him off guard. You just grinned at him in response, causing the tips of his ears to immediately burn bright red.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Um…do you wanna meet in the library after school today? For our tutoring session,” Mattheo hurriedly added. 

“Sure, alright.” You shrugged. “See you there.”

He beamed, giving you that stupidly adorable grin once more. “Awesome! Yeah- yeah, cool. Awesome. See you there then.”

~~~

You were still shit at potions.

It had been six weeks of tutoring, and you’d learned pretty much nothing. Although, that wasn’t an issue on Mattheo’s part, but rather on his annoyingly hot older brother’s. 

Tom Riddle was surprisingly funny. For someone who gave off almost exclusively stoically austere bastard vibes, he enjoyed cracking jokes and enlisting your help in pulling pranks on his brother a bit too much.

It became your routine. Every Tuesday and Thursday after school, you would meet the two brothers in the library, waste like three hours joking around and getting absolutely no work done, and then going back to your dorm and ranting to your roommate about how fucking cute they are and how you would gladly pay for the opportunity to make out with one- no, both of them. 

(Your roommate is so fucking tired of hearing about the Riddles. You’d better buy them a latte and a cake-pop as an apology.)

~~~

You struggled to get up, your legs giving out. You cursed under your breath, putting a hand to your forehead as it throbbed in pain. 

It came away sticky with blood. 

This wasn’t going to work, you realized belatedly. With what remained of your strength, you were able to reach out and grab your wand, murmuring a quiet, “Expecto Patronum.”

A spectral creature formed in front of your eyes, remaining motionless as it stared at you. 

“Go find Riddle,” you mumbled to the Patronus, your eyelids growing heavy. 

You barely registered the wispy glowing animal immediately bounding off at your instructions, your vision doubling before your body went completely slack, the wand slipping from your fingers and hitting the tile floor with a clatter. 

~~~

Mattheo doodled mindlessly in the margins of his parchment as his brother droned on and on about the properties of willow bark in potions and really, this is important, Mattheo. Pay attention.

“Why isn’t Y/n here yet?” Mattheo asked his brother for the third time. 

Tom rolled his eyes. “I don’t know, Matt. Just like how I didn't know when you asked me five minutes ago. Maybe they just don’t want to see your stupid face any more, huh?”

“What if they’re in trouble? Or hurt?” Mattheo worried, chewing on his thumbnail and ignoring his brother’s insult. “They’re never late, Tommy.”

Tom wrinkled his nose at the use of the dumb (albeit endearing) nickname Mattheo gave him when they were children, but the sinking feeling in his gut at hearing his brother’s distressed tone didn’t help to ease the niggling worries at the back of his mind of maybe they are in trouble.

As if on cue, Mattheo shivered as something icy cold brushed against his ankles. He glanced down. A glowing spectral creature nudged his leg, looking up at him expectantly with unnervingly empty eyes. 

A Patronus. 

Y/n’s Patronus.

~~~

They followed the Patronus down the deserted hall, the animal occasionally pausing to make sure the boys were both still following it before bounding forward again.

The Patronus stopped in front of a bathroom door, giving them both that same unnervingly hollow-eyed stare of expectancy.

Tom gulped and pushed open the door, fearing that he might find the worst.

He did.

~~~

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you winced at the multitude of stinging and stabbing pains that wracked your body.

You had to blink a couple times for everything to come into focus. You were in a small room with white walls and white flooring, and the gentle dawn illuminated the quiet space with soft rays of light. The steady beep of a vitals monitor faded into the background as you stared down at yourself.

You weren’t wearing a shirt, for one, or even a hospital gown. Pretty much your entire upper torso was wrapped in bloodstained gauze. The jagged edges of a brutal slash across your chest peeked out of the top of the dressings, and you had to close your eyes and hold your breath for a moment to keep from throwing up. Once you’d calmed back down, you opened your eyes, startled to see that you weren’t alone.

Mattheo had pulled up a chair to the side of your hospital bed and crossed his arms on the mattress, using them as a makeshift pillow. His dark lashes fanned across his cheeks, his breaths slow and even. He looked so peaceful and...unguarded in his sleep. You reached down to brush a loose curl away from his forehead.

“Having fun?”

You startled, jerking your hand back. 

Tom leaned against the doorframe of your room with an amused expression, quirking an eyebrow and wiggling his fingers in a wave.

“Shut up,” you hissed back in a whisper, your cheeks flaring red. 

Tom’s amused grin only grew at your dark blush as he invited himself into your room fully, closing the door behind him.

 “Your secret’s safe with me.” He jokingly winked, tapping the side of his nose.

“You’re insufferable.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“What am I doing here?” You quickly changed topics, refusing to even look down in Mattheo’s direction. 

Tom sighed, any amusement on his face rapidly vanishing. “You sent us a Patronus, thank Merlin. Pomfrey said you would’ve bled out if you hadn’t.”

You had no memory of casting the Patronus charm at all, but you trusted Tom’s recollection of events better than your own jumbled and spotty one. “Bled out?” You questioned, your heart hammering in your throat as your voice climbed an octave in anxiety.

Tom nodded, his face carefully schooled into a blank and neutral expression. “You were hit with the Sectumsempra spell. You've been out for three days now.”

Your brow furrowed. “Malfoy got hit with that last year though—and was in and out of the infirmary in less than a day.”

“Snape knew the counterspell and found ‘im just in time last year,” Mattheo mumbled sleepily, his eyes still closed as he tuned into the conversation at hand. “But whoever hit you with it just left you there to die.”

“Charming.” You mutter under your breath.

“Regardless of what happened in Malfoy’s instance,” Tom interrupted briskly. “You were on the brink of literal death. So I’ll ask you this one time and one time only. Who did it, Y/n?”

~~~

“I brought you a cookie from the Great Hall,” Mattheo grinned widely, climbing into your hospital bed next to you and unwrapping the napkin in his hand. “And the notes from today’s Charms lesson, but those’re boring and we both know you won’t actually read ‘em.”

“Aww, you know me so well.” You teased, breaking the cookie in half and handing him one of the pieces.

Mattheo cupped the cookie fragment in his hands like it was a priceless treasure, staring down at it in unrestrained awe. 

You just shook your head at his antics and brushed the odd reaction off.

~~~

You woke up this morning and just felt like shit. You were nauseous, and dizzy, and felt borderline faint. Tom’s voice, usually soothing and comforting to hear, sounded like nails on a chalkboard right now. He rambled on and on about the delicate process of making the temperamental Felix Felicis potion. 

“Tom,” you interrupted, your voice scratchy and quiet. “Can we take a break? Please?”

He blinked, surprised at being interrupted, but nodded slowly. “I suppose…? Why?”

“Don’t feel good,” you mumbled, setting your textbook down and rubbing your eyes. 

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” Madame Pomfrey said brusquely as she bustled around your hospital room, shooing Tom out of the way to stand by your bedside. 

(Poppy Pomfrey remains the only person who can and has shooed Tom Riddle III and lived to tell the tale—and all without a single ounce of fear.)

“I’ve raised your dosage so that you can be out of here in time for your N.E.W.T.s.” Pomfrey elaborated upon seeing your confused look.

“Fantastic.” You mumbled dryly, grinning sleepily up at Tom as he grabbed onto your hand and interlaced your fingers together. He ignored the way his heart skipped a beat in favor of letting you hold his sweaty palm.

“Go to sleep, L/n,” Tom muttered under his breath. “Potions can wait.”

~~~

Tom lay in your hospital bed beside you, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Please? We promise we won’t do anything.”

“Yeah,” Mattheo chimed in from the other side of your crowded bed, one arm tossed over your waist as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Or at least, nothing we’ll get caught for.”

You sigh, tired of their ceaseless pleading. “Alright, alright, fine. I’ll tell you who it was.”

Both boys leaned in close.

