#mutually unrequited pining

[awaitinganorphanera]

My favorite relationship dynamic

I love them sm

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Of Duty and Desire | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Extra Long One-Shot

This is my first Ominis fic, I hope I do all you Ominis lovers proud :') The plot was heavily inspired by these (1, 2, 3) artworks by @tamayula-hl !!! (they literally create such gorgeous work, I fuckin swoon every time I see them ;.;)

Summary: After years apart, you are forced into a marriage with Ominis Gaunt, someone you once considered a close friend but who pushed you away after Sebastian's breakdown in fifth year. The rift between you has left years of unresolved tension, and on your wedding night, the two of you are forced to confront the fallout.

Words: ~15,700

Tags: Explicit Smut, Pureblood Politics, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Drama, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The Gaunt family estate loomed like a mausoleum under the pale light of the crescent moon. Its dark stone walls seemed to absorb the light, and the air inside carried a suffocating chill that no roaring fire could banish. Ominis sat alone in his room, the only illumination coming from a single flickering candle perched on his desk. The Gaunt family ring, heavy and ornate, turned slowly between his fingers.

Tomorrow, it would sit on your finger.

His chest tightened at the thought of the ceremony, the vows, the look he imagined you’d give him as you forced to say, I do.

He wished you still saw him the way you did all those years ago, back when you’d shared tentative smiles across the library table, before fifth year shattered everything between you. He’d thought you were remarkable then—fierce, clever, and endlessly loyal to the people you cared about. He still thought so, though the years had placed a wall between you.

A wall he had built.

His hands clenched into fists, the metal of the ring biting into his palm. He could still hear the echo of your argument, that fateful day when Sebastian’s descent into darkness had reached its breaking point. You had wanted to help him, to pull him back, while Ominis had been determined to stop him at any cost. The two of you had stood on opposite sides of a chasm, and in his frustration, his fear, Ominis had pushed you away.

But now? Now, you were to be his bride.

The marriage contract had been delivered two months ago, the parchment sealed with the Gaunt crest and bearing the oppressive weight of their expectations. You had no grand family name, no wealth or influence to rival the Gaunts, but you had something far more valuable: ancient magic.

Your family had no power to refuse the offer—not when the Gaunts were known for their ruthlessness. You’d been given no choice, and neither had he.

Ominis exhaled a shaky breath, setting the ring down on the desk with a soft clink.

The bitter irony was that you had been right about Sebastian all along, and Ominis had destroyed what you had years ago for nothing.

Ominis had doubted Sebastian—had believed that his obsession with dark magic would destroy everything and everyone in its path. But eventually, with time and a painful amount of humility, Sebastian had begun to heal. He had come back to them. He had proven himself capable of change, of redemption.

And you’d seen it all along.

Ominis swallowed hard, the guilt twisting his stomach. You’d begged him to give Sebastian a chance, to believe in the person he could be. But Ominis had been too blinded by his own fears to listen. His distrust had cost him Sebastian’s friendship for years. And worse, it had cost him you ever since.

He rested his head in his hands, elbows braced on the desk. The weight of it all was suffocating.

The memory of your expression when you’d arrived at the Gaunt manor two days ago lingered in his mind.

Even without the clarity of sight, he could feel the weight you carried. He’d “seen” the stiffness in your shoulders, the faint tremor in your hands as you’d clasped them in front of you, your head turning ever so slightly toward him as his parents greeted you. For a fleeting second, he’d felt your attention, a thin, aching tether between you.

But you hadn’t spoken to him. Not then, and not since.

What could he possibly say to make this better? “I’m sorry” was laughable at this point. He was sorry, of course—sorry for every cruel word spoken in the heat of fifth year, sorry for not trusting you, sorry for not preventing you from falling into the Gaunt nightmare—but no apology could undo the damage.

A knock at the door startled him from his thoughts. He straightened, smoothing his hair as if that would make any difference. “Come in,” he called, his voice steadier than he felt.

The door creaked open, and one of the Gaunt family’s house-elves stepped hesitantly into the room. “Master Ominis,” the elf began, its voice trembling, “your bride-to-be is in the garden, sir.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Why?” he asked, his throat dry.

“She—she is pacing, sir. She looks… upset.“

Ominis nodded, rising from his chair. “Thank you,” he said, though the elf was already retreating, bowing its way out of the room.

You were upset. Of course, you were. Why wouldn’t you be? Tomorrow, you were being forced to marry him and tie yourself to a family that cared only about what they could take from you. And worse, tied to him—a man who had pushed you away when you’d needed him most, who had no right to ask anything of you, least of all forgiveness.

But the thought of you pacing alone in the gardens, trapped in your own swirling emotions, was unbearable. Ominis didn’t know if he could say anything to help, but he couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.

He moved swiftly through the dark corridors, and when he reached the door to the garden, he paused, letting his wand hum faintly to map the space before him. He sensed the vast openness of the ahead, the night air cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and dying roses.

And there you were.

Your silhouette materialized in his mind like a shadow against the darkness. You were pacing, just as the house-elf had said, your movements quick and restless. It was a knife to Ominis’s chest, seeing the person he cared for so deeply reduced to this.

Care.

No, he thought bitterly, that wasn’t the right word. He loved you. He had loved you since before he even understood what love truly was. And that made it all so much worse.

Because you would never love him.

Ominis stood stiffly in the doorway. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too consumed by your thoughts and frantic steps that sent gravel crunching underfoot. But when he shifted his weight, the faint sound of his movement caught your attention. You stopped abruptly, your head turning toward him, your posture instantly stiffening.

“Ominis,” you said, your voice calm but sharp like the edge of a blade. “…Couldn’t sleep?”

He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to answer. He recognized the tension in your tone, the way you carefully shielded yourself with polite indifference. It was the same tone you’d used with his parents when you arrived, the one where he’d sensed every ounce of resentment you’d tucked away beneath a mask of cordiality.

“No,” he said softly, stepping further into the garden. “I was told you were out here.”

“Of course,” you replied, your voice carrying a detached sort of humor. "Not allowed a moment of solitude, hm?"

Ominis flinched inwardly, his wand picking up on the subtle tremor in your hands as you folded your arms across your chest.

“I thought… perhaps you might want to talk,” he said carefully, his voice low.

“With you? No,” you replied quickly, brushing off the suggestion as though it didn’t matter. You turned your back to him. “Talking to you won’t help.”

Ominis winced but didn’t respond. The silence stretched between you, the night air growing heavier with each passing second.

“I’m sorry,” he said at length, the words feeling inadequate even as they left his mouth.

You laughed, soft and humorless, as you turned back toward the fountain. “Sorry,” you echoed. “Of course. And that makes it all better, does it?”

He took a hesitant step closer, his wand pulsing faintly to track the distance between you. “I mean it,” he said. “I wish things were different.”

“Do you?” you asked, glancing at him over your shoulder. ““Because last time I checked, you’re the one who pushed me away."

Ominis froze, the accusation cutting through him like a blade. He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat.

You turned fully to face him now, your arms crossed tightly over your chest. “Do you think I don’t remember?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly with the weight of unspoken emotion. “The things you said to me? The way you looked at me, like I was… like I was the problem?”

“That’s not what I—” Ominis started, but you cut him off with a sharp laugh, one that lacked any real humor.

“It doesn’t matter,” you said, your voice quieter now but no less firm. “Nothing either of us says now will change anything. And tomorrow, we’ll stand in front of your family and say the words they want to hear."

You turned abruptly, your footsteps crunching against the gravel as you moved past him. “Goodnight, Ominis,” you said, your tone clipped and distant as you made your way back toward the manor.

He turned slightly, his wand picking up the blur of your retreating figure as you disappeared into the cold, sterile halls of the estate. The faint trace of your magic lingered in the air, turbulent and raw, and he hated himself for not being able to ease it.

~~~

Morning came like a thief, stealing away the fragile moments of sleep Ominis had clung to in the restless hours of the night. The Gaunt manor, usually oppressive in its quiet, was unnaturally alive with activity. House-elves scurried through the halls, their frantic movements punctuated by the clinking of silver trays and hurried whispers. His parents had spared no effort to make the day grand, though their motives were far from sentimental.

Even worse, his extended family had descended like vultures, eager to witness the union that would bind your ancient magic to the Gaunt bloodline. Even Ominis’s older brother, Marvolo, had returned from his work abroad for the occasion, his mere presence enough to sour the air. Ominis had always loathed Marvolo—arrogant, cruel, and every bit the model Gaunt heir their parents had hoped for. The rest of the family wasn’t much better. Aunts, uncles, and distant cousins he resented filled the halls, their haughty laughter echoing off the cold stone walls.

Ominis moved through the chaos like a ghost, his mind as numb as his steps. He had imagined marrying you a hundred—no, a thousand—times, but never like this.

In his dreams, you loved him back. Your smiles were soft and unguarded, your laughter warm, your hand reaching for his not out of duty, but out of choice. But those dreams had always been fragile, built on a shaky foundation of what-ifs and hope he’d never dared voice aloud.

You wedding band weighed heavily in his pocket, a cruel reminder of the vows he would unwittingly force you to take. He told himself he was doing this to protect you—that he was backed into a corner with no way out. It wasn’t a lie. His parents had made their expectations clear: defy them, and Ominis would pay the price. The Gaunts had always been dangerous, even to their own blood. He’d seen it with his older cousins, the ones who had been disowned or “disappeared” for daring to cross the family.

And that didn’t even encompass what they might do to you.

The sharp knock on his door startled him. Ominis straightened instinctively, brushing a hand over his hair as if readying himself for battle.

“It’s me,” Sebastian’s voice called through the heavy wood, rough but familiar.

“Come in,” Ominis replied, his voice steadier than he felt.

The door creaked open, and Sebastian stepped inside, his expression a mix of concern and irritation. He was dressed sharply, though his tie was slightly crooked—a detail Ominis would have pointed out if he’d had the energy to notice.

“You look like hell,” Sebastian said, crossing the room and leaning against the desk.

“I feel worse,” Ominis admitted, lowering himself into the chair by the window.

Sebastian tilted his head, scrutinizing Ominis with a sharpness that felt impossible to ignore.

“…You love her, don’t you?” Sebastian asked suddenly, his voice blunt and cutting straight to the point. He had never been one to dance around difficult questions.

Ominis let out a hollow laugh, his hands tightening on the arms of the chair. “What kind of question is that?”

“A simple one,” Sebastian said, standing straighter, arms crossed. “Do. You. Love. Her?”

Ominis sighed heavily, his head tilting back as though seeking answers from the cracked ceiling above. “You already know the answer to that, Sebastian,” he said, his voice low and bitter. “You’ve always known.”

“Humor me,” Sebastian pressed.

Ominis’s lips curled into a humorless smile. “Of course I love her. I’ve always loved her. Since before I even understood what that meant. And you know that. So why ask?”

Sebastian scoffed, fixing Ominis with an unrelenting stare. “Because you’re acting like this is the end of the world. You love her. And now you’re marrying her. She’s about to be your wife.”

Ominis turned his head sharply, his sightless gaze narrowing slightly. “My wife?” His voice rose, edged with frustration. “This isn’t a marriage, Sebastian. It’s a transaction. A cage.” He gestured vaguely toward the window, where the distant hum of laughter and footsteps filled the courtyard. “She doesn’t want this. And she certainly doesn’t want me.”

Sebastian didn’t flinch, his calmness almost maddening. “But you love her,” he pointed out again. “That means you can make something of this. You can try.”

Ominis let out a sharp breath, his hands gripping the arms of the chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Try what? To pretend that she doesn’t hate me?” He shook his head, his voice quieter now, but no less filled with anguish. “She does hate me, Sebastian. And why wouldn’t she?”

Sebastian frowned, his expression flickering with guilt. “You were scared. We all were. What happened back then…” He trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t easy for any of us.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ominis snapped. “I made my choices. And now, she thinks I’m no better than my parents.” His voice cracked slightly, the weight of the words cutting deeper than he cared to admit. “She thinks I’m just like them, putting her through this. And maybe she’s right.”

“She doesn’t think that. You’re nothing like your parents,” Sebastian said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And if you’d stop wallowing in self-pity for half a second, you might see that she doesn’t actually hate you.”

Ominis scoffed, shaking his head. “You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do,” Sebastian said, beginning to pace the room with his usual restless energy. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you, Ominis. She’s hurt, sure. Angry. But hate? No.”

Ominis leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “You’re imagining things,” he muttered.

“Am I?” Sebastian challenged, stopping in his tracks to face him. “You’ve spent years convincing yourself she hates you, but did you ever stop to actually talk to her about it? Or did you just decide she hated you because it was easier than dealing with the mess you made?”

The words hit their mark, and Ominis flinched. He couldn’t deny it. He had avoided you for years, too ashamed of his actions to face you properly. He had assumed the worst because it was safer than hoping for anything else.

Sebastian sighed heavily, glancing over at the ornate clock hanging on the wall. The ticking sound, once faint, now seemed to echo in the room like a countdown to inevitability. He ran a hand through his hair, his gaze flicking back to Ominis.

“We’re out of time,” he said flatly. “They’re going to be expecting us downstairs.”

Ominis didn’t move at first, his hands still gripping the arms of his chair. He looked like a man on the edge of breaking, and for a moment, Sebastian considered calling the whole thing off himself. But he knew that wouldn’t solve anything. This wasn’t a fight they could win—not here, not now.

“Come on,” Sebastian urged, his voice softer. “Let’s get this over with.”

Ominis exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with resignation. He stood, his movements stiff and reluctant, his fingers brushing down the front of his suit as though trying to compose himself. His family had ensured every detail of his appearance was perfect—he looked every bit the polished Gaunt heir, the image they demanded. But inside, he felt hollow.

Sebastian gave him a faint nod, adjusting his own crooked tie. “You’ll survive this,” he said with a slight smile. “Everything will work out.”

Ominis didn’t respond, his throat too tight to form words. Instead, he followed Sebastian out of the room, the sound of their footsteps mingling with the distant hum of activity that filled the manor. Every step felt heavier than the last, the anticipation building in his chest like a storm.

The courtyard garden had been transformed into a grand display of pure-blood prestige. Rows of white chairs lined the manicured lawn, and a narrow aisle flanked by enchanted, softly glowing flowers led to an altar at the far end. Ivy climbed the stone arch that framed the altar, its dark green tendrils twisting delicately around clusters of pale blossoms.

Ominis stood at the altar, his back straight and his hands clasped tightly in front of him, his wand tucked away in his sleeve. The suit he wore was immaculate, tailored perfectly to his tall, lean frame. But even as he stood there, a picture of composure, his mind churned with unease.

Beyond him, countless guests sat in waiting—pure-bloods from every corner of their miserable society, their presence a suffocating reminder of the world he had tried—and failed—to escape.

His extended family dominated the seats closest to the altar, their self-satisfied smirks and sharp whispers grating against his already frayed nerves. The Gaunts had arrived in full force, a parade of arrogance and entitlement, each one more intolerable than the last.

Ominis’s parents sat in the front row, their expressions masks of triumph. His mother, draped in rich emerald, surveyed the scene with quiet pride, while his father sat like a statue, his posture rigid, his face a cold, unyielding mask. And then there was Marvolo, lounging casually in his seat beside them, his smirk a permanent fixture as though the entire event were for his personal amusement.

Across the aisle sat the members of your family, their expressions far less composed. Your mother’s hands were folded tightly in her lap, her face pale and drawn as she avoided meeting anyone’s gaze, eyes flicking nervously between the guests and the altar.

The contrast between them and the Gaunts couldn’t have been starker. Ominis’s family were predators, their confidence unshakable, while yours looked like cornered prey. And you… you were the sacrificial offering, the tether between their worlds.

The low hum of chatter faded as the first notes of music filled the courtyard, soft and lilting yet as heavy as a tolling bell. Ominis stiffened, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. This was it. The beginning of the end. The melody floated through the air, a cruel, elegant herald of what was to come.

He couldn’t breathe.

The sound of footsteps against the stone aisle cut through the music, and Ominis’s wand pulsed faintly in his sleeve, mapping the space before him. In his mind’s eye, he saw them—two figures approaching the altar. Anne and Sebastian. The only two friends he had managed to invite to this sham of a wedding. His parents had objected, of course, but for once, Ominis had refused to yield. If they were going to strip away every ounce of choice from this union, he would at least ensure that two people who truly cared about either of you would stand witness.

Anne walked with quiet grace beside her brother, her head held high and her movements calm, even as the weight of the moment pressed down on her. She had always been your rock, and now, she looked every bit the part.

Sebastian, meanwhile, walked with his usual subtle defiance, his jaw clenched as though he were biting back a dozen remarks that would surely have caused a scene.

As the Sallow twins joined Ominis at the altar, the music softened, a momentary pause that signaled what came next.

And then, you appeared.

The air in the courtyard seemed to shift as the music swelled once more, drawing every gaze to the entrance. Ominis’s wand hummed, and for the first time in his life, he felt as though he could truly see.

Shapes and shadows sharpened in his mind, the lines of the archway and the glow of the enchanted lanterns framing you like a painting. Your figure materialized with unprecedented clarity, every detail irreversibly etching itself into his memory.

You were breathtaking.

The soft glow of the lanterns seemed to chase after you down the aisle, casting a warm, ethereal light as you stepped forward, arm looped through your father’s. Your gown was simple yet striking, its flowing fabric a cascade of soft ivory that hugged your figure just enough to suggest elegance without excess.

Your hair was swept into an elegant updo, soft tendrils framing your face and neck, accentuating the graceful curve of your collarbone. The tasteful touch of makeup enhanced your features without overpowering them, the faint flush of color on your cheeks and lips lending you an almost otherworldly glow. You looked every bit the part of a bride—refined, poised, and heartbreakingly beautiful.

Ominis’s heart twisted painfully. Despite everything, despite knowing how wrong this was, he allowed himself a single moment of cruel, fleeting hope. He imagined that this was real. That you had chosen this. That the soft shimmer of your gown, the elegance of your updo, the deliberate grace with which you moved—all of it was for him.

For a heartbeat, he believed it. That you had taken your father’s arm and walked toward him because you loved him. That your choice to stand before this crowd, to become his wife, was born of something true, not forced by the iron will of his family.

But reality was cruel.

He could feel it in the tremor of your hand as you reached the altar, in the absence of warmth in your fleeting glance as your eyes locked with his. There was no joy in your expression, no affection, only quiet resolve and resignation. You weren’t here for him. You were here because you had no other choice.

Your father released your arm hesitantly, his hand lingering for a brief moment as though reluctant to let go. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw tight as he gave you a faint nod. You stepped forward alone, taking your place across from Ominis.

He caught the slight hitch in your breath as the officiant spoke. It was subtle—so subtle that no one else would have noticed—but to him, it felt like a scream. He wanted to reach for you, to close the distance, to bridge the gap he had created all those years ago. But his hands remained at his sides, his palms clammy against the cool fabric of his trousers.

The officiant’s words droned on, his low, measured tone a blur in Ominis’s ears. He could barely hear it over the roaring in his chest, the heavy thud of his heartbeat as he focused entirely on you.

And then the moment came.

“Do you, Ominis Gaunt, take her to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

The words cut through the fog in his mind like a knife. For a fraction of a second, he hesitated, his throat tightening painfully. He could feel his parents’ gaze burning into him, his father’s unyielding authority pressing down like a lead weight. The crowd’s silence was deafening, expectant, suffocating.

His lips parted, and the words tumbled out before he could stop them, heavy and hollow.

“I do.”

The officiant turned to you, repeating the same question.

“And do you take Ominis Gaunt to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Ominis held his breath, his entire body tense as he waited for your response. The pause that followed felt endless, each second stretching into an eternity. For a moment, he thought you might refuse.

But when you spoke, your voice was quiet and steady, though devoid of any joy.

“I do.”

The words hung in the air, final and irreversible. The officiant’s voice rose again, completing the ritual with the formal pronouncement that sealed your fates.

“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Mr. Gaunt, you may now kiss your bride.”

Ominis froze.

How had he forgotten about this part? He’d imagined this twisted mockery of a wedding day a thousand times, and yet this moment—the one he had once dreamed of with such hope—had slipped through the cracks of his planning. The girl of his dreams was standing right there, so close he could feel the warmth of you, and now he was meant to kiss you.

His hands twitched at his sides, his breath catching in his throat as he forced himself to move. The crowd was watching, their silence heavy with expectation. His parents’ satisfaction was palpable, his extended family practically giddy at the spectacle. But all Ominis could focus on was you—the tension radiating from your frame, the subtle way your shoulders stiffened as you waited.

He stepped closer, his wand mapping the space between you. His hand hovered near your waist, uncertain, before finally settling there lightly. He could feel the delicate fabric of your gown beneath his palm, the warmth of your body through the material.

Ominis leaned in slowly, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain you could hear it. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Not like this, not with the weight of obligation hanging between you like a curse.

With his eyes fluttering closed, his lips brushed yours in the faintest, most hesitant of kisses. As he expected, you were still—frozen, unmoving, your lips soft but lifeless against his. The kiss was chaste, obligatory, and for a moment, it felt like a dagger to his heart.

And then something expected happened.

You kissed him back.

Ominis’s mind went blank, his senses overwhelmed. It was subtle at first—a gentle press, a shift in the way your lips moved against his. But then it deepened, and the world seemed to explode around him. Fireworks erupted in his mind, a kaleidoscope of sensation, your warmth spreading through him like wildfire.

The taste of your lips, soft and slightly sweet, was unlike anything he had ever known. It was perfect. You were perfect. In that moment, everything else faded away—the oppressive weight of the crowd’s gaze, the suffocating expectations of his family, the years of distance and resentment between you.

His hands tightened instinctively at your waist, pulling you just a fraction closer, and he revelled in the curve of you beneath his fingers. It was everything, you were everything, he had ever dreamed of and infinitely more.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it was over.

You pulled away slowly, your movements deliberate, as though reminding both of you that the moment had passed. Ominis’s hands lingered at your waist for a fraction of a second before he let them drop to his sides, his fingers curling slightly as though trying to hold on to the ghost of your touch.

His breath was unsteady as he straightened, his mind reeling. You’d kissed him back.

Why?

Had it been part of the performance? A calculated move to play the part of the perfect bride? Or had it been something else entirely?

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. The officiant’s voice rose again, announcing the end of the ceremony and you were slipping your hand into his. Swallowing hard, Ominis led you back down the aisle.

The crowd rose to their feet, their clapping a dull roar in his ears as he walked with you at his side. Every step felt surreal, the moment between you still crackling like static in his chest.

He didn’t dare look at you. Not now. He wasn’t sure he could handle whatever answer your expression might hold.

But as the two of you passed beneath the ivy-draped arch, stepping into the unknown future that awaited you both, Ominis couldn’t help but wonder if, just maybe, that kiss had been real after all.

~~~

The reception had been nothing short of torturous for Ominis.

If the kiss at the altar had left him confused, the evening that followed only deepened the storm in his mind. Because from the moment you both entered the grand hall where the reception was held, you played the part of the happy bride.

You’d smile at Ominis, soft and convincing, allow him to hold your hand, to rest his palm lightly against the small of your back as the two of you made the rounds, greeting the guests who had gathered to witness your union.