You sigh again and roll your eyes at their overprotectiveness. “Alright, it was-”

~~~

Tucker Thompson and Devin Dobbs: Gryffindor Sixth Years Found MURDERED at Hogwarts! Dumbledore: “No comment at this time.”

You tilted the newspaper so Madame Pomfrey could read the article over your shoulder as she replaced your IV bag. 

Pomfrey just sighed and rolled her eyes. “I don’t understand how Skeeter is still employed at the Prophet.”

“Cause shock value will always hold weight in the media?” You answered dryly around a mouthful of depressingly plain infirmary wing toast. “And Skeeter’s good at nothing if not coming up with bullshit shock value titles.”

“That may be true,” she began, snatching the paper from your hands. “But patients shouldn’t be reading about such dark subjects, and certainly not while under my care. And don’t talk while eating. I rather like your company, and would hate to see you choke.”

You rolled your eyes at her suffocatingly motherly behavior. “So are they? Thompson and Dobbs; they’re really dead?”

Madame Pomfrey hesitated.

You let out a relieved breath of air that you tried (and failed) to hide behind a cough. “That’s…terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes and studied you for a long moment, her fingers mindlessly worrying the deckle edge of the newspaper in her hands. “It was them, wasn’t it? Your boys.”

“My boys?”

“Yes, yes, Riddles one and two. Your boys.”

“Oh- we’re not…”

She raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips as she tried to hold back a laugh at the utter obliviousness of teenagers. “Do they know that, dear?”

You spluttered out a half-assed rebuke to her statement, but Pomfrey quickly interrupted you.

“They’ve been staying here for hours every day for the last month. They want more than just your friendship, hon.”

“No way. We’re just friends.” You insisted firmly. “That’s all.”

Madame Pomfrey rolled her eyes. “Uh huh. Friends. Keep telling yourself that.”

You stared after her, open-mouthed in bafflement, as she rolled up the Prophet, tucked it under her arm, and turned around without another word—leaving you with zero reading material and a million questions.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

you have to love how pomfrey could not give less of a fuck that the riddles murdered two students as long as she gets her ot3 absolutely iconic behavior

[manheimsmuse]

Hello! I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could write a Spencer Reid x Reader fic based off “prison for life” by Olivia Rodrigo. Spencer has always been in the protector role so i believe it would fit him, please and thank you

PRISON FOR LIFE ; spencer reid

i know i can protect myself, but when you do it for me it’s hot as hell . . .

a/n: your brain is huge this song is so spencer coded

warnings: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, unsub / case entirely made up to avoid spoilers, protective!spencer, established relationship, secret relationship, mentions of guns, violence, blood, criminal minds in general

a team. the worst kind of conclusion to draw when you’re narrowing in on an unsub, or two in this case. two family annihilators that would stalk and learn the routines of their victims, the kills were usually quick and ruthless, in and out in a matter of minutes.

only this time, your team had gotten there right in time. derek dragged one unsub out the door while the other bolted down the stairs towards the basement. without thinking, you’re sprinting after him, unknowingly running straight into a trap.

you trip the moment you barrel through the door, flying head first down the flight of stairs and landing on the hard concrete with a hard thud.

dizzily, you get to your feet, clumsily reaching for your gun only to realise you dropped it on your way down. it’s dark, you’re disoriented, and most terrifyingly, you’re not alone down here.

a fact you’re abruptly reminded of when a cord is wrapped around your throat, pulling your back flush against the chest of the unsub you were hunting. the initial panic urges you to scramble, but your training kicks in and you manage the lodge your elbow right into his ribs making him drop the cable.

the same elbow connects with his jaw with a satisfying crack but he’s not going easily, using the hair at the back of your head as leverage to bash your head against a dust old desk.

the struggle goes on for what feels like hours, and you’re giving as good as you’re getting. with a successful knee to his groin you send the unsub tumbling to the ground, and right as he’s about to lunge at you a metallic click sounds from behind where you stand.

“one more step and i’ll empty my clip”

spencer reid, your favourite coworker who also happens to be your long time boyfriend, has his gun pointed at the unsub with one hand as the other reaches out to pull you behind him protectively.

in a matter of seconds tara is cuffing the dirtbag before you and hauling him up the stairs with the help of jj, leaving you and spencer in the dusty basement.

“I had it under control.”

“It was no problem, darling, honestly, no need to thank me” spencer teases, holstering his gun and taking your face in his hands to fully examine the extent of your injuries “you really think i was just gonna ignore the fact you ran after a killer and didn’t come back within sixty seconds?”

“i’m not some damsel in distress” you groan, letting him examine your face with no resistance “i can protect myself”

“i know.” spencer nods, using his thumb to swipe the blood away from your bottom lip “it’s not gonna stop me protecting you, though. sorry”

he can see through your faux annoyance. spencer knows just as much as you do that you like having him as your protector, it’s ‘his job’ as he put it.

though, his protectiveness has made hiding your relationship that bit trickier.

everyone on the team would take a bullet for each other, there was no doubt about it, but people hotch were beginning to notice that spencer often went above and beyond when it came to your safety.

like when the bau were being targeted, he never left your side, if you were sent to interview a suspect reid was right there with you. even if a joke was made at your expense, it wouldn’t be entertained by spencer.

sometimes you could pass it off as it being because you were a woman, because even though all the women on the team were more than capable, the men on the team had a fierce protective streak for them whether or not they knew.

“you’re so annoying..” you grumble, fighting a small smile.

“mhm” spencer chuckles, pressing a quick, light kiss to your head “i love you too, darling”

“oh!”

a squeak from tara has both of you whipping your heads in her direction, frozen in the mixture of fear and embarrassment that you’d just been caught out.

“well,” tara clears her throat and makes a poor attempt at concealing a grin “we’re all done here when you two are ready.”

[wandascrush]

Natalie, the sweet one

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!reader

Warnings: feelings developing, light touches, that’s all I think :)

Summary: Your relationship with the rich redhead slowly, but surely, blooms

Song: Opera house- Cigarettes After Sex

Nimble fingers quickly buttoned the slippery pink buttons that accented the white blouse you had on, hugging you perfectly in every corner. Swatting away the dust that fell on your black skirt in front of your mirror, you realized it showed the scar on the side of your thigh. The scar you hated. Nevermind that, you fluffed up the bouncy h/c hair that sweeetly framed your face before grabbing the cherry lipstick you stole from your mom, running out the door and down the flight of stairs in your apartment. Right as you were about to open the door leading out to the smoggy street you lived on, the tip of your shoe bent a tad too far and sent you tumbling down the last three stair steps, sending you face first into the door before your arms awkwardly caught you.

By the time you arrived at Natasha’s beautiful home in Manhattan, a small cut on your lip started to come apart and mix hints of blood with the cherry lipstick that adorned your pouty lips. Your rang the doorbell to the Romanoffs home. The ring sounded so perfect, like it belonged in one of your favorite shows with a perfect family. A dark haired, tall, lean woman with deep eyes opened the door for you with such poise and grace- Natasha’s mom. Something about the two was very similar, but it wasn’t necessarily by features. Her mother smiled, extending a gracious hand with a jewel the size of a rock on her ring finger, “Make yourself comfortable, she’ll be right down I’m sure.” This was your third time being over to their house as you two have started working together, and you found Mrs. Romanoff to be unexpectedly sweet. As you were guided into the living room, your curious eyes wandered from luxury to luxury, capturing everything like a camera. What a life. Especially their perfect family portraits, the entire family looked so beautiful and well put together. Each piece of clothing they adorned was brand new, most likely no hand-me downs.

The click-clack of Mary-Jane’s caught your attention, your study buddy ascending the winding stair case to the living room. Her eyes lit up as soon as they caught yours across the room. You two always worked in the study that sat untouched while her mom was always away doing…well no one actually knew. She just had a busy energy to her. The study is a quaint, old-fashioned space, tucked away. Time seems to stand still while your there, and 3:00 pm quickly turns into 6 before you know it. It’s filled with the comforting scent of aged paper and polished wood. The room is lined with tall wooden shelves, packed tightly with books of all kinds—some worn and weathered, others crisp and new. The shelves reach up to the ornate ceiling, where brass chandeliers hang, casting a warm, golden light that dances softly across the room.

As much as you tried to keep the conversations to concepts for the robotics project, your chats often drift beyond the pages of your textbooks. The two of you end up talking about everything, from your hopes to the constraints of your small high school, and even working after college. Natasha speaks of places she’s been, the things she’s seen. Through all of this, you get a sense that she’s lonely…that maybe no one really talks to her. It resonates with you. You notice that the redhead that sits so close to you is such a funny girl. She genuinely makes you laugh. It’s nice to not have to be the comedian for once. A part of you hurts though, when you remember the poisonous little thoughts of your mean stereotypes toward her.

As it gets later and creeps into the evening, the sun sets, casting a warm, golden glow through the windows. Natasha reads aloud from a book, her voice smooth and captivating, the words of the textbook spilling the space between you.

As she reads, you find yourself mesmerized, not just by the words, but by her. There’s something in the way she looks at you, a softness in her eyes that you’ve never noticed before. The world has taught you that feelings like these are dangerous. But in this moment, everything else fades away.

She finishes reading and looks up, meeting your gaze, “I just,” her chest falls with a sigh, “I want people to know that I’m smart. When people look at me, it’s like they see nothing. But I really am, you know…smart.” There’s a moment of silence, and the air is thick with unspoken words. You see a flicker of something in her eyes-hesitation, vulnerability. “I know you are, Nat. I know that.”

You look at her sympathetically, and gently touch her hand. Does she feel it too? This inexplicable connection that seems to grow stronger with each passing day.

Finally, Natasha speaks again, her voice barely above a whisper. “Do you ever feel like you’re not quite where you’re supposed to be? Like there’s something more out there, something that you can’t quite name but you know it’s meant for you?”

You nod, unable to find the words to express that you know exactly what she means.The room feels smaller, the walls closing in as your heartbeat quickens. You move closer, whispering, “I think I know what you mean.”

“I knew you would.”

The tension between you is palpable, an invisible thread pulling you together. Nat reaches out, her hand lightly brushing against your knee, sending a shiver down your spine. She hesitates, giving you a chance to pull away, but you don’t. You can’t. And just like that, a line you didn’t know could exist, was blurred.

Tag list: @kkreader78o

[tastesousweet]

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (viii) - pt 1 pt 2 p3 p4 p5 p6 p7

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : the triplets' birthday party is a perfect place for flirting, tension, and... well, matt and y/n's forte.

warnings : use of alcohol, weed and smut ( just a lil flithy icl ), beware that the word count on this ho is crazy - meaning i did not proofread!

mickey speaks : this took a MINUTE to get out im sawrryyyy. i tried to fit everything into one part and ended up rewriting almost the entire part last minute (which is most of the reason why this is very delayed), sooo hope you love??? bc i dont lmfao also the triplets r a couple yrs older in this (turning 23)

THIS IS PART EIGHT GO READ THE OTHERS FIRST!!!

"JESUS, matt. can you take this seriously, please?" chris scoffs, taking the dry-erase marker cap from its awkward spot between his teeth.

matt's not one to continue adding his opinion knowing it won't be listened to. he prefers to leave the impossible-to-get-a-word-in debating to nick and chris who have no problem yelling over each other to the point that they don't even know what the issue ever was.

so he's found comfort in sitting at the dining room table with his eyes firmly closed and arms used as a pillow for his head, leaving nothing but a dollop of his hair to be shown, or as he told chris "attempting to find peace for myself while living with you chaotic fucks."

"what could you possibly want from me?" matt asks without moving from his face down position, voice muffled and strained.

"i want you to fight for your opinion! don't you care about what we do for our birthday?!" chris stresses while nick rolls his eyes and falls into a bored stance, leaning against the dark marble counter.

matt finally raises his head causing his face to scrunch up and eyes to squint due to the sudden and bright change in lighting, "no? i actually don't give a shit, chris."

chris first feels the instigator within him sighing in defeat only for his pride to take center. he figures if nick has practically given up and matt cares so little, that gives him all of the creative action for birthday plans. exactly what he wanted.

his lips form a tight line to hide his satisfaction as he shakes his head slowly, unevenly wiping his hand across the magnetic white board (that he used to write the many ideas thrown around in his head, mistakenly thinking a visual would narrow things down for him and nick). “‘kay. then i’m getting nate to help plan us a house party and it'll be fucking perfect. because i care.”

౨ৎ

you've never been so grateful of your front door's placement this close to the kitchen. but carrying three cake boxes and a tote bag the size of your torso, desperately needing to put them down after traveling up three flights of stairs, will surely be the task that brings that gratitude out of you.

though when you arrive, your scrunched eyebrows and pouted lips are an apparent contrast to the enthusiastic vibe of your kitchen- with andrea moving her hips to the lines of spanish dancing in the air, waiting patiently for the sizzling indication of her fried egg's tenderness, and the use of pink lemonade-colored towels or handles on utensils (that made you and andrea way too happy during one of your first target runs as roommates) scattered around.

drea finally notices you when your metal keychain clanks against the countertop, "y/n!" her excitement slightly dulls with her widened eyes when she gets a better view of your face, turning the stove off and coming closer to hug you. "hi, good morning-ish. are you feeling okay? ...or, like, sad?" you silently accept her gesture and tuck your head in her neck while she caresses your hair with a sigh, "or both at the same time...?"

your response is a breathy sigh and pause before the words tumble out, "m'fine, i think. just overestimated myself a little with staying up so late." you remove your head from her neck and move backwards to lean against the countertop, fanning your hands to create a much needed breeze, "and i'm so hot, it's making me feel gross."

andrea peers into the clear plastic cutout on top of one of the boxes, "at least the cakes look nice."

a week ago you set your mind on gifting the triplets their own cakes for their birthday (thinking that sharing a day was already enough, no way would you want them to have to share and agree on only one cake). you easily gathered their cake preferences by sneaking it into any random conversations you'd have with each of them.

and after a week of planning and preparing, was it so bad if you wanted a fun night in with your roomie? andrea warned you several times to go to bed considering you'd be up at 5:30 the next morning, but you insisted that you'd be fine and asked her to help you clear the rest of the box-wine in the fridge.

you could tell matt was a little irritated that you chose rewatching episodes of a sitcom and "cheap ass box-wine" over sex with him (of course throwing the fact that his birthday would be arriving in only a few hours right in your face) but you pioneered and assured him that you'll make time for him the next day, while also sweetly reminding him that you too have a life outside of this exchange.

at midnight you sent the triplets a group message to congratulate. and a few minutes later you left andrea on the couch for your room, sending matt a birthday text of his own (because you did feel the tiniest bit guilty for rejecting him earlier) paired with a picture with your shirt lifted, hem tucked behind your teeth, and your boobs sat in a sheer bra with decorative white trimming and a bow in the center.

he didn't respond for almost an hour and you tried to not feel embarrassed or overthink his reaction at all.

you couldn't stand the giddiness that came over you (you'd blame it on being the slightest bit tipsy) when you finally got into bed to find his response gentle, in his own matt-kind-of-way, with your image loved and a grayed bubble text reading: "Very pretty, thank you"

"thanks, drea. they were a bitch to make." water drowns out your voice as you start to wash your hands in the deep sink. you run your soapy fingers over a small cut you got when dealing with an irritating cardboard box earlier, finding the stinging of the hot water a wonderful kind of bitter that further plays into your foul mood.

"mmm... i'm sure. but it's not like you can even tell. they almost look store-bought," she attempts to flatter you, turning her head from the packaged desserts to offer a smile.

when you're sweet you're the most ripe, juicy peach, eveyone knows this. but god, when you're feeling down you really are the most cranky, green apple that could force a pucker onto even the most undaunted. your face is dragged of any aloofness or sunshine with your dry response as she turns to resume her breakfast, "uh huh. you don't have to coddle me. i'll get over myself soon, i promise." you dry your hands.

andrea would argue she's not coddling only looking out for your well being- because she wants to and knows if she were neglecting her needs you'd be right on her ass as well, "okay...and did you eat?"

"just like, a bagel before i left," you open the fridge and let the door hang open as you walk across the kitchen to grab the cake boxes and set them inside. you make sure to mind your feet, noticing figaro nosily has his furry face lifted to sniff into the side door.

she strings some sarcasm into her sentiment, "oh yum." she pauses, letting the sizzle of the egg and (now faint) music linger in the air before she speaks again, "how about you go take a shower or do something that'll make you feel a little better?"

"you know i would but being around my favorite roommate is already making me feel sooo much better!" you deliver the dry joke with a smile and pick up figaro when you shut the fridge door with an accidental slam.

she turns to look at you over her shoulder as she grabs two glass plates for the both of you, scolding you like a mother (as she tended to transform into at times like this due to her essentially parenting her younger siblings) "y/n, you're only fighting yourself, go ahead now."

౨ৎ

matt can hear chris' voice only grow louder and pound against the hallway walls but assumes he is heading anywhere but the space that matt's in, deciding to continue brushing his teeth instead.

he'd only be so lucky on his birthday.

"but yeah-" chris interrupts himself to knock and barely wait for an answer before he walks into matt's sleek bathroom. "matt's here!" his phone is carelessly thrown in front of matt's face (with a frothing mouth and irritated eyes) before he has truly registered anything that has happened.

he truly wants to roll his eyes infinitely but when he sees his mother is the one on the phone, his grumpy front is quickly wilted and a glimmer kisses his spirit in a way only she could produce.

it's clear she hadn't expected matt to be in the middle of something as personal as brushing his teeth when she first sees him, "oh, hi matt!" she understands him well enough to know he absolutely hates this (this being chris unnecessarily close to him as he hunches over to keep matt's face in the camera) so she attempts to amuse him, "wow, you're really showing your age now, aren't you? just looking so put together and nice." she laughs to herself as matt tries to not smile whilst brushing, holding his index finger up to indicate that he would address her with words in only a moment.

"chris, honey, why'd you bring me to your brother when he's busy, anyway?! now we're just watchin' him brush his teeth and the angles you're givin' me are so awkward," she emphasizes her sentence as it goes on.

chris turns the phone back to himself, "because you told me to show him?!"

"no, i said 'where's matt?'" she corrects him in jest.

"okay, so am i incorrect in saying that there was an implication-?"

matt dries his face with a towel and grabs the phone scolding chris, "hey we get it, smartass-" he turns to look at her again with a smile, "sorry mom."

"mhm," she dismisses, "when's this party of yours starting?"

"soon i think," matt moves around chris to exit the bathroom, leaving chris (literally) in the dark.

"okay and how's your birthday been so far?" he smiles knowing how excited she's always been about these things.

"good, i don't feel any different. just doin' the same stuff, except today there's way more people sending me texts and pretending the care about me." matt places the phone against a bowl full of chips in the kitchen, waving when he notices chris followed him.

"get down here nick, mom's on the phone!" chris yells, coming into frame and leaning on the counter. "jeez, matt's masochism can't give any of us a break even on days literally made for our happiness. you hearin' this kid ma?"

matt shakes his head, pointing to chris with his handful of chips, "spell masochism."

chris' eyes pinch and before their mother or chris himself reply, nick is running over to them with a smile and yell of "im heree!!"

she's has the much-expected motherly urge to cry seeing her three sons (whom she rarely sees anymore) all in the same frame, "aw, hi nicky! just look at you boys...so sweet."

it only takes another second before she's crumbling in tears. their smiles drop as chris grabs his phone. they all begin spilling out the most comforting phrases they know to cheer her up.

౨ৎ

"okay people! cake is coming through! everyone move. move, move...precious cargo right here and your ass is in the way!" asha yells and shines her phone's flashlight into the faces in the crowded living room as she ushers the girls to the kitchen.

she earns a few glares that she happily dishes back and a few mumbles of "bitch" once she's walked past that has remi "accidentally" stepping on a certain people's shoes while following asha's lead.

the modern open kitchen hosts plenty of drinks and snacks as well as a worried nathan, who's shirt is barely on his torso from the amount of buttons he's undone since stepping foot in the wild space. "oh thank god the cake's are here," he sighs with a throw of his head before frantically moving a platter of chips and guac (that someone was actively eating from) and a few six packs from the island to the opposite counter, encouraging the girls to place them down with an awkward nod of his head and harsh blink of his eyes.

asha holds back a laugh at nate's odd vibe as she moves next to him, nudging his shoulder, "what's wrong with you?"

"nothing," his head whips to look at her, "well, i mean, think 'm just nervous." he starts slow but it seems he needed someone to finally prompt him to share such a frustrated rant, "like- chris comes to me and asks me to throw him the best party. yet he doesn't give me shit to work with besides his home to host it in-" he breathes, "and 'm feelin' all the pressure of planning a party right now but, you know, i just need things to go smooth and then i'll be fine..." he runs a hand through his hair, "you ladies don't worry about me." he fakes a smile and gives a small wave of his wrist to show just how "fine" he is.

coinciding with nate's rant, you've began to pour a hefty amount of vodka and lemon juice (you absolutely scoured the fridge for) into a large glass. you hand it off to andrea with a pleading "mix" as you lick the remaining lemon juice from your thumb and open cabinets to search for shot glasses.

you line up a multitude of shot glasses with various cities labeled on them as andrea pours the mixture in carefully. you immediately bring one up to nathan, "lemon drop?"

"yes, please. no way your a fucking bartender and baker?" nate's eyes widen as he receives the small glass.

"no, definitely not. just live with a girl whois always making her own drinks at home," you smile and grab your own glass as the rest of the girls follow suit.

"i need this right now," remi starts, "let's cheers to drea's DIY shit and nathan making it through the rest of the night!" she woops and the group all let out various chuckles.

"a-fuckin'-men!" nate leans to clink the small glasses softly before taking the shot quickly. he barely recovers from the shot before he's pouring more vodka into his glass and taking a second.

you get the best view of chris turning the corner and seeing you all (his reaction is more specifically for andrea) have arrived. his jaw hangs dramatically as he walks over but quickly turns to a big smile when the group all start to sing happy birthday to him. "stop it! stop it!" he jokes and begins to give out hugs and thank each of you for coming. he stops and squeezes you extra tight, bringing up the cakes sat nearby, "i know that bakery anywhere. thank you for my cake."

"of course, i had to," you smile.

"no seriously, you're fuckin' awesome, girl." you can tell he's already a little buzzed from the look in his eyes but you also know he's almost more truthful than ever when drunk.

you notice that when he leaves you to finally greet your roommate, it's very clear he's purposely left andrea last to ensure there would be no rush on his interaction.

the rest of the group leave them to their own world for a moment; as the two hug chris gives her a soft kiss on her forehead, whispering "hi, mi cariña (my darling)" an inside joke between the two of them as chris' struggle with speaking spanish never fails to make andrea laugh.

౨ৎ

"okay, okay, i'll do it," matt finally gives in, lifting himself off of the black couch with people piled on top of it. he hands his drink over to elijah smoothly and begins to playfully rub his hands together.

"'hold my beer' headass," elijah jokes placing the cup off on a side table next to him. matt stops any movement, turning his torso to look back at the boy and start to laugh while holding both middle fingers up.

"matt," erin taps him with the side of her arm twice to get his attention again, handing him the second wii remote in her hands. the screen appears extra bright in contrast to the dimness of the room which causes matt to wonder how the fuck anyone has managed to play just dance in this space without getting a sudden head rush or worse.

"okay, let's do timber because it's classic," she suggests.

"let's not," matt opposes, his hand covering his mouth to hide a grin before running his cursor over the other choices.

erin looks over to him with a blank expression, "i mean i don't care that much you can-"

"'m joking, we'll do timber," matt looks from her to the colorful screen to find the song once more.

when he notices she's stiil looking over at him with an unreadable expression, matt smiles big attempting to not laugh, causing his already-slim eyes to pinch a little extra as he turns to her, "hey e, the screen's right up there, you won't be getting much direction from starin' at me-" he breaks into obnoxious laughter mid-way through his sentence which earns him a small smack on the arm.

erin laughs a little now, "would you stop it? just click 'a' on your fucking remote."

he does as she says and looks to her as the screen loads, "thereee we go, you can cool down now, sweetheart."

as the two dance both matt and his friends make one-off comments and jokes about the many times matt almost fell (and would make sure to blame it on the rug or his shoes). they seem to be having such a great time that you don't know if you only being there for the final few lines of the song, watching erin ride matt's back as they spin in circles laughing, is fortunate or unfortunate.

the claps and whistles are wild when the two finish with a bow, the crowd around them only getting louder when matt teases that he's so hot he might have to take off his shirt, lifting it slightly then putting it back down and calling them pervs. you only shake your head and bite back a smile, hating how fucking charming he is when he allows himself to be completely lost in a good time.

matt would say you snuck onto the sectional couch- because a minute ago you weren't there and now here you are talking elijah's ear off and taking repeated hits of his blunt.

but you wouldn't say you snuck into his area, rather walked in a manner in which you'd be out of his and erin's way- of course not taking away from the birthday boy and his...good friend. so you're a bit surprised he slumps on the couch next to you and not in his original spot on the opposite side of eli, "sunnnyy," he huffs and leans his head back against the couch, "when'd you get here, huh?"

you turn to look at him and he smiles at you then looks up to the ceiling, "think an hour ago? maybe?" you hand him the blunt.

"cool, cool, cool..." matt repeats cutting himself off by placing it in his mouth. he's dressed so stylish and attractive you can't help but scan over him with your eyes; his jersey-style shirt showing off his armfuls of tattoos, baggy jeans, car keys hanging on a cheetah print clip attached to his belt loop, shoes that look straight out of the box, a matching hat that you honestly wish he'd take off, and his signature silver jewelry brightening his attributes in the otherwise dark room.

he makes the slightest "tsss" sound when breathing in the drug before speaking with smoke plummeting from his mouth, "you should dance next," he brings it back to his mouth for a final hit.

"mmm maybe...if lucas is up for it," you play with the metal can of a wine cooler that you hold on your bare knee as matt leans over you to hand an occupied eli his blunt back, his laugh trails smoke out of his mouth and into your face as he slouches back next to you.

"forgot you're fuckin, hilarious! holy shit." his hand makes its way up his own shirt to rest on his stomach as he giggles.

a smile grows on your face, "no seriously is he here?" you lift yourself up a little and pretend to look for the familiar face.

"stop that." matt chuckles and tugs your wrist gently. you almost get nervous this time when you look him in the eyes. when he's drunk, matt is so carefree and giggly in a way you rarely get to see. and now you’re starting to notice how the poor lighting makes his features appear arched and his face look carved into, yet the jagged becomes soft and fuzzy whenever the gumdrop-colored lights of the wii game hit his face with the beat of the song. he notices your staring and lets go of your wrist, "what's up?"

"nothing."

"excuse me everyone! i would like to give a speech! hello, i am giving a speechhh! everyone shut up, please!" nick projects his voice into the microphone- he stole from the karaoke machine -while standing on a dining room chair.

as people start to calm down nick speaks, "right, so, it's my fuckin' birthday!” he raises his arms and dances his fingers before pointing out matt, “and it's matt's fuckin' birthday, right over there! let's get some flashlights pointing over to my brother please!" matt’s face flushes as he covers his eyes from the sudden bright lights. you squint your own eyes from next to him and move closer to eli to avoid the flashes.

"and it's chris' fuckin' birthday..." nick looks around, "i couldn't tell you where exactly he is, just know that he is also here tonight!” the crowd roars, “anyway... i'm so- so happy to have you all with us tonight to celebrate. we turn twenty fucking three and... that feels so old saying it out loud. holy shit." nick cringes obnoxiously, slurring his next few words, "but i love my two best friends in the whole world: chris and matt, i wouldn’t wish to share a birthday with anyone else… and i love all of you thank you again. oh! and shout out nathan for holding this shit down! if you see nathan give him something... i don't know- money? a kiss? a drink? fuck if i know." as nick speaks cameron nudges him with a shot glass which he finally acknowledges, "and apparently this is a toast now so, you know, here's to getting older and having the most fun forever!" he raises the glass in the air and drinks it without further thought, inviting everyone to do the same while cheering and applauding him in excitement.

you raise your wine cooler and let out many cheers along with the rest, but of course matt ridicules you a little in jest, "really? you sit here and 'woo' while i'm going blind?!" he’s still wiping at his eyes, dealing with the aftermath of bright lights shining in his eyes; his vision tainted with faint blue and red splotches only for a second. you lean closer to him, attempting to see his eyes better while uncontrollably laughing.

"are you crying?!"

matt thinks you look really pretty even when you're quite literally pointing and laughing in his face. you move his hands away from his face and he widens his eyes dramatically, "look, no 'm not!” you shake your head in response, “does really it look like it?"

you notice his bottom eyelashes are slightly clumped and you move your hand closer, placing your thumb under his eye, "baby, that's damp!" you giggle and pull his hand close, using your thumb to draw a wet line across his tattooed wrist to prove your point.

he drags out his first word, "alrighttt. whatever! you got me, sweet girl. ‘cause god forbid i have the ability to cry?!” pulling away from you with a smile as he dries his eyes by rubbing them gently.

matt excuses himself with a quick "gonna go grab another drink or somethin'" before he does something irrational like kiss you in front of all these fucking people.

౨ৎ

you carefully open each of the packaged cakes, each revealing the boys' full names written in cursive with the uniquely styled and colored buttercream frosting you made that very morning. you used the same shades to make the puffed frosting border of the cakes, for an easy, soft garnish. remi follows behind you, lighting candles on the cakes as you go.

there's a chaos that comes with trying to gather this many (drunk) people in one area and capture their attention long enough to sing then cut cakes. it doesn’t help that the hosts are at their most unserious themselves; matt and nick both snickering and making jokes while holding onto each other while chris talks to one of his friends off to the side with his obnoxiously loud voice without regard for anyone around him.

“okay, people we’re singing!” nathan attempts to yell over the loudness of the crowded room. you and remi are then in the position of getting the attention of the birthday boys who can’t focus on the task at hand, leaving you both to snap your fingers and call them as if you were attempting to take photos of a stubborn baby.

you truly wish it didn’t irk you so terribly but you can’t help your annoyance when matt looks over to erin after she shouts from next to you, “matt, can you pay attention? your cake’s ready,” and he listens, moving nick off of him with a shoulder nudge and laugh as he approaches the row of cakes.

you recover quickly with a smile once both matt and nick’s eyes widen and mouths hang open in awe of your hard work, “s’perfect,” matt whispers to himself, now adjusting his hat to fit backwards.

“oh my god, the wax got in my cake! what the fuck,” nick whines and that cues drea to tug chris’ arm softly and urge him with a hushed, “chris ven aquí (come here)!”

and he's is down so terribly that he moves to where she wants him immediately.

chris is a known sap, especially when wasted, so he’s stood fighting the urge to cry when taking in the scene in front of him: his brothers and friends gathered together to celebrate their twenty three years of life together.

he tucks his lip into his mouth and looks down at the burning flame, slowly smiling when everyone around them begin to sing a rendition of happy birthday with all the charmingly bad high notes and run on “you”s but not forgetting to crunch all three names into a single line.

midway through the song, chris leans to hug matt in comfort while sneaking a reach into matt’s back pocket to grab the slim joint he just knew would be there. he grins to himself, “sweet! free j and free light,” placing it into his mouth as he leans over his cake to spark the joint hanging in his mouth with as much precision as possible. andrea shakes her head in confusion while filming on her phone beside to you.

“dude,” matt lets out a breathy laugh while waving his hand to clear the atmosphere of the potent smoke. sudden applause recognizing the end of the song and leading the three to blow out their candles.

matt gave up on birthday wishes a while into his teen years and nothing changes this year; he blows his candles out and claps along with the crowd before accepting his joint from chris for a few puffs of celebration.

you watch in amusement as nathan distracts the boys with shots to get them away from the cakes as andrea begins to cut. except no shot could beat the view of andrea bent over the counter like she is now, so chris is practically on top of drea with annoying whines of “i wanna see,” when she asks him to be careful and wait a second.

you, however, are actively searching for the spiked punch that elijah recommended when you run into erin and matt talking. they both look to you with different expressions as you squeeze yourself by them to get to the punch bowl.

you remind yourself that erin is your friend, not your enemy. nor your competition. meaning you also have to remind yourself that matt is some guy you fuck around with, not your boyfriend.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in while grabbing a plastic cup and using a small ladle to pour the peach colored liquid for yourself. instead of flat-out staring at the two, you take turns looking from them to your cup. you watch as they pose for a picture; erin taking his hat to place on her own head and matt smiling next to her. and another with her kissing his cheek as he laughs.

it’s upsetting- no, humiliating to you. and how especially humiliating that your first thought is whether he’ll dismiss you for erin when you ask him to fuck you later tonight? you blame the weed for getting you so worked up over minutiae interactions.

you’re brought out of your daze in the most humbling of ways: a sudden splash hits your bare foot and covers your black kitten heels in the sticky juice. “fuck,” you groan and place the ladle back into the punch bowl, taking a large sip of your overflowing drink as you look down at the puddle of pink you’re standing in.

you find a towel laying nearby and lower yourself to fumble and wipe your shoe.

“damn y/n, you like my punch that much?” a voice asks from next to you.

you look up and see lucas smiling down at you, “you made it?” you ask genuinely as he helps you rise to standing again.

“no,” he smiles and you roll your eyes, “but im wondering how you managed to spill any with this itty bitty fucking ladle?” he jokes, lifting the ladle and watching it pour the small bit of juice it managed to gather back into the bowl.

“i just wasn’t paying attention,” you laugh and sip your drink again.

“mhm…why’s that?” he squints his eyes down at you.

you tap two of your french tip fingernails against your skull, “so much is happening up here.”

“like what?”

“i don’t knowww,” you smirk and look away to take another sip of your drink.

“well, i know you look sexy as fuck in this dress right now. look at you,” he wets his lips and offers his hand to you with a grin, showing off a few of his shining tooth gems.

you try to maintain your composure and not smile too big but it’s a challenge when he playfully gets you to spin slowly for him and show off the tiny strapless dress you have on as he “oouu”s and whistles to hype you up.

“mm, you like that?” you look up at him, blinking slowly.

he nods and chuckles, “you know damn well-” looking off to the side then gaining your eye contact once more as he wipes over his mouth with his hand, glancing over your body, “‘course i do.”

"good. we should dance then," you guide him to the living room with his hand still in yours.

౨ৎ

you hate to be the bitch on her phone at a party but you can’t stop staring at it. you tap past the story then go back to look again. you even rewatch it in the perspective of someone who hadn’t been there to see the photo taken to see how it would be perceived. hurting your own feelings knowing they could very well assume matt to be erin’s boyfriend with how close they’re standing and her lips against his face.

it’s very dizzying and ruining your high quite a bit, especially paired with andrea who continues to look to you to celebrate after every ping pong ball she throws whether she makes it or not.

you go to rewatch the story once more, only this time a text from matt slides down on your screen to interrupt your sulking:

MATT

Hey come here

Y/N

where???

MATT

Outside youll see me

you let andrea know you’re going outside for air before walking over to a glass sliding door to let yourself out.

you see matt holding a stick while looking down at his phone, fire pit radiating next to him, a mass of people surrounding it.

your arms wrap and hold onto your shoulders as you walk closer, feeling the breeze rack through your body despite the internal heat from the many drinks you've had over the course of the night.

as you approach, asha gets up from her spot on nick's lap to give you a hug, "y/n! hiii." she pulls away and her hands remain on your shoulders, "your cake was so delicious, i tried a bite of each."

"oh good, 'm glad." you smile.

she feels your hands, "are you cold, babe? come sit." she guides you over to the group of people sat around the fire. "you can take my spot, i'll stand," she insists and nick agrees smiling kindly.

you interrupt matt's texting to figure out why he wanted you here, cupping your hands to shout, "matt!" across the lawn from your spot atop nick.

he looks over and quips his head while moving closer, "hey, was just wonderin' if you'd try my s'more? nick thinks he makes them best." he smiles but you can't help but feel that there's a catch to this.

"always gotta prove someone wrong. yeah, i'll do it." you agree as he moves to grab the snack he'd apparently already prepared.

nick mutters, "don't let him bully you into liking his, and don't forget who's acting as your chair currently!" from behind you as you giggle into the bite that matt gives you, holding the smore in his hand up to your mouth.

you chew slowly and matt watches, chatter and crinkles of the fire filling the heated space. you finally nod your head and matt smirks, "so good, right?" matt asks and brings his hand to hold your face and wipe around the corner of your mouth, looking to his right with a smile then back to you.

you feel awkwardly and unnaturally sensual, moving his hand away from your face and searching for what he's looked over to, catching the eye of lucas, standing with a group of guys lighting up near a fence. so that is the fucking catch.

you lick your lips of any remaining marshmallow and shake your head, annoyed, "i don't know, it tastes normal and graham cracker is fucking stale." you look up at him and his face is adorned with confusion on your change of heart.

you feel too fucking weird about this. you wish you couldn't believe that he'd use your feelings towards him for some weird shit like claiming you from lucas, but it's not surprising in the slightest; matt wants his cake yet he'll always want to eat it too.

"yeah, nick wins." you pat the side of nick's thigh to grab his attention and tell him the news, making him cheer and bring you into his chest for a small hug.

matt's lips form the smallest pucker as he watches you get up and walk towards the house without further conversation.

"bye, y/n!" asha yells.

౨ৎ

matt lays flat on his bed, staring up at the ceiling to try and organize his many thoughts when his door creaks slightly, allowing a roar of party chatter into his space before it shuts again.

he lifts only his head up to see erin stood with a small smile before letting himself fall back into his plush comforter, "hey, i got your shit in the first drawer over there." he points to a tall dresser across the room.

he listens to her shuffle around before finding a large bag of weed, coming close to him and placing a few folded bills in his front pocket slowly. she then moves so that she hovers over his dazed face, "thank you, are you sure you don't need anything else from me? it is your birthday..." she grins and runs a hand over his chest. he mimics her smile (intended in more of a mocking way than she takes it) and laughs softly.

"no, i'm good on that, e. you enjoy your doobies and shit," he continues to softly laugh, eyes crinkling at the sides before she thanks him again and gives him a small peck.

"happy birthday, matty!" she sings before closing the door to his room and heading straight to his bathroom next door to pee.

matt would say it hasn't even been four minutes since erin left him when you're stumbling into his room. he repeats his look up, only to soften a bit when he sees you make effort to move some of his shoes out of the walkway so that you don't trip, "hi, baby" he waves you over with his fingers and welcomes you as if you'll be staying for long, "lock that door for me." he figures if you came to see him after storming away like that at the fire pit you're either gonna spit your thoughts in his face or sit on his face, there's no in between.

"i found you," you smile and twist the smaller knob to lock the door from the rowdiness. you then make your way over to sit at the end of his bed and begin to fiddle with the straps on your tiny heels, "my feet have been achin' so bad," you look at him as you complain.

"mm, i'm sure."

when your feet are finally free from your shoes you place them on the ground and adjust yourself on the bed. you silently grimace seeing matt with his shoes remaining on his feet despite being on his bed.

he giggles when you begin to unlace them, "feel like a fuckin' princess."

you roll your eyes and begin to pull them off, "with the way you act you might as well be one."

"ouch? it's my birthday," he holds his heart while looking to you playfully.

you tilt your head and drop his second shoe right on the floor as you stare back at him, "oh, i know."

"right. what's wrong now?"

you run your hands along his legs as you inch up his body and hover yourself over his crotch, "nothing. everything's fine, right?" you adjust your hair away from your face.

"sure, uh huh," matt looks up at you and bites his lower lip while moving his hands to hold and squeeze your full thighs. he silently admires the way you fill that tiny dress and look down at him from this angle.

you look away for a moment then decide to put your full weight onto matt, muffled groan leaving his mouth. your lips curve up as you pull his bottom lip from his mouth with your thumb to replace it with your mouth, sucking and kissing it. your tongue runs over his lips a few times before matt takes hold of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to capture your mouth messily with his own.

the kiss is a filthy, drunken sight: noses meshing and colliding, tongues playing and licking, and moans escaping and ringing into the air desperately.

you pull away with a wet smack and whisper into his lips, "i've got another present for you..."

"mmm?" his eyes widen and he squeezes your neck gently, kissing you once more, "for real? like, more than this?!" his hand feathers over your ass, insinuating the way you're sat on top of him right now could easily be his best gift tonight.

"yes," you breathe then begin to giggle, "you're gonna lose your shit, i think."

his mind can think of a lot of things you could do to make him lose his shit, "damn, okay. well, show me. you got my stomach dancin' and shit." he holds you so that you stay put as he lifts himself to rest on his elbows.

your smile bites over your bottom lip now as you raise yourself from his lap once more. your nail taps against your upper thigh as you look down at him, "kiss, please?"

he doesn't have to move much, as your leg is already so close to his face. he keeps heated eye contact with you when he kisses and marks the skin you'd point to, causing small mindless noises to fall from your mouth as you play with his soft hair (that you unfortunately hadn't seen much of tonight).

when he's finished he looks up to you with his red, puffy eyes and wet lips as you thank him, "now...pay attention." you gently demand as you slowly move your dress up your body.

matt studies your movement in awe, eventually catching your gift in his line of sight. he knows you must think you're so sneaky when you only show a glimmer of your lacy white panties, with a cursive red "M" embroidered near the waistband, before quickly pushing your dress back down with an uncontrollable laugh.

matt's face morphs to express a million different emotions and he doesn't realize how loud his voice is when he speaks, "what the fuck?!" he looks up at you- with your head thrown back laughing -then back to your covered lower half. "what was that? hold the fuck on," you body is so loose with laughter that he easily grabs you and flips you onto the bed so that you lay underneath him, still squirming in your own giggles (yelling a few "matt!"s or "matt wait i can't breathe!"s).

his face is full of amusement when he firmly lifts your dress to get a better look at what you've done for him. "oh my god, 'm gonna pass the fuck out. look at you, sunny!" he rubs his eyes dramatically and shakes his head. "no, you're so bad."

"you like it?" you ask, licking over your lips and reaching your hands up to trace the small hairs prickling on matt's jawline.

"course i do, the fuck type of question is that?!" he turns his face to kiss your inner palm before bending closer to kiss your lips once more.

"happy birthday, matt." you say in between kisses, "there's somethin' else if you look a little more."

"really?" he immediately splits from you and looks to your panties once more, running his hands over your lower stomach. the cherry red joint laying against your hip and tucked into your underwear catches him by surprise but the stoner in him nearly cums on the spot.

he removes it from it's place and kisses you mumbling a reminder that "you're so hot" and "the marijuana bug must've bit you real bad" before he gets up to store it in his bedside table, patting the closed drawer and joking, "for when i miss you."

he stands above you for an extra second to shake his head slowly with a tut, but when you whine "c'mereee," he's hushing you and removing his shirt before crawling back on top of you.

your hands run across every inch of his warm torso as you both sloppily kiss, and matt's own hands curiously make their way into your underwear for a proper feel of your wet core.

he allows you to desperately grind your hips against his hand until he eventually decides he needs to taste you. he lowers himself to face your clothed pussy, tracing the "M" with a finger as he places his tongue flat against you and places pressure on your most sensitive area.

his finger once tracing, now moves to pull the tiny piece of fabric off of you. he looks into your eyes as he easily stuffs the cloth in his back pocket, mumbling "mine now" while moving his fingers through your sticky folds.

you cry out when he dips two fingers into you teasingly, over and over again, and another series of moans leaves your mouth when he begins to lick over your clit eagerly.

matt continues his efforts, spitting on your clit a few times to watch it drip down to where his fingers harshly move inside of you; his movements quickening while he watches.

and just before you cum you dumbly warn him, which makes him stop entirely. "no, matt. stop, please come back. please."

"shhh. don't start that shit, you'll cum twice on your day..." he unbuttons his pants, "plus, you know it feels so much better when you wait and have to chase it a few times." he smirks and nudges your clit with his finger once more making you breathe out a moan and close your legs around his hand.

he pulls away from you to finish undressing before laying back dowm in his tight boxers, "come take care of me, sunny. i need you."