You spoke to guests with grace and poise, weaving stories of your Hogwarts days into the conversation with ease. Tales of late-night library study sessions, Quidditch matches, and the occasional mischievous escapade were all recounted with a fondness that left Ominis reeling.

You spoke of those moments as though they had been golden—untarnished by the years of bitterness and distance that had followed. And for the guests, it was a perfect performance, a portrait of a couple deeply in love, bound not just by obligation but by shared memories and affection.

The guests were relentless in their attention, each one more insistent than the last in prying into your lives. How you met, what your future plans as a couple might be, when you fell in love, was it love at first sight.

Ominis had been stunned at how quickly you answered the last question. You didn’t miss a beat, your lips curling into a soft, polite smile. “Oh, absolutely not,” you said, your voice light with humor. “Our first meeting was… let’s say, less than ideal.”

His stomach twisted at your words, but you pressed on, the ease in your tone disarming the nosy crowd.

“He found me in his personal study spot,” you continued, glancing briefly at Ominis with a glimmer of something in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place. “I’ll never forget how furious he was.”

There were a few chuckles from the guests, and Ominis forced himself to smile faintly, though his mind was racing. He knew exactly what you were referring to. The Undercroft. But you’d never betray that secret, not even after all he'd done to you.

You went on, your tone growing softer, more reflective. “I thought I’d made a terrible first impression. And, well, I had.” A few more chuckles rippled through the group. “But a few days later, he apologized. He didn’t have to—he could’ve just ignored me forever—but he did. And...we became friends after that. It wasn’t easy at first. We’re both… stubborn.” You laughed lightly, the sound so genuine it felt like a blade cutting through the air. “But we figured it out.”

Ominis felt like the ground beneath him was shifting. These weren’t just pretty words spun to entertain the guests or to appease his family. This memory was real. Every moment you described was real.

In fact, he probably knew these memories better than you did, because he had held onto them as tightly as a drowning man clutches a piece of driftwood. They were the only part of you he’d been allowed to keep, and now, here you were, bringing them to life as though the years of distance and pain hadn’t fractured them beyond recognition.

“The moment I realized it was more than just friendship was not long after, right before Christmas,” you continued, your gaze growing distant as though you were looking back into the past. “We’d spent the day shopping in Hogsmeade. The three of us—Ominis, Sebastian, and me.”

Ominis’s heart twisted at the mention of that day. He remembered it vividly, every detail coming to life in his mind as you spoke.

“It had started snowing that afternoon,” you continued, a soft smile curling at your lips. “We’d bought sweets at Honeydukes, browsed the shop windows, even picked up a few last-minute gifts. By the time we made it to the Three Broomsticks, we were freezing.”

The guests chuckled, and Ominis’s lips quirked into a faint smile despite himself. He could almost feel the icy wind again, the way your cheeks had flushed red from the cold.

“And then,” you said, your smile widening slightly, “Sebastian—being Sebastian—managed to spill an entire mug of butterbeer all over me. It was awful, I was absolutely soaked, sticky, and cold.”

More laughter rippled through the group, and Ominis felt a faint heat rise to his cheeks as he remembered the way you’d looked—your expression caught somewhere between exasperation and amusement as you tried to wring out your sleeves.

“But then,” you continued, glancing briefly at Ominis, “he gave me his coat.”

That was true. He had. Though Ominis hadn’t thought much of it at the time—he’d just wanted to make sure you were comfortable and warm. But now, hearing you speak of it, he realized maybe it had meant more than he’d ever understood.

“And not just that,” you said, your voice softening. “He left the Three Broomsticks, in the middle of the snowstorm, and went to Gladrags to buy me a clean set of clothes. He didn’t have to, but he did. And when he came back, he handed me the bag like it was the most natural thing in the world, like it wasn’t a big deal at all.”

Ominis’s throat felt tight, his hands clenching at his sides as he remembered the look on your face when he’d handed you that bag. You had been startled at first, your eyes widening as you glanced between him and the neatly wrapped parcel. Then you’d smiled—a small, genuine smile that had left him momentarily speechless.

“That was the moment,” you said softly, your voice carrying a note of vulnerability that struck Ominis to his core. “The moment I realized he wasn’t just my friend. That he was… more. That I loved him.”

Your words hung in the air, a quiet confession wrapped in the guise of a story for the guests’ entertainment. Ominis could feel every gaze in the room turn toward him, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet any of them. His focus was entirely on you—on the way your voice had softened, the way your smile lingered just a fraction longer than it needed to.

Were you simply using a real memory to bolster your performance? Was this a carefully chosen story to charm the crowd? Or was there a flicker of truth buried beneath the polished delivery?

The rest of the evening passed in a blur for Ominis. The guests continued to press you both with questions, and you answered them all with the same ease and grace. He played his part, too. Smiled when he needed to, laughed when it was expected, but his mind was elsewhere, racing with memories of that day in Hogsmeade so long ago, of the way you’d looked at him then, and the way you’d spoken of it now.

By the time the reception finally came to an end, Ominis was exhausted—not from the physical effort of the evening, but from the mental and emotional toll it had taken.

And now, as the two of you walked through the opulent halls of the hotel where you would be spending your first night as husband and wife, the weight of it all was beginning to crush him.

The sound of your footsteps echoed softly against the marble floors, mingling with the faint hum of distant conversation and the soft rustle of your gown. The hotel was grand, each detail designed to impress, but Ominis barely noticed any of it. His focus was entirely on you—the way you walked beside him, close but not quite touching, your silence stretching between you like a chasm.

Finally, the two of you reached the door to your suite. Ominis hesitated for a moment, his fingers brushing against the ornate handle as he inserted the key.

Exhaling slowly, he turned the handle and pushed the door open. The suite beyond was as opulent as the rest of the hotel—richly furnished, with soft, glowing light and an enormous bed draped in luxurious fabrics. A chilled bottle of champagne sat waiting on a nearby table, two crystal flutes beside it.

The two of you stepped inside, and Ominis’s chest tightened as he shut the door behind you, the finality of the moment settling over him like a weight. Here you were. Alone with him, no audience, no expectations—just the two of you and the silence that neither of you seemed to know how to break.

You moved toward the corner of the room where the house-elves had neatly arranged your bags, the contents folded with meticulous care.

Without a word, you pulled a set of pajamas and your toothbrush from the bag, your movements quick and purposeful. Without meeting his gaze, you turned on your heel and headed straight for the bathroom. The soft click of the door closing behind you echoed through the stillness of the suite, louder than it had any right to be, and Ominis exhaled slowly, releasing a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding.

For a moment, he stood there, motionless, his fingers curling and uncurling at his sides. Then, with a quiet sigh, he began to loosen his tie, the fabric slipping easily from his collar. He tugged it free and let it drop onto the nearest chair before running a hand through his hair. The day’s events replayed in his mind like a loop he couldn’t escape—your words, your smile, the warmth of your laughter, and the kiss at the altar that had left him reeling.

It was too much.

Ominis moved to the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat heavily on the edge. He toed off his shoes, one after the other, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His hands came up to his face, fingers pressing lightly against his temples as he tried to push the chaos in his mind into some semblance of order.

But there was no clarity to be found. Only questions he was too afraid to ask and doubts he couldn’t shake.

The sound of water running in the bathroom was faint but constant, a reminder that you were just on the other side of the door. He wondered what you were thinking, whether the evening had left you as drained as it had left him. He wondered if you’d meant the things you’d said during the reception, if there was truth hidden in the warmth of your words, or if it had all been part of the carefully orchestrated performance.

More than anything, he wondered what would happen when you came out of that bathroom—if the silence would continue to stretch between you, or if one of you would finally be brave enough to break it.

With a heavy sigh, he sat up, his movements mechanical as he made his way toward his own bag to prepare for bed. He crouched down, his fingers brushing over the neatly packed contents until he found his sleepwear.

He stood, the soft fabric of his dress shirt brushing against his skin as he worked to unbutton it. His fingers moved methodically, one button at a time, but his mind was elsewhere—on you, still behind the closed door, and the way everything about this night felt wrong.

This wasn’t how a wedding night was supposed to feel.

It wasn’t supposed to feel so strained, so heavy. There should have been laughter, warmth, the giddy sort of nervousness that came with embarking on a new chapter together. Instead, there was unrelenting tension. A chasm of unspoken words and unanswered questions that neither of you seemed ready to bridge.

Ominis shrugged out of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor behind him as he reached for the waistband of his dress pants. He unclasped them, the fabric loosening around his waist.

And then the bathroom door opened.

The quiet click of the handle made him freeze, his hands stilling as he turned his head slightly toward the sound.

You stepped out, and for a moment, neither of you moved.

Without his wand, Ominis couldn’t sense the details of your expression, couldn’t see the way your eyes might have widened or the way your lips might have parted slightly in surprise. He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, how you were reacting, and it left him feeling unmoored.

The air between you felt charged, the silence stretching out like a thread pulled taut. He was acutely aware of his state—bare-chested, his dress pants undone and hanging low on his hips. He wondered what you thought of him—what you saw when you looked at him now.

He had an idea of his appearance, of course. His wand’s mapping magic had given him a sense of his own features over the years, an understanding of the angles and planes of his face, the height and shape of his frame. He had been told, more than once, that he was conventionally attractive—sharp, aristocratic features that bore the unmistakable stamp of his bloodline.

But those compliments had always left a bitter taste in his mouth. His pale skin, high cheekbones, and long, slicked-back blonde hair—all of it tied him far too clearly to the Gaunt family, to a legacy he resented with every fiber of his being. Even his tall, lithe frame, lean from years of discipline and sparring practice, seemed more like a reminder of his upbringing than something to take pride in.

And now, standing here in this charged silence, he couldn’t help but wonder what you thought when you looked at him. Did you find him attractive? Or did you see only the Gaunt heir—a pawn in the endless, suffocating game of pure-blood politics?

He had no way of knowing. And for a moment, he almost reached for his wand, desperate for the faint hum of its magic to ground him. But he resisted, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

“Sorry,” you murmured softly, your voice breaking the silence. It wasn’t sharp or cold—just quiet, almost tentative.

“N-no,” Ominis said quickly, his voice low and uneven. He straightened slightly, his hands falling to his sides. “I—I should be the one apologizing.”

You didn’t respond immediately, and he could hear the faint rustle of fabric as you shifted, likely clutching your wedding dress tighter against you. “I’m finished in the bathroom, if you want to change in there,” you offered, your tone polite, carefully neutral. “Or… I can just turn around, if that’s easier.”

Ominis’s fingers twitched at his sides, his throat tightening. The absurdity of the situation struck him. You were married, bound by the vows you’d exchanged earlier that day, and yet you could barely manage to exist in the same space without this unbearable awkwardness.

“No, I’ll—I’ll use the bathroom,” he said, his voice tight. “Thank you.”

His toothbrush and pajamas in hand, Ominis disappeared into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click. He set his things down on the counter and leaned heavily against the sink, exhaling a shaky breath.

The mirror above the sink offered no reflection, but he didn’t need to see his face to know what he’d find there—a pale, drawn expression, tension etched into every line. He let his fingers trail over the cool porcelain of the sink before reaching to splash cold water on his face, hoping it might clear his mind, if only for a moment.

He quickly changed into his sleepwear and brushed his teeth, though the routine didn’t do much to ease the tightness in his chest.

When he finally emerged, his hair slightly damp from the water he’d splashed on his face, he reached for his wand then stopped in his tracks. The bed, massive and draped in luxurious fabrics, was untouched. Instead, you had set up a makeshift bed on the floor using a collection of spare blankets and pillows.

You were kneeling beside it, smoothing out a blanket, and when you noticed him, you straightened, brushing your hands against the fabric of your pajamas.

“I thought…” you began, your voice trailing off as though you were unsure how to explain yourself. “You should take the bed.”

Ominis blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. “You… you don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something that sounded almost like guilt. “The bed is yours too.”

You shook your head, the motion subtle but certain. “It’s fine. Really. I’ll be more comfortable here.”

Ominis stiffened, watching you adjust the blankets and pillows as though you could somehow make the situation less absurd. It struck him all at once just how wrong this was. It was your wedding night—a night meant for intimacy and closeness—and yet here you were, offering to sleep on the floor.

Did you hate him that much? That the idea of sharing a bed with him, even in the most innocent sense, was so unbearable?

He couldn't keep quiet.

“I’ll take the floor,” Ominis said, his voice quiet but firm. He stepped closer, his fingers tightening around his wand. “You shouldn’t have to.”

You looked up at him, startled for a moment, before shaking your head. “Ominis, it’s fine,” you said, your tone polite but insistent. “I’ll be more comfortable here. Really.”

“It’s not fine,” he replied quickly. “It’s wrong. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—especially not tonight.”

“It’s not wrong if I’m choosing to,” you countered, folding your arms across your chest. “The bed is yours. I don’t mind.”

Ominis’s frustration began to bubble beneath the surface, his composure slipping. “You don’t have to pretend you’re fine with this,” he insisted, his tone growing sharper despite his efforts to keep it even.

“I’m not pretending,” you shot back. “I said I don’t mind, and I meant it.”

“Why?” Ominis asked, his voice rising slightly. “Why are we doing this? All this… politeness and decorum?”

Your expression shifted, your jaw tightening as you glanced away. “What are you talking about?”

“This,” Ominis said, gesturing vaguely between the two of you. “The careful words, the pretending that any of this is normal. Why are we bothering? Why are we talking to each other like strangers? There’s no one here to see it. No one to keep up appearances for. It’s just us.”

You stared at him, your expression unreadable. “Maybe because we are strangers, Ominis. We have been for years, haven’t we?”

Ominis froze, your words striking him harder than he expected. He opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. You didn’t look away, your expression steady but tinged with something he couldn’t quite place—resignation, perhaps, or maybe sadness.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” you pressed, your voice quieter now but no less pointed. “After fifth year, you made it perfectly clear how you felt.”

He flinched, his jaw tightening as your words sank in. “I was trying to protect you,” he said quietly, his voice strained. “From Sebastian.”

“Don’t,” you said sharply, cutting him off. “Don’t put this on Sebastian. This isn’t about him. This is about you.”

Ominis turned his head slightly, his throat tightening as the weight of your accusation settled over him. He couldn’t argue with it—not entirely. You were right. It was his choice to push you away, though at the time he’d convinced himself it was the right thing to do.

“So no, you weren’t protecting me,” you continued sharply, your voice rising. “You were punishing me.”

He flinched as though you’d struck him, his sightless eyes widening. “Punishing you?” he echoed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and pain. “Why would I—”

“Because you didn’t trust me,” you cut in, your voice breaking slightly. “You thought I was wrong. You thought I didn’t understand, that I wasn’t on your side. So you pushed me away and you’ve done it ever since.”

“No,” Ominis said quickly, shaking his head. “That’s not—”

“Then what is it?” you demanded, taking a step closer, your anger and pain spilling out in equal measure. “Because that’s what it felt like. That’s what it’s always felt like. And now—” Your voice cracked, and you took a shaky breath before continuing. “And now, you’re stuck with me.” You lifted your left hand, the Gaunt family ring reflecting the lamplight. “And trust me, I know this isn’t what you want.”

Ominis froze, the weight of your words taking a moment to settle. And then, he almost laughed. The absurdity of the idea that he wouldn’t want you—you of all people—was almost too much to bear.

He’d imagined it—dreamed of it, hoped for it in the quiet, unguarded moments of his life. For years, he had spent his nights picturing you by his side, your hand in his, your voice soft and full of laughter as you spoke his name. He had clung to the idea of a future with you like a lifeline, even though, due to his own stupidity, it was impossible.

“If anyone doesn’t want this,” Ominis said finally, his voice trembling as he spoke, “it’s you.”

You blinked, your expression shifting from anger to confusion. “What?”

“You’re right,” he said, his grip tightening on his wand as he forced the words out. “You’re right about everything. About what I did, about why I pushed you away.” He swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Even if I didn’t realize it, I did punish you.”

You stared at him, your anger softening into something more complicated, though you didn’t interrupt.

“I’ve given you every reason to hate me,” Ominis continued, his voice breaking slightly, “For what I did to you then, and for what my family has done to you now.” He gestured vaguely at the room around you, at the bands on your fingers, at everything that bound you to him against your will. “I… I know you hate me, and I accept that. I know you hate this—hate us—and I accept that too. But if you think for one second that I didn’t want this—that I didn’t want you—you’re wrong.”

You rose slowly from where you’d been kneeling, your movements deliberate, your frame tense. Your arms hung loosely at your sides, and your gaze settled on him, unreadable. Ominis didn’t move, didn’t speak. The silence between you stretched taut, heavy and unbearable, his breath shallow as he waited, his heart pounding fiercely in his chest.

Then, finally, you spoke, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. “So… you... don’t hate me?”

“No,” he said immediately, the word escaping before you’d even finished. “Never.”

You blinked at him, as though startled by his vehemence. For a moment, he thought that would be the end of it—that you would leave it at that. But then you took a step closer, your voice trembling slightly as you asked, “Then why did you…?”

You trailed off, but he knew exactly what you meant. Why did you push me away for years?

“Because I’m an idiot,” Ominis said, the words escaping him sharper than he intended. His voice cracked slightly as he exhaled shakily, lowering his head in a mixture of frustration and shame. “Because I let fear and pride cloud my judgment. And Merlin, it’s the biggest regret of my life.”

Ominis's throat tightened painfully, the words he’d held back for years clawing their way up to the surface. They pressed against his chest, demanding release, and for once, he didn’t push them down. What was the point? You were already married, bound by vows neither of you could escape—trapped in this twisted arrangement orchestrated by his family. There was no undoing it, no going back.

“Because... because I’ve always loved you,” he stammered, his voice faltering but steady enough to carry the truth. He lifted his head slightly, his sightless eyes turned toward you as though he could see the effect of his words. “Always.”

The weight of his confession hung heavy in the air, and the silence that followed was unbearable. The room felt suffocatingly still, every sound amplified in the oppressive quiet. He could hear the faint rush of blood in his ears, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo his racing thoughts. Even the soft cadence of his own uneven breathing felt deafening, filling the space as though to taunt him with the vulnerability he couldn’t take back.

“I…” you began, your voice unsteady, but you trailed off again, clearly struggling to find the words. “You… loved me?”

“Love,” he corrected softly. “Present tense.”

Your breath hitched, and he could hear the faint tremor in it. “Why... why didn’t you ever say anything?”

He hesitated, his hands tightening at his sides. “Because I was afraid,” he admitted. “Afraid you didn’t feel the same. Afraid of what it would mean if you did. I didn’t want you getting tied up with my family—with the Gaunts. I didn’t want you dragged into… into this.”

He gestured vaguely around the room, his frustration with himself evident in the sharpness of his movements. “Not that it ended up mattering,” he added bitterly.

You were silent again, and Ominis felt the weight of your hesitation like a physical thing pressing down on his chest. He’d said too much. He’d gone too far. And now—

“I wouldn’t have cared,” you said softly.

"...Pardon?”

“I wouldn’t have cared about your family,” you said again, your voice a little steadier now. “I never cared about any of that.”

Ominis's heart twisted painfully at your words, the faint flicker of hope they ignited almost too much to bear. “You…” He stopped, his voice faltering as he tried to process what you’d said. "You didn't?"

“No. In fact, I don’t care,” you continued, your voice quieter now, almost shy. “Present tense.”

Ominis felt as though the ground beneath him had shifted, his entire world tilting on its axis as his mind scattered, his carefully constructed thoughts unraveling at the edges. Present tense.

The implications swirled in his mind, overwhelming and impossible to fully grasp. If you didn’t care—if you truly didn’t care—then what did that mean? What did it say about the way you felt about him now?

“You mean…” he began, his voice faltering as he struggled to form the question that had lodged itself in his throat. “You mean you still…”

You looked away, a faint blush coloring your cheeks as you clasped your hands in front of you. “What I mean,” you began quietly, your voice barely audible. “Is that I... I love you too.”

Ominis thought he might collapse under the weight of your words. His head swam, his legs trembling as if they could no longer hold him upright. It was too much—too good to be true.

Surely, he’d imagined it.

This had to be some cruel trick of his mind, conjured from the depths of years of longing and guilt. Perhaps he was dreaming, caught in that fragile space between sleep and waking where impossible things felt real. Any moment now, he’d wake in his cold, oppressive bed at the Gaunt manor, the warmth of your voice nothing more than a fleeting echo in the dark.

But the longer he stood there, frozen and breathless, the clearer it became that this was no dream. You were still there, close enough that he could feel the faint warmth of your presence, the soft sound of your breathing in the silence.

“You…” His voice cracked, his grip on his wand tightening as though it were the only thing keeping him upright. “You love me?”

“Yes,” you said softly, unable to meet his eyes.

Ominis shook his head slightly, as though trying to shake loose the fog clouding his mind. “You… are you sure?”

“Yes, Ominis,” you said again, this time with a small, amused smile. The warmth in your voice should have soothed him, but instead, it sent his heart racing even faster.

“You’re serious. You… you lo—”

The words caught in his throat as you stepped closer, your movements soft but deliberate. The sudden proximity sent a shockwave through him, and what he was about to say dissolved on his tongue. The world narrowed until there was only you—the warmth of your presence, the faint rustle of fabric as you drew near, the soft sound of your breath mingling with his.

And then you kissed him.

The contact was gentle at first, tentative, as though testing the boundaries of a moment that neither of you could take back. But the moment his mind registered what was happening, something inside him snapped. Ominis dropped his wand, the dull thud barely registering in the haze of sensation that overtook him. His hands found your waist instinctively, trembling as they settled against you, holding you as though you might disappear if he let go.

It was everything—more than he had ever dared to imagine. The taste of you, the softness of your lips against his, the faint sigh you let out as you pressed closer. You were all he could feel, all he could think about, and the overwhelming reality of it, of you, left him breathless.

When you finally pulled away, his chest heaved, his forehead resting against yours as he struggled to find his breath.

“That story…” he murmured, his voice low and uneven. “The one you told at the reception. About Hogsmeade. Was it… was it true?”

You pulled back slightly, just enough for him to sense the shift in your posture. He couldn’t see your expression, but he could feel the heat rising from you, could hear the faint hitch in your breath.

“Yes,” you admitted softly, your voice tinged with embarrassment. “It was true.”

Ominis felt his knees nearly give out at the confirmation, his grip on your waist tightening reflexively. “Merlin,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “All this time…”

He swallowed hard, his throat tight as the weight of everything settled over him. The years he’d spent aching for you, the nights he’d lain awake tormenting himself with what-ifs—it all seemed so absurd now.

“You really…” He trailed off, shaking his head as though he couldn’t quite believe it. “You realized then?”

“At Hogsmeade?” you asked softly, your voice still tinged with shyness. You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Yes... I did."

Ominis let out a soft, almost disbelieving laugh, his breath hitching as he shook his head slightly. “Because of some clothes?” he asked, the faintest trace of amusement coloring his voice. “Because I gave you my coat and bought you something dry to wear?”