"hm...and i needed you too..." you lift yourself up and pout as you climb off the bed and get closer to where he lies, turning and moving your hair away for your back, "unzip me, please?"

he does just as you say and watches you finish removing your dress in only one movement. when you climb on top of him he now gets a view of your tits directly in his face that has him humming and immediately feeling you up.

he kisses and licks the skin while you scratch at his scalp in the most sensual way. you reach behind you to dip your hand into his boxers, immediately coming in contact with his sensitive and slightly sticky tip. he tilts his head back with a groan as soon as you begin to stroke him beneath the fabric making a sinical smile form on your face.

you push the boxers further down his thighs to fully expose him as you bring your lips down to him again. his moans flow into your mouth when you repeatedly rush your movements then slowly circle his head.

eventually matt's eyebrows pinch in terribly tight and he grabs your hand, sighing, "god damn, baby. chill or i'll be cummin' before i'm inside you."

you roll your eyes playfully, "okay?" as you adjust yourself to align over his length, before sinking down on top of him.

"mmm, fuck." he encourages when you lift yourself and slam back down on top of him. you move his hands to hold your hips then spread your hands over his chest as you continue.

matt can't help but slap your ass a few times after discovering the way your muscles flutter around him so perfectly each time. but one smack in particular aids you to practically fall onto his chest whining, "matt i can't, please just-."

he immediately lifts your face to give him a much needed kiss before reaching to realign himself and hold onto you as he thrusts rhythmically into you.

moans sneak from your mouth and interrupt you from kissing and holding onto matt's neck, which only encourage matt until he's completely flustered and drilling into you sloppily.

matt can tell you're cumming by your all too and familiar broken moans. and once you harshly kiss him and ask him to let go in return he finally stills inside of you and groans into your soft shoulder.

a silence coats the room, leaving the overpowering music and talking of the party to linger through the air in a cloudy murmur.

matt keeps his arms around you while you recover from your high, staring at the ceiling of his faintly lit room in questionable thought.

and he assumes you must be doing the same; only he mistakes the wetness of your tears for his own sweat as you turn your head away from him to dissolve your embarrassingly shaky breaths.

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

tag list is in the replies ily!!!!

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Do Not Go

Vax’ildan x Reader

Words: 2349

Part One of Two

Summary: Separated from the others in a brutal battle, Vax tries to save you before you fall to your injuries. 

Notes: You guys knew this had to be coming eventually. I have so much angst planned for this man, it isn’t even funny. Also, I’ve never written for an animated character before (let alone one based on a DND campaign) so hopefully this goes well. I’m playing around with jumping around in a timeline, so bear with me. I love Vax so much. 

-

“This way!” 

“No, you idiot. This way!” 

“Close the gate!” 

“Hurry!”

The voices shot over your head like the arrows that were actually shooting over your head. Ahead, the large metal gate began to lower. 

Shit shit shit shit. 

The whole group ran faster. 

Scanlan and Grog got under first, Grog nearly smacking his head against the bars. Then Pike, then Keyleth. Vex ducked under the closing bars. You and Vax were only seconds behind. You stopped when you heard him cry out. An arrow grazed his leg, making him fall. 

“Go!” He yelled to you, voice urgent and out of breath. 

You looked at the closing gate and turned on your heel, sprinting to his side. You grabbed a hold of his arm and helped him back to his feet. 

“I’m not leaving you.” 

The gate crashed down with a dooming thud. 

“Vax!” Vex screamed, reaching her hand through the bars.

 Soldiers descended upon you. 

“We’ll hold them off.” He told her, readying his daggers for a fight. 

She remained, along with the rest of the group, eyes wide and panicked. 

Vax put a hand on hers. “We will find another way around. Go.” 

Vex’s eyes snapped to you. “Keep him alive.” 

All you could do was nod and she reluctantly pried herself away from the gate. The group disappeared into the dark hall. 

Vax watched them go, keeping his back to the soldiers. He turned his head towards you. “How many?”

You scanned the crowd before you. “Fifteen, give or take.” You shrugged. 

He smirked. “Better get to it then.” He whipped around, throwing one of his daggers into a soldier’s eye. 

Arrows shot past your head, nearly slicing your cheek. Three soldiers with swords charged you. You cast a bolt into two of them and watched them crackle into dust. The third swung at you. His sword only collided with your wrist guard, but the impact knocked you backward into another guard. A sharp, burning pain radiated from where you collided with him. 

“Son of a-” You gasped. 

He charged you again. 

You grabbed both of them and cast your personal favorite spell. They both collapsed with a painful scream. 

Vax finished off another soldier, his dagger cleanly slicing open the man’s throat. Five more rushed down the hall towards you. 

“I thought you said there were only fifteen!” He yelled. 

“I believe that’s our cue, darling!” You shouted over the clashing metal. 

Vax took your hand and the two of you started to run. You cast a handful of ball bearings onto the floor, buying you at least a head start. 

You sprinted around corners and ducked into dark halls, hoping to lose them. Finally, Vax found an open door and pulled you through. It opened directly to a flight of stairs. Neither of you caught it in time and you both tumbled down into the dark. You caught the door with your foot, thankfully, closing it so the soldiers wouldn’t find you. 

You landed on a hard, stone floor. Pain radiated through your body. You could hardly move. Even when Vax helped you to your feet, there was a stinging, awful ache in your back. 

“Right. A little light, love?” Vax said. You cast a small fire and lit up the space. It appeared to be a cellar. “Perfect. We can wait for the soldiers to pass and then we can go find the others.” 

“Vax-”

“We make a pretty good team, don’t we?” He chuckled. “I have to say, I’m impressed. The way you handled yourself was incredible. That spell? Those men didn’t stand a chance.” His lips formed a victorious smirk. 

“Vax…” Your voice was weaker now. 

His hazel eyes turned from amused to worried in an instant. 

You took a step towards him and immediately collapsed into his arms. 

“Y/N, what is it?” He asked. As his hands reached to hold onto you, he felt a wetness below your ribs. His hand came away bloody. “No. Gods, no.” He gently lowered you to the ground, pulling you into his lap. 

“I guess,” you gasped in an attempt to laugh, “I guess adrenaline has more power than I thought. I hardly feel-” You cried out as another jolt of pain shot up your spine. 

Vax’s face contorted as if he too were feeling your suffering. “It’ll be alright. We’ll use that  healing potion you bought from Gilmore and everything will be-”

“I used it.” You coughed. “I used it on Keyleth during our last battle, remember?” 

“We’ll figure out something else. We’ll…” His voice broke into a panic. 

You reached up and touched his cheek. Your fingers were cold. 

“Shh,” You soothed. “Can you just… hold me?” You managed a small smile and hoped that his beautiful hazel eyes would be the last thing you saw- just as they had been the first when you met.

-

The fire lit only a small circle. The trees loomed over you like tall, ominous shadows. You’d never been a fan of darkness. Too much could await you. Too much of the unexpected lurked in the pitch. 

There, in the dark, you could see them. Staring at you. The rest of the group seemed unaware, but you couldn’t help but stare back. You weren’t frightened, exactly. There was no malicious intent in their eyes. Instead, there was a curiosity that equally intrigued you. 

“Oh, stop it with the theatrics, will you?” Percy scoffed. “That’s Scanlan’s job.” 

“Yeah!” The gnome agreed, giving you a wink. 

You laughed and rolled your eyes. You took another swig of ale but nearly choked on it. 

A figure stepped out of the darkness. From his alluring presence to his smirking lips, you found yourself utterly entranced. 

“Y/N, this is Vax’ildan, but everyone just calls him Vax. Vex'ahlia’s brother,” Percy said. 

“This little mouse is Y/F/N Y/L/N,” Vex snickered to her twin. “She’ll be joining us, apparently.” 

The woman half-elf’s skepticism towards you hadn’t gone unnoticed. Not that you blamed her. Times like these, everyone had to look out for themselves. Honestly, the only member of the group enthusiastic about your joining was Scanlan and you were pretty sure he was trying to bed you. 

But you couldn’t take your eyes off of the dark-haired rogue. 

He looked at you intently and you felt the burning heat of blush rush to your cheeks. You gave him an unbearably awkward wave. Fates, what were you doing? 

“Hm.” He dismissed you with a nod and took his place beside his sister. 

-

“Do you remember?” You laughed weakly. “Do you remember how nervous I was? All of them were intimidating, but you frightened me the most. With your dark gaze an-and your smolder. You fucking smoldered at me!” Your laughing turned into violent coughs. 

Vax held you closer. 

“I remember,” He said. The reassuring smile he gave you didn’t reach his eyes. “Try and hold still. The others will find us soon. You’re going to be fine.” 

“Vax, I-” 

Footsteps thundered overhead and Vax’s body jolted and you slid ever so slightly out of his grasp. The sudden movement sent another fit up your back. You muffled a pained scream by biting your lip so hard it nearly bled. 

“I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m sorry.” He muttered, arms wrapping tightly around you once again. “The others will be here soon. Pike will heal you. They’ll find us. Everything will be fine. They’ll find us.” His words were barely more than a whisper as if he were more reassuring himself than you. 

“It’s okay,” You said. You tucked a lock of his dark hair behind his ear. “I’m okay.” 

“Don’t…” He clenched his jaw to keep his chin from trembling. 

“There was a night- gods, it feels like it was yesterday-” You took a deep, shaking breath and tried not to wince. “There was a night in that awful tavern. Everyone had gone up to their rooms but us and we stood outside for what must have been hours. We talked about, well everything, and I can still remember your hand grabbing mine. I thought I’d surely stopped breathing.” You closed your eyes and smiled sadly. “I’m sure you don’t remember. The next morning we were both so hungover from all the ale and you didn’t seem to recall anything that had happened.” 

Vax felt a pang of guilt. That night, he’d let himself feel vulnerable in a way he hadn’t in years. It scared him. The next morning, he could hardly face you. He let you believe it didn’t mean anything. That the secrets you trusted him with were forgotten in a haze of the morning. It was one of his greatest regrets. 

“I remember.” His hand held yours and his lips pressed gently against your palm. “I remember.” 

Perhaps it was you who didn’t. Not entirely.

-

“Look there!” You exclaimed. You pointed to the sky so enthusiastically that you lost your balance and stumbled into him. You both, however, were too drunk to care. “Did you see it?”

“See what?” 

“The shooting star, silly! It was right there!” Your words were hardly understandable, but he still nodded, listening intently. “In my village, we used to say that shooting stars were souls being brought back from the dead.” Your goofy grin dimmed. “You know, for a long time, I’d see them and I would think that maybe, just maybe, those stars would be my parents coming back to me.” 

You felt his eyes on you and fell silent. You let your gaze fall back to the street around you. 

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know.”

“Nobody ever asked.” You shrugged. “And it’s not something I like to talk about, so…” You bumped your shoulder against his to try and play off the situation. “Unless I have a few drinks in me, apparently.” With a nervous laugh, you took another swig. 

The dark memory faded almost as quickly as it had come, thanks to the haze of intoxication floating around your head. 

Vax’s eyes didn’t leave your face as he took another drink of his ale. He’d lost count of how many he’d had, but he was fairly certain you’d had half as many. Yet drunken giggles tumbled out of your lips like flower petals in the wind and he couldn’t help but smile. 

“I used to be scared of you, you know. You and Vex,” you said. You laid your head on his shoulder with an absentminded snicker. “I’m still scared of her! But you,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “you’re just a big softy, aren’t you? You act like you don’t care, but you do. I can tell.” 

You let your hand fall back to your side, but your head stayed on his shoulder. Both of you looked back at the sky. Something grazed your palm. Your breathing hitched. Vax’s fingers laced with yours and his warm skin sent shivers up your arm. 

Vax couldn’t move. Gods, he could hardly breathe. Just the feeling of holding your hand made his heart pound like it never had before. The urge to take you completely in his arms was fought only by the towering fear in his mind. He pressed his lips to your forehead and closed his eyes, trying to commit the feeling to memory before the darkness in him ruined it. 

He felt vulnerable when he was with you. Weak. He wanted to protect you. He never wanted to be without you. 

And that terrified him. 

You were right. He cared more than he cared too. 

-

You were growing paler by the second, which hardly seemed possible. 

Vax was covered in your blood.

The rest of the group was still nowhere in sight. 

“Vax,” You gasped. He lifted you slightly, holding the back of your head in his hand. 

“I’m right here, darling.” 

“I need you to tell them…” You winced. Just speaking was taking more energy than you had left. “I need you to tell Vox Machina that I- to tell them I-” 

“You’ll tell them as soon as they arrive and Pike heals you.” He didn’t let the hope in his voice falter. If he could convince you, maybe you could hold on just a little longer. 

Your expression saddened. “Tell them thank you. My life is richer for knowing each and every one of you.” 

“Please.” His voice cracked along with his heart. “Please, just hold on a little longer, Y/N.”

“Vax’ildan,” You used the rest of your strength to hold his face in your hands. “The things I should have told you sooner…”

“Y/N, I beg of you, do not go.” He held back a sob. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have a choice, my love.” Your words shot another arrow through his heart. Love. You weren’t afraid anymore. Your heart may be slowing, but it felt fuller than ever. “My Vax’ildan. How am I ever to repay you for what you have given me? For the love you have reminded me I am still capable of?” 

“Don’t leave me.” He pleaded. “You can make it. You’re so strong. Please. Don’t go. Please, Y/N, I…” His words caught in his throat. 

Your hands fell away from his face. Your head tilted back and one final breath parted your lips. 

Like that distant night, Vax couldn’t move. He was frozen, staring at your still body, and waiting for you to wake up again. But your skin was cold in his grip, slicked with your blood. 

“Y/N?” He put a hand on your cheek.

It was like ice.

“Don’t you dare leave,” Vax cried. “Don’t you do this. We need you. Please. Y/N.” He shook you gently. “Y/N, please!” His cry rang through the chamber. He pulled you to him, burying his face in your hair. He whispered against the coolness of your cheek. “I love you. Do you hear me? I love you.”

Everything fell silent, save for the sound of his sobs echoing back to him from every dark corner. Even the shadows seemed to mourn. 

[the-lonelybarricade]

A Blaze in the Dark - (8/10)

Summary: On the eve of her wedding, knowing nothing about her husband besides his apparent disinterest in his soon-to-be wife, Elain uses a spell to meet her true love in her dreams.

*fumbles around blindly* I swear I put the plot here somewhere

Read on AO3 ・Series Masterlist・Previous Chapter

-

Elain was adrift, ebbing in and out of consciousness.

Everything was hazy, dappled like sunspots trickling through a thick canopy, reducing each moment into fragments of sensation.

A damp towel against her forehead.

Gentle hands in her hair.

A voice. Low, pleasant, steady. It was murmuring something to her, though the words were too far away, lapping against a distant shore. Intangible, but comforting.

It came and went, that voice. Or maybe that was Elain, pulled with the tide of the waking world, catching only strands of what was spoken to her. The lulling rhythm of prose, the clinical tone of a caretaker, the soft, honeyed voice of a lover.

The latter was what finally woke her, drawn into the tender touch of a hand cupped around her neck, a warm beverage pressed to her lips, and a murmured voice saying, “Drink this for me, sweetheart.”

She did, obediently forcing the liquid past her dry throat. She didn’t open her eyes until she felt it heat her stomach, all the while mulling at the voice that whispered to her so gently. Only her true love had ever called her sweetheart. Was he so concerned she had missed their stolen meeting that he’d come to find her, to care for her?

When she did open her eyes, she needed to squint against the invading light to see the handsome face peering at her through a furrowed brow. For a moment, she convinced herself it really was her true love. Then she blinked, and the rest of the details settled in. The facial scars, the scarlet hair, the large hand wrapped over the back of her own. It was her husband.

She couldn’t say that she was disappointed to find him in her true love’s place.

“Lucien?”

At least, that’s what she tried to say. What came out sounded more like stones scraping together. Not that Lucien seemed to notice—or care. His eyes had widened, and she felt his fingers tighten around hers while he reached forward, pressing his other hand to her temple to gauge her temperature.

“You’re awake,” he breathed, lost somewhere between astonishment and concern. “How are you feeling?”

She tried to sit up, only to wince and sink back down into the bed.

“Like I’ve just tumbled down every flight of those infernal marble stairs.”

He chucked. “Better, then, considering that’s the most you’ve said to me in the last four days. It seemed your fever broke last night.”

That would explain why her clothes were sticking to her skin. She must have spent the entire night sweating. The blankets, the sheets, her clothes. They were all damp. She didn’t want to venture what she must look like—or smell like.

Elain wrinkled her nose. “I feel… disgusting.”

Lucien, to his credit, looked prepared to disagree. That was the only thing preventing her from choking on her own mortification of being so unkempt in front of him. Never mind a fever taking her life.

The backs of his fingers were still pressed to her forehead. He couldn’t be that disgusted, if he hadn’t yet drawn away. “Would you like to take a bath?”

She would—very much so. But Elain wasn’t certain she could accomplish one without assistance and seeing as all the servants were in isolation, that left only Lucien capable of providing it. He knew that, of course. And she knew that’s what he was suggesting.

His lips quirked. “It’s not a trick question.”

Elain scowled. It certainly felt like one.

“Yes,” she decided, after a time. She could have him close his eyes like he’d done when he helped lace her corset.

Lucien’s face went a bit slack. It was clear he hadn’t expected her to agree, and Elain felt smug at sending him off his footing, for a change. She started to push up on her elbows and he scrambled forward. “L—Let me help you.”

As he leaned forward to guide her into an upright position, Elain’s eyes caught on his crumpled white shirt. He had still been wearing his waistcoat and jacket when she’d last been awake, but now she could spy them strung over the back of the velvet armchair that had been dragged from its place at the hearth and now sat curiously beside her bed.

Elain was certain that it was the same undershirt he’d been wearing then, too.

Her eyes slid to the bedside table, where she spied a thick book beside a yellow stained mortar and pestle, as well as the ceramic mug she had drunk from upon waking. Resting atop the book, like it had hurriedly taken precedence, was a wide, shallow bowl of water with a wrung cloth atop it. Elain recalled feeling that rag pressed to her clammy skin. All night long, someone had dedicated themselves to dabbing it across her temple, offering her a temporary relief against the gasping, swallowing heat.

Elain swiveled her head towards Lucien. “Have you stayed in this room the whole time?”

He leaned back a bit at her tone. It sounded more accusatory than she had intended. She was just… surprised.

“You may not recall,” he said, folding back the blanket. Her night gown had been bunched and thrown askew, but he kept his eyes respectfully on her face while she quickly pulled it back down her legs. “I was begged to stay.”

Before she could even register the embarrassment of the things she might have said to Lucien in the throes of her fever, he diplomatically added, “The heat of my magic kept you from shivering.”

Yes, Elain was certain that was why she begged him to stay.

But regardless, he had indulged it. Even though he had wanted a wife who would keep quietly to her side of the palace so that he could pretend she did not exist to him at all. He had stayed in this room. Had read to her and fed her and cared for her, just as he was still doing now, slipping his arms beneath her legs and shoulders to carry her to the bathing room.

She slipped her arms around his neck, relishing in the proximity even though he smelled a bit sour, too. Elain didn’t care. She rested her head on his shoulder and whispered, “Thank you.”

His lips parted. Apparently she was full of surprises today.

Lucien cleared his throat as they stepped into the attached bathing room, his boots clicking against the white marble. “You needn’t thank me. I made a vow to take care of you until my dying breath.”

It was something kind of him to say. She shouldn’t question it. Shouldn’t—

“I thought our agreement nullified your vows.”

Lucien stopped walking. He glanced down at her, as though bewildered, then continued to the tub, where he wordlessly ran the faucet until it was warm, and then set her into the porcelain basin, nightgown and all.

Elain was afraid to say anything. Afraid that she had upset him. It was stupid to bring it up, to pretend that there was anything more than kindness motivating him. Once she was better, he would return to his side of the palace and this would all be a pitiful, feverish memory.

Lucien, still saying nothing, crouched beside the tub and himself propped on one knee so that they were eye level. The curtains in the bathing room hadn’t been drawn, so there was nothing to defend her from the light that hit his eyes, illuminating the variance of colors within them. One eye was copper around the pupil, but more honeyed towards the edge of his iris. The other, the mechanical eye, had layers of golden metal clicking and whirring as they focused wholly on her.

Despite being pinned beneath his stare as the water soaked her nightgown, turning the fabric translucent, Elain didn’t feel an ounce of self-consciousness. He wasn’t looking at her like the men at the Solstice ball had, like she was some pretty, shiny object he wanted the novelty of touching. There was admiration, and something more gentle still, in the way he looked at her. And Elain, in turn, found herself so curious about that look, what it meant. And those eyes, what secrets they held and guarded. She wanted to know more about them—about him, and whatever he was so clearly mulling over in the silence.

Finally, Lucien said, “Forget about the vows that I made at our wedding. Those were words invented by the clergyman, and I only spoke them to appease my father.”

She took a shuddering breath. Invented by Lucien or not, they were the standard promises of a husband. Elain didn’t want to forget them, though that is the agreement that she made. What did she expect?

Her eyes dipped to the water, filled to the tops of her hips now, doing little to disguise the body sticking to her wet nightgown. She could pretend that she was embarrassed, instead of disappointment.

Lucien reached over the edge of the tub, gently taking hold of her chin to tilt it up.

Their eyes met. His didn’t waver once from her face.

“But these are the words of my heart,” he said, pressing his free hand to his chest. His fingers dug into the fabric. “This is my solemn vow to you as your husband: I will always be there for you when you need me, Elain.”

She knew her eyes went wide, but that was only because they were beginning to sting, and she wanted so desperately to avoid crying in front of him. Not that she could become much more of a mess, in her present state.”

“How will you know when I need you,” she whispered, hating that she couldn’t just accept the empty promise for what it was, “when you will always be so far away from me in the Eastern Wing?”

“Do you want me to move closer?” His surprise sounded genuine. “I was trying to offer you privacy.”

“I want to feel like I am not alone,” she flung, desperately. “I worry this palace is so empty that I will be driven to madness by my own echo.”

The tears were welling now. There was nothing she could do to stop them besides pulling away from Lucien’s touch and ducking her head beneath the water. She wanted to pretend that when she came up, Lucien would not be there, and that she had not said something so terrifying and vulnerable despite knowing it was the opposite of what he wanted.

She stayed beneath that water. Relishing the silence and the lack of that irritating, expectant look her husband always gave her, which always managed to coax far more honestly from her than she was prepared to confront. When her lungs began to burn, she pushed her head back up, taking a moment to wipe her eyes and the remnants of any tears.

Lucien waited until she was finished and looking at him once more. “Once your fever has passed and I have returned from my journey, I’ll see to it that this palace feels far from empty,” he promised. Her stomach twisted into knots. “We can find you some ladies in waiting—”

“Your journey?”

“Pardon?”

Elain leaned over the tub towards him, not caring that she was dripping water onto his trousers or that she was revealing the tops of her breasts through the wet cloth. “You’re still going on your journey?”

“I—I told Eris that you caught the fever and that I would stay to look after you, but the summons have only been delayed.” So he said, but he was gripping the edge of the tub, and she could see each of his knuckles protruding from his tightly he held on. “I must still attend to my future King.”

“What is the emergency?”

The lump in his throat bobbed. The silence of the palace had never been more excruciating than in that moment, graced only by a soft drip as the moisture in her hair fell back to the water’s surface.

His mouth opened, then closed. He knew she was not a fool. He knew there was no excuse she would believe.

Elain clenched her teeth. “Let me guess. You can’t tell me—or you won’t?”

“I can’t,” he said, softly. Like an apology.

“Very well.” She turned, prepared to fall back into the water, and maybe attempt to splash him in the process. But Lucien caught her arm.

“You’re angry with me.”

She shook away his touch. “Of course I’m angry, Lucien!” She flung out an arm, taking a little bit of satisfaction from the water droplets that whipped out, causing him to blink as they landed on his face. “You are leaving me on our honeymoon, after I have only just recovered from the fever. And you are keeping secrets from me. First the war—”

“The war?” He interrupted. “What war?”

“I…” she had let her anger speak for her, and now she feared she might have gotten Vassa in trouble. Elain chewed her lip before continuing, “I overheard that there are tensions between the Eastern and Northern Kingdoms.”

“There is no war,” he said with a frown. “Not yet, anyway.” Then, after loosing a long sigh, he explained, “The King of Rhodes is threatening invasion. And the Northern Kingdom has pledged to lend their extensive armies should my father refuse King Helion’s demands. My father is hoping that our connection to the Archerons will convince Prince Rhysand to rescind his troops. If that happens, the dispute should fizzle out.”

Elain pulled back from the edge of the tub. So they weren’t at odds with the Northern Kingdom directly, but… it was still as she had expected, that she was just a pawn in a much larger playing field. A high-stakes means of testing Prince Rhysand’s sympathy for his sister-in-laws. From what she’d heard of the Prince of the North, it was difficult to fathom that he would even care. But he was Feyre’s true love. And the Vanserras seem convinced that he would not let his Kingdom go to war against his wife’s family.

Whereas, the King of Rhodes… Elain wracked her brain for what she knew of him, of Rhodes. Rhodes was in the northern half of their lands, nestled between two coasts and the mountain range that Feyre would have had to pass through to get to the Northern peninsula that she would one day become Queen of. Rhodes was smaller than its Northern Neighbor, but just as wealthy. It was rumored to have a thousand great libraries that archived the knowledge of this world. A place of wisdom and light.

Elain thought of King Beron’s smile, as twisted as the roots that seeped into the rotted earth of the Kingdom she now called home. Surely, if the Northern Kingdom was willing to aid the dispute, the King of Rhodes must have good reason to declare war against King Beron?

“What are the demands?”

Lucien leaned back, his lips pressed together. It was the first time since she’d woken up that he’d properly looked away from her, his eyes fixing on something across the room. Rather than answer, he stood up, busying himself with fetching one of the stools propped in the corner. He carried it over to the head of the bath, where a maid would usually sit to assist with washing her hair.

“You don’t need to do that,” she murmured as he perched himself on the stool and reached for the tail of her braid. Elain wondered if that was his handiwork, too. “I can manage it myself.”

He didn’t respond, only tugged the leather band from the braid and began combing her hair loose with his fingers. Elain had the sense he was someone who liked to keep his hands occupied, his mind always passively working. She could feel him unwinding his thoughts in tandem with her hair, every gentle tug pulling something free.

Until eventually, he whispered at her back, “The King of Rhodes demands my mother.”

“Your mother?”

Elain hated that she could no longer see his face, but she thought he might have arranged them like this intentionally, forcing her to rely on his voice to pick apart any hidden sentiment. And though he spoke quietly, he gave away nothing.

No fear, no concern, no sadness.

Just the voice of a passive observer, stating, “Allegedly, she is his true love.”

True love.

Hearing those words, from him, sent her pulse rushing. Elain turned, not caring that her hair was unfinished, or that she might as well have been naked for all her nightgown revealed. It had not occurred to her, though now it seemed foolish, that Lucien would have an awareness of true love. That there would be someone waiting for him, too.

“And…” it was an effort to speak past the lump building in her throat. “Does she want to go? To be with him?”

Lucien looked down. Not towards her, or her body, but towards his hands. Which were now empty, grasping uselessly in his lap as though he couldn’t stand not having something to hold on to. Elain reached out and grabbed his hand. Water sloped down her skin, trickling to the marble floor. He seemed surprised by the gesture, but did not hesitate to fold her wet hand into both of his own.

With a small sigh, he answered, “Desperately, I think.”

She hoped he was talking only about his mother. Was there a woman out there he was desperate to find, the same way her true love sought her? Was that the emergency journey he hid from her? Elain lost any courage to ask when those eyes flitted up, following the path of her arm, trailing heat over her skin as they went. This time, his gaze did linger at her translucent neckline, before he swallowed and tilted his face up to meet her eyes.

Was his skin turning warmer at the cheeks, or was that her imagination?

He pressed on, though she had nearly forgotten the subject matter entirely. “Which is why my Father will never adhere to the demands. He’d sooner let this Kingdom fall than give away what he believes is rightfully his.”

An alarming ideology. One that, given this was her King and father-in-law, should have attracted the majority of her focus. But all that she’d learned, truly, was that a snake was venomous. She’d been planning on treating King Beron as such anyway.

What she truly wanted to know, what she couldn’t resist blurting was—“What would you do?”

“What?”

Her heart was going to explode. “If my true love demanded you give me to him, if he threatened war, threatened your people, would you give in?”

Lucien looked startled. “Would you want to go?”

That… that was a good question. Would she want to go? It would be so much simpler, if she had to choose her true love for the greater good, to avoid a war between kingdoms and not as a means of being honest with her heart. Because now, gripping Lucien’s hand as he sat before her on a servant’s stool, splattered with water and wearing clothes that were nearly a week old… She wasn’t certain that she would willingly walk away, even knowing it was towards her true love.

While he waited for her to answer, Lucien released her hand and coaxed her back into the tub, so that he could finish unwinding the strands in her hair. And when he had finished that, and she still hadn't decided what to say to him, he poured a vial of liquid soup into his hands and began massaging her scalp.

She considered that maybe, with her eyes fluttering shut at the pampering, that he was trying to influence her decision—No. This was the same gentle care he had administered to her all week. This was simply who he was. Someone who was kind and patient and sincere. She could not hope to find a better partner, even in her true love.

But did Lucien see it the same way? He had never wanted a wife, and to him, she was certainly just a life-long reminder of the fealty he was forced to pay a tyrant.

When he realized that she wasn’t going to answer, Lucien leaned forward so that his lips were close to her ear. “If you wanted to stay with me, Elain, I would send every troop and fleet in my father’s army to fight in your name. I would battle on the front lines and spill my own blood to ensure you were never taken from me. But, if you wanted to go…”

He paused. She held her breath.

“If you wanted to go, I would only ask that you write to me on occasion, so that I might know that you’re happy.”

He finished washing her hair, and was utterly respectable as he helped her stand from the water and wrapped her in a towel he’d heated with his own magic. He’d let her stand on her own for a moment, dripping onto the floor, one arm braced against the edge of the tub while she readjusted to the sensation of standing. Her legs were shaking from the simple exertion.

When he returned with a new nightgown draped over one hand, she finally found her voice again.

“Will you show me how?”

He cocked his head. “How to what?”

“Write you letters, while you’re on your journey.”

-

My sweet soul, I apologize for my absence. I know that a week of silence has separated us. I know that no explanation will excuse the fact that I abandoned you on the day we were to meet in the Carterhaugh Gardens. I plead your forgiveness, and that you will offer me a chance to redeem myself by meeting me in the same spot in two days time. If you need assistance with transportation, I can see it arranged. Or if you need anything—anything at all—you know where to find me. Until we meet, Your true love

-

“So, are you going to finally tell me why you insisted on coming here?”

They passed through the open wrought iron gates and were immediately welcomed to the site of the sprawling Carterhaugh Gardens. Nesta peered through the brim of her summer hat, tied with a blue ribbon beneath her chin, to admire the shade of the leafy tree they walked under. Elain would likely know the name of the tree, would be staring around at all the plants with wide eyes. Feyre would want to climb it, and for once Nesta imagined her youngest sister’s impulsive nature with a pang of affection.

It was so empty in the manor recently, without Feyre stubbornly voicing her every thought, and Elain, usually quiet in any dispute, but a steadying presence nonetheless.

Two little girls with streaming ribbons in their hair ran along the grass in front of them, chased by an exasperated nanny lugging a pram with one arm. They giggled, a sort of free-spirited laughter that Nesta hadn’t often had a chance to hear, growing up in the Archeron manor. She didn’t know if she’d ever laughed like that. And maybe now that she was a grown woman, preparing to be married to one of the most dangerous men in the world, she’d thoroughly missed her chance.

Nesta straightened, forcing her gaze past the laughing girls and meandering couples, all enjoying another beautiful day in perpetual Spring. How did they stand it, she wondered? Ever since Feyre had returned from the North with those markings on her arm, and their father had moved them to Carterhaugh to hide beneath the protection of Tamlin’s magic, Nesta had loathed the eternal spring.

She was the only one of her sisters who truly remembered their home before Carterhaugh. That lovely manor by the sea, where the seasons changed and no walls contained them. She could still remember walking with her mother along the shoreline, staring at how the water crashed against the rocks a little ways from the shore, violent and angry in a way she hadn’t yet learned to identify with. That was the last time she had felt truly at peace.

“Promenade with me, Cassian,” she said, shaking away the cobwebs of memory.

Now was not the time for getting sentimental.

Cassian obediently offered his crooked elbow, allowing Nesta to slip her arm through, even as he said, “People will see us, you’re aware.”

His arm was pure, solid muscle. She tried very hard not to notice, or glance in his direction. It was precarious to look too closely at his face. All rough-cut and unrestrained. She knew those hazel would be bright, richer in the sunlight and dancing with a challenge she never quite knew how to rise to without giving him the satisfaction of reacting at all.

“Though I appreciate the concern, I did not go blind in the carriage ride,” she said, using her grip on his arm to guide them towards the hedges. “I’m aware there are people in the public gardens, shocking as that may be. Your observation skills are very impressive.”

Cassian’s response was infuriatingly patient. “They will talk.”

“Of course they will. They have mouths.”

“They will talk about us.”

They ducked into the entrance of the labyrinth, the hedges so tall on either side that even Cassian, with his towering frame, would be unable to see over the tops. Despite her feigned irreverence, Nesta felt some of the tension in her shoulders ease at the added privacy.

“And what will they say?” She pulled them to a stop there, withdrawing her arm so that she could turn to properly face him.

What a mistake that was. She hadn’t gone blind in the carriage, but she had forgotten how thoroughly he had dressed himself for his part today. He had arrived in a navy military jacket embroidered in gold and buttoned over a matching waistcoat. A white neckcloth was tied in a knot at his throat, pulled through the collar. And he wore high, cream colored pants that buttoned at his abdomen and tucked neatly into his tall black boots.

Her father had been speechless when he’d found Cassian at his door, dressed like yet another prince intending to cart away one of his daughters. Truthfully, so had Nesta. She had never seen him so dressed up and had, honestly, not thought him capable.

“They’ll say that Nesta Archeron has snubbed the Crown Prince of the East,” he said, keeping his tone light though she could sense his wariness. Nothing about this situation was amusing. To either of them. “That she was seen promenading through the Carterhaugh gardens with an unknown, handsome gentleman.”

Nesta snorted, pressing on through the path of the labyrinth without waiting for him to join. “I doubt they will describe you as handsome.”

“Strapping, perhaps.”

She offered him a sidelong glance. Even through his fancy dress, the warrior was still evident in the way he carried himself. He lacked the smooth, subtle grace of Prince Eris. He led with chest, each step powerful. The smile he cut her was feral and proud—but not boastful. She found she preferred the honesty in him. It reminded her, in an odd way, of Elain.

But Nesta huffed, as if what she found in her assessment was unimpressive. “They’ll find you brutish, more likely.”

His grin only broadened. “I always find those wandering eyes are the perfect balm to your sharp words.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she sniped, turning herself away. This was why she had promised herself not to look at him. Even when insulting him, the attention only inflated his ego. “Besides,” she added cooly, feeling her anger sharpen, “I doubt word will get back to Eris when he has much larger concerns to occupy him.”

Concerns, like the one he had whispered to her on the day of Elain’s wedding.

Help me take down my father, and I’ll free you from this arrangement.

“If it were me,” Cassian said quietly, “You would be my only concern.”

Nesta had nothing worthwhile to say to that. It wasn’t him. And standing there like a wounded, overgrown puppy wouldn’t change the fact that if Beron Vanserra wasn’t dead by springtime, then she would be married to the Crown Prince of the Eastern Kingdom.

“I insisted on coming here,” she said, intentionally changing the subject, “because Elain has asked a favor of me. I’m to meet a gentleman.”

“Look no further.”

“A proper one,” she said dismissively. They arrived at an intersection of paths and Nesta chose one at random, not waiting for Cassian’s input. She had no way of knowing if they were heading the right direction, but the sooner they could get to the center of the maze, the sooner they could leave. “We’re meeting Elain’s true love. He’s allegedly waiting at the center of the labyrinth, wearing a rose behind his ear.”

“How romantic,” Cassian mocked.

Nesta wondered if he wouldn’t do the exact same, if she demanded it. She said, if only as a means of being contrary, “I would have much preferred that, to you scaling the manor wall. You’re lucky my father didn’t catch you, or he would have had you arrested.”

“He’s lucky I wasn’t a thief,” Cassian responded. She spared another, foolish, glance towards him to see that his chest had swollen with pride at his dramatic entrance. “The Archeron manor is in need of much better security.”

“That’s because my father’s objective was never to keep people out, it was to keep us in.”

“And when you marry Eris—”

“Don’t,” she said, stopping abruptly at another intersection. She whipped around so quickly that Cassian took a step back, despite possessing an extra foot of height over her. “Don’t go there, Cassian. Don’t talk to me about Eris right now.”

His mouth fell open a bit, dumbfounded. She thought it might have been in response to her outburst, until she noticed his eyes were fixed over her shoulder. She cautiously turned, and was met with the sight of long red hair and a handsome face that looked equally startled to see her.

“Lucien?”

He recovered much more quickly than she did. Which made sense, she supposed, since she lived in Carterhaugh, whereas he should be in the Eastern Kingdom, celebrating his honeymoon with her sister. He certainly shouldn’t be here, flitting his eyes between Nesta and Cassian, scarlet brows pressing together.

“Nesta,” he said, bowing at the waist. “A pleasure to see you again.”

Her first, half panicked, thought was that he would be reporting what he saw back to Eris. Her second, less startled, thought was that he could only be here for two reasons:

The first, he had discovered Elain’s letters from her true love and had come to investigate himself.

The second…

“What are you doing in Carterhaugh?” She asked, narrowing her eyes.

Lucien tipped his chin to Cassian. “Who’s your friend?”

“No one,” she said, stepping in front of him. “He’s—no one.”

There was a soft cough at her back, as if that response had landed a physical blow to Cassian. But Nesta didn’t have the presence of mind for sympathy.

Not as Lucien’s lips pressed together, and his expression turned grim. “Perhaps it’s best we forget we saw each other.”

His hair was so vibrant, she didn’t notice it at first. But as he turned his head, she saw the small, red rosebud tucked behind his ear. She didn’t know if was fear, or envy, or anger that tangled and constricted like a vicious serpent in her chest.

Whatever it was, she managed to wrangle it enough to bow her head and say, “I think that’s for the best.”

-

Dear Elain, I went to the center of the labyrinth in the Carterhaugh Gardens, as you requested. I waited as long as I could, but I did not encounter the man with a rose behind his ear. It is out of love, and your best interests in mind, that I encourage you to move on from your true love and focus on your life with your husband. You have always had a gift for making the most out of any situation, and I believe there is potential for happiness in your life with him. Your sister, Nesta

Elain read the letter over again. Nesta had sent it at some point late in the night, well after Elain had gone to bed, and she had woken to the message beside her pillow.

She had originally promised herself that she would not ask Nesta to go. Elain had decided it did not matter who her true love was, or that he was waiting to meet her in person. But the letter from her true love had arrived, and Lucien had left, and his absence had swallowed her whole, until she was penning a letter to Nesta without truly thinking it through.

What value could there have possibly been in having her sister meet her true love? What information could Nesta have learnt that would be worth passing on? The color of his eyes, his hair? The manner in which he spoke? Compared to how she currently imagined him, with scarlet hair and a rich, elegant voice, she doubted his image could be much improved.

And when the first letter arrived from Lucien, on the same day he’d left, she’d forgotten she’d asked anything of Nesta at all.

My lovely Elain, I’ve made it safely to an inn for the night. I’ll admit, I find traveling isn’t nearly so enjoyable without the sight of you marveling out the carriage window. I regret I have no one to help lace into a corset in the morning. I hope your day has not been as lonely as mine. Did you get a chance to explore the East Wing without the threat of turning a corner and running into your wicked husband? Affectionately yours, Lucien

She read that letter over, too, among the countless other notes that they had sent back and forth to each other.

You did not tell me that your bedroom was bigger than mine. Greedy of you to claim the best one in the palace.

Do you prefer it? I have no particular attachment to the room. If it would make you happy, you are welcome to it.

And if I took your bed, where would you sleep?

I find that will depend on how feverish you are. If I’m lucky, my wife will beg me to warm her bed again.

‘Luck’ is certainly a strange way to describe your wife nearly being taken by the fever.

I was able to spend an uninterrupted week at your bedside.I can think of no description better than “luck”.

I’m sure my company was made more enjoyable by my inability to speak.

Actually, you spoke at great length about how charming and pleasant you find your husband

I must have imagined I was married to someone else.

Funny, I told you the exact same thing.

When will you be coming back?

I’m leaving tomorrow, though it’s not soon enough.

That was the last note that he sent. He hadn’t specified how long the journey would take him, though judging from the notes, it seemed to be a two-day journey each way. She wasn’t aware Eris lived so far away, though perhaps Lucien had delayed his arrival by retiring to an inn earlier than necessary.

Or perhaps he hadn’t gone to see Eris at all.

Even that horrible thought didn’t stop her from pacing in front of the large windows in Lucien’s personal study, glancing towards the loose gravel pathway that led to the front gates. She had come in here to distract herself after Vassa had called her out for doing the very same pacing in her bedroom. But there had been nothing particularly scandalous in his study to occupy her thoughts. Just a meticulous ledger and well maintained documents, organized by month and year. Mostly detailed accounts of disputes between local villagers, trade agreements, tax contributions.

No torrid love letters or bags of plague-ridden butterflies.

She did, however, discover a well-loved book tucked into the top drawer of his desk. Elain didn’t recognize the leather bound cover, but when she pulled it out, she did recognize the title.

East of the Sun and West of the Moon.

Elain set the book on the desk, delicately tracing the golden lettering stamped on the cover before she turned the page to the illustration of a great white bear. There were so many nights she had sat at her windowsill, reading this story in the flickering candlelight to her sisters, who would each perch by their own open window to listen.

“Snooping through my things?”

Elain was so startled she slammed the book shut. She snapped her head up, and a gasp tumbled from her lips at the sight of her husband, leaning against the open door of his study, arms crossed and one smooth brow raised.

She pressed a hand to her chest in an effort to soothe her racing heart. What she really wanted to do was run to him. “I was encouraged to explore,” she said, standing slowly from the desk with a great deal of self control.

Lucien smirked. “Find anything interesting?”

“Nothing particularly,” she trailed her fingers over the leather spine of the book as she circled around the desk. “Though I didn’t take you for a fan of romance.”

His eyes flickered to the book. He smiled, that rare soft smile that lit the room like a living flame. “When we were preparing the palace for your arrival, your father sent a list of items that we should procure to make you feel more at home. He said that book was one of your favorites.”

As a child, perhaps. But their Father had never bothered to keep up with the changing interests of his daughters.

Lucien took a step into the room. The mahogany door shut softly behind him. After having so much distance separating them the last few days, the generous size of the study suddenly felt so small. So… intimate. She paused at the front of his desk, bracing herself nervously against it. And Lucien, too, stopped just a few feet ahead, a red hand-knotted rug mapping the space between them.

“I was… curious,” he said. “About what sort of love stories my soon to be wife was interested in. My mother used to tell me that knowing a person’s favorite story was like knowing a piece of their heart.”

Elain craned her head curiously back to the book on the table. The little girl who had read that story had been convinced she, too, would one day embark on a grand adventure in the name of love. What would that girl think, to discover that Elain had been too much of a coward to meet her true love in Carterhaugh and now could not even find the courage to cross the small red rug and greet her husband properly?

She was half tempted to suggest they read the book together. It would be nice to rediscover who she was, at a time when she’d been so certain of it.

The sturdy, solid oak of Lucien’s desk was cool beneath her fingers as she dug her nails into its surface. “How was your trip?”

He was watching her, more wary than she would have hoped. When she imagined a husband and wife reuniting, she thought of running into each other’s arms, twirling in the air.

But of course, they were not an ordinary married couple.

Lucien pressed his lips tightly together, before answering, “It was not what I expected.”

“Oh,” Elain said, having never heard him sound so disheartened. He had seemed so excited to return, and she’d foolishly thought it was because he was eager to see her, but what if he’d only wanted to return because he was having a miserable time? “I’m sorry to hear—”

“That’s okay.” Lucien crossed the rug, reached like he might slide his hand against her cheek. But he paused halfway, then dropped his arms. “I’m—grateful to be home to you.”

She forced a smile like she believed him. “I’m grateful you’re home as well. I’m sure you would like to rest from your journey, so—“

She began to step around Lucien, prepared to scurry back into her room and lament to Vassa about how ridiculous she was to think he’d been flirting with her with those letters.

Lucien caught her arm as she passed, offering her a small, sheepish smile. “Wait. I was hoping… Would you like to dine with me this evening?”

It was the most she’d ever heard Lucien’s speech falter. Elain pretended to consider for a moment, just so she could watch him out of the corner of her eye. He shifted his weight from one foot to the next, and Elain hid a smile, thinking maybe, maybe, he had missed her just as desperately as she’d missed him.