"Sounds a lot less romantic when you say it like that," you mumbled, a hint of embarrassment coloring your voice. You glanced away, fidgeting slightly as though unsure how to explain yourself. “It wasn't just the clothes. I’d been falling you for some time, but I hadn’t really let myself acknowledge it. And then that day, it all just… clicked.”

His grip on your waist tightened slightly. “Clicked,” he repeated.

You swallowed hard as you cast your gaze downward. “You’ve always been… well, you, Ominis,” you began softly, your voice carrying a hesitant edge, as though you weren’t sure how much to say. “You, with your calm, your steadiness. Even when you’re angry, it’s controlled, measured, refined. It’s like you always know exactly what to do, like you were born knowing how to handle everything.”

He swallowed hard, unsure of how to respond to the quiet admiration in your voice. He’d spent so much of his life rejecting the parts of himself tied to his family’s legacy—the refinement, the composure, the quiet dignity that others associated with the Gaunt name. To hear you speak of it now, as though it were a part of him you valued, left him unsteady.

“And me?” you continued, your voice softening. “I’ve... I've never been like that. I’m messy. Emotional. I act too quickly and think too slowly. I’m… I don’t know. Chaotic, I guess.” You laughed softly, but there was no humor in it, just a quiet vulnerability that made Ominis’s chest ache.

“That’s not true,” he said quickly, his brow furrowing. “You’re—”

“What I’m trying to say is that you’ve always been my perfect opposite,” you continued gently, your voice carrying a faint edge of amusement. “My foil. You’re steady, and quiet, and level, and I’ve always felt like… like you even me out.”

Ominis’s heart twisted painfully at your words, the depth of your confession leaving him breathless. “You don’t need evening out,” he said softly, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re brilliant just as you are.”

You gave a faint, self-deprecating laugh. “Well... that doesn’t change how I’ve always felt around you. Like you make me better. Like I can stand still and actually think when you're near.”

He was too overwhelmed to trust his voice, too unsure of how to put everything he felt into words. So instead, Ominis reached for you, his hand settling gently at the nape of your neck. And he held you there, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, his lips pressing a tentative kiss to your forehead.

When he finally pulled back, his breath was uneven, his voice quiet and raw as he asked, “Well, I’m here now. So… what are you thinking?”

You hesitated for a moment, your lips curving into the faintest smile. “I’m thinking…” You glanced toward the untouched bed before meeting his gaze again. “Maybe we can share the bed after all.”

"Is that so?" He murmured.

You nodded, your smile widening slightly. “Well, it’s a big bed. Plenty of room. And besides…” You reached for his left hand, spinning the wedding band around his finger. “You are my husband, after all.”

The words were light, teasing, but they sent a rush of warmth through Ominis that left him almost dizzy. He’d spent the entire day dreading what being your husband would mean, burdened by the weight of your resentment and his own guilt. But now, standing here with you, knowing you loved him, hearing you call him that—husband—filled him with an overwhelming, almost unbearable mixture of relief, joy, and hope.

Wordlessly, Ominis gently guided you toward the bed, his hand ghosted along your back. When you reached the edge of the mattress, he paused, his fingers brushing yours as he coaxed you to sit.

“Wait here,” he murmured softly, his voice warm and steady, though his chest was still tight with the weight of everything that had just happened.

Retrieving his wand from the floor, Ominis turned toward the small table where the champagne sat waiting, the chilled bottle glinting faintly in the soft lamplight. He reached for it with steady hands, though his heart was anything but calm. He needed the drink—something to take the edge off, to dull the sharp, almost unbearable clarity of this moment—the knowledge that you loved him, that he was about to share a bed with you not as strangers bound by duty, but as something far more significant.

Pouring the champagne into two crystal flutes, he turned back to you, carrying both glasses with a surprising steadiness for someone whose mind was in complete turmoil. Handing you one, he sat down beside you on the edge of the bed, closer than he’d dared to in years.

“To... new beginnings?” he offered softly, his voice carrying a tentative edge as he raised his glass slightly.

You hesitated for a moment, your gaze meeting his, before a small smile curved your lips. “To new beginnings,” you echoed, clinking your glass gently against his.

The crystal chime of the glasses meeting seemed to echo in the quiet room, a sound that felt impossibly delicate in the stillness between you. Ominis brought the glass to his lips, taking a small sip as his mind raced, the taste of the champagne crisp and cool against the tension still thrumming in his chest.

He inhaled deeply, steadying himself before speaking. “You looked…” His voice caught in his throat, hoarse and unsteady, and he cleared it softly before trying again. “You looked beautiful today.”

Your eyes widened slightly, and he could sense the faint blush that rose to your cheeks. “Ominis…” you began, but he shook his head, stopping you.

“I should’ve told you earlier,” he said quietly, his voice raw with sincerity. “You were… you are, the most stunning thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. I mean, um. Not that I can…” He trailed off, a faint, self-deprecating smile tugging at his lips. “But I didn’t need to see you the way others do. I could feel it."

Your cheeks flushed faintly, and you glanced down at your own glass, swirling the champagne slightly as if to distract yourself. “Thank you,” you murmured, your voice soft but genuine.

“I mean it,” he said softly. “You have always been beautiful. And today, seeing you in that dress… it felt like I was dreaming. I still feel like I’m dreaming.”

A deep flush spread across your cheeks, the warmth creeping down your neck as his words lingered in the air. You didn’t respond right away, instead lifting your glass in a swift motion and draining the champagne in one determined gulp. Ominis raised a brow at your boldness, his expression hovering between amusement and surprise. Before he could say anything, you leaned forward, stretching across his lap to place your empty glass on the bedside table.

The unexpected contact sent a jolt through him. His entire body stiffened, his breath catching in his throat as your warmth seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry,” you murmured, glancing at him as you sat back.

“It’s… it’s fine,” he stammered, a rush of warmth crawling up his neck and settling in his cheeks. He gripped his champagne flute more tightly than necessary, the coolness of the glass a poor counterbalance to the fire you’d ignited in his veins.

“You seem… tense,” you remarked, your eyes narrowing slightly.

“Tense?” he repeated, forcing his voice to remain steady even as his grip on the flute tightened. “I’m not tense.”

“You’re holding that glass like it’s about to leap out of your hand,” you pointed out with a soft laugh, leaning in just slightly, your shoulder brushing his. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes,” he said quickly, though his voice cracked slightly on the word.

You hummed softly in response, your amusement now evident. “If you say so."

Ominis turned his sightless gaze in your direction, his throat tightening as he tried to summon a reply that wouldn’t betray the chaos now swirling inside him. But you spoke again before he could, your tone as casual as if you were discussing the weather.

“By the way,” you said with deliberate slowness, “did I ever tell you that you clean up very well?”

He froze, his pulse thundering in his ears. “I… I’m sorry?”

“You,” you said simply, your gaze flicking over him again in a way that made his skin prickle with awareness. “In your suit earlier. You looked very handsome.”

Ominis’s face burned. He gripped his glass tightly, taking another long sip to buy himself a moment to think. “Th-thank you,” he managed.

“You’re welcome,” you said, a faint smile tugging at your lips. You leaned back onto your hands, the bed giving under your weight. "You really are very attractive, Ominis," you added softly, the undercurrent of sincerity that making his heart ache.

You’d never complimented him like that before, never indicated whether you found him attractive or not, and the revelation was dizzying.

“Why are you—why are you saying this?” he asked, his throat tight.

“Because it’s true,” you said simply. “And because I can.”

Ominis exhaled shakily. “You’re... you're very bold."

“And you are shy,” you replied, a playful glint in your eye as you tilted your head toward him. “I told you it’s a good thing we balance each other out.”

He wasn’t sure whether to be flustered or comforted by the ease in your voice. The warmth radiating from you, the teasing lilt in your tone, and the sincerity beneath it all—it was overwhelming, intoxicating.

“You’re relentless,” he muttered.

"Because you make it so easy." You explained smoothly.

Ominis cleared his throat, trying desperately to maintain some semblance of composure. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about."

You tilted your head, eyeing him. “Oh, I think you do."

Before he could respond, you leaned forward again, reaching past him toward the small table beside the bed. But this time, your free hand rested on his thigh for balance, the contact sending heat through his veins and a gasp threatening to pass his lips.

“Let’s see…” you murmured thoughtfully, your fingers brushing against a book as you pulled it toward you. “Huh. A bible. Why do hotels always have these?”

Ominis barely heard your question, his attention consumed by the weight of your hand on his leg, the warmth of your palm seeping through the thin fabric of his pants. He swallowed hard, his throat dry, as he tried—and failed—to focus on anything other than the proximity of your body to his.

“I suppose it’s tradition,” he managed weakly.

“Perhaps you’re right,” you mused, flipping the book closed with an air of exaggerated disappointment. “Though you’d think they’d leave something more interesting. A mystery novel, maybe.”

You shifted slightly to flip open the pages of the book, humming thoughtfully, but your elbow caught Ominis’s arm, sending champagne spilling directly into his lap, the cool liquid soaking through the fabric and clinging uncomfortably to his skin.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, sitting up quickly, your hand flying to your mouth. “I’m so sorry. Let me—”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly, his voice strained as he tried to wave you off. “Really, I can—”

But you were already on your feet, grabbing a towel from the bathroom. Before he could protest further, you were kneeling in front of him on the floor.

“Let me help,” you insisted, your tone sweet but tinged with a something else that Ominis couldn’t quite place.

He stiffened further, his entire body locking up as your hand brushed dangerously close to the center of his lap.

“I-it’s fine, truly,�� he stammered, his voice rising slightly in pitch. “You don’t need to—”

“Nonsense," you said lightly, shaking your head as you continued to blot the fabric. “It’s my fault.”

Ominis held in a groan, fighting to maintain even a shred of composure. Heat had already been pooling in his abdomen, a slow, insistent burn that now threatened to spiral out of control, but with your hands so dangerously close, with you kneeling before him, he felt as though his very sanity was slipping through his fingers.

His mind raced with a flood of thoughts—improper, indecent thoughts that he told himself he was far too much of a gentleman to entertain. And yet, he couldn’t stop them. Couldn’t stop imagining what it would feel like to give in, to let go of the rigid self-control that had defined so much of his life.

He bit down on the inside of his cheek. “Y-you really don’t need to,” he stammered, his voice cracking slightly as he shifted, trying in vain to create some distance between you. “I can handle it.”

“No, no," you murmured, your dabbing movements now turning into wiping motions. "Let me help.”

Help. The irony of the word wasn’t lost on him. If anything, your proximity, your touch, was undoing him entirely. And what was worse—what truly horrified him—was the knowledge that the evidence of his attraction would soon become blatantly, inescapably obvious.

His breath hitched as your hand brushed closer—too close—and he couldn't handle another moment.

Ominis shot to his feet so suddenly that it startled you, his wand clutched tightly in his trembling hand. The movement sent the towel slipping from your fingers as you instinctively leaned back, your wide eyes snapping up to meet his.

The image that his wand painted in his mind was delicious and utterly disastrous: you, on your knees before him, your hair slightly mussed, your lips slightly parted, and those impossibly wide eyes staring up at him.

He clenched his jaw, quickly lowering his wand, but no matter how hard he tried, the image wouldn’t leave him. It was burned into his mind, vivid and unrelenting.

Ominis opened his mouth, but his words came out as a jumble of incoherent stammers. “I—I’m sure the house elves packed… something—uh—extra pants.” His voice cracked slightly as he gestured vaguely toward the corner of the room where their bags were stacked. “I should—probably just—”

He moved to take a step, desperate to escape, but then your hands were on his thighs, stopping him mid-motion.

"Running off on me, are you?"

"I—I just thought—"

You tutted and gave him a gentle push, coaxing Ominis to sit back down on the edge of the bed. He resisted for a moment, but your persistence, combined with his legs trembling beneath him, left him with little choice. Slowly, he sank back down, his hands gripping at the sheets.

“There,” you said softly, your tone soothing yet carrying a playful undercurrent that made his pulse quicken. “That’s better.”

Better? Hardly. Ominis was certain he’d never been in a worse predicament in his life. You were now kneeling right between his legs, your hands still resting on his thighs, the heat of your palms searing through the thin fabric of his sleepwear.

He was painfully, achingly hard now, pressed uncomfortably against the fabric, and he knew—he knew—you must have noticed.

How could you not? You were so close, on your knees before him, your face dangerously near to the source of his torment. He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists as he tried to will his body into submission, but it was no use. The evidence of his desire was blatant, inescapable.

And then, as if the situation wasn’t unbearable enough, you tilted your head slightly, feigning an expression of concern.

“You can’t be very comfortable like that,” you said softly, your voice laced with innocence. “Your pants, I mean. All damp and cold.” The corners of your mouth tugged into the faintest hint of a smile. “Maybe you should just take them off.”

Ominis stiffened. He knew exactly what you were doing—knew you weren’t nearly as innocent as you were pretending to be. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to call you out. Couldn’t bring himself to break the fragile thread of tension strung taut between you. Because some part of him—some reckless, desperate part of him—wanted to see how far you were willing to push him.

“I—I think I’ll just wait until—”

You leaned in slightly, your expression soft and oh-so-kind. “Until what?”

Ominis exhaled shakily, his hands tightening into fists. “Until I’m alone.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “Alone?” you repeated, tilting your head as though the concept genuinely puzzled you. “Why? It's just me... and I'm your wife now, aren't I?"

His wife.

He swallowed hard. “You… you are,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean—”

“Doesn’t mean what?” you interrupted, trailing your hands further up his thighs. “That you can’t be comfortable around me? That you can’t let me take care of you?”

“Take care of me,” he repeated hoarsely, the word catching in his throat as his mind spiraled. He knew exactly what you were insinuating, and it was driving him to the brink of madness.

“Isn’t that what a good wife does?” you asked softly, your voice lilting as though you were enjoying this far too much.

Ominis swallowed hard, muttering your name. “…This is a dangerous game you're playing."

Your lips curved into a sly smile, your gaze never leaving his. “Is it?”

He forced himself to take a steadying breath. “You know exactly what you’re doing.

Your smile didn’t waver. If anything, it grew wider, teasing and entirely too confident for his fragile composure. “And what happens,” you asked, “if I keep playing?”

Your hands trailed upwards and his entire body went rigid, his fists tightening so hard that his knuckles ached.

And then you did it.

Your fingers hooked under the waistband of his pants, your touch light as you began to tug. And Ominis's composure shattered, the remainder of his control finally giving way.

He reached out, his hands catching your wrists and stilling your movements as he leaned down, his sightless gaze locked on you.

“Enough,” he said, his voice low, dangerous.

You blinked up at him, your playful smile faltering for the first time, though your eyes still held a glint of challenge. “Ominis—”

“Enough,” he repeated, his tone sharper this time. “You wanted to play a game, did you? Let me show you what it feels like to lose."

Ominis stood slowly, bringing your hands with him, guiding them back to the waistband of his pants. His breath was heavy, his voice low and rough when he spoke. “You started this,” he murmured, his tone carrying a dangerous edge that sent a shiver down your spine. “Now finish it.”

Your eyes widened, your earlier confidence faltering as you stared up at him. “Ominis, I—” you began, but he cut you off, his fingers tightening just slightly around your wrists.

“You wanted to see how far you could push me?” he muttered. “Congratulations. You found out. Now take them off."

You hesitated, your playful bravado faltering. This wasn’t the careful, reserved Ominis you were used to. This was someone raw, unguarded, and utterly unyielding.

But you had pushed him to this point, hadn’t you? Teased and taunted, knowing full well what you were doing. And now, you would face the consequences.

Your fingers trembled as they hooked under the waistband of his pants, tugging at the fabric. The damp material clung stubbornly to his skin, and the tension in the room was palpable, thick enough to choke on, but Ominis revelled in it, the faintest trace of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

After a moment, the damp fabric finally gave way, sliding down his hips and pooling at his ankles, and for a moment, there was only silence.

Ominis tilted his head slightly, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “No teasing comments, hm? Not so bold now, are you?"

“I…” You hesitated, your breath hitching. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what?” he interrupted smoothly, his fingers ghosting along your skin. “Tease me? Push me? Make me want you until I could barely think straight?”

Your eyes widened, your lips parting in shock at his bluntness. He tilted his head slightly, his smirk deepening as he took in your reaction.

“Because if that’s the case,” he continued, his voice dropping even lower, “then you failed. Now... where were you?"

He reached for your hands again, skimming them along his legs before hooking them into the fabric of his underwear. Your lips parted, a soft, unsteady exhale escaping as you gazed up at him.

“Go on,” he urged, his tone leaving no room for argument.

With a shaky breath, you complied with his demand, the fabric yielding beneath your touch as you began to tug it down past his hips and over the hard length of him.

Ominis’s breath hitched, his jaw tightening as he fought to maintain his composure. His one hand found your shoulder, the other tangling in your hair as you freed him from the confines of his underwear, the cool air of the room brushing against his heated skin.

He could feel your gaze moving over him, taking in every inch of his body. He didn't need to see her to know exactly what you were looking at. He could feel her hesitation, the quickening pace of your breathing, and it stirred something deep inside him.

"Like what you see?" His voice was low and rough. It wasn't a question so much as a challenge, a dare for her to speak the truth he already knew.

There was a pause, a moment where he could feel her nerves battling with her desire. Then her voice came, soft and trembling, yet unmistakably honest. "Yes. I… Ominis, you're... fuck, you're so big.”

Her words hit him like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fire he could barely contain. A slow, wicked smile curled his lips as his confidence swelled at the admission. He let his thumb trace the curve of your jaw, the movement gentle even as his grip on your neck tightened slightly, coaxing you closer.

Your hands trembled against his thighs, and he felt you hesitate again. That flicker of uncertainty was intoxicating, drawing out the predator in him that wanted to take his time unraveling you.

"I don't even know if I can..." you whispered,

"Oh, you can," he said, his voice a mix of promise and challenge. "And you will. Open your mouth."

Your lips parted without hesitation, your trust in him making something primal surge within his chest. Ominis let out a low, satisfied chuckle as he guided you toward him with deliberate care. "Good girl," he murmured, his voice thick with approval.

He could feel your breath ghosting over him, the slight tremor in your shoulders betraying her nervousness. But when your lips finally made contact, wrapping around him with warmth and softness, a sharp groan tore from his throat. The wet heat of your mouth was intoxicating, your tongue brushing against the sensitive underside of him sending jolts of pleasure rippling through his core.

He groaned, his voice low and gravelly, unrestrained. "God, you feel so good... yes, just like that."

His grip in your hair tightened, controlling your movements as he adjusted the angle with a firm but gentle tug. Each movement was controlled, his hips rocking forward slightly before pulling back just enough to keep you comfortable.

A low moan escaped him as your tongue flicked against the head of his cock, every slight drag of your lips sending waves of pleasure radiating through him like fire. His head tipped back briefly, a ragged exhale slipping from his lips.

"Relax your throat," he ordered breathlessly, his thumb brushing lightly against her cheek. "Let me in. Let me feel you take all of me."

You responded instantly, a muffled moan escaping as you took him deeper, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through Ominis that left him teetering on the edge. His control slipped, and his hips jerked forward instinctively, driving himself further into the warmth of your mouth. The way your throat tightened around him, the way you surrendered so completely to his lead—it was undoing him, igniting a raw, primal need he couldn't restrain.

"I’m close," he breathed, his thumb brushing against your chin. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

Your kept pace, and every sensation sharpened, from the slick slide of your lips to the pressure of your tongue and the slight resistance of your throat.

Ominis's body shuddered violently when the tension coiled tight within him finally snapped, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as his hips pressed forward, forcing you to take his release. He groaned your name, his voice raw and broken, the sound laced with unrestrained pleasure as waves of his release surged through him. He felt you swallow, the rhythmic pull of your throat around him drawing out every last bit of his pleasure and leaving him utterly wrecked.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he rasped, his voice hoarse and uneven as he brushed his thumb gently against your chin, a subtle caress full of approval. “So perfect.”

His breaths came in uneven gasps as the intensity began to ebb, though the memory of your mouth on him lingered, searing itself into his mind. The slick warmth of you, your complete submission to him, was something he knew he'd spend his life chasing.

Finally, his grip loosened in your hair, and with a soft, wet pop, he pulled himself from your mouth, the absence of your warmth almost jarring. His legs trembled as he lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, his body still buzzing. Yet, even in his post-climactic haze, his hands remained steady, tracing the curve of your jaw with a reverence that felt entirely at odds with the raw dominance he'd displayed moments before.

“Are you alright?” he asked breathlessly, tilting your chin up to brush his thumb over your swollen lips.

Your breath was shallow, quick, and he could feel the faint tremor in your body under his hands. When you didn’t immediately answer, his brow furrowed. He withdrew his hand and reached for his wand.

The image of you that materialized made his breath catch—your breathing ragged, your cheeks flushed a deep, fiery red, your lips parted as you struggled to catch your breath, your eyes glassy.

He breathed your name, his voice tinged with worry as he cupped your face again. “I—I didn’t hurt you, did I? Please, tell me I didn’t hurt you.” His fingers brushed your hair back, searching for any sign of discomfort, his unseeing eyes filled with an almost frantic need for reassurance.

You blinked slowly, as if coming out of a haze, and the smallest of smiles tugged at your lips. Your breath hitched, and when you finally spoke, your voice was rough and shaky. “No,” you managed,“No, you didn’t hurt me.”

He let out a shaky exhale. “Are you sure you’re alright? Please tell me the truth.”

You nodded, your unsteady, watery smile sending a wave of relief coursing through Ominis, the tension in his chest easing ever so slightly. But that smile—soft, trembling, and paired with the glassiness in your eyes—made his heart falter for an entirely different reason. He had pushed you close to your limit; that much was undeniable. The sheen in your gaze spoke of intensity, perhaps even moments of overwhelming vulnerability. And yet, the faint curve of your lips said it all—you’d liked it.

You had trusted him so completely, surrendered so fully, giving yourself over to him for his pleasure, even when it stretched the boundaries of your comfort.

It was a realization that hit him hard, an almost overwhelming surge of emotion he wasn’t prepared for.

But Ominis couldn’t allow himself to dwell on it now. There was something far more important to focus on—taking care of you.

Ominis inhaled deeply, centering himself as he rose from the edge of the bed. He pulled back the covers with a smooth motion and turned back to you, his expression softening as he reached for you. “Come here,” he said gently.

Reaching down, his arms slid around you, steady and secure, as he helped you up from where you knelt on the floor. One hand pressed lightly against the small of your back, the other brushing against your arm as he guided you onto the bed.

Once you were settled, he tucked the covers around you, his hands lingering for a moment, brushing along your arm before moving to your face.

“There we are,” he murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair away as he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’re alright,” he assured, though it felt as much for him as it was for you. “I’ve got you.”

Your voice, hoarse and barely above a whisper, cut through the quiet. “Ominis, you can stop fussing. I’m alright.”

He froze for a moment, his lips curving into a faint smile as a soft chuckle escaped him. “You’re alright, are you?” he asked, his tone a blend of teasing and disbelief. “You can barely speak. Forgive me if I’m not entirely convinced.”

You rolled your eyes weakly, the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips. “I mean it,” you said, your voice still raspy. “I’m okay."

He shifted closer to the edge of the bed as he adjusted the covers once more, making sure they were snug around you. “You need water," he decided, his brow furrowing slightly.

Before you could protest, he was already moving, locating a glass and filling it at the bathroom sink. He returned swiftly, slipping one hand beneath the back of your neck to help you sit up just enough. The other hand brought the glass to your lips.

“Drink,” he murmured softly.

You sipped obediently and he smiled softly, chest rising and falling with a quiet steadiness now that he knew you were truly alright.

"You were so good," he murmured, as his fingers trailed down to your jaw, tilting your face slightly upward. "Do you have any idea how amazing you felt?"

He leaned closer, his lips finding the flushed heat of your cheek, pressing soft, lingering kisses there, each one accompanied by a murmured word of praise. “So perfect,” he whispered between kisses, his voice low and reverent. "So well behaved."

His lips trailed to your other cheek, brushing against the soft skin as he continued. “It was overwhelming in the best way possible. The way you felt, the way you took me—it was more than I could have ever imagined.”

You hummed softly, the sound a mixture of contentment and satisfaction as his lips trailed across your flushed skin. A shaky hand lifted from beneath the covers, reaching out to find his cheek, your fingers trembling slightly as you guided his lips to yours.

The kiss was a whisper, soft and delicate, barely more than a brush of your lips against his. Ominis exhaled against your mouth, his breath warm and steady, a low hum of contentment escaping him as he leaned into you. His hand slid from your jaw to the nape of your neck, cradling you as his lips moved against yours.

Your lips barely parted from his as you whispered against them, your voice still raspy but filled with quiet conviction, “I love you.”

The words hung in the air between you, and for a moment, Ominis stilled, as though trying to convince himself they were real. Then, his breath hitched, and he pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you, too,” he murmured in return, his voice trembling with emotion. “Merlin, I love you so much. I always have.” He paused, his unseeing eyes searching for something he couldn’t quite articulate. “After everything, after all this time… I never dared to hope we’d find each other again like this.”

You smiled faintly, your thumb stroking his cheek as you closed the small distance between you for another kiss, your lips speaking what words couldn’t.

Ominis pulled back slowly, his fingers brushing through your hair one last time before he adjusted the covers around you. He slipped into bed beside you, his movements careful, his body naturally finding yours as his arms slid around you, drawing you close. Your head nestled against his chest, your breath warm against his neck, and he felt your heartbeat, steady and sure, beneath his hand.

As he held you, Ominis let his mind wander, reflecting on everything that had brought you both to this moment. The pain, the distance, the longing—it had all been worth it for this, for you. A soft, contented sigh escaped him as he pressed a lingering kiss to the top of your head.

As he closed his eyes, his grip on you tightening slightly in an unconscious promise to never let you go again, a single thought echoed in his mind: This is where I’m meant to be. With you. Always.

Divider Credit

[bisexualiteaa]

Give me this dance

Alternate Silco x fem reader (fluff and smut!)

MDNI!!

Synopsis: In every timeline, you were a part of his life. Right there by his side to bring him outside of his comfort zone and show him some fun. Soon, what started as a mere dance turned into a night neither of you would forget.

Songs for inspo/to listen to while reading:

CW: slight season 2 spoilers! Established friendship, mutual pining, mutual feelings, unrequited feelings, reader is AFAB, reader is a bartender at the last drop, reader has hair, alternate Silco, softer/happier Silco, brief mentions of alcohol, fluff w/ smut, cursing, fïngering, 0ral (fem recieving), nïpple pläy, unprotected seggs, p0rn w/ feelings, rïding, cream 🥧, fluffy ending, proofread, potential spelling/grammar errors, slight OOC Silco, no use of y/n

AN: The way he looked so happy in this timeline, he looks so happy and even more handsome somehow it’s CRAZY!! 😭 Had this one in the works for a while now but it’s finally done! I hope you all enjoy! 🥹♥️

You smiled happily as you were finally able to find your way out from behind the bar, a momentary reprieve from the hustle and bustle, the demand of drink orders that had been steadily building all night. “Come dance with me! I love this song” you remarked to Silco, making his eyes widen with something akin to a look of fear. He was a horrible dancer, and the last thing he wanted to do was embarrass himself in front of you of all people. He looked to Vander for any bit of advice or help he could give, only earning a grin from the man in response, telling him he was on his own for this one. “I-I’m not very good at dancing I…” Silco tried to explain, stuttering terribly as your hand grabbed his upper arm, causing a blush to trickle across his face and his heart to race in his chest out of nervousness. He didn’t want to turn you down, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself in a bar full of people either. Or embarrass you, for that matter, with being such a terrible dance partner. “Me either, it’s okay! Promise I won’t judge” you reassured with a smile, the faint smell of liquor and mixers entangling with your perfume, creating a smell that was so comforting, so familiar. It was so you and so incredibly intoxicating. “C’mon, let’s have some fun! Dance with me” you tried to persuade him sweetly, gorgeous eyes looking up at him so excitedly, almost twinkling in the warm glow of the lanterns that hung around the bar. How could he possibly say no when you looked at him like that? “What’s the harm? Doubt anyone will even be lookin’” Vander jutted in, cleaning a glass as he spoke and took your side on this, hoping that maybe if Silco danced with you, he would finally tell you how he feels, possibly ending the constant back and forth cycle of mutual pining between you two for good. He was two to one now, leaving him no other choice but to relent. “I suppose I’ll step out of my comfort zone, just this once” he remarked cheekily, making you nearly jump for joy at his response, an elated smile stretching across your lips as you eagerly led him out on the floor to dance. Vander could only laugh as he watched you both act as if you were teenagers all over again, pushing the boundaries of friendship and testing the waters of romance.

You looked up at the taller man in front of you, hazel and green eyes gazing upon you with such light of a man so deeply in love. Your bright, contagious laughter filled the air as you danced to the music, caring not for anything but this moment. Who cared if anyone else was watching? Who what anyone else was thinking? If they were judging. The only person you cared about looking at you was the man you were dancing with. Seeing his eyes glued to you, smiling as he attempting to follow your pace and rhythm was all you needed. This had to be heaven, surely. “I’ve never seen you dance like this before” Silco commented with a cheeky grin, happy to see you so comfortable and carefree while in his presence. “I normally don’t, but for such a special occasion I decided to make an exception” you replied, making him laugh as you both continued to let the beat carry you, finding your feet moving nearly in sync all on their own.

Before you knew it, one dance had turned into quite a few, then quite a few turned into spending nearly all night out there getting caught up in song. Silco found himself enjoying the moment and the chance to be with you far more than he could have ever anticipated. Who knew stepping out of your bubble a little could be so much fun? Suddenly the music had taken on a much slower turn from the rest of the music that had been playing, even the lights had dropped a little to add to the almost romantic atmosphere. You’d never slow danced before, and you figured that you’d likely pulled Silco out of his element for long enough, so you took it as your sign to hop back behind the bar. However before you could, his voice stopped you. “Where are you going?” He asked softly, looking confused and almost hurt that you were going to leave. “Oh, I figured you were probably done dancing for the night so I…I thought I’d head back behind the bar. I didn’t want to force you to stay here dancing all night if it isn’t what you want” you explained, feeling a pang of guilt hit you in the chest as he looked upon you so sadly. Any chance he had to spend with you he would do in a heartbeat, so long as it was with you, he’d do just about anything. “I don’t feel forced. You’ve brought me out of my element yes, but I’ve enjoyed dancing with you. I’d be even happier to continue” he admitted wholeheartedly, making you perk up a little to hear he was enjoying himself, finding yourself a little surprised at the prospect. “Really?” You asked, voice hopeful as you looked to him, watching him shake his head yes, easing your every worry. “Would you give me this dance?” He asked bravely, hand extended out for you to take. You looked to it before looking back up at him with a blushy smile, heart feeling as if it would beat out of your chest from both excitement and anxiousness. “I’d be delighted to” you responded sweetly, grabbing his hand and allowing him to lead you both to a spot that allowed you enough room while also granting you a little bit of privacy compared to before. “Full disclosure, I’ve never slow danced before” you finally confessed, a little embarrassed but it only made him chuckle. “Me either, it’s okay. I won’t judge” he repeated back to you the exact same thing you’d told him when you asked him to dance, making you laugh at the witty comeback. It was only fair, you supposed. You’d brought him out of his comfort zone and showed him a great time in doing so, it was only fair to allow him to do the same for you. Besides, when would you be able to get this chance to share with him again? Better to take the opportunity, make the best of it and be able to look back on it as a memory someday than not and mourn what could have been. “Clever play, using my own words against me” you replied, making him only grin wider. “Just follow my lead” he spoke confidently, bringing your arm to loop around his neck as one of his hands rested at your hip, the other holding yours as you both stepped and swayed to the beat, keeping it simple. You couldn’t help the rouge that ran across your cheeks however that this was even happening right now. From the close proximity of your chests being pressed together, to your hands being intertwined as he looked down at you with a soft, love struck smile, all of it was so romantic. So intimate. It left you nervous, not wanting to mess up and ruin the beautiful tension that had begun to set in between you now. Yet you felt so alive, so free. It felt like one of those romantic moments you’d only ever heard of in the books you’d read. You could hardly believe it was actually real. That this was real.

You smiled up at him as you stared into his gorgeous eyes, finding your hand moving from its original place to instead come and rest along the scarred side of his cheek almost instinctively, your thumb rubbing soothing circles against the textured skin there. He was always so self conscious about his scars, especially around you. He didn’t want you to think less of him because of them, or find him less attractive because of them, often covering them with makeup to at least cover the color of the scar tissue and make it blend in with his natural skin tone better. Yet you thought that they were what made him so stunning. Paired with his piercing eyes and the confidence he carried about himself so effortlessly, even the way he dressed, everything about him was just so incredibly special. He stood out amongst the rest of the crowd. Gods he was so handsome. He was so handsome it was almost intimidating, yet you’d known him long enough to know there was no reason to be.

Your sweet gesture made his heart skip in his chest, beating harder and faster than it already had as he smiled down at you. He wondered to himself if it was loud enough for you to hear as it slammed against his sternum. You couldn’t help the way your eyes seemed to curiously flit between his and his lips occasionally, silently wondering how they would feel if they were pressed against your own. Would they be soft? They looked soft. Would they fit well against your own? You hoped to find out. It made you start to think that perhaps the slower song was chosen on purpose, strategically placed so you would dance with him to it. A plan to get you to get him out of his comfort zone, show him some fun, all while setting you both up with the perfect opportunity to speak on feelings that rested unspoken between you for far too long now. Or maybe you were just lucky enough to have fate hand you such a beautiful opportunity. Who were you to turn it down if so? “You’re quite good at this” you complimented, making him give a breathy chuckle. “You’re better than you give yourself credit for” he replied, making you hum with a sweet smile as you looped both of your arms around his neck, taking the bold step and resting your head against his chest as you continued to sway. He froze for a moment as you did, his hands finding your hips before wrapping his arms around you as it set in that you were leaned against him like this. That you felt safe enough with him to do so. It made him nearly dizzy at the thought of having you like this, to have you so close, for you to want this with him. It left him to silently thank every deity above for the opportunity as he shut his eyes and rested his chin on top of your head for a moment, allowing the both of you to sway to the rhythm and just enjoy each other’s warmth.

When the song had finally come to an end, you lifted your head up to look at him, eyes once again flickering between his gaze and his lips with that same curiosity. Only this time it was much stronger than it was before. “Thank you, for dancing with me. For…for choosing to share this moment with me” you said meekly, making him look to you as one of his hands cupped your cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin just as you’d done to him. For a moment the world was completely lost on you, it felt as if it was just the two of you here. “No matter the options, no matter the occasion I’d choose you, always” he confessed, tone so genuine, words so heartfelt that the butterflies in your stomach had returned tenfold, leaving you to bite your lip as you bit back a school-girlish giggle. If your mind wasn’t screaming at you to kiss him before, it most certainly was now. “Sil?” You inquired softly, watching as his eyes now trailed to your plush lips before returning your gaze, doing the same to you that you’d been doing to him this whole time. It nearly drove you wild, seeing the want in his eyes, the admiration. All for you. “Yes?” He asked in reply, watching a smile stretch to your lips before you spoke, looking at you expectantly. “Do us both a favor and just kiss me already, would you?” You responded in a cheeky but confident tone, making him hum in amusement at your boldness. He loved it about you, so unafraid to go for the things you wanted or that made you happy. He was honored to be that for you. “I thought you’d never ask” he answered, not wasting even a moment before his lips were on yours, finally answering all curiosities and all thoughts as he held you close. Vander gave an excited whistle and clap that left you smiling into it as you pulled him down against you a little more, showing him just how much you’d wanted this. He chuckled into it, responding by squeezing your hip as your lips melded together for a little while longer, a good handful of people cheering you both on before finally pulling apart. You smiled up at him excitedly as his hand grabbed yours, squeezing it lovingly.

“Well, as delightful as this has been, it’s about time for my shift to be over. Do you…maybe wanna get out of here?” You asked, hoping he would say yes, praying that when you went to put your apron back behind the bar and walk out, you’d be walking out with him. He tried so hard to hide his surprise and excitement at your question, but the way his brows raised a little and eyes opened a little wider didn’t go unnoticed by you, making you giggle softly as you saw it. “Are you asking me to come home with you?” He asked curiously, wanting to make sure he understood exactly what you were implying, not wishing to misread you and do something that would make you upset or assume something incorrectly. “Yes, yes I am” you replied as you looked up at him, awaiting his answer. He was dreaming, he must have been. Had you really just asked him to come home with you? “After you” he said, making you smile and giggle. “G-Great! Yeah, uhh just…let me put this behind the bar for tomorrow then we’ll head out” you replied, skittering behind the bar to quickly take off and fold your apron before tucking it away, informing Vander that you were headed home for the night. He shot you a grin and Silco a knowing glance as you walked back over to him, collecting your things before heading out the door together.

You smiled and giggled with excitement into your shared kiss as your back hit one of the walls in your home that you’d only just stepped foot in but a moment ago. You’d barely even made it in the door that was haphazardly shut with his foot, your hands running up from his chest to tangle in his neatly slicked back hair as your lips melded together in a sinful dance. His one hand rested against the wall, propping himself up with his arm and caging you in a little as the other sat at the back of your thigh, allowing your leg to rest against his hip so he could slot himself even closer to you. He’d spent long enough without you, long enough chasing circles around you, any space between you now was eliminated the moment it was noticed. You felt him slide closer to you between your legs, his other hand coming down from the wall to do the same to your other thigh, tapping it so you would hop up and wrap your legs around his hips. As you did so, he had you effectively pinned against the wall, your hips pressed against his with a moan as your tongues fought in a battle for dominance over the other. One he was delighted to let you win, allowing your tongue to explore his, the taste of whiskey, smoke and tobacco still hanging heavily from his lips. It was an addicting taste. You gasped into the kiss as he rolled his hips against yours, leaving you to pull away to rest your head against the wall as his lips trailed your neck, kissing and nipping at all your sensitive spots. He simply couldn’t get enough of you, your warmth, the feel of your soft skin against his own, the sounds of your melodic moans filling his ears, it was all such bliss. And Janna almighty was he a lucky man to be the one who gets to see you like this. His nimble fingers danced curiously beneath the bottom of your shirt, calloused hands caressing your waist. He aided you in removing your shirt, leaving you there before him in your bra and the sight alone made him throb against you, earning a quiet gasp with delight as you looked to him excitedly. Lust filled your gaze, pupils nearly encompassing the entirety of your irises as a smile still rested on your lips, waiting for his next move. His hands found their way behind you, undoing the clasps to your bra and watching as you tossed it aside without a care. “Beautiful” was all he could say as he gazed upon you, leaving you to blush and give a hum in response.

Once you’d finally made it to your bedroom, you aided in the removal of his shirt, undoing the buttons, unraveling all the stylish layers teasingly yet carefully slow while looking up at him. You notified his fingers twitched with anticipation, patiently waiting for you to finish so he could feel your skin against his once more. Once they’d finally been undone, they trailed along your floor towards the foot of your bed, allowing you to gaze upon his slender form. You smiled with all the kindness in the world as you gazed upon him, looking at him as if he were a god standing before you, offering himself to you. It all felt so unreal. Your hands rested on his chest once he’d leaned in closer, begging for the taste of your lips against his once more, helping you to lay on your back as he kissed you much softer this time. Your arms looped around his neck to hold him close, inviting him to continue. He eagerly straddled your frame, one of his hands coming down to caress the curve of your waist before reaching upwards to your chest. He paused for a moment, unsure of whether it was okay for him to touch, so you took the chance to grab his hand, placing it there for him with a playful grin into your shared kiss before looping your arms back around him, hands splayed against his lithe figure. You moaned sweetly in response as he massaged your breast in his hand, allowing his tongue to enter your mouth and tangle with your own, deepening the kiss.

Before you knew it his hand was trailing down your frame once again, fingers slipping past your naval and down towards the waistband of your pants. He broke the kiss to work at the button of your pants, leaving you panting for air as a flush set against your cheeks. You giggled as you watched him fumble with the button and zipper for a little bit, the eager shake of his hands making it prove to be a bit more difficult before he was finally able to get it undone. He looked to you for permission as his fingers hooked in the waistband, waiting for you to tell him it was okay. When your hands pushed down against his own to help them inch down your hips, he took that as his answer, pulling them, along with your panties, down and off of your legs before tossing them behind him unceremoniously, making you laugh. “Eager, are we?” You teased with a grin, making him chuckle. “I don’t think you understand just how long I’ve wanted you” he replied, sending a pleasant shudder down your spine and stoked the fire burning in your core at the thought that he’s craved you like this. That he’s fantasized about this. “Then what are you waiting for?” You asked, making him shoot you a crooked grin before sinking down and settling between your legs, laying gentle yet hot kisses to your inner thighs. “For you to scream my name for all of Zaun to hear as I please you like no one else can” he responded confidently with a much deeper tone, hands resting on your thighs and keeping them spread as he brought his lips to your throbbing clit.

Your reaction was immediate, back arching slightly from the mattress as your hands flew down to tangle in his hair. “Fuck…” you cursed quietly before moaning as his tongue licked flatly up your slit then fluttered against your aching bud. He moaned into you at your taste, opening his eye to look up at you as he sat between your legs lavishing you with attention, and gods above was he graced with a beautiful sight. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth open as moans billowed from your throat unrestrained, your chest heaving up and down with each labored breath. His every fantasy was ruined in this moment, because nothing, absolutely nothing would ever look better than you do right now. Nothing will ever hold a candle to your beauty as he pleased you. You looked fucking ethereal. Nothing could have possibly prepared him for it, for how perfect you looked, how delicious you tasted, how sexy you sounded moaning his name like a mantra for a lost god. He’d give anything to stay here, like this. All you’d ever have to do is ask.

You felt as one of his nimble fingers prodded at your entrance, easing its way in thanks to the mix between your slick and his saliva before searching for any of your sensitive spots. You gasped as he curled his finger within you, feeling him rubbing against your gummy walls as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it. It left you dizzy, weak even, with just how good it felt. “Gods, yes! Just like that” you encouraged, one hand smoothing through his hair as you looked down at him while he worked you with his mouth, your fingers of your other hand coming up to toy with one of your sensitive nipples, adding to your pleasure. He groaned into you as he took notice of this, enjoying the sight of you playing with yourself as he brought you pleasure, listening to you moan his name like a prayer. None of Zaun would be able to mistake who had you feeling this good once he was through with you. His free hand came up to mirror your ministrations, showing your other breast some much needed attention. You gave a louder moan in surprise as he pinched it playfully between his thumb and index finger before rolling it beneath the pad of his thumb to soothe. The pain sent a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit, making him grin against you as he worked a second finger inside of you whilst skillfully tweaking your nipple.

You started to feel that all too familiar feeling of tension beginning to fester and rise in your lower belly, so close to snapping any moment now. Your hips rutted against his tongue and fingers, making him moan into your cunt as you used him for your pleasure, trying desperately to gain any bit of friction you could to propel you over the edge, and allow you to tumble into euphoria. “So close, please…” you begged through breathless pants, absolutely desperate to cum. It was when his fingers curled and rubbed against your walls once more that he found that spongy spot within you that lit your every nerve ending on fire. “Right there! Oh gods, Silco please” you let out, making him continue exactly what he was doing, hearing as your voice raised a bit higher in pitch, feeling your walls begin to tighten around his fingers. Before you could even think to warn him, your orgasm was rushing over you, consuming you whole as you screamed his name without a care for any consequence. Your back arched from the bed, eyes rolling back and your legs attempting to shut tightly as you twitched and writhed with every movement of his tongue and fingers that worked to help you down from cloud nine and draw out your pleasure for as long as possible, careful not to overstimulate you. Perhaps that could be saved for another day, should he be lucky enough.

He wiped his lips of your slick with the back of his hand before trailing them back up your body, stopping to suck gently on one of your nipples purely to see you writhe against him with need. He chuckled at your pathetic whine as your fingers came to the waistband of his pants, giving them an impatient tug. “Need me that bad, do you?” He asked with a cheeky grin down at you, the sight of you beneath him like this better than any dream he’s ever had. Seeing your hair settle around you against the sheets, the sight of you naked before him, glowing from the after effects of your orgasm that *he’d* given you. Seeing you wanting him just as much as he’d wanted you. It was unreal. “I don’t think you understand just how long I’ve wanted you” you replied cleverly, using his own words against him like he had done to you earlier, making him chuckle once more. Could you be any more perfect? “Then what are you waiting for?” He asked, making you grin deviously as you flipped him over on his back this time, straddling his hips now as your hand pressed against his chest, keeping him pressed against the mattress beneath you. His eyes looked to you with surprise at your quick and dexterous movements before waiting to hear what you had to say in response. “For you to take your pants off so all of Zaun can listen as you please me like no one else ever will” you replied with a confident grin, watching as he did exactly as you asked.

You both moaned pleasantly as he bottomed out, fully seated inside of you now, the angle allowing him to sit deeper within you as you straddled his hips. You gave yourself a moment to adjust, leaning down to kiss him once more to distract yourself from the momentary pain of the stretch. You could feel him throb inside of you with excitement, each pulse of his cock sending a pleasant tingle to your core. It was as he shifted his hips a little to get more comfortable that both of you moaned, the movement accidentally causing him to thrust into you a bit. So you started to move up and down on him at a slow pace to start, testing the waters to see if you were ready. And fuck, were you ready. He was in so deep like this that his tip nestled against your cervix each time you would sink back down onto him. It was heavenly. “Fuck…” you sighed as you started to pick up the pace a little, the sounds of his thighs meeting your ass, your shared panting and the slight creak of the bed becoming louder with your efforts, filling your room with the sinful symphony of sex. His hands slipped down your body to rest at your hips, gripping them tightly as he watched you skillfully bounce up and down on his cock, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing inside of you then peeking back out. “Janna almighty…” he let out, absolutely enraptured with the way your cunt wrapped around him so well, welcoming him so perfectly, he couldn’t help it. You were so warm, so wet, so tight around him that it left him breathless, fighting to not cum so soon. You couldn’t help but to giggle at his remark. “Feel good?” You asked between breathless pants, watching as he looked up at you, bewildered that you could possibly ask such a question. “Better than good, you feel incredible” he replied, a groan leaving him upon a particularly harsh thrust of your hips, watching you get lost in your pleasure as you rode him. You were quite the sight to behold while in the throws of your pleasure, watching your beautiful tits bounce as you moved, your head tilted back and eyes close as you’d find that perfect rhythm that drove you both wild. Every bit of you was so perfect in his eyes, he just simply couldn’t get enough. He watched as you bit your soft, kissable lips, teeth working at them and it made him crave the taste of them again, the feel of them against his own.