When she nodded her agreement, he released her arm and looked a bit uncertain what to do with himself. “Good,” he said, then cleared his throat. “I will just freshen up, and then I will meet you downstairs.”

It was just dinner, Elain reminded herself when she felt all of those swallowed butterflies suddenly awaken in her stomach. “Okay,” she said weakly, before rushing out to the door so she, too, could freshen up for just dinner.

-

It had been a long, brutal four days.

Lucien had spent the entire carriage ride to Carterhaugh thinking of Elain’s big, brown eyes, looking so disappointed that he was leaving her. The entire first day of the journey, he’d debated turning around and confessing everything to her.

Then on the second day of the journey, after a long evening of exchanging letters with his wife, he’d rehearsed what he would say to his true love. How he would explain to her that they could continue to have no further relationship, but that he would ensure she was well looked after somewhere far, far away from her husband. Where she could be happy, while he did his very best to convince Elain that she could be happy, too. With him.

He had not been expecting Nesta. Though he supposed he should have, given the Mother’s propensity for causing him misery. For a horrific moment, he’d entertained the idea that Nesta was his true love, before he’d recalled with great relief that Nesta was not married. She was simply having her own clandestine meeting, which he hoped would be enough to convince her not to reveal to Elain what she’d seen.

The entire journey home, he had been so terrified that Nesta would tell Elain, anyway. That she would know he’d been lying to her, that he had fabricated an emergency to leave her alone on their honeymoon. She would assume he was having an affair, just as Nesta likely had, and it would ruin any chance he stood of convincing her to give their marriage a proper chance.

When he found her in his study, he’d assumed the worst. Where else would she go, if she wanted to find evidence of an affair? It was still a possibility that she knew the truth, and that she was keeping it to herself for the time being, harboring it strategically until a moment when she would need to keep her husband in check. But she had seemed cautiously pleased to accept his dinner invitation.

And now, she stood before him, breathtaking in a wine-colored evening gown, different from the dress she had been wearing when he’d found her in his study. He tried, and failed, not to let his eyes linger on the lace trimming her neckline, low enough that he could watch her collarbones rise and dip as she took a heavy breath.

“Please,” he said, more whispered than intended. He pulled out the chair at the head of the table and gestured to it with a sweep of his arm. “Sit.”

Elain approached him, wavering between the seat he gestured towards and the one beside it, set for a second guest. She pressed her hand to the back of her chair, sounding in disbelief as she questioned, “here?”

“Yes,” he said with a smile. His father would have never let anyone, especially their mother, sit at the head of the table. And he intended to do everything differently.

After another moment of hesitation, Elain sat at the chair and allowed him to push her in, before he claimed the one at her side. He tried not to sound too eager as he asked, “What did you get up to, while I was gone?”

Elain still seemed baffled about the seating. Or maybe she was just baffled by his behavior, in general. “Didn’t you get my letters?”

“I did.” She hadn’t so much as glanced at her plate, and he picked up his knife and fork, hoping it would encourage her to do the same. “But I would like to hear more about it. From you.”

“Well, Vassa took me through a tour of the entire palace,” she said. “It actually took us nearly an entire day to see all the rooms.”

“Including my own, I’ve heard.”

In the low candlelight, he could make out the loveliest pink coloring her cheeks. She coyly glanced down at her silverware, and picked up her knife and fork. “I hope you didn’t mind.”

“Not at all.” He paused, recalling the conversation they’d exchanged over letters. “Was it… to your liking?”

“Besides being bigger than my own, it wasn’t much different from all the other rooms. I was a bit surprised by that. But yes, it was very nice.”

Lucien nodded. He had only quite recently acquired ownership of the palace, and the circumstances that had led King Beron to the kind gesture had left Lucien feeling so embittered that he hadn't bothered to make a home out of what he’d previously considered a prison. But with Elain… with Elain he would be willing to make more of an effort.

“You’re welcome to change anything you’d like to make this place feel more like home to you,” he offered.

Her eyebrows immediately shot up. “Anything?”

Lucien could only assume that meant she had something in mind. Something she assumed he wouldn’t find agreeable.

“Of course,” he said, doubting there was anything Elain would request that he would find unpleasant. And even if there was, he would find some way to tolerate it, if it meant making her happy.

“There is… there’s one thing.” She set down her silverware. She still hadn’t taken a bite. “One thing that I want desperately. That I told you I was happy without but, frankly, I am not. I don’t think I ever will be.”

“What’s that?”

“I want a baby.”

Lucien nearly choked. His fork rattled as he dropped it, inelegantly, against his plate.

“I want to be a mother, Lucien,” Elain added, her words speeding up, more frantic. “I have always imagined that I would be one day. And we have all this space and the palace is so empty and I think a child would fill it with so much joy.”

“Do you…” He had to clear his throat several times to regain enough composure to choke out the rest of the question. “Do you understand how a woman finds herself with child?”

Elain leaned back, shutting her mouth as she considered the question. He took that answer as a no. But then she said, carefully, “I’m aware it’s an… intimate process. And it doesn’t need to change anything else about our arrangement. Our lives can still be separate, if that’s what you want.” It was not. Cauldron, it was so far from what he wanted. “We could arrange a day each week where we try—”

“Yes.”

Elain blinked. “Yes?”

“Yes,” he repeated. “We can have a baby. If that’s what will truly make you happy. Of course I can do that for you.”

Her eyes welled with tears. Elain leaned back, raising both of her hands to cover her mouth. “You mean it?”

Lucien nodded. “I do.”

“When can we start?”

Mother, save him.

“Tonight,” he said, wondering if this wasn’t his every want brought to fruition in the cruelest of ways. “I can come to your room once you’re ready. I’ll show you what it might entail, and then you can decide if it’s something you truly want to go through with.”

[palabraasinnecesarias]

ranma/akane

this one is about a drunk ranma lmao but i've also had this one dusting so here i am letting it see the light of day (just simple moments between the two)

She knew it wouldn’t be a good idea for Ranma to go drinking with Mr. Saotome and her father – especially when Grandfather Happosai was a part of the tag-along package deal – but there wasn’t much she could insist when it came to proving just how much of a “man” he could be by outdrinking all his elders. Her reckless fiancé was a stubborn mind, and although he usually managed to pull through, that night it was proven that some battles he was just meant to lose.  

All the women of the Tendo household drowsily dragged their feet down the flight of stairs to unwillingly welcome the men back home, noting it was well past midnight, and all but one appearing as though they were to be sick. Grandfather Happosai had been the man to survive whatever drinking-game that had come about, and easily waltz in full glory as a prideful grin stamped his cheek, continuously making a mockery of the situation.  

Akane felt her pulsing temples, slightly upset at the whole ordeal pitifully displaying two grown men with the newly high school graduate clearly drunk.  

The young teen watched as her oldest sister gasped in disbelief when seeing her father in such an unwell state, just before she and Nabiki latched onto him and took him to bed. Auntie Saotome giggled lightly, breathing what seemed to express a breath of relief as she reached for her husband and glancing over at Akane, “Oh, men.” Without another word she made her way up the stairs, Mr. Saotome’s arm hooked behind her neck for support, willingly following every step she took.  

In a matter of minutes, Akane found herself alone with what seemed to be boastful Ranma Saotome grinning towards her, his body trying to keep itself composed, and very obviously failing. His body slightly wobbled left and right, and his cheeks blushed variations of red up and down his neck, a clear indication that he was heated up due to the alcohol.  

What he was smiling about, she didn’t know, but couldn't deny that she was curious.  

She crossed her arms across her chest, prodding an eyebrow upwards in such an expected way, he found himself chuckling dryly.  

“You’re such a dork,” she found herself thinking out loud, a smirk of her own tugging the corner of her mouth, just before she came to the realization that she was left to mend after him.  

“I beat them,” he grinned, his bragging tone high and mighty. Was he so drunk he didn’t think he was intoxicated at all?  

“Oh, yeah? Walk to me,” Akane demanded as she stood no more than four feet away from him. The challenge gleamed across her eyes, and who was he to turn down such an opportunity to prove her wrong.  

Without missing a beat, Ranma lifted his foot with the simple intention of walking but just a couple of steps towards her when the young martial artist went tumbling down.  

The loud thud only made her want to laugh at him, but instead, the dark-haired girl reached down and did her best to take him into the family room. He was still conscious, which helped settle him on the floor, using some cushions to prompt his head up.  

“Seriously,” Akane groaned as she fluffed the round cushion, “you just had to go along with their antics.”  

“I needed to prove myself!”  

She simply rolled her eyes, because when it came to Ranma, everything was a challenge. “You certainly did not,” she sighed, amused at every outrageous (and sometimes grotesque) situations he always seemed to place himself in. Although, this one was definitely one of the more normal ones.  

“Why is it so hot?” His words slurred, but she managed to understand him well. He scrunched his eyes together, the palm of his hand suddenly slapping his cheek before dragging itself up to push the oversized fringe of bangs draping over his view. He didn’t seem to be in pain, rather the very opposite comportment to just moments ago.  

She reached her own hand to feel his cheek, and then his forehead, feeling his sweat against her skin. “Just how much did you and dad drink?” She asked no one in particular.  

 She pushed herself up and walked into the kitchen to find Nabiki getting a glass of water. “How’s dad?”  

“Father started puking,” Nabiki responded very nonchalantly, rolling her eyes at the way Akane’s eyes widen before she explained further, “he just had too much to drink, dummy. Nothing to worry about. Although, technically, he could have choked on his own vomit were we not there to help him settle into bed.” Kasumi had done the best she could to clean their father and his bed, and Nabiki was just getting him some water. He was in great hands, but she couldn't not be worried.  “Just keep an eye on that fiancé of yours. I don’t know how much he drank compared to daddy.”  

Akane winced at the way the word fiancé smoothly slid through Nabiki’s teeth; she pushed past it to find what her sister was saying to be true. She didn’t want Ranma to sleep on a puddle of his own throw up, and definitely didn’t want to risk him choking on it.  

She returned with a small kitchen towel that she had run under the cool water, and a glass of water, just in case he needed it. She quickly pressed the fresh cloth against his skin and gently dragged it up to press and rest on his forehead, a thin smile spreading as his body flinched at the unexpected gesture.  

Akane found herself comfortable as she watched him drift off into a slumber, wondering whether she was going to try and carry him up the stairs or wake him. He was breathing deeply, she noted, as his wide chest rose steadily up and down. He seemed so serene, finding him quite cute when he wasn’t talking out his ass. She scoffed a light laughter, her hand twitching at wanting to bonk his head silly.  

Her hand reached over to push chunks of his fringe away from his face, noting he needed a trim as the tips seem to be reaching the bridge of nose.  

"You’re so dumb,” she found herself muttering, shaking her head in disbelief, although not completely surprised to be the one tending after him.  

“God, ‘Kane,” he grunted lowly, quickly and easily startling her as she believed him to be unconscious, “can’t you ever be nice to me.”  

She scoffed, nervously pushing strands of her own hair behind her ear frantically hoping she wasn’t caught watching him sleep in the way she was admiring him. “I’ll gladly start when you start,” she found herself challenging the drunk teen, not really thinking anything would come out of the interaction, but desperately wanting to rile him into some sort of distraction.  

“I’m always nice to you!”  

She scoffed again, aware that he truly did believe he was nice to her; there were times he might have unintentionally expressed generous comments about her, but they were never to be nice, they were simply happy accidents on her account.  

“Like when?”  

She was looking down at him, still lying on the floor with the damp towel on the upper half of his face hoping it covered his sight completely. She could see him thinking, trying to muster something – anything – up just to prove his point. And she found it amusing, letting the seconds slide as she watched him groan with irritation.  

“I’ve saved you multiple times, ya’ know!”  

Akane dry laughter must have caused some sort of reaction because Ranma was now trying to sit up, holding the damped towel in a soft grip.  

“Ranma, that wasn’t you being nice, that was you being a decent human being. Also,” she said as she watched him successfully slouch forward, his eyes still half-lidded with a light overlay of blush at the apples of his cheeks, “go ahead and drink some water. It should help sober you up.”  

He glanced at her for a few seconds, silent before looking over at the almost full glass of water she held in her hand, reaching over to him. He took it and gulped all of it down, without hesitation and gently placed the cup down on the floor with them.  

“Thank you,” he found himself saying quietly, keeping the ambience steady, not realizing just how thirsty he actually had been, and just how incredible the water felt when it flushed down his throat and splashed the inside of his chest.  

Akane found herself smiling at the way he thanked her. “Are you ready to go to bed?”  

Ranma’s eyes widen abnormally large, his mouth opening slightly before shutting it tight with the intention of swallowing the knot choking him. “I’m sure Auntie Saotome’s waiting for you,” she continued, her following statement calming him immensely before coming to the realization at where his mind had gone to in mere seconds.  

“C’mon,” she offered, getting up from her knees and stretching both her arms towards him offering him a boost up, thinking he was probably too weak to try and stand up. Although, this was ranma, after all. He was never too weak for anything, “I’m dying for you to wake up with such a massive headache in the morning and blame anyone but yourself.”  

She grinned mischievously down at him, expecting him to minimum stick his tongue out at her as a defense, but all he did was remind her, “I am nice to ya’, I just can’t remember.”  

“Yeah, well maybe you could be nicer.”  

“Like how?” 

Was he genuinely asking?  

“I don’t know Ranma, just be sweet, I guess.”  

“Sweet, huh?”  

Akane crouched down, sitting on her bottom on the floor but keeping her knees bent, knitting her eyebrows together as she watched him intensely. “Ranma,” she said to him in a calm voice, half-taunting, half-curious what he was babbling about, “you’re drunk. Go to bed.”  

“You look beautiful, ya’ know.”  

She wasn’t expecting that. “Uh.” Was he messing with her? Was he taunting her? Poking fun? Still, she needed to do something about the absurd reddening of her face to his comment. “It shouldn't be forced,” she found herself replying to him. She knew he was probably expecting some sort of thank you, but she didn’t know if she wanted to give him one.  

“It’s not.” He fought back, his eyebrows indenting together, bothered that she didn’t believe him. 

“Well,” Akane sighed, “kinda’ feels like you said it to prove a point, rather than because it came from the heart.”  

“Well,” Ranma said, leaning slightly forward towards her, and although he wasn’t that close, she could still smell the alcohol in his breath that reminded her he was indeed intoxicated as he reminded her, “I don’t lie.”  

She pursed her lips pondering to herself, wondering what this was all about. “Okay,” she found herself saying something out loud.  

“Now you say something nice about me.”  

Akane laughed again, “This isn’t how it works.”  

“So,” he retorted, “we don’t always have to follow the rules.”  

“Yeah, but just because you said something nice doesn’t mean I owe you something in return.”  

“Aw, c’mon, I said you were cute.”  

“No,” she grinned, “you said I look beautiful.”  

“That was nice of me, huh?”  

“God, you’re such a dork.” She wanted to frown at him, but the corners of her mouth were not willingly pushing down, and instead she pushed him away; not harshly, just a gentle nudge that nonetheless forced him to lean back down as she said, “I’m going to bed.”  

“Wait,” he called after her, but she didn’t stop for him, not caring if he couldn’t get himself up the stairs. “’Kane, be nice!”  

“Goodnight, Ranma.”  

[danosrosegarden]

Haiiiii!! I’m happy you got requests open again! I’ve been loving the angel Eddie series! Eli my beloved would you be willing to do something cute and fluffy about taking Eddie on a date. I don’t think he’s ever been to a zoo or an aquarium and I love those places. So tl:dr Eddie and Reader going on a date to the zoo and them just being excited and happy to show him something innocent and fun

Some Sweet Day - Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Contains: minor descriptions of anxiety, but mostly fluff!

Note: thank you for the request, Savvy! Eddie deserves some fun fluff, doesn't he? :-)

Maybe it was a mistake, bringing him here. His cheeks were dusted with an anxious crimson, and his grassy eyes darted around as groups of people walked by. Their mindless chatter was bouncing around his brain in a cymbal crash crescendo, you were sure of it by the way he grabbed onto your hand and held tight.

"It'll be fun!" you'd told Edward as you handed him his ticket into the zoo. But now, you were wondering if this really was a good idea at all. You were determined to make the broken child inside of his soul smile today.

You started in the jungle. The ground was slicked with murky mist. The lush green trees appeared empty at first, until a monkey with fiery locks of orange fur swung from an obscured pocket of bushy leaves.

"Look, Eddie, he's showing off for us," you laughed as the monkey tumbled from branch to branch.

Edward offered you a small smile and nodded. "Silly," he mumbled.

The caves chirped with brown bats and smelled of old water. Edward held tight onto your hand as you stumbled through the darkness and listened to the bats flap about.

"I think bats are cute," you whispered to him.

"Me too, honey."

You were most excited for the aquarium. Edward noticed where you were leading him as you made your way down a flight of stairs.

"We're going to the aquarium?" he asked softly.

"We sure are." You grinned. "Why? Did you want to go somewhere else?"

"No," he answered. "You just seem extra excited."

You smiled brightly at him and squeezed his clammy hand. "The jellyfish are my favorite."

The longer you looked at the fish, the more amazed with nature you became. The streaks of popping color dancing around their smooth skin flowed so freely and gorgeously. The cloudy tangles of tentacles streaking down from the jellyfish, the gently pulsating gills of the wide-eyed sharks, the spots splattered on the flat tops of the stingrays...it all combined in a spectacle that made your heart grin.

"They're all so beautiful, Eddie."

"I think so, too, sweetheart."

"I wish I could take one home as a pet."

"A shark?!"

You laughed and then turned your head as the pitter-patter of tiny feet ran up beside you. A young girl with frizzy hair and thick glasses smiled up at you. She was missing multiple teeth and had a few shining silver ones in the back.

"Did you know sharks don't have bones?" she yelled at you. "I think sharks are the coolest things in the world. They live on every ocean in the whole planet! How awesome is that?!"

You giggled at the little girl's enthusiasm and nodded. "Huh, that's amazing! Did you know that there are about 500 species of sharks?"

She nodded furiously. "My favorite are great white sharks. A lot of people are scared of sharks, but more people die putting on their pants every year than by shark attacks! Did you know--"

A frazzled woman with a phone pressed against her shoulder and cheek ran up behind the girl and grabbed her by the shoulder. "Franny, for God's sake, how many times have I told you to stop running off?" The woman looked at you and Edward apologetically. "I'm so sorry. She hears the word 'shark' and goes running away in that direction."

Eddie shook his head. "No, it's no problem," he said. "She's a smart girl."

The mother looked down at a beaming Franny and gave Edward a small smile. "She is, isn't she?"

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

By the time you left the zoo, the sun was wavering with the heat of the evening, leaking bright tangerine and coloring the clouds the same orange glow.

"Thanks for taking me here today," Edward said as you trudged through the packed parking lot. "It was fun."

"Honestly, Eddie, I was a little worried at first. I thought it might've been too peopley for you."

Edward chuckled softly and shook his head.

"I'm happy I went."

You studied his side profile for a moment as you made your way back to your car. The nervous, blood red rouge had long faded from his cheeks. And he was smiling. He ended the day smiling. That's really all you could've asked for; a happy day with your sweet guy. No matter where he went, no matter how fearful and daunting it seemed, all he really needed was you by his side. <3

[autumnvine]

Accidental Love

Summary- Everything seemed normal at first, until the Chituari destroyed your world.

Tw: War, fighting, violence.

New York was always busy, there was no down time for the city, there wasn't much excitement. There was always people on the street, running in central park or having coffee, always someone having to wait for a bus, someone in a new suit with a briefcase in hand going to a meeting with other colleagues discussing and arguing their points for hours on end. And then there was you, always having the same routine, waking up at six, getting dressed, brushing your teeth and hair, walking your high heels down the same grey pathed street with the matching bag to your shoe.  Walking into the same coffee shop, having a poppyseed bagel with creme cheese, blueberry muffin with a large flat white latte to go. The brown paper bag holding your muffin stuffed less gracefully then you planned into your handbag.

You didn't work far just a few streets down which gave you plenty of time to finish your latte. Waiting to cross the street, staring at the green traffic light shifting from one foot to the other slightly swaying as you listened to Dolly Parton blasting through your headphones,

"Tumble outta bed and I stumble to the kitchen

Pour myself a cup of ambition

And yawn and stretch and try to come to life

Jump in the shower and the blood starts pumpin

Out on the street the traffic starts jumpin

The folks like me on the job from nine to five"

Noticing the red traffic light you walked across the street, down the hill, tripping over the same kirb each morning, into your work, greeting the security guard on the main entrance swiping your keycard, the lift out of order which was not ideal when you work on the seventh floor, that's fourteen individual flights of stairs in stilletos. Eventually reaching your floor sitting at your desk and trying to focus on the pile of papers that awaited your attention. Hours into your collection of paperwork the pile was getting smaller and smaller, alot of emails sent, replied, sent and replied to. Various phone calls to offices in the tri-state area, listening to business man after busines man trying to argue and offer you new solutions to which you weren't interested in hearing. Your clients trusted and needed yyou, from day one on the job you swore to do right by them. Sure it got long and often annoying it still brought you great satisfaction knowing in some smqall way you were helping. You pushed through your lunch break, with nearing the end of your shift having a few files left to tend to you took a break, standing, walking over to the window looking onto the skyscrapers admiring the sun breaking through the clouds, a faint darkness appearing in the sky, becoming bigger and bigger, what appeared to be a light blue electric stream beaming up from a building into the sky, watching as a golden metalic aliens crawl through the darkness. Turning to run grabbing your phone and your bag shouting to your collegues down the hallway to leave the building as you ran, the sky suddenly filling with aliens, stilletos were not good shoes to wear when taking to the stairs. Shots were being fired through the other buildings, feeling the rumbling underfoot, the stairs begain shaking, above your had fell some dust and paint flakes, your co-workers nearly trampling you as they shoved passed, the whole stairwell shaking more and more became too much, reaching the fourth floor a man much much bigger then you shoved you to the floor, crawling into the fourth floor hall to escape the masses. It was empty, paperwork, bags, random shoes everywhere. Standng up by the window seeing massive metalic aliens swarm the streets of your city, noticing a tall man, long dark hair, golden helmet and green robes, riding the monsters that threatened your existance past the window, something almost shooting him out of the sky, blowing up, blasting him and you across the town, him landing somewhere on the building across, you however falling further and further down toward the street you walked across this morning, now filled with rubble, screaming as you fell toward almost certain death you stopped falling, landing on the floor ontop a metal sheild red, white and blue, you had heard stories of the super soldier, thinking only of myth and legend but today saving your life. Smaller aliens apearing around you and the soldier