He sat up for a moment, bringing himself now eye level with you as you continued to ride him but now at a different angle. One that was even better. You hadn’t even thought that possible. He chased your lips, capturing them with his own as he started to thrust his hips up into you, matching your pace with precision. With each roll of his hips, not only was he hitting deeply inside, but your clit was getting new found attention, leaving you to moan into the kiss as you met his thrusts eagerly. “You’re perfect” he complimented, his lips trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder as you felt that ever familiar coil begin to wind tight in your core again. It was as you were about to reach your peak that the words left you before you could even register that you’d said them. “I love you” you confessed, panting as you looked upon him with a blush tinting your cheeks and a hopeful, yet vulnerable look in your eyes that told him your sentiment was completely sincere. That this meant something far more to you than just a heated moment to be forgotten about or never spoken of once morning came. You loved him. He smiled so purely, so joyfully as the words graced his ears. “For so long I’ve dreamt of hearing those words from you” he replied, making you smile back as you finally realized that the feeling was mutual, no longer scared of the potential of rejection. “I love you” he reciprocated, making your heart race as you kissed him, your hands cupping his face as he held you, rutting his hips up into you with newfound fervor. “So close…” you panted once you both broke apart for air, feeling yourself sit dizzily at the edge of bliss as his lips trailed along your neck. “Cum for me, darling. Give it to me” he said, angling his hips perfectly to stroke that spot deep inside of you that had you keening. That was all it took. The tension within your core blossomed to warmth as your every nerve ending surged with fiery pleasure, your walls clenching around him as you moaned his name loudly, clinging to him for dear life whilst your orgasm consumed you. The sight of you twitching and nearly convulsing in ecstasy, mixed with the way your cunt squeezed him even tighter sent him toppling over the edge soon after, spilling himself inside of you with a deep, almost guttural groan. You gave a pleased hum at the sensation, feeling him throb within you and fill you so incredibly full as you both sat there, fighting to catch your breath and looking upon one another in awe. Enjoying the buzzing sensation of your shared afterglow, you leaned in to the press a gentle, loving kiss to his lips, further solidifying that your words genuine and that this moment had indeed meant something. When you pulled back, your hand resting gently on the scarred side of his cheek, you were graced with the most love struck look, making you smile and giggle. “What?” You asked, a cheeky grin stretched to your lips. “Nothing, just taking in the view” he said, making you hum. “Is that so?” You asked. “You’re incredible” he said, turning to kiss your palm as he held his hand against the back of yours, leaning into your soft touch, simply wishing to stay there and enjoy the intimacy of the moment together.

It was as you were both lying there in your bed peacefully, having come back from getting cleaned up, you’d even gone another round whilst in the shower, as an entertaining thought came to you. “You wanna know something funny?” You asked, propping your head up on your hand, leaning your weight on your elbow as you laid on your side, facing him. “What’s that?” He asked, eyes trailing over your frame with wonder, in awe of the fact that you truly were here before him, and that you both shared such an intimate moment together not only once, but twice. Your top half was peaking out from beneath the blanket, allowing him the view of your chest and all the marks he’d left upon your delicate skin as he waited with much anticipation for what you had to say. “If you think about it; it took us dancing with one another to stop dancing around each other. Kinda funny how that worked out, don’t you think?” you spoke with a grin, making you both laugh. “I suppose it is” he replied, making you smile and hum as you looked to him lovingly, happy to see him here with you, happy to have shared what you did with him. “I love you, Sil. Thanks again for tonight” you said sweetly, making him smile as you said it. “I love you too, and thank you” he replied as you cuddled up to him beneath the covers, his arm slung around your frame protectively as you began to drift peacefully to sleep in his arms.

Perhaps heaven wasn’t a moment in time, or an action to be taken, but rather a person, and as you sat there in his arms, he could confidently say that you were that person.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie who crashes at Steve's after movie night, despite knowing it's a bad idea considering his increasingly out-of-control and hopeless crush. He's supposed to be working on boundaries and expectations, not falling asleep on the couch with his head on the man's shoulder, and waking up being fucking carried upstairs to bed.

The next morning, he plans on making a sneaky exit, but then he hears a stereo playing from somewhere downstairs. He makes his way to the kitchen to find Steve dancing and belting along with I Wanna Dance with Somebody, passionately singing into a spatula.

And so much for Eddie keeping his crush under control, because this? It's the cutest goddamn thing he's seen in his life and he's head over heels.

He can't help walking up to Steve, taking him in his arms, and judging by the way Steve's face lights up, his crush might not be so unrequited after all.

[miakate-writes]

Can you please do mutual pining/obviously-in-love-but-both-are-too-shy-to-say-it? Literally the blood in my veins 😭

Mutual pining romance prompts! 🌸🎀

spending ALL their time together

physical contact whenever possible

like they will literal start blushing and stuttering over the brush of a hand

never seen apart

people are always asking them things like “where is A?” “why aren’t you with B?”

and they never get sick of it

if the other person’s name is bought up in a conversation, you best believe they are listening STRAIGHT AWAY

what did they do? what did they say? who were they with? did they have fun?

they wanna know it all because this is half of the information they can get about them due to being to shy to pester for info ALL the time so they have to depend on other ppl 🥺

[a/n: tysm for this request, i’m getting to requests as soon as i can, still getting out of burnout and i’ve got exams this week so bear with me 🫶🏻 if you have any requests then pop them in my asks! you’re always welcome here 🎀]

[i-d-e-g-a-f]

something about mai potentially giving up everything for zuko and ty lee immediately doing the same but for her reeks of lesbian unrequited love and i need to read about it NOW

[saederkrupps]

i think the hate for "miscommunication" in stories is undeserved. miscommunication is part of Being Alive, everyone experiences. you as the viewer think "ugh this is so annoying, why don't they just say what they really mean/why don't they clear it up" but in reality everyone is always miscommunication its a fundamental part of being alive and interacting with people.... im the lone defender of miscommunication tropes ok. i support u

[blabbering-and-such]

do NOT take away my mutual pining and replace it with unrequited love 😡

[maybaankk]

⠀ theatre cupid ⠀⠀﹒⠀　mgg x reader

this work includes / may include : mutual pining, mentions of breakups, mentions of unhappy marriages, mentions of unhappy home life, y/n used, f!reader with she / her prns, theatrical drama, timeskips, possible smut, toothrotting fluff, tear jerking angst, unrequited love in the first part, matthew is a dumbass and cant tell that reader likes him, reader smokes.

summary : y/n and matthew have known eachother since theatre school, when matthew had spikey blonde short hair, when they loose contact after graduation y/n sees matthew in the movie hot air and can’t keep down old feelings that she once had for her classmate.

Authors note : i did so much research about matthew and Tisch School of the Arts for this.. i wanted to be accurate.. and also there’s references to math rock songs

wc: 7.5k

Friday the 6th of October 2000

Y/N doesn’t know how to feel when her brain starts to process that she’s finally in her dream school, New york University’s Tisch School of the Arts, a school she had dreamed of since she first fell in love with theatre at the young age of 8.

She takes out the planner from her bag, flipping to the timetable for her day, running her finger down the page to find the room number, her first class; Introduction to Theatre Studies in THEA-UT 500.

And so she made her way toward the lecture hall, her satchel resting on her side comfortably; ahead of her she saw a boy with short mid length dirty blonde hair; his body was adorned in a tweed jacket and a flannel on his upper half, the lower in jeans and converse.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she recognised his hair somewhere, and then it clicked; her sister was absolutely obsessed with this model named Matthew Gray Gubler from those high fashion magazines.

Her fliphone was in her hand in a matter of seconds, frantically typing in a text message to her sister; who was on the other side of the country.

“that model guy, matthew? yh i think he goes 2 my school, WTF.” is all she typed to her sister before she made it to the lecture room, sending the text and flipping the phone closed under her chin.

Thursday the 12th of October 2000

Y/N layed comfortably in her sheets, staring up at the ceiling of her student apartment, gently twirling the locket around her neck in her fingers; she had exchanged a few sentences with Matthew that day they met; today was a Fall break.

He seemed sweet, and at some point she found herself finally understanding the once strange infatuation that her sister had with the boy.

They were close in age, only a few months apart, and both 80s babies; though Matthew had already gone to a university in california, he had moved to new york to pursue film while still modelling.

Atleast that’s what he told Y/N, they had walk to the cafeteria together before going their separate ways, only sharing glances in the hallways afterwards as Introduction to Theatre Studies was the only class they shared.

For one reason or another Y/N found herself missing the warmth Matthew’s voice and laugh gave her in the pit in her stomach, her sister was constantly tetxing, rooting for her and, albeit teasing her sister for now having the same crush she once called stupid.

Friday the 13th of October 2000

classes returned, and to Y/N’s delight, her first class was the one she shared with matthew; she did a small dance when she remembered this, twirling around her apartment as she pieced together an appropriate fall outfit.

However when she walked into the lecture room, her heart stopped; there was a girl sat on Matthew’s knee, touching up on him; and Matthew didn’t seem to mind at all, infact he had that same dopey smile he usually had when talking to Y/N.

So for the rest of the class, Y/N sat at the front, focusing on the lecture to cleanse her mind of the thoughts and sight of Matthew and the girl she had later learnt to be Marceline.

Tears pricked at her eyes occasionally as the image of the two flickered in her mind; but she had to remind herself that she had only knew Matthew for a few days and that she meant barely anything to him.

Monday the 23rd of October 2000

The song In Your House by The Cure played in Y/N’s tangled headphones as she stared at the paper infront of her, she and Matthew had exchanged a conversation a few days ago about an idea for a play premise they had to write about in their class, but other than that, it was always Matthew and Marceline.

She sighs to herself, standing up to walk over to the trashcan, pencil and pencil sharpener in hand; imserting the stationary into the sharpener as she turns it, groaning softly when the lead stains her hands a metallic gray.

When the bell rings she sighs in relief, she doesn’t have to hear the obnoxious giggles of Marceline when she talks to Matthew at the back of class for the next three days, that’s something atleast.

The satchle is slung over her shoulder as she holds onto the strap, she looks behind her and immediately regrets it, because there she sees Matthew and Marceline exchanging a kiss; and to that her brows furrow and she walks away quickly.

Tuesday the 31st of October 2000

Halloween, usually Y/N’s favourite time of year, because why wouldn’t it be? but this year it felt different, so very very different; because all she could see was Marceline in a latex nurse costume, and Matthew as a vampire letting her grind against him; with his big hands placed on her waist.

Y/N is there ofcourse, dressed as a cheetah. and she sat there, sipping on whatever was in that fucking punch bowl; before she got up and realised matthew had noticed her leaving, but he never moved; he justed stared.

The cigarette inbetween Y/N’s fingers crackled as she inhaled again, blowing out the smoke as she took off the cheetah ears atop her head; she sighs softly, thoughts spinning around her head.

“Maybe i could just move away, or go extinct like triceratops..” she frowns, standing up and sliding the packet of cigarettes into her satchel, walking the short journey back to her apartment.

She stands in the elevator, holding onto the bar as she sighs at the way it clunks, the door opening on her floor before she steps out, walking back to the small room she called home.

Tuesday 28th of November 2000

Y/N has absolutely no idea how she ended up atop a hill, sitting on the edge of a cliff as she smokes a cigarette, she thinks to herself that it’s because it’s Thanksgiving recess, but she knows deep in her heart it’s because she’s distracting herself from the fact that Matthew and Marceline and now an item.

“I can’t find help in a bottle, or a cut.. That’s no way out,” she mutters to herself, the sunset deepening in it’s colours, she lays back as she stubs out the now drooped cigarette, ash and embers exploding on her hand.

Wednesday The 15th of May 2002

(big time skip ik im sorry)

Yankee stadium is where she sits, staring at the gown that drapes over her knees, the cap on her head tilted to the side, she hears the Principal call out Matthew’s name, she looks up, tears brimming in her eyes; she can’t tell if it’s anger or sadness.

“Matthew Gray Gubler!” The words ring across the stadium speaker, she watched on the screen as he kisses marceline on her cheek, stepping up onto stage to take his diploma, locking eye contact with Y/N.

She looks down when matthew smiles at her, though she wants to smile back all she can feel is anger, and maybe thats because they got closer in the last year, but he ditches her for Marceline all of them time.

Ofcourse he has the right to, she’s his girlfriend. But it feels like she’s an empath and can tell when Matthew is with Y/N so her perfectly manicured hands can tear him away.

He exchanges a sorry glance everytime he leaves, and Y/N just nods, laying back on her bed again, and like so many times before she ends up staring at her ceiling and listening to the new york ambience until her eyes close.

“Y/N Y/M/N Y/L/N!” she stands up, stepping through the lines of students, realising that she zoned out until the principal called out her name, she walks to the stage, shaking the hand of the man who stood there.

She moved on down the line, taking her diploma from her favourite teacher, she hugs the woman before stepping off stage, her heels clicking as the stadium erupts in applause again.

Her eyes land on Matthew, he looks completely fine, like he couldn’t tell that she’s loved him for two years, two whole years and yet he still hasn’t understood.

Author Notes : i hope y’all like where this is heading.. i haven’t wrote angst in so long, this would be longer but i’m at the image limit for tumblr and the post is starting to lag.. i promise this will get less angsty in the coming parts!!

[aventurineswife]

College AU

Reader, Kaveh and Alhaitham are roommates in the same apartment and reader sometimes has the moment where they just sit/stand across the room from Kaveh while he is busy with something and yknow stare at him with that lovestruck look cuz they pining hard on that beautiful, amazing, gorgeous bbg.

And Alhaitham had caught on the fact that reader had been crushing on Kaveh for months (a very massive crush) and he just bluntly tells them one day to just say it. And reader freaks out a bit like "Whaaa? Pffft noooo, I dont...dont see him like that, ahahahaha, pls dont spill the beans...."

The rest is up to you 🤭

“If Only You Knew” | Part 1

Summary: You share an apartment with Kaveh, the charming and passionate architect, and Alhaitham, his blunt and logical friend. You've developed a massive crush on Kaveh, and sometimes, you just can’t help but stare at him with lovestruck admiration. Alhaitham, having caught onto your feelings, encourages you to confess, but you brush it off, panicking at the thought of Kaveh finding out. Though you remain the quiet admirer for now, Alhaitham’s words linger, and maybe someday, you’ll gather the courage to reveal the truth.

Tags: College AU, Modern AU, Fluff, Unrequited (but Mutual) Pining, Roommates, Love Confessions (eventual), Slow Burn, Alhaitham Being Observant, Kaveh x Reader, Humor, Light Angst, Crushes

Warnings: Mild language, secondhand embarrassment, unrequited pining (for now), Alhaitham’s blunt honesty

A/N: OMG ITS MY BEAUTIFUL ARCHITECT WIFE KAVEHHH 😍🤭💖 and his roomate... 😐

Part 2

You sat on the edge of the couch, textbook open on your lap, but your attention was decidedly not on the words. Instead, your gaze was fixed on Kaveh, who was sitting at the dining table, his messy sketchbooks and architectural plans spread out around him like the aftermath of a storm. He was fully engrossed, his blond hair falling into his eyes as he leaned over a drawing with that intense, focused look you’d come to adore.

For a moment, you just watched him. His hand moved in practiced strokes, a small smile appearing every so often, as if he was admiring his own work. You didn’t blame him; everything he created was beautiful, a reflection of the way he saw the world. You loved watching his passion, how he became so absorbed in it. Maybe one day, you'd tell him how he looked like an artwork himself, surrounded by ideas that only he could bring to life. For now, though, you’d just stare across the room, hoping he wouldn’t notice the soft, lovesick expression you probably wore.

Unfortunately, someone did notice.

"You're staring again," came a low, matter-of-fact voice from beside you.

You jumped, realizing that Alhaitham had somehow materialized in the living room without you noticing. His usual unreadable expression was tinged with a faint smirk, like he was privy to some secret.

"I—uh—what?" you stammered, trying to act casual as you quickly turned back to your textbook. "I was just...thinking. About, uh, architecture! Yeah. Architecture is...fascinating."

Alhaitham didn’t look convinced. He simply raised an eyebrow, glanced over at Kaveh, who was still oblivious, and then back at you. "You know, you could just tell him," he said bluntly. "Your crush on him isn’t exactly subtle."

Heat flooded your face. "Whaaa? Pffft, nooo, I don’t...I don’t see him like that," you protested, sounding embarrassingly unconvincing even to yourself. "I just...he’s an inspiring person. A friend (okay Adrien-). I admire his...dedication and stuff."

Alhaitham stared at you, unimpressed. "I see," he replied, deadpan. "Admiration. Is that why you’ve been looking at him like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen for the past six months?"

You buried your face in your hands. "Alhaitham, please, don’t spill the beans..." you whispered, mortified. If Kaveh found out...you didn’t even want to think about it. You were sure he’d laugh it off or worse, get awkward about it. The thought alone was enough to make you want to disappear.

Alhaitham sighed, sitting down next to you. "You know, you might be surprised. Kaveh isn’t as dense as you think," he said, voice softening just a little. "You’re giving him too little credit. Besides, the worst he’ll do is make an emotional speech about unrequited love and how tragic it is."

You could almost imagine it. Kaveh, in all his dramatic glory, would probably get poetic about it, turn it into some grand tale of forbidden romance. You chuckled, even as the nerves twisted your stomach.

But then Kaveh’s voice broke through your thoughts. “Hey, what’s so funny?”

You looked up, startled to see him looking at you, curiosity lighting up his bright red eyes. The blush that had only barely started to fade returned with a vengeance. "Oh! Uh...just something silly." you mumbled, trying desperately to avoid Alhaitham’s knowing gaze.

Kaveh chuckled, his attention back on his sketches. “Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one around here with a sense of humor. Alhaitham is no fun.”

“Thank you.” Alhaitham said dryly, glancing at you with a small smile.

You spent the rest of the evening nervously trying to play it cool, but every so often, Alhaitham’s words would echo in your mind, making your heart beat just a little faster. Maybe one day, you’d find the courage to tell Kaveh how you really felt. For now, though, you were content to stay right here, as his silent, hopeless admirer.

Honestly this just reminded me of MLB 💀

I should really go study for my exams and finish my homeworks...😔😔

And now I want to write something suggestive but idk what 😪👁️👁️so send in your requests with what and who you want to do your fantasy with

[wangxianficrecs]

it's your soul by syriala

it's your soul

by syriala (@bloody-bee-tea)

G, 3k, Wangxian

Summary: Wei Wuxian never said it out loud before, the fact that Lan Zhan just loved him for his body, and he’s surprised at how much it truly hurts him. The only thing Wei Wuxian always wanted was for Lan Zhan to love him, him, and not his body, just like he loves everything about Lan Zhan. And now he doesn't even have his own body anymore. Kay's comments: An AU where Wangxian were in a situationship before Wei Wuxian's death, but because they still were in their misunderstandings/miscommunication era, Wei Wuxian died thinking that Lan Wangji only loved his body, but not him. This story left my heart aching, but it was also beautifully resolved. Really loved it, because it was believeable. Excerpt: I love your whole body, is what he doesn’t say but what Wei Wuxian still hears. “But what about my dashing personality?” Wei Wuxian asks, breathless between one kiss and the next, and he whines high and needy when Lan Zhan pulls away to stare down at him. “Ridiculous,” Lan Zhan eventually says and Wei Wuxian chuckles in response. It’s a better alternative to start crying then and there. He should really stop hoping for anything more from Lan Zhan and be content with what he does have right in front of him. It’s still hard to shake the thought that he would give everything he has for Lan Zhan to love him for more than just his body. Even though Lan Zhan tries his best to kiss the very last thought out of Wei Wuxian’s head.

pov wei wuxian, post-canon, misunderstandings, miscommunication, developing relationship, angst and hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, love confessions, pining wei wuxian, not actually unrequited love, pining while fucking, mutual pining

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Second Chance | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: It’s been two years since you and Sebastian considered each other friends, but that’s all about to change when he finds you in the back of the library.

Words: ~6,000

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, One-Shot

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the faint bassline of a song pulsing through his earbuds as he stared at the pages of his textbook. The words blurred together, his focus slipping away. He rubbed his eyes, pushing his hair back in frustration. Normally, he thrived on the chaos of multitasking—music blasting, three assignments spread out in front of him, and the ever-present buzz of his phone vibrating with group chat notifications. But tonight, none of it held his attention.

Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

To you.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared blankly at the spell diagram on the page. It had been a long time since you and he had been on speaking terms, but that didn’t stop you from haunting him. It was ridiculous, really. You weren’t even in his life anymore. You’d made that perfectly clear after fifth year.

Back then, you’d been inseparable, two halves of a chaotic whole. You were his clever, competitive, and sharp-witted partner in crime, the one person that matched his energy, who pushed back when he pushed too far. At least, you had… until the end. Until he’d crossed too many lines, gone too far chasing answers he thought he needed.

When you walked away, it was like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. He hadn’t realized how much of his world revolved around you until you weren’t in it anymore. And then you’d gone and changed.

The girl who once stayed up debating spell combinations with him and snuck into Crossed Wands had turned into the model student overnight. Top of the class. Prefect material. Polished and poised in ways that made you almost unrecognizable. You’d dropped out of Crossed Wands entirely, called it “unsanctioned” like you hadn’t been one of its fiercest competitors. And worst of all, you avoided him like he was contagious.

Not that he blamed you. He’d been reckless, selfish, dangerous. And you’d always been careful. You’d never taken him up on his offers to teach you darker spells, not even when he’d sworn you could handle it. Not even when he’d practically begged you to trust him. You’d drawn your line and stood firm, and when he crossed it, you’d walked away.

And he missed you.

It wasn’t just the obvious things, though Merlin knew those hurt enough. Like the way you used to roll your eyes at his jokes, even as your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide. Or the way you stood your ground against him when everyone else gave way, meeting his sharp edges with your own. No, what he missed most were the moments in between—the quiet spaces you filled without even realizing it. The way your laughter could cut through his darkest moods, or how you’d sit beside him, shoulders brushing, as you shared a companionable silence in a way that felt like a language only the two of you spoke.

Now, there was only silence. Cold. Empty. And it was all his fault.

He’d ruined it. He’d ruined you—or at least, the version of you that used to laugh with him and wipe the floor with him in duels you had no business winning. The version of you that once trusted him enough to sneak out at midnight and risk detention just because he said it’d be worth it.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he dragged a hand down his face. The textbook in front of him was abandoned now, forgotten in the tangle of his thoughts. His playlist shuffled to a new song, something slower, the kind of melody that made his chest ache.