"Stay down, stay behind me,  it'll be okay" he shouted to you, punching each one away, fighting to save you, when it stopped, the aliens falling, almost as if they were switched off suddenly, the others falling from the sky, it was over, the fighting stopped. Reaching his hand out to you helping you stand

"Are you alright ma'am?" the super soldier asked

"You saved me, thank you" replying in disbelief of what happened and who was standing infront of you, collapsing underfoot he caught you in his arms.

Waking up in an unknown bed, not knowing how long it had been, or what happened or where you were, you got up to look, noticing your shoes were missing, your leg bandaged up, as were your hands. Walking barefoot along a metal floor, through each door leading to another hallway noone around, trying to navigate your way around you found a room, door labelled "Holding Facility" going in hoping to find someone. Instead finding a clear container, yellow pipes everywhere, boxes in each corner stacked ontop of one another. Following the path around the glass room, finding the man who was flying past you, riding the aliens that destroyed your home, sitting with his back to you,

"Are you alright?" not knowing who he was you asked anyway. The man turning to face you smiling

"There's not many people who can sneek up on me"

"It's you, you're the one who fell with me, pardon me but where are we?"

"I am where I'm meant to be" Loki snapped

"Who are you?" almost afraid to ask

"I am Loki, King of Asgard and I am burdened with glorious purpose" realising you were in the presence of royalty you bowed, Loki smiling as he watched

"What do they want with me? With us? What were the monsters that came here?"

"The Chituari" Loki answered just one question of the three you asked him

"Do you know-" stopping yourself from speaking as you looked at him "Loki you're bleeding, your head, you're hurt." lifting his fingers to his head wiping away a few droplets of blood, as you tried to push the doors open, "How do I get this open? You need help."  Loki standing with the same grin across his face

"Who are you and what are you doing?" A voice bellowed from behind you, startled you spun around

"I'm Yn I woke up here, I got lost trying to find someone, I found Loki, he's hurt, he's bleeding. Please don't hurt me."

"Yn come away from him, he's dangerous."

"Yn I need help, they'll kill you, I can protect you, first you just have to push that button to open the door." Loki gently spoke to you from behind.

Unsure of what to do, You pressed the button releasing Loki from the glass cell, after all he was bleeding and they left him

"Nooo" Thor shouted swinging his hamer pushing Loki back into the cell." The doors closed behind him,

"Are you ever not going to fall for that brother?" Loki remarked standing by you and not in the cell.

By the door out appears the soldier who saved you, a lady with short firery red hair in a black suit, a man in a red armoured suit, and a man tall with an eye patch with a gun, scratch scars down the eye with the patch. All staring at you

"Let her go Loki" shouted the soldier

"I'm not keeping her" answered Loki "You see, she understands loyalty to a King"

"We can't let you leave here, you know that Loki"

Walking over to the side getting a cloth from hanging over the banister you handed it to Loki "Here, for your head"

Somewhere in your head none of this made sense, but in your heart it felt right. Standing by Loki felt right. Seeing them all standing there looking at you felt uneasy, threatening. This morning you were going to work, now you stood in a room of super soldiers, army men, King's and fighters. The lady pointed her gun at Loki"I wouldn't do that if I were you" Loki laughed "Look how far that's gotten you, look at how it turned out the first time.

The Chituari destroyed it, all of it, now here you are standing trying to stop me leaving when your world is crumbling, people are dieing, crushed by buildings you build. You want to pick fight with a God, what kind of hero's are you?"

"He's right, he can't cause any more damage, they need our help. There dying out there. We'll be back for you."

"Oh I don't doubt it."

" Loki what is Asgard?"

"Dont worry love you'll see"

[lovelyangelxxx]

catch me… | various paradox live characters x reader

→ a beautiful relationship that comes to a sudden end

→ angst, g/n reader, tw; mentions of death and blood

→ iori suiseki, kanata yatonokami, yohei kanbayashi, yeon hajun

i apologize for this one being so terribly written…it was better in my head😭

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

iori suiseki ♡

~ the words “catch me” came from your lips as you were dancing on the stage. you were happily dancing when you decided to lean towards the edge of the stage and fall. iori caught you while thinking you were the most beautiful and bright person in the entire universe. the happy incident had occurred on the first night that you met him, however those same words would forever haunt him as he heard you mutter that phrase once again on a hospital bed. in that moment he heard nothing else but your melodic voice and unstable breathing, but watched the electrocardiogram go flat in agony and heartache, once again feeling the pain of losing a loved one. 

kanata yatonokami ♡

~ kanata never needed nor wanted a relationship until he met you. you lit up every room you walked in and (literally) fell into his arms. you came to a paradox live concert and walked through the crowd only to trip and fall, crying out for help, and asking someone to catch you. by happy coincidence, kanata had caught you and surprisingly, that moment would bring him something he never imagined he could ever obtain. unfortunately, only happy endings occur in fantasies. walking home together on a cold, dark night, you see a shadow creeping towards you, then feel them brush past you. you suddenly feel your vision start to go blurry and your legs go numb. you calmly glance at your beloved, asking him to catch you as he sees a dagger and the crimson liquid pouring from your chest. he sees the light fade from your eyes while holding you in his arms, with those same words running through his mind. 

yohei kanbayashi ♡

~ yohei remembers seeing your figure run up to him as he entered your shared apartment. the words he heard as you leapt into his arms. “catch me.” he had never felt so happy in his entire life, to be with someone who trusted him and loved him. however, those happy moments did not last forever. while climbing up a flight of stairs, someone had rushed by you, causing you to lose your balance and fall over the rail. the same words that had brought him so much happiness would also cause him to feel immense pain and guilt. his hand barely brushed yours as he watched you fall, tears of sadness and regret pouring out of both of your eyes, knowing that this is your last moment together. 

yeon hajun ♡

~ it was your first date with hajun where you were skipping around a flower field and lost your balance. you asked him to catch you which led to him also losing his balance and tumbling down a hill with you in his arms. the occurrence ended in much laughter, happiness, and peace. however, that sentence would not just end in a happy accident, but a fatal tragedy as well. a terminal disease had plagued you for the past few months without you knowing, and it had finally peaked. you suddenly lost balance and with the fall, lost your consciousness too. whispering that same phrase which would leave hajun devastated and empty. after hearing the news from a doctor, hajun held your hand only praying that this was all just a bad dream. 

[ultr8-v1olence]

DO NOT STEAL. THIS IS MY ORGINAL STORY.

As Noor and Alex walked home from school, the new killer lurked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.But just as they were about to pounce, a loose paving stone caught their foot, sending them tumbling down a nearby flight of stairs.The killer's screams echoed through the alleyway as they fell, their body crashing against the concrete steps.Noor and Alex rushed to the scene, finding the killer lying motionless at the bottom of the stairs."Oh my god, it's...it's that person who's been following me!" Noor exclaimed, her voice trembling.Alex's eyes widened in shock as he realized the killer's intentions. "We have to call the police!"As they waited for help to arrive, Noor secretly slipped something into the killer's pocket - a small vial of poison, one that would ensure they never revealed her secrets.The police ruled it as an accidental death, a tragic fall that had claimed the life of a would-be killer.But Alex was shaken to the core, his gratitude towards Noor deepening into a fierce protectiveness."Noor, I can't lose you," he whispered, his arms wrapping tightly around her. "You're all I have left."Noor's heart raced as she hugged him back, her secrets safe for now. But the web of lies was tightening, and she knew it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down.The new killer, whose name was revealed to be Sarah, had a twisted obsession with Noor. Sarah had been a former classmate of Noor's, and had always felt overshadowed by Noor's intelligence and popularity. As time went on, Sarah's jealousy turned to hatred, and she became fixated on destroying Noor's life.Sarah had been tracking Noor's movements for weeks, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. She had even gone so far as to break into Noor's house, leaving sinister messages and tokens of her presence.But what drove Sarah's obsession was a dark secret from her own past. She had been a victim of bullying in high school, and had never recovered from the trauma. In her twisted mind, she saw Noor as the embodiment of all the popular kids who had tormented her, and she was determined to make her pay.As for the poison vial, Noor had discovered it in her father's old lab, a relic from his days as a chemist. She had kept it hidden away, knowing it could be useful in desperate situations. And when she saw Sarah lurking in the shadows, she knew she had to act fast to protect herself and Alex.

[little-diable]

The Lighthouse Keeper - Tommy Shelby

I'm still down with the flu, but I've been wanting to share this with y'all for a while. This came to me as I was listening to the live version of Kaleo's "Break my Baby". I am quite sure this pairing has been done before, but I truly truly love it. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has been working as the lighthouse keeper ever since the death of her parents, a lonely job the reader is slowly adjusting to. But when a man with a gunshot wound turns up in the middle of a storm, begging for her help, the reader finds herself unknowingly helping the one she has been cursing. Will she still find it in herself to save his life?

Warnings: 18+, smut, oral (m receiving), talks of loss of parents, some angsty feels (well duh, chi), talks of blood and needles, the last lines are from Ovid's The Heroides

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3.5k words)

divider by @firefly-graphics

Rain was pouring from the dark sky as if the clouds were crying, and yet she couldn’t tell what they were crying about. She had her hands pressed against the cold window, staring out into the darkness with the light slowly following. Her hands were aching from clinging onto the metal, leaving icy burns on the skin that should be all too used to the sensation. 

The rough waves kept clashing against the shore, making it harder for her to spot any nearing ships, hoping to guide them to safety. Silent prayers left her lips whenever she spotted somebody nearing from afar, well aware that for a few minutes she’d be the one deciding over their fate. If she’d push the lamp too far, she’d guide them away from the harbour, pushing the ones putting their trust in her into their death. 

The sound of the storm raging on rang in her ears like a cruel tune betokening her own end. Goosebumps covered every part of her body, tightly wrapped in the clothes she wore day in, night out, no longer caring about the condition of the worn out fabrics she had to use to keep herself warm. It was just her, a woman, the roaring thunder, and the clashing waves. 

“C’mon, follow the light, for fuck’s sake.” The curses rolled off (y/n)’s tongue like a song sung by a choir, hoping to make the One proud of their endless love, the trust they put in his creations. A god (y/n) had stopped talking to years ago, not understanding how he could push her into her misery, how he could rip her family from her before she could decide over her own fate. It had been a cruel joke she had found no humour in. 

Her eyes didn’t dare let go of the ship in the distance, scared that if she’d blink too slow she’d lose it in the rough waves. Sweat pearled on her forehead, forming drops similar to the raindrops rolling down her window, leaving behind traces that told a daunting story. It would take hours for the storm to pass, hours she’d spent with her burning eyes following the light she guided. 

“Yes, that’s it, keep left-” her murmurs were interrupted by the sound of somebody knocking on the heavy metal door. For a second she froze, not daring to look away from the sea, even if she wanted to. Perhaps it was just the storm, blowing things against her door, no sane man nor woman would dare to leave the shelter of their homes when a storm this strong torments the night. 

But the sound could be heard again. And again. 

Before (y/n) could stop herself, she let go of the lamp, hoping that the ship wouldn’t lose its path. Trembling legs carried her down the stairs, faster than she should run, about to tumble down the last flight of steps. A heavy gasp clawed through her as she opened the door, pushed aside by the frame of a man. 

He fell to the ground with a groan, eyes squeezed shut, hands pressed against his stomach. The door fell shut with a heavy thud, and for a moment they were surrounded by nothing but silence. (Y/n)’s wide eyes were focused on the man, on the blood clinging to his skin and the pained expression tugging on his features. 

“I,  oh god, what happened to you?” She crouched down beside him, hands gently pushing his away to get a better look at his wound. For a second she had to fight against bile rising in her throat, not used to seeing this much blood pouring out of what appeared to be a gunshot wound. “Fuck, don’t pass out on me.”

Her eyes flickered to the stairs, unsure how she could bring him up to her living space. The man kept heavily breathing, slowly opening his piercing eyes that stared at her with pain laced in his gaze. His eyes followed her line of sight, standing up - or at least trying to - before she could speak another word. Shudders ran down her spine at the sound of his groans, unsure how she would be able to help him.

With his arm wrapped around her shoulder, they moved up the stairs, slower than she had probably ever walked before. Gently (y/n) placed him down on her sofa, stabilising his frame with trembling hands. No words left him as he watched her disappear, only to return with a bowl of water and a few pieces of linen. 

She pressed the linen against the wound, trying to figure out what she’d have to do, no longer able to think straight. Would she have to remove the bullet, would she have to sew the shreds of skin back together? Her heart kept racing, pounding in her chest as if the thunderstorm was rampaging inside her body.

“Do you have a phone? I need to make a call.” She stared down on him with an unreadable expression, eyes flickering to the big windows that gave view onto the dark sky and the clashing waves.

“I doubt you’ll reach anybody, the line has been dead since this morning.” The disappointed huff that left the man was followed by a string of curses, eyes falling shut as if he had to sort through his thoughts. She couldn’t help but take in his features, (y/n) found herself fascinated by him, by the almost spotless skin, the small freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks like a constellation forming in the dark sky above.

“What’s your name?” (Y/n) spoke the question before she could stop herself, needing to find anything she could use to distract herself as she tried to figure out how to help the man. 

“Tommy, Tommy Shelby.” Tommy was used to the different reactions to his name, spoken like a whisper, scared to wake the ones nearby. But he had never come across somebody who had laughed about his name, staring down on him with an expression full of amusement. 

“Who would have thought that Tommy Shelby himself needs to be rescued from death. Aren’t you the one who calls death upon them too young to bid this life goodbye?” Her voice dripped with something darker, something Tommy hadn’t stumbled upon in years. His piercing eyes bored into her soul, trying to decipher the meaning of the sudden hatred rolling upon her. “I never had a face to the man who had ripped my family from me, god, I imagined myself meeting you for months. And now I saved your life, while you stomped on mine as if it was nothing more than a game to you. You’ve gambled with my fate, it seems like I lost, haven’t I?” 

“What’s your name?” Tommy kept his voice emotionless, not daring to give away the emotions thumping through his veins. 

“No doctor will make it here tonight, I think I have to remove the bullet.” (Y/n) didn’t reply to his question, staring down on the now bloody linen she kept pressing against his wound. 

Will she be the one to rescue the man who had killed her family? Will she allow him to live on, while her loved ones no longer breathed the same air as she and he did? 

“It’s, fuck,” the man groaned, voice raspy with his accent growing thicker with every word he spoke. “Just get it out.” 

Perhaps he was her only chance of finding answers to the questions she had been struggling with. Perhaps he was her only chance of letting her racing heart rest, even if he was the one to push her into her misery. 

(Y/n) had to bite her tongue, watching him for a few more seconds before she reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol. She poured a few gulps down his throat, followed by a shot drowned by herself before she wetted a new piece of linen with the alcohol. Their eyes met as she pressed her little finger into the wound, trying not to focus on his groans. She felt the metal of the bullet pressing against her fingertip, silently thanking whoever was listening that the wound wasn’t deep. 

“Don’t die on me, I’m not done with you, Tommy Shelby.” The man didn’t reply, his eyes fluttered shut and with one last breath leaving him, he passed out. She knew that she had to work fast, scared that he may die before she could close the wound. Tears blurred her vision as she tried to pull the bullet from his stomach, biting down on her lip to stop herself from sobbing. It took her a few tries to pull the piece of metal from his skin, but the moment she managed to do so, (y/n) couldn’t help but deeply exhale in relief. 

Her hands were covered in blood, forced to leave him for a few seconds to wash them in her old sink. With a needle and a piece of thread in her hands, (y/n) got to work once again, carefully sewing the wound, hoping that it won’t rip open in the next hours. 

“Watch out, careful.” (Y/n)’s soft words echoed through the room, forcing his eyes open. His gaze wandered from her features to his surroundings, taking in the big windows of the round construction, the lamps placed around the room and the candles burning. A strange scent hung in the room, and yet it was anything but unwelcomed, a mixture of the salty scent of the sea and coffee, making his heart slow down its panicked beat. 

“Where am I?” His raspy voice rang in her ears, forcing her to bring a cup of warm coffee to his lips, helping him swallow the warm beverage.

“You’re at the lighthouse, you came here last night, with a gunshot wound. You passed out as I pulled the bullet from your stomach.” His gaze wandered down his naked upper body, taking in the linen she had wrapped around his torso, covering the wound. A heavy sigh rumbled through him as he ran a hand over his features, murmuring a small “Fuck”. 

Their eyes met, studying one another for a few moments before he tried to sit up straighter, though miserably failing as pain shot through him. Wordlessly she stabilised his frame, helping him move the pillows. 

“Why did you save me?” His whispers coaxed a chuckle out of her, she sat back, took a sip of her drink and let her gaze wander to the rough sea. The waves were rolling ashore like soldiers returning from war, not daring to share the things they’ve seen, the sounds they've heard and the scent of rotten corpses and bloody soil they’ll never be able to forget. 

“I told you, I’m not done with you. You have answers to questions I’ve been asking ever since you ripped my family from me.” Her eyes wandered back to his features, clearly struggling with the pain clinging to his body. A sigh rumbled through him, a sigh so loud (y/n) found herself reminded of the thunderstorm that had brought him to her hours ago. 

“Do you have a cigarette?” He watched her reach for his jacket, no longer torn but clearly sewn together by her. She threw him his pack, intensely watching his every move, how he blew the smoke out into the air as if he was blowing the pain right from his system. “What’s your name?” 

“(Y/n), my parents were killed in June, you’ve probably already forgotten about them, haven’t you?” Another drag was inhaled into his aching lungs, piercing eyes not leaving her frame one. 

“Did you know about your father’s gambling problems, (y/n)?” She froze, for just a moment, and yet he perfectly picked up on it, not missing the expression of uncertainty. “He owned me a shitload of money, fuck, way too much for a man like him. But even though you may think I was the one that killed him, I didn’t, and neither was it one of my men.” 

“You liar.” (Y/n) spat the words, rising from her chair to bring some distance between them, glassy eyes struggling to focus on him. 

“I have no reason to lie to you, do I?” The last stream of smoke left him before he pressed out his cigarette, moving even though his pain clearly tormented him. “I don’t know who killed him and your mother, but I know for sure it wasn’t us. You are allowed to hate me, God knows most people do, but don’t curse me for a crime I’ve no involvement with.”

“I,” a sob clawed through her, forcing (y/n) to turn away from him. All he could do was watch her wrap her arms around herself, hugging herself as she tried to accept that the picture of the bad guy she had tried to paint in her mind wasn’t the one she had thought of day in, night out. The name Tommy Shelby had been etched into her mind, a name she had picked up months ago, spoken by her mother to warn her of those she should stay away from - forcing her to think that he had been the one to rip her parents from this very life. 

“Come here.” Tommy reached his hand out for her to take, pulling the trembling woman towards him without sparing his pain a thought. Before either one of them could begin to understand what was happening, (y/n) found herself pressed to his side, sobbing against his naked chest. “I’m sorry for your loss.” 

By the time evening rolled around, Tommy had slowly accepted the fact that he won’t be able to leave for another night. The storm was still raging on, the wind was howling through the night, forcing the rain to clash hard against the windows of the lighthouse. He’d watch (y/n) from his spot on the sofa, no longer plagued by his pain but by his racing thoughts. Tommy had been wrecking his mind, trying to figure out who had killed her parents, unsure who he should accuse of the murder. 

She was sitting next to her lamp, staring at the sky, silently counting the clouds passing by. The sun was about to set, drenching the sky in a deep orange Tommy hadn’t seen in years, Mother Nature’s finest creation, and yet he couldn’t look away from her. There was something about (y/n) that drew him in, forcing Tommy to stare at her features, the eyes he’d forever see when he closes his own, the soft hands that had managed to save his life and those lips he found his gaze drawn to. Fuck, he felt like a school boy, crushing on the girl he’d never be able to pull in. But Tommy was no longer a boy with dreams that were still full of hope, and (y/n) wasn’t a girl that hadn’t seen any pain this ruthless life could offer. 

“You’re staring.” (Y/n) spoke the words without turning towards him, not able to bite down the smile widening on her lips. He didn’t reply, kept staring at her as he lit a cigarette, finding comfort in the taste that has pushed others into Death’s open arms. For the first time in weeks, perhaps even months, Tommy stopped listening to his mind’s command, working against the warning bells ringing in his ears. 

He reached his hand out, watching her rise from her position to grasp his hands, squealing in surprise as Tommy pulled her into his lap. Her skin was prickling, growing warmer with every careful touch exploring her thighs, wandering up to her hips. The smoke kept pouring from his lips like secrets shared in the night, hoping that the darkness won’t tell on them. She took the cigarette from his cold hand, took a drag herself before she pressed it out, forcing him to focus on her. 

“I don’t remember the last time I trusted somebody with my life, and yet here I am. I’m at your mercy, you decided over my life, saved me, even when you thought that I was your worst enemy.” His gaze kept focusing on her lips, carefully weighing his options, unsure if he should give into the pull he felt or if he should keep his distance. (Y/n) seemingly struggled with the same questions, but she pushed herself closer, lips ghosting over Tommy’s. Both moved at the same time, sharing a careful kiss, to test the water, watching the waves grow higher and higher, threatening to drown them. He tasted of cigarettes and tea, a taste so unfamiliar (y/n) found herself addicted to it within the first moments. He smelled of alcohol and the sea, clinging to him like a second layer of skin. 

Trembling hands moved down his naked upper body, careful not to touch his wound. Every now and then a hiss would rumble through Tommy, momentarily distracted by his pain, a pain she had sworn to soothe. Barely any sounds could be heard besides the howling of the wind and the clashing of the rain, guiding the two closer together. He found himself pushed against the warm fabric of the sofa, with (y/n) straddling his lap, not breaking the kiss just yet. She moved slowly, not wanting to tear the moment apart, hoping to stay in the forming bubble of contentedness till the sun would rise. 

“Let me take care of you.” Her whispers coaxed a soft groan out of Tommy, eyes fluttering close for a moment. She undid his trousers, pulled them down just enough to free his hardening cock, twitching in her grasp. Carefully she pumped him, eyes not daring to leave his features once, not wanting to miss the expressions changing like the tide. 

Her tongue found his tip, tasting him with careful movements, not wanting to overstimulate the man. Tommy’s moans guided her like her light guiding ships through the uneasy sea, hoping to lead them into the safe haven. With her cheeks hallowed (y/n) started to bob her head, trying to take more of him, set on hearing those raspy moans. 

One of his hands found her head, pushing her further down his cock. She gagged around him, forcing tears to well up in her eyes, tears similar to the raindrops cascading down the big windows of her lighthouse. Slowly she kept tracing the veins shining through his skin, forcing another heavy moan out of his parted lips.

“Christ, you’re good at this.” A chuckle rumbled through her, vibrating on his skin. (Y/n) pulled away, trying to catch her breath as she kept pumping him with her hand. 

“Don’t take His name in vain, Shelby.” She was teasing him, clearly as disappointed by the God she was supposed to believe in. But there was no Maker to believe in when her once twinkling eyes had been forced to watch ships be swallowed whole by the raging sea, when her once youthful eyes had been forced to watch her family being laid to rest. 

Their eyes met once again, he was silently begging her to bring her mouth back to his cock, close to his release. A feeling so sweet he could only dream of it. She sucked on the tip, allowing her to move carefully, wanting to drag out the moment as she felt his thighs quiver. He’d cum any moment now, guided home by the invisible pull he felt inside his chest. 

A low “Fuck” rumbled through him as he came, eyes squeezed shut and lips parted. She kept moving her hands, swallowing every drop of his release with a smirk tugging on her lips. It took him a few moments to come down from his high, exhausted eyes focusing on her features. Tommy cupped her warm cheek, studying her in the warm light that engulfed her frame. 

Leander had drowned at Hellespont, the swollen sea opposed his youthful undertaking, Hero had followed the call of the sea, drowning with her lover’s name on her mind, ignoring her own warning, and Tommy Shelby had almost given into death’s comforting embrace, rescued by whatever had forced (y/n) to save his life. 

Don’t trust yourself to the sea unless it’s tranquil. If you don’t spare yourself, spare your beloved girl, who can never be safe unless you’re safe too. Yet there’s hope of peace near in the weakening waves.

[etherealpapercut]

prompt: imagine the love of your life whispering to you. imagine their voice talking to you softly, as the lights go out, and you feel them lean closer to you, as the two of you sit in the dark, and they speak oh so quietly... the whisper of whispers.

~*~*~*~

whispers in the dark

~*~*~*~

fandom: mcu

pairings: loki laufeyson x gn!avenger!reader

genre: mostly fluff. some slight angst if you’re looking hard enough

warnings: stormy weather, power outages, darkness, visual impairment, cuss words, reader is wearing socks, one (1!) jumpscare, reader falls down some steps, there might be a murderer, bruises, mentions of indoor fire, being left out, mentions of insects (butterflies), unintentional gaslighting.

word count: 2.3k words

summary: y/n is wandering through the avengers tower during a power outage when they bump into the ever-shy loki laufeyson

~*~*~*~

a storm never frightened you. 

thunder and lightning and sheets of pounding rain against the windows only made you feel cozy and excited. you never saw any reason to be afraid. you loved the beautiful feeling of a storm in manhattan. 

you weren’t afraid of the dark, either. the darkness was, of course, always a shock when it came unforetold, such as when the power went out like this, but such things never lasted for very long in the avenger’s tower, and there was never anything to fear in it.

you welcomed the blackness, letting it envelope you in a deep embrace, and waited patiently for the warm kitchen lights to return. you stood against the counter for a minute, then two, then three, still waiting. nothing stirred.

the refrigerator had gone silent, and the blue light from the timer on the stove had long vanished. only the ticking of a battery powered clock on some far wall told you that time hadn’t stopped with the power.

you moved away from the counter, coming to the conclusion that the power was out for good, and would be out for good for a long while yet. usually, tony would have had the tower up and running again by this point, but he must have fallen asleep somewhere on top of a wrench and his latest project. either that, or he was stuck in an elevator.

you remembered that there was a flashlight in your room. your cell phone had been left in there, too. both devices would be very helpful right about now. 

“ah, fuck me,” you muttered, sliding one socked foot in front of you like a blind man’s stick, more curses tumbling from your mouth when you stubbed your little toe on the door frame. 

you managed to make it into the hallway and around the corner. you were currently on one of the top floors of the main tower. your quarters were somewhere in the middle of the building, with the others’.

you beelined to the closest elevator before recalling that they couldn't possibly work without power. “shit!” you groaned, before turning around and carefully shuffling to the stairwell. at least while you were on the stairs, you could make progress much faster, as anyone could predict where the next steps on a flight of stairs were going to be, with or without the gift of sight. you couldn't do such a thing wandering through any given room, no matter how long you had lived there. 

“natasha would be having no such problems right now,” you said to yourself, trying to fill the darkness around you with your words. “i bet she could run through all the rooms in the tower blindfolded.”

a squeak escaped your lips as your left foot plunged out into nothingness - it was the first step downstairs. 

you fumbled for the wall to lean upon (tony had maliciously designed the all stairwells and catwalks in the avenger’s tower without rails,) and as soon as you had found purchase, you began your descent.

“one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten! one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, twenty!...” you counted in tens and kept score on your fingers as you made your way down. each floor was spaced about twenty steps apart, and you had about thirty-five flights to go.

“fuck you, stark, and your terrible housing plans.” 

you stopped for breath when you had made it six hundred steps. you had passed too many promising landings that weren’t yours, and now estimated that you had about five flights left to go. that was, of course, depending greatly on the fact that you hadn’t accidentally run down the wrong flight of stairs when the staircase occasionally branched off. 

you were tired of this bullshit. your legs and back cramped in protest.

you wondered what was happening to the rest of the avengers right now. it was close to midnight. most would probably be asleep by now, although you were sure that none of the team had a proper sleep schedule. surely, some would still be awake, grappling by themselves with their own problems in the blackout. 

your breath had caught up, but for a long while, you sat on the steps. you had lost track of whether you were sitting on step number five hundred ninety-nine, or six hundred exactly. it occurred to you now that if you called out, you might get an answer.

you cupped your hands to your mouth and took a deep breath, but someone else beat you to the call.

“HELLOOOOOOO???” 

you shrieked in absolute terror, scrambling off your arse and subconsequently falling down several steps. you had definitely lost count now, and there was definitely someone standing right next to you on the stairs. you continued to scream, long and loud, and in the darkness, there was an unfamiliar voice that was crying out as well.

“what?! is someone here?” the voice called.

“WHO’S THERE?!” you screamed. in your panic, you didn’t recognize who the voice might belong to.

“calm down, stop screaming!”

you stopped short and held your breath, trying to keep as quiet as possible. you realised that this could be a murderer, intruding the tower while the power was out. clever of them - no alarms would be tripped. 

“hello?” the other person called again.

you inhaled ever-so-softly through your nose. you didn’t dare get up, no matter how your butt and knees were bruised and in pain. you did not want to give away your position to a potential murderer.

“y/n!!” 

you squeezed your eyes shut - not that that did any good - and covered your mouth with your hand. how did the intruder know your name?

“where are you, y/n, will you answer me if you’re not dead.” the voice grew impatient. it was loud, had a rich tone, and was very commanding, as if the owner was used to getting their own way. it sighed, exasperated. “it’s me, loki. now where did you go?”

“loki?!” you exclaimed. you righted yourself so that you were sitting upright on the stair. you had landed on the stairs on an angle when you tripped. 

you were surprised that you hadn’t recognized his voice. the first day that the mischief maker had arrived at the avengers, several months ago, the two of you had instantly clicked, and had made good friends with each other. 

perhaps you hadn’t recognized loki’s voice due to the fact that he always spoke in a quiet undertone. hearing him yell was a change.

“y/n!” loki’s voice echoed through the stairwell. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn he sounded relieved. “keep talking so i can find you. are you alright?”

“i’m alright,” you responded. “i hit my ass and my legs on the stairs when i fell down, but i think i’ll survive. pity i can’t see my own hand in front of my face, otherwise i wouldn’t have fallen.”

“you’ve fallen?” loki asked. he stepped down the last few steps to meet you and accidentally kicked you in the back. you yelped in pain. “i just kicked something,” loki gasped, “is that you?”

“owww… yes, that’s me,” you grunted, rubbing your back now as well as your knee. Out of all the fashion choices, loki had to be wearing some kind of shoes with hard, pointed toes. “thank you ever so much for nothing, loki. i fell down the stairs because you scared me, shouting right next to my ear and all that.”

“oopsie.” loki said. you could practically hear him shrug it off. 

next thing you knew, loki’s fumbling hand met the top of your head, then your shoulder as he sat down beside you on the step. you sighed.

“why are you all the way up here, loki?” you inquired, leaning on his arm.

loki paused and lifted his broad shoulders past his ears. “i came to try and find you, y/n.”

“me?” you placed a mocking hand over your heart. Inside, you were genuinely surprised, but it was in your nature to be sarcastic and teasing before anything else. “what makes me so special, for the great loki himself to come seek me out?”

“oh, don’t let your silly little head get all puffed up,” loki protested. he lowered his voice, letting it slip back towards his usual quiet purr. “the rest of the avengers are all downstairs, in the sitting room with the best view of the bay.”

you knew the room he was talking about.

“did they all just happen to be there at the same time when the power went out?”

“why, of course, my dear,” you rolled your eyes at the endearing nickname. “they were just about to send a summons to you over the PA when the darkness overcame us.”

“oh.” you mumbled. “i bet they had lit the central fireplace and were roasting marshmallows, all comfortable and cozy enjoying the show that this storm is putting on for us, hm?”

as if in response to its mention, a spike of lightning shot across the sky, branching spectacularly out across the sky. rolls of thunder followed almost instantly, shaking the tower.

“yes, indeed, that was exactly what they were doing.” loki confirmed.

“awww, and they didn’t invite you or i?” you pouted.

loki shook his head, not that you could see the gesture. “no, i was there all along. they simply didn’t pay me any mind, and couldn’t be bothered to try and find you after the lights went out.”

you stopped short, a bit shaken. “couldn’t... be bothered?” what was that supposed to mean?

“have you ever even seen this monstrous tower? it’s a big place, y/n. for all we knew you could be in any of the sections, on any of the hundred-or-so floors. and we are all very certain that you can handle yourself.”

your voice wilted a little and you curled into yourself just a little bit more. “in the dark?”

you were finally admitting to yourself that while you loved a good storm, you preferred to spend it in the company of others, laughing and sharing warmth.

loki turned his head to look in your direction. “what, is the great y/n l/n scared of the dark?”

“no. more lonely than scared.”

the two of you both paused, sitting in silence, side by side.

loki cleared his throat awkwardly before slinging his arm around you in some kind of side hug. you gave a tiny squeak.

“i know that feeling very well,” loki said quietly. 

“yeah?” you whispered back. 

“oh yeah. i was constantly left out as a child, and as an adolescent, and as a grown up. I never managed to make friends, unlike my peers. loneliness was my best friend.”

“that makes two of us.” you mumbled. you had made yourself a name and earned worldwide respect, and the avengers as a family, yet when you were younger - heck, even now - you always had a sense of being all alone.

you slipped your arms around loki’s waist.

“thanks for coming to find me, loki.” you said softly. “it means a lot.”

“of course, y/n,” loki pressed his face into your hair. “i’ll always come find you when the lights go out. anyway, i had a hunch that you would want the highest view of this storm, that's how i knew you’d be up here.”

you buried your face in the crook of his arm, wondering if he had always been this gentle with you. you liked the way it made you feel, like there were a million itty bitty butterflies crawling around under every point loki was holding or touching you.

it was loki who finally broke the silence, asking if you were too hurt to walk down the rest of the stairs to go meet the other avengers. you replied with a no, but you would probably want ice in the near future.

loki stood up, and carefully helped you to your feet, holding your hand. he didn’t let go, and kept a firm - yet gentle - grip on your hand, taking the lead down the stairs and through passages until you emerged into the soft glow of a fire-lit room, filled with cozy laughter and all your friends. 

loki gracefully lifted your significantly smaller hand in his broad one to his face and left a little kiss on your wrist before retreating to the rim of the fireplace and resuming his place on the couch. you watched him for a minute before emerging into the light. it truly was a marvel to you that no one else seemed to notice him the way you did.

“y/n! you found us!” steve greeted you with vigor. “come help yourself to the treats.”

“glad you could make it, hon,” natasha said, passing you a tray heaped with round chocolates and marshmallows. she gave you an affectionate shove.

“aw, thanks. i’m very glad i could make it, too.” you said, bumping hips with her. “for a while back there i thought i was completely abandoned.”

“we’d never abandon you, dear heart,” thor chortled. 

you simply grinned and scooted in between him and loki on the couch. you handed the latter a marshmallow, and he looked over at you, cocking his head to one side. a ghost of a smile graced his thin lips.

loki leaned down and put his head right next to yours so he could whisper in your ear.

“gaslighting backstabbers, the lot of them. say the word and i’ll kill them all.”

“for me? oh, fuck off. keep this kind of attitude up towards me and i might start to think you’re in love with me.” you snickered. “listen, lokes, i’m happy even if only you care about me.”

loki drew an X over his heart. “cross my heart - or whatever the tradition is - i promise to never abandon you, y/n. you’re my best friend. i do love you.” he whispered, his temple knocking against yours.

you smiled into the dark, the fire casting a comforting light over your faces.

you relaxed back into the cushions, head resting on loki’s arm cast over your shoulders, to enjoy the rest of the night in your favourite company.

only stormy weather could elicit this kind of beautiful feeling, and you wished to never leave it.

[hughjidiot]

Can we get a lil sneak peak of next chapter?

Sure, here you go! Also remember that what I'm sharing is a WIP and may or may not change in the final published chapter.

--

Zee and Lauren sprinted down the hall, running up a short flight of stairs before they came to the next archway. The door opened into a very long and narrow corridor, empty save for a few lights set into the ceiling, with an open archway at the very far end.

“Let’s go,” Lauren said, and started jogging with Zee beside her.

They only took a few steps before Zee looked down, curious. “Hey, is it just me or is the floor sloping downwards?”

Lauren paused, and noticed Zee was correct; the floor sloped down at a shallow but noticeable angle.

The door slammed shut behind them. Zee and Lauren whipped their heads around as a section of ceiling behind them slid away. A rumbling sound came from the darkness, growing louder by the second.

“Shall we run for our lives?” Zee asked casually.

“Oh yes, let’s,” Lauren said.

They took off screaming right as an enormous boulder nearly the height and width of the hallway dropped from the ceiling and rolled after them.

The boulder’s rumbling roar echoed through the corridor, drowning out Lauren and Zee’s frantic footfalls as they sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them. Zee chanced a quick glance over his shoulder; the boulder was getting closer by the second, and they were only halfway to the exit.

He looked down at the shield in his one hand, and a light bulb went off in his head.

“Hold on, Lauren!” Zee said, shoving his axe handle between his pants.

“Wha-?” Lauren started to ask, but cut off with a yelp when Zee’s arm snaked around her waist to yank her close.

Zee tossed his shield on the ground in front of him and dropped to his knees on top of it, Lauren curling in close to him. The pair let out whooping cheers as they zoomed down the hallway, leaving the boulder behind.

Within seconds they reached the end, the ground leveling out beneath them as they slid into the next hallway. The whole hallway shook as the boulder slammed into the exit arch behind him. The force of the tremors sent them tumbling off the shield where they rolled across the floor together.

“Woo! That was wicked!” Lauren cheered when she came to a stop, the world spinning and her pulse pounding in her ears.

As the high of the thrill wore off, she realized the floor beneath her felt softer than usual. The world came back into focus, and she found herself looking down at Zee, who lay flat on his back. He shook his head and opened his eyes, locking with Lauren’s.

“So, is this gonna be a recurring thing for us?” Zee asked, cheeks red. “Cuz I’d be okay with that.”

Lauren giggled and blushed as she climbed to her feet and helped Zee up. She picked up her sword where it had fallen, Zee retrieved his shield and pulled out his axe, and together they made their way deeper into the dungeon.

[thenewfuture]

Touko, again with this?

We’ve been over this, Kebi has helped us out multiple times today! Will you quit suspecting him already?!

Don’t be dumb, Komaru. There’s still a lot more we don’t know about this thing. And I won’t lower my guard until I get all the answers I need...!

So tell us something, “Kebi”, i-if that is your real name: why were thrown out? Where is Monaca? What do you know?

.............

*Kwuuwiirrr...*

*Fwwoooonnn...*

Huh?!

TH-this is...!

*Kebi’s eyes glow blue and displays a projection. The projection is in the shape of a square, and is listed a year before the attack on Towa City...*

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

*The screen is dark, but a similar voice can be heard on it...*

???: Okay, let’s seeeeee.....aaaaand turn on!

*The screen now shows a room befiiting a child, it looks to be from Kebi’s point of view, then someone appears on it*

Aha! It worked!

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

Monaca...

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

Hellooooooo!~ My name is Monaca, and I am your master. Your creator.

Kebi: Oowwooohh?

Mhmm, mhmm, mhmmm. You seem to be responding well to voices, and curious to your surroundings, as expected.

This is mainly a test run, we’ll experiment a bunch and see how you react to certain stimulations and tasks just to make sure you’re working properly. Do you understand?

Kebi: ...........

*tumble* *It seems Kebi has rolled upside down*

Heeeheehee!~ You really are cute! Like the character from Monaca’s favorite game!

I should give you a name, huh? Uuuuuummmmmmmmm.......

Names were neevr Monaca’ strong suit, so we’ll just skip that for now and get to later...eventually....

*zzzzzzzzrrrrttttt*

*The screen goes to black...*

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

Kebi......

.....?

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

*Another recording comes up, this one dated a few days after the first one*

Fuel substitute experiment number one.

Okay! Eat that garbage.

Kebi: Blllaaarrgghh!

*Kebi aimed towards a pile of garbage bags, and uses his tongues to devour it*

All right. Now spit in this plane

Kebi: Blaaarrgghhh.

*Kebi spits his usual slime into a toy plane using a cone...*

*Whoosh!* *She throws it, and it starts flying perfectly on its own*

Yes! It works! You did it! Monaca is so happy! *She hugs him*

Kebi: Eeeehhh...bluurrgghh.

EWWWWWWWW!!! You got your slime barf on me!

Kebi: ...?

Bad, bad! Turn off!

*Zwoop!*

*The screen goes black again...*

*Another recording comes up...*

Monaca is sorry about the other day. You were just doing as you were told and got really happy about, that’s all.

Still doesn’t make it any less gross....

Kebi: ...................

Tell you what, let’s experiment again today, okay? Would you like that?

Kebi: *nods*

Perfect! Boop!

*Crash, bang, bam, bang, bang*

*Kebi is pushed down a flight of stairs* *A moment later, he walks back up it as if nothing happened*

Woooow! You don’t show any anger or resentment towards your creator! That’s impressive loyalty there. Waaaay better than Monaca’s classmates.

Let’s see how far we can push this. Boop!

*Kebi is once again pushed down the stairs again*

*Zzzzzrrttt!* *The screen goes black...*

........

*Another recording plays...*

???: Aaaaaaaahhh! What is that?!

???: It’s so freaky looking!

Kebi: Awwwoooh?

Monaca: Hey! What are you doing here!?

You’re not supposed to follow me to school! Bad, very bad!

Teacher: This is your....toy, Monaca?

Yes. Monaca’s so, so sorry. Can you forgive Monaca, pweeeeeaaase?

Teacher: Hmmmm....it hasn’t done anything bad per se, but I will have to inform your father about this

I understand, I suppose it can’t be helped.

As for you, turn off!

*Zzzzzrrrtttt!* *The screen goes black...*

........

*Another recording plays...*

Haiji: You should be grateful we even let you anywhere near our robotics department. What happens if our reputation goes down because of it!?

Big brother! You’re turning this into a much bigger deal than it actually is! Can’t you just forgive Monaca?

Haiji: You are NOT my little sister! So stop calling me that, you brat!

Ow, ow owwww! Y-You’re pulling my hair rougher than usual!

Kebi: !!!

Toukichi: Now Monaca, this is what happens when you get out of line. Just accept your punsihment and everything will be-Hmm?

Kebi: Grrrrr!

Toukichi: Wh-what is that?!

Haiji: Oh, is this that damn little toy of yours that got you in trouble at school today? Pretty ugly, just like it’s creator!

Kebi: Rrrrrrr! Raaaggghh!

Haiji: Agh! Wh-what the fuck!?

*Kebi jumps at Haiji’s face and starts attacking*

Oh wow! It has an innate desire to protect its creator. I didn’t anticipate that.

Toukichi: M-Monaca! You shut that thing off this instant, or else you’ll be in even more trouble!

OW OW OW OWW OWWWW! P-papa, please!

Kebi: Grrrrrr!

No, no, no! Turn off!

*Zzzzzrrrtttt!* *The screen goes black...*

..........

*Another recording plays...*

You know, I talked to Big Sis Junko today, and we came to an agreement.

I tried really, I tried to advocate for your to be the face of the robots that she uses in her plans, but......eh it’s just not working out.

With the way the Monokumas are coming along, much more easier to produce and their efficiency, there really is really no room for you in this plan. And with the electric cars, no one really needs a fuel substitute anymore. It’s just not working out anymore...

Kebi: ...................

*Kebi grabbed a few balls and starts juggling*

Meh, see even that’s getting old. You’re not as cute as when I first thought of you.

It’s not me, it’s you. I’m really sorry. Turn off.

*Zzzzzzrrrttt*

*The recordings come at a pace...*

Now we just have to-

Huh? Did you turn yourself on again? How annoying. Turn off!

*Zzzzrrtttt!*

Urrrgh! Go away. Turn off!

*Zzzzzrrttt!*

Turn! Off!

*Zzzzzrrtttt!*

I HATE YOU! WHY DON’T YOU UNDERSTAND SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AST THAT! TURN! OFF!

*Zzzzzzzrrrtttt!*

....................

*This next recording is dated a day before the attack on Towa City...*

Hmmmm...welp, you sure are persistent...

I try and try again to get rid if you, but you just keep on coming back.

Kebi: ..............

Since you’re so committed; we’re going to play one more game!

The game is: you stay here in this room, and don’t move from this stop until I come get you okay?

If you do this, I’ll give you a biiiiiiiiiig reward! Sounds good?

Kebi: .................

Ah ah ah, no no no! Don’t go to your charging pad. Stay right there, on that spot!

It’s an order from your creator, and you don’t want to disappoint an order from your creator, riiiiiiiight?!~

Kebi: .................... *nods*

Yaaaaaaay!~ Okay, stay right there, I’ll be back!

*close!*

..............

..........................

.........................................

*The recordning fast forwards....as hours pass....then days.....then months....*

{LOW BATTERY! LOW BATTERY!} {POWER OFF!}

*Beeeoooopppp....*

..........

..................

........................

*The next recording is dated yesterday...*

{EMERGENCY BACK UP POWER ON!}

*creeeeaaak*

............

......?

Monaca: Yeah just throw everything out in there. I don’t want it anyway, it’s no good to me.

.........

{EMERGENCY POWER LOW! SHUTTING DOWN!}

*Beeeeeoooooopppp!*

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

.....................

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

*Zrrrrtttt!*

*One last recording plays, dated....today...*

Touko: Oh well, too bad. Looks like we better leave while-

*whir* *whirrrrrr* *zoooooop!*

Touko: O-Oh shit!

Komaru: Ah!

Kebi: .................

Um, uh....hello.....

*Zwooop!* *The projections turn off*

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

...................