Pathetic.

That’s what he felt like, sitting here brooding over someone who probably didn’t think about him at all anymore. You’d moved on. You had your perfect, spotless life, and he was just the lost cause you'd left behind.

He should have been over this by now. Hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to focus on. Seventh Year was demanding, and he had his own reputation to maintain—being Sebastian Sallow, Hogwarts’ resident troublemaker, wasn’t a title that earned itself. He liked his image well enough, even if it only scratched the surface. It gave people something to talk about, something to expect, and if they underestimated him in the process? Even better.

But all of that felt hollow tonight. He couldn’t shake the memories of you, the way things used to be, and the gnawing and incessant knowledge that no one else had ever fit into his life the way you had.

The faint rustling sound from the back of the library barely registered at first, lost in the haze of his thoughts. But when it came again, louder this time—a shuffle of footsteps, a whispered laugh—Sebastian’s attention sharpened.

Pulling out his earbuds, he frowned and glanced toward the back corner of the library. The lights were dimmer there, casting long shadows over the towering shelves.

Curiosity and a creeping sense of amusement pulled him from his chair. It wasn’t unusual for students to sneak off to the back room for some privacy, Merlin knew Sebastian had been caught back there more than once, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek.

As he rounded the corner, the whispers grew clearer—murmured words followed by a soft laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew that laugh. Knew it so well it hurt.

And then he saw you.

Pressed against the shelves, your fingers gripping the front of Garreth Weasley’s shirt as his hands rested low on your waist. He was leaning into you, close enough that there was no mistaking what was happening. Your lips met his with an urgency that made Sebastian’s stomach churn.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, his mind struggling to reconcile the scene in front of him. You. The same you who avoided him with practiced precision, who sat at the front of every class with perfect posture and perfectly color-coded notes. The same you who had a spotless detention record, and never even handed library books in late. The same you who’d left him behind.

Yet here you were, shattering that image before his very eyes, snogging in the back of the library.

And Merlin help him, he felt like he was splintering right along with it. Because you were tangled up with Garreth bloody Weasley. Like it was nothing. Like you weren’t supposed to be better than this type of thing. Like you hadn’t spent the past two years proving to everyone that you were.

The first rush of emotion was jealousy, sharp and acidic, curling through Sebastian’s chest like a fire he couldn’t put out. It clawed at him, angry and possessive, though he had no right to feel either. You weren’t his. You hadn’t been his for a long time, not since you’d walked away from the wreckage of your friendship and never looked back.

But beneath the jealousy, beneath the gut-twisting ache, there was something else. Something unexpected.

Hope.

It flickered in his chest, small and fragile, but enough to take his breath away. Maybe the girl he’d thought he’d ruined, the one he’d chased away with his recklessness and obsession, wasn’t entirely gone. Maybe the version of you he’d missed—the one who laughed at his stupid jokes, who stayed up with him plotting mischief, who could hold her own in a duel and grin while doing it—was still there.

Because here you were, letting someone back you into a shadowed corner with their hands up your shirt.

You broke the kiss first, leaning back against the shelf as you caught your breath, your lips still parted, your cheeks flushed. Garreth leaned in close, murmuring something by your ear that drew a soft laugh from you—a sound so achingly familiar that it cut straight through Sebastian. He knew that laugh. It was the one you’d reserved for him, for the ridiculous jokes you’d always rolled your eyes at even as your smile betrayed you. It was his laugh.

Or at least… it used to be.

Sebastian’s nails dug into his palms as he watched, his gaze frozen in place like he was locked under a Petrificus spell. The ache in his jaw reminded him to unclench his teeth, but even then, he couldn’t shake the tension coiled in his chest.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found his, widening with recognition, and the color drained from your face so quickly Sebastian nearly moved to steady you. The laughter that had been bubbling between you and Garreth disappeared instantly, leaving behind a stunned silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Sebastian,” you said, your voice sharp, defensive.

Garreth turned around too, but didn’t seem particularly bothered by Sebastian’s presence. In fact, he had the audacity to smirk, his usual easygoing charm fully intact. “Relax, Sallow,” he said with a chuckle, taking in Sebastian’s scowl. “I’m sure you've seen, and done, worse.”

The heat in Sebastian’s chest flared as Garreth leaned in closer to you, planting a light kiss on the top of your head. The casualness of the gesture, the ease with which Garreth claimed the space so close to you, made Sebastian’s jaw tighten.

“I’d stick around,” Garreth murmured, just loud enough for both of you to hear, “but I’ve got an essay on advanced potion theory calling my name. Can’t let Sharp down, can I?” He winked at you before stepping back.

Sebastian’s fingers curled into fists inside his pockets, the storm behind his expression barely contained as Garreth turned to him. With a grin that bordered on infuriating, Garreth clapped Sebastian on the shoulder in passing. “Try not to give her too much grief, yeah?” he said lightly before sauntering off as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, his blood simmering as he watched the redhead disappear around the corner, leaving the two of you alone.

You crossed your arms, your expression shifting into one of irritation, though the faint flush on your cheeks remained. "Can I help you, Sebastian?"

Sebastian’s jaw ticked as he turned his attention back to you, the mocking tone of Weasley’s words still echoing in his head. He forced his expression into something neutral but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease.

"Forgive me," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Just trying to figure out what the hell I just walked in on."

You bristled at his words, your posture stiffening, though the flush on your cheeks deepened. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” He let out a laugh, low and biting. "You were snogging Garreth Weasley in the back of the library, it's not like you tried very hard to hide."

Your glare sharpened, your arms tightening across your chest like armor. “Don’t start, Sebastian.”

“Start what?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk playing on his lips gave him away. “I’m just trying to figure out when you decided to join the rest of us delinquents. Was it before or after you decided that Weasley deserved the honor of corrupting you?”

Your jaw tightened, and your eyes flashed with a defiance that he hadn’t seen in ages. “You’re one to talk about corruption,” you shot back, your tone scathing. “You’ve built your entire reputation on it.”

“At least I’ve never pretended to be anything else.” He retorted, the smirk tugging at his lips sharp and humorless.

The air between you was charged, the kind of tension that felt as though it might crack and shatter if either of you pushed just a little harder. Sebastian’s smirk lingered, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which burned with something darker—something almost desperate beneath the sarcasm.

“Pretended? You don’t know anything about me anymore,” you said finally, your voice firm, but he caught the faintest tremor beneath the surface. “Don't try acting like you do.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said finally, his tone quieter now, the fire in his chest simmering into something closer to resignation. “Your spotless reputation is pretty well known, love. It’s hard not to wonder what happened to the girl I knew.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, the air around you humming with unspoken words. Sebastian stood there, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor as though it might hold some kind of answer. But when he glanced back up at you, something in his chest tightened.

Because even as you stood there with your arms crossed, your chin tilted high in defiance, he saw it. The hurt in your eyes, sharp and raw, like an old wound reopened. And beneath that—buried deep, but unmistakable—there was something else. Something wistful. Something you were trying desperately to hide but couldn’t quite bury fast enough.

And then, to his surprise, you let out a soft laugh. It was barely more than a breath, but it carried a wry edge as you shook your head, your arms falling loosely to your sides. “Oh Sebastian... you only think I’m such a good girl because I never get caught.”

For a second, Sebastian could only stare, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just heard. Because this—this sounded like banter. Not the cold, guarded deflections he’d gotten used to whenever you were forced to speak to him, but something that carried the faintest glimmer of playfulness. And that little flicker of hope that had been quietly smoldering in his chest suddenly roared to life, bright and insistent, warming parts of him he’d thought had long since gone cold.

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though it was softer now, edged with something more genuine. “Is that so?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Are you saying the girl I knew is still in there, underneath that Prefect’s title?”

You arched a brow, folding your arms again as though that would shield you from the weight of his gaze. “Maybe I just got better at hiding it,” you shot back, your voice calm but laced with a daring edge that caught him off guard.

Sebastian blinked, the smirk faltering for a moment before it came back with renewed intensity. “So the golden girl has a secret wild streak? Fascinating. Tell me more.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you replied coolly, but the faint twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed you. “I’m just better at knowing when to keep my head down, unlike some people.”

“Some people?” he repeated. “You wound me, really."

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping before you could stop it. And Merlin, that laugh—it was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that Sebastian wished he could bottle it, to hold onto this moment and never let it go.

“So what’s next for you, oh master of stealth?” He teased. “Another clandestine meeting in a forgotten corner of the castle? Or is Garreth the only lucky one?”

The mention of Garreth’s name made your expression falter, the brief levity between you vanishing like a popped bubble. You straightened, your arms crossing tightly again, and for a second, he almost regretted saying it.

Almost.

“What’s it to you?"

For a heartbeat, Sebastian considered brushing it off with a joke, deflecting the way he always did when things got too real. But something about the way you looked at him—equal parts defiance and hurt—made the usual mask feel too heavy to hold.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally. He shifted his weight, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just… didn’t think he was your type, that’s all.”

“My type?” you repeated, incredulous. “What do you even know about my type, Sebastian?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, caught off guard by the question. The truth was, he didn’t know. Not anymore. He used to think he did. Back when the two of you spent endless hours together, when he could read your mood with a single glance.

“Not much, I guess,” he admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. “At least, not these days.”

Something flickered in your eyes at that, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any argument could have been.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Look, I don’t know what you think you walked in on, but—”

“I think I walked in on you snogging Garreth Weasley,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone dry as he gestured vaguely toward the shelf where he’d found you. “Which, for the record, is a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritation in your expression softening just slightly. “What is it you have against him, Sebastian? Did he beat you in a duel when you were 11 or something?"

Sebastian huffed a laugh, his smirk resurfacing with just enough of an edge to mask the sting your words carried. “Please,” he said, crossing his arms. “Garreth couldn’t beat me in a duel if I tied my wand hand behind my back. You know that.”

“Do I?”

Sebastian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your piercing gaze. "Look, I just didn’t think he was your… speed."

"My speed?" you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up as incredulity laced your tone.

He hesitated, fumbling for words. "It’s just… Weasley? Really?" He gestured vaguely, his lips curving into a wry smirk. "The guy spends half his time trying to turn candy into explosives. I thought you’d go for someone who could… you know, keep up with you."

Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your glare sharp enough to cut through the tension hanging in the air. "And who’s that supposed to be? Someone like you?"

The question hit him harder than it should have, and for a moment, he couldn’t find a response. Because yes, once upon a time, he thought exactly that. Back when you were still friends, back before everything fell apart, he’d imagined—hoped, even—that he might be the kind of person you’d want.

But that was a long time ago. Now, the very idea felt absurd.

"I didn’t say that," he muttered, though the defensive edge to his voice gave him away.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned slightly away from him. "I don’t know why you even care. You made it perfectly clear a long time ago that we’re not exactly friends anymore."

Sebastian flinched, the words hitting like a blow to the chest. He straightened, his arms dropping to his sides as his smirk faltered. "That’s not fair," he said quietly. "You’re the one who walked away."

You turned back to him at that, your expression shifting from irritation to something closer to hurt. "Because you gave me no choice, Sebastian."

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because you were right. And then, before he could stop himself, his lips were moving, saying the words he should have said so long ago but never had the courage to face you again and say.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it. But I… fuck. For once I just wanted to say it. I really am sorry.”

Your expression shifted the moment the apology left his lips. The tension in your posture seemed to drain away, replaced by something far more vulnerable. For the first time in years, you didn’t look sharp or guarded as you looked at him—you just looked… fragile. It was enough to make Sebastian's chest tighten, his protective instincts flaring to life before he could stop them.

He took a cautious step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though you were a skittish cat that might bolt at any sudden movement. “Maybe we should…” he hesitated, glancing around the dim library as though the walls themselves might be listening, “talk somewhere more private.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, searching his face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn’t dare move, barely even breathed, until finally, to his surprise, you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Come on,” he murmured.

He turned and began walking, glancing back only to see you trailing after him, quiet but willing. The sight of you following him, however hesitantly, sent a pang of something bittersweet through him.

When the two of you finally reached the entrance to the Undercroft, Sebastian unlocked the hidden entrance and led you inside.

The secret room hadn’t changed much since the last time you’d been here two years ago. The same glowing sconces cast their warm light over the stone walls, and the air carried the same faint chill that always seemed to linger underground. But to Sebastian, it felt… different. Smaller, somehow, with the weight of all the unspoken words that had built up between the two of you over the years.

You stopped in the center of the room, your arms wrapped loosely around yourself as though to ward off the cold. Sebastian lingered near the doorway, his hand brushing against the edge of the stone wall as he watched you.

The silence stretched again, and Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his wand as he searched for the right words.

“I meant what I said,” he began hesitantly, his voice low and rough, like the words were dragging their way out of his throat. “I’m sorry. For… all of it. For the way things ended. For the way I pushed you away. For the fact that I—” He broke off abruptly, his jaw tightening as he looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His fingers gripped the back of his neck as he tried again, his words tumbling out in fits and starts, each one heavier than the last. “I—I was a mess. I am a mess. But back then? Fuck, I didn’t even see it. I thought I was doing what I had to do. That I was right. And by the time I realized how wrong I was… it was too late.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy with emotions he couldn’t quite hide anymore. “I hate that I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, though he forced himself to press on. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t stay. And I hate myself for being too blind, too damn stupid, to see what I was doing to you until you were gone.”

Sebastian took a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. “You were the best thing in my life,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “And I—I ruined it. I ruined us.”

He shook his head, his expression a mess of frustration and something painfully raw. “But I never stopped missing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not for a second. And seeing you now… sneaking around, breaking rules—it was like, for just a moment, I thought I still knew you.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, his gaze flicking away before returning to yours. “Even if you were snogging bloody fucking Weasley.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze fixed on the floor as you seemed to wrestle with your own thoughts. When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were glassy, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I didn’t leave because I thought you were a mess, Sebastian,” you began, your voice quiet but steady despite the way your hands fidgeted at your sides. “I left because I didn’t know how to help you anymore. I left because I was scared,” you admitted, the words heavy in the air. “I saw what you were doing to yourself—pushing everyone away, chasing after things that hurt you more than helped—and it killed me because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop you.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “And I couldn’t just stand there and watch you destroy yourself,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Because I—”

You took a shaky breath, the words fragile and undeniable. “I fucking loved you, Sebastian. And seeing you like that, knowing I couldn’t fix it—I thought… maybe if I walked away, it would hurt less. And maybe it would force you to save yourself.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. The weight of your confession hung heavy between you, and you laughed softly—a bitter, self-deprecating sound—as you glanced back up at him.

“So I left,” you continued, your tone tinged with wryness now. “I threw myself into rules and order and schedules. I thought if I could just be… perfect, the opposite of all that chaos, maybe it would fill the void you left behind.”

You wiped at your eyes quickly as a humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and raw. “But it didn’t help,” you admitted, shaking your head. “It still hurt. I still missed you every damn day."

Sebastian felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like the very foundation he stood on had crumbled beneath him and he was left grasping at nothing, struggling to steady himself. For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his heart hammering against his ribs as he struggled to process everything you’d just said.

“You loved me?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, like the words were scraping their way out of his throat. “You… do you love me?”

You hesitated, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively as you glanced away. “Does it matter?” you wiped at your eyes again. “It’s been so long, and we’re… not who we used to be.”

“But it matters to me,” Sebastian said, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“Sebastian,” you said softly, your tone wavering, “we can’t just go back to how things were. Too much has happened.”

“I’m not asking to go back,” he said quickly, his words rushing out as if he were afraid you might leave again before he could get them out. “I know I can’t undo what I did, but I’m not the same person I was then. And I know things have changed but—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

“Why now?” you asked, the words quiet but sharp. “Why say all of this now, after all this time?”

Sebastian exhaled shakily, his hands curling into fists before falling limp at his sides. He couldn’t meet your eyes yet, not until he forced himself to speak. “Seeing you tonight,” he began, his voice rough, “seeing you with him… I guess it… I saw what I’ve been missing. What I threw away. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt—pretending I don’t miss you. Because I do. Every day.”

His voice softened, steadier now. “You’re still you. That girl I knew—she’s still there. I saw her tonight. And fuck, I miss her. I miss you. And I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t care how much time has passed or how messy this is. If there’s even a chance to figure this out—to fix us—I’ll take it.”

The intensity in his words left you momentarily speechless, the air between you thick. You turned away, your shoulders stiff as you tried to gather your thoughts, tried to keep your emotions from spilling over. But it was no use—Sebastian could see it now. The subtle tremor in your posture, the way your shoulders shook with quiet sobs you were desperately trying to suppress.

Sebastian’s chest tightened painfully, his throat constricting as he watched you. For a moment, he faltered, the guilt and anguish rising like a tidal wave. But he refused to let it drown him, refused to let this moment slip through his fingers. He wouldn’t let you go. Not again. Not when you were here, standing right in front of him, raw and hurting in a way he knew all too well.

He stepped closer, his voice soft but resolute as he broke the silence between you. “You said you missed me,” he repeated, his words trembling with vulnerability. “Do you still?”

You froze, your hands clenching at your sides as you tried to steady yourself, but you didn’t turn around. The pause stretched, unbearable in its uncertainty, and Sebastian took another step closer, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Please,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just… tell me. Do you still miss me? Do you still—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, the weight of his emotions catching in his throat. “Do you still feel it?"

Finally, you turned, your tear-streaked face meeting his, and the sight nearly undid him. There was so much pain in your expression, so much conflict, but beneath it all was something else—something softer, something vulnerable and unbearably familiar.

"Yes, I do."

The moment the second “yes” left your lips, Sebastian was moving, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands found your shoulders first, gentle but firm as if grounding himself, before sliding down to your arms, and then pulling you into him, fierce and desperate.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but then your hands slowly came up to clutch at the front of his shirt, holding on with all the strength you had.

It was overwhelming, the sheer force of finally holding you after all these years. You felt the same—your body fitting against Sebastian like it always had, your warmth seeping into him. And Merlin, you still smelled the same—like wildflowers and ink and something distinctly, heartbreakingly yours. The scent alone was enough to undo him, memories flooding back in a torrent that made his chest ache.

His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I missed you,” he said, his voice cracking as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “God, I missed you. And I’m never—” He swallowed hard, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

Your eyes searched his, glassy but soft, and for the first time in so long, there was no guardedness between you, no walls keeping him out. Only you. The girl who had been his anchor, his compass, his everything.

You nodded, your own tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “Good.”

He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and tender all at once. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You were real, and you were here, and Sebastian swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side this time. Whatever it took to prove to you, and to himself, that this wasn’t something he would ever take for granted again.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you both struggled to steady yourselves. Sebastian’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that lingered on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he’d been too afraid to say before. “I’ve always loved you."

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “I never stopped loving you,” you whispered. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Sebastian let out a breathless laugh, the weight of your words sinking into his chest like a balm over years of ache. His hands stayed on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek before sliding down to trace the curve of your lips.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing, “there’s one last thing I need to know before I can fully move on from the whole Weasley… situation.”

You raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at your lips despite the tears still shining in your eyes. “Oh, Merlin. What now?”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own, the familiar cockiness warming his expression. “Am I a better kisser than him?”

“Sebastian.”

“What?” he said, his grin widening slightly, though his gaze stayed soft. “I think it’s a fair question, considering…”

You narrowed your eyes, but the playful warmth in his gaze was impossible to resist. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you relented, tilting your head slightly as though to consider. “Yes, Sebastian,” you said dryly, though the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “You’re a better kisser than Weasley. ”

His grin turned triumphant, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand slipping back to cradle your face. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, affectionate murmur. “I already knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, your smile lingered, and Sebastian’s heart swelled at the sight.

[afewproblems]

Prompt 53. "I'm flirting with you!" Part Two

A follow up to This Post

@happymediummm I promise the answer to your ask will be up soon in part three!!

Eddie stews in his room for three days following the incident at Steve's house. 

Wayne attempts to coax him out with food and coffee, even opening up the pack of bacon they'd been saving in the freezer, anything to try and get Eddie to talk to him. 

"I'm just worried s'all," he says softly from Eddie's doorway on the third day, his expression pinched in that way Eddie hates, "you should go out, do something, come on".

Wayne claps his hands together and disappears for a moment only to return with a tape case from the living room.

"Wayne, no--"

"It's overdue Eds, just bring it back for me would ya?"

Eddie groans into his hands at the triumphant expression on his uncle's face as he gets up from his bed and tugs on his leather jacket. 

"Since your friends work there," Wayne says brightly, gesturing with the tape as he hands it over to Eddie, "you should see if they waive the late fee for us". 

"I agreed to take it back, not talk to people," Eddie grumbles under his breath as Wayne shakes his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"At least you won't be growing mold anymore, sitting there in the dark," Wayne says with a wink, ignoring the indignant scoff Eddie makes.

"Store closes in a half hour kid, you better hurry!"

Shit.

Eddie grumbless petulantly as he hurries out the door, ignoring the way Wayne compares his groans to a haunted house door.

He doesn't smile at the jib, and it doesn't make him laugh for the first time in days as he gets into the van, it doesn't!

The parking lot of Family Video is empty, but what did he really expect on a Wednesday at half past eight in the evening. 

The Open sign is still on at least but the low lights in the building and the bright copper glare of the sunset make it so much more difficult to see who is working tonight. 

He could just toss the tape into the return slot and wait out the late fees, he's sure another video store will eventually open up in Hawkins, they can take their business there.

Eddie sighs heavily as he shuts off the van and yanks out the key, "dammit Wayne," he mutters under his breath as he gets out and makes his way to the door. 

Eddie winces at the sharp jingle of the bell above the door and looks around, his head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Steve and his big, stupid, hair.

Robin waves from the counter as Eddie spots her, she's grinning at him with a sly look on her face as she leans against the counter, the multiple buttons and pins on her vest clink against the glass surface.

"There he is," Robin crows, drumming the counter, "I was beginning to think Steve had kidnapped you or something, were you allowed out for good behavior?"

She seems to realize what she had just implied and winces, shaking her head as Eddie snorts mirthlessly. 

"Uh, no, I just came to return this for my uncle," Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes level with the counter rather than Robin's eyes. 

She frowns at him, taking the tape he slides across the counter and scanning it without dropping her gaze. 

"What's with you?" She says suspiciously. 

Robin drums her fingers lightly against the counter, as the large computer beeps acknowledging the return.

"Nothing, tired," Eddie shrugs, he's not about to tell Robin about what happened, though it is weird that she doesn't already know? 

Maybe she wasn't in on it, he can't imagine that Buckley would approve of a prank like that on another 'friend of Dorothy' but she was Steve's best friend first and foremost.

A song comes on over the small Family Video speakers, humming in the background. 

'All I wanna do when I wake up in the morning is see your eyes

Rosanna, Rosanna…'

Robin wrinkles her nose, her eyes traveling towards one of the large speakers in the corner before looking back to Eddie, a large grin in place.

"God this sappy shit, I told Steve not to put this one on the tape, you must hate Toto".

Eddie shrugs again, glaring at the floor, wishing he could burn a hole into it that he could escape through. 

"He did play it…didn't he?" Robin asks quietly, a small trace of anxiety in her voice as she leans away from the counter.

Eddie stops himself from rolling his eyes; if he was being honest, the tape was a nice touch --really sold the whole prank, honestly.

He looks back up to find Robin staring at him, and sighs heavily, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," he huffs, taking a step back towards the front door, Robin's eyes follow his path in confusion, "I wasn't much of a fan of the choices".

"But it's fine right," Eddie scoffs, "he can use his little tape on someone his shit will actually work on next time".

"What?" Robin says incredulously, her face scrunches into a frown as Eddie laughs.

"You know Buckley, I'm surprised you were on board with this?" 

"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?" Robin hisses, shrill and loud, as she finally walks around the counter towards him.

"Oh don't give me that, he's your best friend, you're going to tell me he didn't tell you about his plan?" Eddie shakes his head as a high pitched laugh bubbles up out of his chest.

"I don't know what plan you're talking about Eddie," she says in a low voice, her eyes wide and angry, "the only thing Steve was going to do that night was tell you how he felt about you". 

"Yeah right, Steve Harrington, wants me? And that's not a fucking joke?"

She sucks her teeth, letting her eyes roam over his face, "this was such a mistake, okay, get out". 

Eddie sneers sharply, "a mistake?"

"Yeah, I never should have gotten his hopes up". 

Robin crosses to the window behind the counter and shuts off the second neon open sign before breezing past Eddie to pull the cord on the other sign, nearly hard enough to yank it down. 

No, no, no, no, it's not true, she's just saving face, she has to be…

Robin stands beside the door, a furious glare aimed at Eddie, "we're closed, get out, I need to go check on Steve". 

Unbelievable, Eddie does roll his eyes at this and heads towards her for the door, he takes the push bar in his hands and leans on it to swing the exit open before turning to Robin one last time, he wants so badly to have the last word it hurts.

"Better go check on King-Steve, I'm sure he's devastated," Eddie snarls, the furious fire from before burns bright in his chest as he watches Robin stiffen in the doorway.

"I haven't talked to him since Sunday Munson, until just now, I thought he was with you!"

Robin reaches out to grab both doors in her hands.

"Asshole," she scoffs, her eyes never leaving his as she locks the doors in his face. 

***

1980, Hawkins, Indiana

Eddie sniffles as he walks home, he can feel blood trickle down his chin from the split lip Paul gave him while his knee aches from where he hit the ground. 

He's not even sure what he did.

Paul had been so nice recently, talking with Eddie almost every day, eventually taking him under his wing. Paul was a year above Eddie at their Middle school, and when he had told Eddie to meet him under the bleachers after school, how could Eddie say no? 

It didn't help that Paul had soft blond hair, big hazel eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and the nicest laugh Eddie had ever heard.

What Eddie hadn't been expecting was Randy and David, also in Paul's grade, to be waiting for him. 

He breathes out a wet sob and keeps walking, scrubbing his face harshly as their trailer in Forest Hills comes into view, almost home.

Eddie reaches into his pocket and winces when he realizes his keys are gone, alongside his backpack.

They must have fallen out of his pocket in the scuffle.

The backpack was a different story.

He limps up the steps of their porch, wincing as the fabric of his jeans pulls at the drying blood on his knee, and knocks on the front door.

"Comin," Wayne calls from inside, "coming, wasn't expectin' anyone-- Ed?" 

Wayne's face goes through a series of expressions, from surprise, to anger, before settling on concern. 

He leans down and brings his hands up to Eddie's face, turning it gently to see the damage.

"Who did this," Wayne says quietly, he stands up to his full height, looking around the trailer park behind Eddie while tucking him closer.

"It was at school," Eddie sniffles again, his voice growing tight, "I'm okay". 

Wayne looks down at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving out of the door to pull Eddie inside.

"Hurt anywhere else?" Wayne asks as he walks Eddie to the kitchen, one arm around his shoulder as though afraid the fourteen year old will collapse at any moment.

"I fell, my knee hurts," Eddie mumbles as he sits at the kitchen table in the corner while Wayne crosses to the cabinets and busies himself with grabbing two clean wash clothes and peroxide from the cupboard above their stove.

It's quiet for a moment while Wayne wets one of the clothes at the sink and makes his way back to Eddie.

He kneels on the floor, balancing his weight on his good knee while the other remains bent at a more comfortable ninety degree angle. His joints creak slightly as he gets comfortable but he still smiles at Eddie all the same.

"Won't you be sore after this?" Eddie sighs, wishing Wayne would just let him go to the washroom now to clean himself up. 

"You let me worry about that," Wayne grumbles as he reaches up to wipe the blood and dirt from Eddie's face with the wet cloth. It's warm from the water and Wayne's gentle hand.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened?" Wayne asks softly, as he reaches for the bottle of peroxide and tips it into the second cloth. He tilts Eddie's face to dab gently at the now dirt free cuts.

Eddie sucks his teeth at the sting and closes his eyes.

He doesn't even know where to really start. 

Paul hadn't been the one to push him off his feet, that had been Randy, but that hadn't stopped Paul from laughing and calling Eddie a fairy. 

David had been the one to take his bag, dumping everything out into the dirt and ripping it until the zipper broke. 

Luckily all of his school books were still in his locker, but all of the campaign notes from his most recent D&D game had been in there, along with the worn copy of the Hobbit his mother had given him. 

All of it was still sitting in the mud and grass by the bleachers, stomped into the ground by David's white sneakers.

Eddie shrugs as Wayne leans back slightly. He takes Eddie's leg and slowly bends the knee at the joint, his eyes search Eddies for any sign of strain. The only sting comes from the way the jean material pulls at the drying blood from his scrapes.

Wayne breathes out and scrubs a hand over his tired face, his fingers catch on the grey stubble as they slide down and drop into Wayne's lap.

"I'll make an appointment on Monday with the principal," Wayne says as he stands up with a stifled groan, turning away from Eddie who shakes his head like a wet dog. 

"Wayne you can't--"

"Edward, what do you expect me to do? You come home lookin' like hell and you won't tell me what happened?" 

Eddie bites his split lip hard enough for the faint taste of copper to stain his tongue once more, how could he tell Wayne just what those boys had yelled at him as he sat in the dirt cradling his head, wishing he'd just gone home.

Wayne sighs loudly as he raises his face towards the ceiling, his lips move slightly but Eddie can't make out what he's saying before he looks back at Eddie, his expression worn.

"Okay, okay," Wayne murmurs, walking back towards Eddie, he pulls one of the other mismatched chairs towards himself and sits down, "I won't call, but you have to meet me halfway, alright?" 

Eddie hesitates, swallowing roughly, maybe there was a way to tell Wayne without telling him everything.

"There were some boys at school, um," Eddie picks at one of the holes in his blue jeans, pulling at the frayed thread absently, "I guess just, one at first but…".

His eyes burn suddenly as the words rip through him once again.

"He told me to come to the bleachers and then," Eddie's voice wobbles this time as his throat tightens, "there were more of them and they…called me--" 

Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down to hide his shining eyes, he doesn't notice Wayne coming closer until he feels a hand in his hair and the dam finally breaks.

Six years later, Eddie can still remember what his uncle told him that day as he cried in his arms.

"People can be cruel, especially when they don't understand, and sometimes that means being careful of who you open yourself up to. But you can tell me anything Ed, and I'll love ya no matter what. You always have home to come back to". 

Eddie knew people like Steve Harrington. He'd been around them his whole life. 

Sometimes they went by Paul, sometimes by Jason, or Billy.

But that didn't make them any less dangerous, any less capable of inflicting hurt on people that were different. 

So, Robin could say that Steve wasn't like that until she was blue in the face, because she was…wrong…

Wasn't she?

Taglist: @ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality

Part Three now up!

[hairmetal666]

Eddie's hanging out with Steve at Family Video when Robin stomps in like a whirlwind.

"Oh, god, I did something so dumb. You have to help meee."

They straighten from where they lean over the counter towards each other, and Eddie takes a big step back, sure that all his big gay feelings for Steve are on display.

"What did you do this time?" Steve smiles with exasperated fondness.

"It's so bad." Robin faceplants with a dramatic wail.

"What happened?" Eddie asks

"I--I'm so sorry!" She looks at both of them, and a tingle of panic works it's way up Eddie's spine.

"My parents started going on and on about me and Steve and why we won't just admit we're dating, and I started to freak out because they won't accept that we're just friends, and I'm not ready to tell them that I'm a lesbian, even though I think it would be okay, so, I told them you were dating someone, Steve."

"Well, that's not so bad, Rob. So, what, they think I have a girlfriend? Who cares."

Her shoulders slump and she frowns. "I wish that's what they thought. They kept asking who, and I panicked!"

"Robin." Steve looks alarmed now, his pretty mouth pulled into a grimace. "What did you tell them?"

"Okay, please don't hate me," she begs. She's looking at Steve, but then she's looking over at Eddie. And oh, god, oh fuck, this can't be happening.

"You've got to be kidding me, Buckley," he says. He keeps his voice light but the touch of panic has become a punch.

"Wait. How do you know--how does he--? Who am I dating?"

"Me, Harrington. She told them you were dating me."

"Oh," Steve shrugs. "Sure."

Eddie chokes on air, plays it off. "For you maybe, Stevie. We in the Munson household have standards."

Steve doesn't meet a beat. "I'll have you know, Edward, that I am a catch."

"Yeah, for the lovely ladies of Hawkins," Eddie winks, even though every word, every gesture aches.

"Oh, c'mon! I'm a great boyfriend. Defend me here, Robin"

Normally, Eddie finds these antics to be charming, but confronting his crush on Steve so forcefully has ruined his mood.

"Need a cigarette," he says to escape.

He's only alone for a few minutes before Steve is sidling up next to him.

"What's she need us to do?"

"Dinner."

He grimaces, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I'm so bad at meeting the parents."

"Shut-up." Steve pokes him in the chest. "Everyone loves you. It's kind of obnoxious, actually. Plus, I think this'll help her feel more comfortable about coming out."

He snorts if only so he doesn't have to think about Steve talking about him and love in the same sentence.

"Fine. For Buck, I'll do it." But he doesn't know how he'll get through pretending to date his biggest crush with out spontaneously combusting.

"Love the enthusiasm," Steve laughs. "You know I'd treat you right, Munson."

The blush that rolls over his face is crimson. "Alright, big boy, calm down. We're not actually dating."

The bark of laughter Steve lets out is a burst of pure adrenaline to Eddie's heart. This is going to be a disaster.

---

The night of the dinner arrives and Eddie almost blows the whole game when they walk in the Buckley front door and Steve's arm wraps around his waist. The night is all casually intimate touches and Steve leaning into his personal space; calling him "baby" in a soft, warm voice; eyes drifting to Eddie's lips as they flirt and banter.

It's almost like they're a couple; almost like Steve could love him.All of his senses are overwhelmed with Steve Harrington and it fucking hurts. But Eddie lets himself indulge, finally running his fingers through Steve's gorgeous hair, tracing the moles on his face and neck, outlining the sharpness of his perfect jaw, calling him "sweetheart" with heartbreaking fondness.

It's intoxicating.

They're helping Mrs. Buckley with the dishes when it happens. When Steve leans over and casually presses his lips to Eddie's, tasting like vanilla ice cream and spiced apples and something indefinably warm. Eddie is helpless not to crumple, leans into Steve, wraps fists into the perfectly fitted polo, drawing them closer.

The night ends and Eddie thinks he's finally free, except the Buckleys love them. Keep inviting them back.

He goes for Robin, he tells himself, but he knows that it's for the hope of it. Knows that he's a ship breaking himself against the rock that is Steve Harrington, and god help him, he can't stop.

---

Of course, of course, the wires get crossed. The kids have a pool party, leave Steve and Eddie to ice cream clean-up duty. Of course, he can't stop himself from smearing some melted mint chip down Steve's face, and Steve retaliates with chocolate sauce.

They giggle and flight and make mess until Steve's eyes are bright, cheeks red, and Eddie can't look away. He clocks Steve's eyes drifting to his mouth, is helpless as the distance between them closes, as Steve captures his lips.

It's not the brief, chaste things from the Buckley's; it's hot, all tongues and teeth and desire, and it's not fucking real.

Eddie lurches back, making Steve stumble. "Stop," he snarls.

"Eddie--" Steve's eyes are wide.

He's panting, can't catch his breath. "You can't just fucking kiss me like that when it doesn't mean anything to you."

"Please," Steve begs. "Let me explain."

"Save it. We're done with this. Robin is good now. And I'm out."

He turns away, heads towards the front door, but Steve pulls him back.

"Let me explain. Please. Please, Eddie. I didn't mean--"

And it's too much. Steve's plaintive voice, his big eyes wet with tears.

"Of course you didn't mean it," he spits. "It's nothing to you, pretending to date me. Touching me. Kissing me. Acting like you love me. It doesn't matter to the Heartthrob of Hawkins. But have you or Buckley ever taken the time to think that it's everything to me?" Hot tears spill down his cheeks and he can't even be embarrassed because all of this has been so humiliating.

Steve gapes at him, face slack and stunned. "Eddie, I--I'm so--"

"Don't. See you around, Harrington," he says. Then he runs.

---

He doesn't leave the trailer for a week. Refuses to pick up the phone.

It's Saturday, early evening. Wayne just left for his shift when there's a knock on the door.

Eddie is content to ignore it, to wrap himself in a quilt on the couch, but the knocking doesn't stop.

"Eddie, I know you're in there. Your van is here. The lights are on. I can hear you," Steve calls.

Longing clenches at his heart, but he's not in the mood for the gentle let down.

"Go away, Harrington." He starts towards his bedroom, thinking maybe he can lock Steve out.

"Please, Eddie."

"I don't need anything from you, Harrington."

It's silent for long enough that Eddie thinks it works. And then, " I have so many things I should tell you, Eds. If you still hate me at the end, I'll go. I'll never bother you again. But please, please listen."

Resigned to having a conversation he never wanted, Eddie opens the door. "Okay, Harrington."

Steve steps inside, twisting his hands for a few seconds before blurting out, "I've had a crush on you for months."

The confession briefly steals Eddie's breath from his lungs before he scoffs, "and you never said anything? C'mon, Harrington, when have you ever hesitated to ask someone out?"

Steve blinks a few times, before he answers. "I've been terrified to say anything because I didn't want to lose my best friend."

"And what, Robin asks us to pretend to date and you think that's the perfect time to make your move?" Eddie grips at his hair, pulling it in front of his face.

"Yeah, a little bit!" Steve raises his voice. "I tried but I was terrified you only wanted me as a friend."

"You know I'm gay, Harrington!"

"What the fuck does that mean?"

"Of course I wanted you!" Eddie's yelling now, has closed the distance between them so they're almost nose-to-nose.

"I didn't know! How could I? You could've said something!"

"I thought you were straight! Fucking look at you! You've slept with 75% of the available girls at Hawkins High!"

"Who cares about them, Eddie? I want you!"

"Funny way of showing it, Harrington."

"What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry? Cause I am."

"Is that why you kissed me at your house? Making your move?"

"It wasn't supposed to be. I got--" Steve's throat bobs as he swallows. "Caught up in the moment. I know I shouldn't have kissed you like that. I know."

"Then why did you?" Eddie's voice breaks. "Why then? Why not any of the other nights we spent together?"

"Because that's when I realized that I'm fucking in love with you!" Steve shouts.

They're both breathing hard by the end, Steve's eyes too bright, face too flushed. They stare at each other, unmoving, Steve's confession ringing in his ears.

"You done?" Eddie's voice waivers, his heart pounding, stuttering, flipping in his chest.

Steve nods, but Eddie doesn't give him a chance to move. He brings their mouths crashing together, Steve not even hesitating to slip his tongue between Eddie's lips. They kiss hard enough that they draw blood, but that just makes it more frenzied. Eddie grips Steve's hip, presses him against the trailer door, grinding against him with abandon.

Eddie breaks the kiss to finally pay some attention to the delightful moles on Steve's neck, working his way up to his jaw. "I'm going to have so much fun taking you apart, sweetheart," he whispers, mouth pressed to Steve's ear, delighting in the way he shivers at the words.

[dreamywriter143]

I Wish I Knew

Genre : ANGST, Slow-Burn, Unrequited love, SFW,Romance.

Status: Oneshot-Completed

Parings : Neteyam X Reader,

Warnings: Sad Neteyam, Unrequited love, Mutual Pinning, Mentions of blood/bullets, Mentions of alcohol and consumption (Please be advised), Panic attacks.

Inspired by; Bad Habit by Steve Lacy

Summary: Neteyam and Y/n have been joined at the hip since they were children. Growing feelings for one another was inevitable due to their close proximity. But Neteyam always suppressed his feelings in fear of losing his friendship with her. But as they grow into adults he can’t help but wonder, had he missed his chance?

Word count: 5.9k

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“How did you find me?” Neteyam asks, his eyes strained forward. He didn’t bother turning to face her as she set herself down. Her feet mirrored his as she dangled them over the edge of the cliff.

Neteyam knew it was her, he didn’t have to look to confirm who it was. He knew the moment she softly landed her Ikran, the coo of the creature he knew by heart because that always signaled her arrival. Her scent wafted through the light breeze as the air caused his body to freeze up. It was a scent he memorized. Because it smelt like her, because it was her. 

“Call it intuition?” She chuckles softly, the breeze picking up in the slightest. Her braided locks clacking against one another, the sound of the beads crashing caused Neteyam to quickly glance her way. 

Y/n peered up into the sky, the stars mirrored amongst her e/c irises beautifully. Neteyam stopped himself from getting lost in them, which he caught himself doing often. It was weird considering she was his dearest friend, his oldest friend. He just couldn't help the fluttery feeling that consumed him whenever she was near. He didn't know when it started, but as he grew, so did his feelings.

Neteyam and Y/n grew up joined at the hip, even though she was younger by one year the girl never hesitated to follow Neteyam to his duties. Always marveling at how he slowly but surely became such a great warrior, outranking all in his age group. Neteyam also adored her, he respected how she tried to become a warrior herself. Even though she fell short many times, it never deterred her from her goal. That same goofy smile plastered on her face even when her body was littered with bruises. 

Neteyam thought of her as a distraction at one point, but as they both grew up he realized how much he needed her support. Someone to talk to, someone to pour all his raw emotion on. And Y/n was always eager, her shoulders waiting for him to lean on as the days of stress pulled him down. It was as if she always knew how and what he was feeling.

 “What did he do this time?” Y/n whispers softly. 

Neteyam’s ears twitch to the sound of her voice, laced with concern and question. Neteyam had once again been on the receiving end of his fathers words. He was tasked to help Lo’ak with his tracking skills, but that skxawng decided to run mid session, almost getting eaten by a threatened mother Pululukan. Neteyam had barely made it in time to save Lo’ak as well as himself. The array of leaves covered in ointment scattered all over his body proved that it was indeed a close call. 

“He almost got eaten by a mother Pululukan” he replies solemnly.

 He catches the way Y/n’s eyes scrunch together at the mental image. Her brows furrowing together, her lips forming into a frown. 

“Let me guess, you took the blame?” Y/n asks, more like declares. 

She knew Neteyam like the back of her hand. Of course he took the blame from his brother, always has and always will. It’s just that each time he did, he never could recover the pieces that Jake tore apart upon each lecture. That’s where Y/n came in, always ready to piece him back together. 

“You shouldn’t protect him all the time. He’s 15 Neteyam, he has to realize the stunts he pulls have consequences” Y/n says, her body turning to face him. Neteyam averts his eyes, not wanting her to catch his gaze that was already lingering on her. 

“It’s my job, I’m the eldest son. If I don’t watch over my siblings, who will?” Neteyam replies back, refusing to look her in the eyes. Y/n sighs out in defeat. She knew how much Nteeyam loved and cared for his siblings, she felt the same way being the only child. That's why she stuck to the family like glue. As if they were a second family.

“Then who will have your back?” She asks, her voice laced with concern. Neteyam finds his lips twitching at her words. She never failed to surprise him with her caring nature. It was astonishing to the young warrior that someone like her, who was so kind and nurturing, was also a warrior. Someone that equaled his skills at times.

He turns around to face her, locking eyes. He felt his breath hitch at their close proximity, how her eyes shone under the moonlight with such allure. He felt like he was being sucked in, and he didn’t feel it within himself to deny the feeling. 

“I was hoping you would”  a smile twitches along his lips. 

Y/n let’s out a giggle, her eyes filling with a twinkle which left Neteyam starstruck. Oh how beautiful she looked under the moonlight, it had to be a sin. 

“I thought that was a given” she teases, playfully nudging her shoulder against his. The feeling sent a jolt of electricity through his body, causing a pleasurable shiver to run along his spine. It was moments like these that made him feel alive, that made him feel sane. So much stress has been put upon him since birth, all washing away with a mere smile. 

“Just making sure” Neteyam easily replies back, opting to lean against her shoulder. Something they did often when they sought each other for comfort. Y/n hums happily, leaning her weight against his. She rests her head against him, breathing in the night sky. 

“You are obligated to take care of your siblings Neteyam. That I respect. Just….take care of yourself too, ok?” Y/n suggests softly. Neteyam lets out a sigh, nodding his head, agreeing with her words. Seeming satisfied by his non verbal response Y/n smiles wide.

 “And I’ll always be here for you Neteyam. I’ll never leave your side. You are my best friend after all” she teases her eyes locking onto the moon, oh how majestic it looked.

Neteyam thickly swallows the lump in his throat. At that moment the feeling of serenity left him. He enjoyed his moments with Y/n. Over the years it seems as though these particular moments held all his happiness. It felt great when he was naïve to his feelings.

At first he was confused as to what the quicken heartbeats meant when he would stare into her eyes. He questioned the butterflies in his stomach, and an unfamiliar fluttery feeling whenever she gazed at him. 

It took him a while, but once he realized what he was feeling, it was already too late. The feeling had grown without his knowledge. What was once a simple crush grew to infatuation. He felt cursed, cursed to loving his friend who didn’t love him the same way. The unconditional love that seemed to grow year by year. 

~~~~~~ 

“Shhh, don’t speak!” Kiri shushs, crouching down near the tent. The close call with the RDA left quite an impact with the Sully children and Y/n. After Y/n had decided to accompany Lo’ak and Spider on their adventure, all so she could keep a watchful eye on Tuk. They got caught by the RDA. Y/n desperately held Tuk within her grasp all while her tswin was harshly being held against her.

The moment Neteyam heard Y/n’s name over the com an unexplainable dread came over his form. They had his siblings, they had Y/n. What if he was late? What if he couldn’t save her in time? As he quickly showed his parents the quicker way he was determined to find her. He was determined to ensure her safety. 

Neteyam didn’t have to think twice about going against his fathers orders and got involved right away. Because he knew, if it were the other way around, Y/n wouldn’t hesitate to disobey orders from her leader to save his siblings, himself included. 

The relief that flooded Neteyam’s system was like waves after waves as he realized everyone was safe and unscathed. He pulled Y/n tightly against him, relishing in her heat as she shook under his hold. Sobs racking her body in full force. She was terrified by what had transpired and Neteyam felt useless being unable to console her. 

As the siblings and Y/n eavesdrop on the parents' conversations, Neteyam keeps a firm grasp of Y/n’s hand. Ever since the incident Y/n has been desperately latching into him. Her fear is getting the best of her. Neteyam felt horrible for what she went through, but loved the feeling of her needing him, wanting to hold him. 

“He had our children. He had them under his knife!” Jake hisses.

Y/n audibly gulps. Was he actually suggesting they leave? Flee the clan? Y/n felt her heart drop to her stomach with a sickening feeling. They would leave her, her second family would leave her here alone for their own safety. And Y/n couldn’t do anything about it. She wanted them safe more than anything, but the fear of them leaving caused her to choke up with unbridled sadness. 

Feeling her eyes sting with tears Y/n pushes herself into Neteyam’s embrace. He was shocked at first but welcomed it. Would this be the last time he held her? Feel her pressed up against him like this? He would wake up every day not seeing her face? Neteyam’s throat closes up at the thought, letting Y/n nuzzle into the crevice of his neck. He wraps one hand around her for support as he bites lips furiously. He couldn’t cry, as much as he wanted to. He is a warrior after all. He had to stay strong.

“What about Y/n? She was protecting Tuk, they know she is close to the family. They will hunt her down Ma’Jake” Neytiri cries in fear.  

Both Neteyam and Y/n freeze up at her words. Lo’ak and Kiri glance at the duo, horror stricken as well. It was true, Y/n tried her best to cover Tuk during the entire altercation. They didn’t bother inspecting her hands while they were focused on Lo’ak and Kiri. But her involvement meant they knew her. And where to find her.

 “I’ll speak to her parents. It’s not safe for her here” Jake says, causing Y/n to gasp in shock. She covers her mouth before looking at each Sully. Confirming what she heard was true. He was suggesting she go with them. 

Feeling an overwhelming amount of emotion Y/n abruptly stands up, before sprinting towards her tent. Neteyam moves to follow her but Kiri stops him midstep. Her expression of worry for her friend.

“Give her some space, brother” 

~~~~~~~~~

“How did you find me?” Y/n asks softly, her back facing Neteyam as he took tentative steps towards her. He purposely made sure his steps were heard, he didn’t want to startle her after all they’ve been through the past few days. If he wanted to go unnoticed, he would have succeeded. He was very silent with his footing. 

“Call is intuition?” Neteyam lightly teases, taking a seat beside her. His shoulders slide against her, feeling her body cold against him. Neteyam flinches upon contact. How long had she been out here? 

“Eywa Y/n, you’re freezing. How long have you been out here?” He questions his eyes trained in her. She turns her head to face him, her puffy cheeks covered with the stains of her tears she had shed a while ago. She sighs out, shrugging her shoulders in response. Neteyam frowns, he felt sick to his stomach seeing her like this.

The past two days have been utter hell for him. After Jake declared the decision to the family he went on about how Tarsem would be the next Olo'eyktan. Not to mention when Jake left to relay the news to Y/n’s  parents. They were upset at first but stressed for her future, they agreed that for her future she needed to flee. For her own safety. Y/n’s parents reluctantly agreed to the request, she would be unsafe the longer she stayed within the village. Ever since that, Y/n had been actively avoiding the Sully’s, Neteyam included. 

Neteyam lost his birthright, and best friend all in one day. 

He's been through a rollercoaster of emotion's and sadness the past few days, but he was able to come to terms with it. His family came first, if he were to lose his title for that, then so be it.

Neteyam also wanted to approach Y/n many times but respected his sister's wishes to give her space. By the fourth day he was fed up, he couldn’t stay away from her. He had to ensure she was ok, he also missed her terribly. Thus why he came all the way out here in search of her. He missed her terribly and couldn’t help but blame himself for everything that has happened. 

“I’m sorry…” Neteyam whispers, his voice cracking under everything he felt. Y/n’s eyes snap to him, concerned glossing over irises in confusion. 

“W-what? For?” She asks scooting closer to him. Neteyam clenched his hands into fists.

“For you getting involved….for forcing you to leave everything you’ve known, your family, your friends, for us..” he admits, head bowed down shamefully. Y/n lets out a shaky sigh, taking her small hands and using them to cup Neteyam’s cheeks. He allows her to lift his face up to meet her waiting eyes, all while still cupping his cheeks. 

“Neteyam…..I was sad, the first day. But I’m at peace with it. I will not endanger our people, my family, just so I can stay here. I’m fine with coming along with your family. In fact, I’m grateful your family thought of me and my protection” Y/n says softly. Neteyam lets out the breath he was holding, his shoulders relaxing significantly. He felt a huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. He couldn’t explain how happy he was to hear this. She was ok with coming with him, she was at peace with it. How could he not feel happy? 

“Then….why have you been avoiding us?….have I done something to upset you? Has someone else done something?” Neteyam asks, he tries to play it off as a regular question but it came out as a plea. His need for her seeping through his words. Y/n thickly swallows, as if his question caused her to choke up again. Neteyam sits up straighter, placing his hands over hers. Y/n clears her throat before taking a deep breath. 

“I-it’s you…”  she says, causing Neteyam to go slightly stiff. 

“All your life you’ve been training to become an Olo'eyktan. You’ve worked so hard, proved yourself and gained so much respect amongst the people. I know, because I was always there to watch you from afar. Admiring your strength and vigor-“ Neteyam felt a sad smile twitch along his lips. She’s always been there, always watching him grow. Always seeing him.

“-once I heard Tarsem being announced as the next leader, it was as if a part of me shattered…..here I am, watching helplessly as my best friends dream slips through his fingers….all because I couldn’t try hard enough to keep Lo’ak from venturing out” Y/n croaks, tears streaming down her face. 

Neteyam is quick to wipe the fresh tears away from her cold skin. The past few days Y/n had been beating herself over the fact that she may be the reason Neteyam had lost his birthright. What he dreamt of every day. In a way, his dream became apart of her dream as well, as she watched him grow.

Neteyam pulls her in for a hug, his heart soaring but his heart crumbling. “It’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself Syulang. Please” Neteyam begs, feeling Y/n shake that much harder under his hold, unable to hold back her cries of pain. After a while Y/n settles down, slightly pulling back to wipe her eyes. 

“Neteyam, I-“ 

“Don’t you dare apologize” he interrupts her, swiping the streaks of tears along her cheeks. His gaze stern. Y/n seems to frown at his word but understands he didn’t want to speak of the matter any longer. 

“I was sad,” Neteyam says, causing her ears to twitch with attention.

“I was sad that I’ve lost my goal, that I have to leave everything I’ve known growing up. I lost my title that I worked so hard for, but I can prove myself again. I know it. This isn't the end Y/n, but a new beginning…also a part of me is happy knowing I have my family to rely on….happy that I’ll have you” he admits, words that felt like stones to his heart because he knew Y/n wouldn’t interpret his words for what he actually wanted to say.

‘I love you, I need you with me’

“Oh Neteyam. I’ll follow you to the ends of Pandora. I’ll always be by your side.” She croaks, pulling him in for a tight embrace. Neteyam presses his head against her temple, inhaling her scent. A scent that always gave him comfort.

“I know, I’ll always be there for you Y/n. Always'' 

~~~~~~~~~

“Watch his head!!!” Lo’ak hisses, struggling to pick Neteyam up on the rocks. Tsireya steadies his legs, Y/n and Spider holding his side as they haul him over as gently as possible. Y/n winces at the sharp pain on her arm, her tears staining her cheeks. She helps set Neteyam down as he looks up at her, concern lacing his painful expression. 

“Y-y/n” He whimpers out, seeing the distant look in her eye. That of fear. 

After Neteyam and Lo’ak decided to find  Spider deeper in the ship, they didn’t notice how Y/n snuck in after them. She stayed quiet making sure to stay a few feet behind them, her knife in the ready to assist them if needed. 

A lot has happened over the past few months, the quick adaptation to the sea, the Metkayina clan not accepting them and dealing with the RDA once again was like hit after hit. Y/n had failed to keep Kiri safe when the Ikran snatched her away; she refused to allow Neteyam and Lo’ak to get hurt under her watch. 

Her attention snaps back to Neteyam and Lo’ak jumping down taking on some of the human soldiers. Y/n doesn’t even hesitate jumping down to assist them while Neteyam and Lo’ak stare at her in shock. Seeing a soldier get up she grabs the gun off the floor, shooting the man shakily. 

“Y/n! What are you doing here?” Neteyam demands, snatching the gun from her shaking hands. Y/n looks over at the three who stare at her in astonishment.

 “I can’t let you do this alone. Now let’s get out of here!!” Y/n encourages her ears twitch at the sound of rapid footsteps nearing them. As they run away from many soldiers, Y/n sends Lo’ak and Spider to jump into the water safely while Neteyam fires the gun to distract the soldiers shooting their way. 

“Go! Go!” Neteyam hollers, his eyes focused on the soldiers who refuse to give up. 

“Not without you!” Y/n demands, her eyes widening, seeing the soldier come closer for a clearer shot. “Shit!” Y/n shoves Neteyam pulling him with her. She glances over her shoulder seeing the avatar directly point the barrel of his gun towards Neteyam. Towards his chest. Using her adrenaline to her advantage she shoves Neteyam into the water, tumbling after him. 

The moment she crashed into the sea she heard the happy screams of Lo’ak and Spider as she desperately looked for Neteyam. She noticed the crimson in the water before she caught sight of Neteyam, holding onto his arm in pain. 

“I’ve been s-shot” he struggles out. The three words Y/n never wanted to hear. 

As she helped Tsireya pull Neteyam into the Iiu she was shocked to see the blood in the water increase. All of a sudden she feels a sting on her side, glancing down she is able to see a flesh wound, where the bullet had grazed her as well. It seemed as though colliding her body against Neteyam caused the bullet to gaze at her arm as well as his. 

Y/n snaps her attention back to Neteyam as he regulates his breathing. Luckily the bullet hasn't penetrated his arm, but the gash was deep enough to cause a lot of blood. Neteyam was about to pass out from the blood loss. Y/n shakily puts pressure on his wound, drowning out the sounds around her. 

Tsireya audibly gasps seeing blood pour out of Y/n’s arms. The girl was in shock, therefore not registering how everyone was around her, as well as her own injury. Her attention solely focused on the wound  as she tried to stop the bleeding. 

“Y/n!! Your arm!!” Lo’ak screams in hysterics, his father rushing towards them. Seeing Neteyam on the floor he clutches down, noting there was no wound on his chest, just his arm. 

“Is there an exit wound?” He asks crouching down to his level. Neteyam groans back, glancing between his father and Y/n.

“N-no, it's just a graze….Y/n save m-me” Neteyam says through clenched teeth, pain cursing through the entirety of his arm. Jake looks at Y/n  with relief but it disappeared upon seeing her own gash.

“S-she’s hurt dad, p-please” Neteyam whispers, seeing how Y/n’s eyes were glazed onto him, as if she were in a trance, in her own world. She didn’t register her pain or when Jake had instructed Tsireya to hold onto her wound to stop the bleeding.

 “Y/n '' Neteyam calls again, causing her to break eye contact, resting on his face. Her initial shock wore off at the sound of his concerned tone. 

“You’re hurt” Neteyam breathes out, feeling some relief flood into his system with her pressing tightly against the wound. Y/n shakes her head.

 “You Skxawng you almost died. Don’t worry about me” she assured shakily, sending a tear sticker Tsireya a small smile. Neteyam coughs, his feeble attempt to laugh at her tone. She sounded like a mother bird, always stressing over everyone including him. 

“T-thank you. For saving me” 

Y/n smiles at his words, her eyes glossing with warmth. She felt panic rise deep within her at the sight of so much blood. But seeing him alert and responding proved that he was ok. He was alive.

“I told you I’ll always be there for you. I’ve got your back” 

~~~~~~~~~ 

5 years. 

It’s been five years since that fateful day. The day they won against the sky people, since the day Tonowari and Ronal accepted them as true Metkayina. One with the Reef.

Since then the Sully’s and Y/n have accomplished a lot. Lo’ak was finally recognized as a man, completing his Iknimaya. He was Metkayina now, able to prove Payakan as a hero as the people accepted him.

Neteyam also completed his Iknimaya. Claiming a Tulkun for himself as well as a Tsurak on his first try. He was known as a fierce warrior amongst the clan, Tonowari and Jake were greatly proud of his accomplishments. He had proven himself, and was seen as a mighty warrior. He finally felt like he gained what he once lost.

Kiri and Y/n also finished their Iknimaya with equal results, following Ronal and her teachings as Tsahik. And today, Tuk had finally completed hers. Thus the celebration that had been held for the majority of the day in celebration of her. Her feats at such a young age were being appreciated greatly. 

Once the celebration had died down, the group decided to sit around a fire, taking sips of the celebratory alcohol to reminisce about the past.

“Do you remember when Payakan swallowed you whole? I was so scared that you were sent to Eywa!! If it weren't for Tsireya and Ao’nung then I would have had to throw hands with a Tulkun in your memory” Neteyam lets out a booming laugh, Tsireya cracking up next to her mate. Lo’ak rolls his eyes playfully at his brother's antics, nudging Tsireya who sat beside him, their hands clutching small cups of liquor.

Y/n laughed aloud at the memory, she sat perched on a large log beside Kiri and her mate Roxto. His hand held her against him as she laid her head on his shoulder. The alcohol evading her system.

 “Oh yea? Who was it that fell face first into the sea right after they tamed their Tsurak?” Lo’ak taunts, Roxto snickering loudly at the memory. Neteyam frowns, drowning his drink in one go. Y/n giggles, her eyes crinkling with happiness.

 “I have a better story, how about that time Lo’ak burst into tears when getting his first tattoo? I remember the big fat tears rolling down his eyes'' Y/n teases causing Lo’ak to scoff loudly. Tsireya giggles at the memory, how Lo’ak clutched her hand in a vise-like grip that left a bruise. 

“Hey! Not fair, you’re defending Neteyam again!” Lo’ak accuses causing  Y/n to send a playful wink across to Neteyam. Neteyam smiles, his heart thumping wildly against his chest. He didn’t know if it was the alcohol but Y/n looked absolutely breathtaking under the moonlight. Her hips grew fuller over the years, her bust also growing a few sizes, beautifully adorned with shells of the sea. Her hair had grew straight down to her waist, the tattoos running down from her arm all the down to her thighs. She looked stunning. 

“Neteyam?” Tsireya calls his attention to her, his head snapping towards her. Embarrassed to have been caught gazing towards Y/n’s direction.

“Sorry, I blanked out for a second. The alcohol is strong. What was the topic?” He asks, glancing at Y/n who takes a tiny sip of the sweetly tangy drink. 

“We were talking about crushes. Lo’ak said he didn’t like anyone but me-“ Tsireya furiously blushes as Lo’ak smirks wide. “-I admitted to a childish crush I had as a child that died down a long time ago. Before I met Lo’ak. Now it's your turn. Have you had any crushes?” She asks.

Neteyam feels hot under everyone’s watchful stare. He forced down  the sick feeling in his stomach, as he forced his stare on the fire in front of him. He didn’t stare at Y/n across from him, the girl who had his heart for years. The love that seemed to always  torture him, knowing he could never have her. How could he love her? Was he even worth her? These questions always kept his confession at bay after all these years. 

He didn’t feel worthy of himself and he feared losing her altogether. He feared that if he spilled the longing he had for her, she’d run away and never turn back. Which is why he never even attempted to confess to her, painfully opting to watch from afar. Loving her from afar. It didn't hurt much since he grew accustomed to the pain, learning how to numb the burning jealousy and sadness within. He knew she didn't love him, that was the only thing that keep him sane.

There was no other female that ever held a candle to her, no other girl who took his breath away. No girl who caused his soul to smile with pure joy. There was no one that took up his heart the way she did, from the very young age of 13. It had always been her. 

“Not really. Back home I was so busy with my duties I hardly had time to look for a potential mate let alone a crush. I did feel something once…… but it ended quickly. It also didn’t help that I had to stay vigilant and watch over my troublesome siblings”  he states, earning a glare from both Kiri and Lo’ak. Neteyam was shocked at how easily he was able to lie through his teeth. He added a tiny bit of the truth in there to make his story believable. 

 Neteyam stifles a laugh, looking anywhere else but Y/n. He didn’t want his feelings to betray him, after many long years.

The group seems satisfied with his response as they move on to Roxto, then Kiri. Both admitting to never having feelings for anyone else until they met each other. How romantic. 

Then, it landed on Y/n. 

“So, did you have any childhood crushes??” Tsireya asks giddily, genuinely interested. Y/n giggles covering her mouth with her hand, her cheeks turning purple in embarrassment. Neteyam finds himself smiling at the gesture. 

“I did, and it wasn't a childhood crush. It was serious until I realized I didn’t have a shot and I had to move on” Y/n starts, every eye on her. All equally invested.

 Neteyam goes stiff. She liked someone? It wasn't a child-like crush, it was serious. Who was it? Had he turned her down? How didn't he notice? Neteyam is bombarded with these questions as he leans closer into the circle. Now fully invested. 

“Who was it?” Roxto asks, sitting on the edge of his seat. Y/n chuckles, sending Neteyam a quick apologetic glance. Neteyam’s eyes furrow in question. 

“It was Neteyam….” 

Neteyam’s ears flatten against his head, his breathing comes to a halt at her words. 

“I loved Neteyam for the longest time, ever since I was a little  girl. I always followed him around” Y/n adds chucking at the memory fondly. Everyone shares smiles, wanting to hear more.

 All while Neteyam sat frozen in time. She loved him? Ever since she began following him? ‘How could I have been so blind….w-we both l-loved each other?’ Neteyam felt stupid, he hated himself for not noticing. All that time thinking he wasn't good enough, all that time worrying he’d lose their friendship over a confession. All of the pain that came with watching her from a distance. All that pain. All of it could have been avoided. 

“Did you know?” Lo’ak asks causally causing Neteyam to jolt up. 

“N-no I n-neve-“ 

“I made sure he didn’t notice. I honestly never thought I had a chance which is why I decided to keep everything under wraps” Y/n quickly cuts in. In her eyes Neteyam looked disgruntled and slightly uncomfortable. When in reality he was beating himself up for being so foolish.

“How did you get over it?? When did you get over it?” Kiri asks, causing Roxto to nudge her. “You don’t have to answer if that makes you uncomfortable!” Kiri quickly adds, 

“It’s fine, we're all adults here. And it was a while ago I guess…I took many years to get over him. But eventually I did and now I’ve finally moved on '' Y/n looks at Neteyam apologetically. 

“I’m sorry Neteyam, this must be so uncomfortable. Hearing that your best friend once had a crush on you” Y/n says apologetically causing Neteyam to finally find his voice in the middle of his shock. 

“No. It’s f-fine. If I knew I would hav-“ Neteyam whispers his feeling blubber inside of him. He felt he had to let her know, know that he felt the same. That he still feels the same. His feelings almost slip past his lips as Ao’nung walks towards the group with an annoyed sigh. Holding a tray filled with drinks accompanied with a gourd. 

“Next time you guys want drinks, don’t order the future Olo'eyktan to grab them for you” Ao’nung grumbles, handing Tsireya the tray who passes it around. Neteyam mechanically accepts his glass, his eyes sorrowfully watching as Ao’nungs seats himself beside Y/n. Pulling her into an embrace. 

Y/n stares up into his eyes lovingly as Ao’nung places a careful kiss on her cheek. 

Neteyam feels sick to his stomach as he watches the mated pair cuddle against one another. His entire life he suppressed his feelings. Feelings he thought were forbidden. Dwellings he thought would harm his friendship with the girl he longed and dreamed about. 

He painfully watched the last 4 years as Y/n and Ao’nung got closer together, eventually announcing their union before Ewya. Neteyam felt a part of him die that day, but he was okay and happy knowing she found someone she loved, after all, what he felt was unrequited, she didn't love him back. Therefore he never had a chance. 

But now, all that self talk and self reassurance crumbled as Y/n had confessed she once loved him. For so long. 

There was a perfect moment in time where  they both mutually loved another. 

‘Only if I wasn't a coward’ Neteyam cursed, his eyes stinging with the unshed tears as he watched Y/n nuzzle against Ao’nung. Her mate for life.

He missed his chance, long ago. But now he would have to live with the knowledge he lost her not because she didn’t leave him back. But because he was too much of a coward to fight for his love for her. 

“Hey, are you ok?” Lo’ak whispers quietly, ignoring the chattering group. He made his way over to his brother who had been dead silent for a while. He catches the glossy look in his brother's eyes, how he watched Y/n from across the fire. A look filled with longing, sadness and regret.

 Lo’ak felt his stomach lurch at the thought that Neteyam might be on the verge of crying. 

“Neteyam?” He calls again, Neteyam finally turning to his brother. His eyes blown wide as he struggles to hold in his tears. Small gasps escaped his body that caused his body to shake. Lo’ak realizes the symptoms Neteyam was having, a start of a panic attack. He quickly pulls his brother up, letting him rest all his weight against his body. This catches the attention of the group as Y/n stands up, her face scrunched with worry. 

“Nete-"

“It’s fine, he’s feeling sick. Told you guys he can’t hold his liquor” Lo’ak jokes teasingly. He tosses Tsireya a knowing look before excusing himself from the group. All the while having Y/n’s  worried stare focus on the retreating boys. 

As they walk a good few feet away Lo’ak glances at his brother's defeated face. The tears run along his cheeks freely as he tries to regulate his breathing. His face was in complete mourning, as if he had lost something of high value.

Lo’ak was able to put the pieces together, Why he had been acting differently. Why his brother always looked at Y/n as if she held the stars, in complete wonderment. And why he looked completely distraught hearing Y/n confess about her past feelings. 

“It was her….you loved her didn’t you” Lo’ak states causing Neteyam to whimper out in pain.

 “Yes” he gasps. He felt as though his world was crumbling around him. 

“It has always been her” 

Lo’ak felt his heart crumble, his brother, the mighty warrior looking defeated as the life in his eyes disappeared. It was as if he felt as though he had nothing else to live for. 

Neteyam choked in another sob, unable to control himself any longer. He desperately wished he could go back in time. Tell his younger self to open his eyes. To take the step he couldn’t take.

He couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he was aware of her feelings back then. Would they have been mated? Would they be this stupidly in love? Would they begin to start a family Neteyam always dreamed about. Neteyam couldn’t help but wonder. 

‘I wish I knew…..’ his vision became blurry with the endless tears. His sobs taking him full force, causing him to shake in Lo’ak’s arms. 

‘I wish I knew you wanted me’

____________________________________________________________

A/N: Hi!!!! I hope you enjoyed, I was was in a angsty mood so I decided to finish this idea I had for a while. I'm not good at writing angst so this is my attempt! Let me know what you think! I love receiving input from you guys. Also, Thank you for 250 Followers!!!!! I'm so blessed!! I love you guysss!!!!

[jojopesto]

Tell Me Twice

Summary: Tara finally confesses her feelings for Emily

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Tara Lewis

Category: Slowburn Angst (?) with eventual fluff

Author's note: I am still new to Tumblr and this will be a multi-part fic. If I figure out how to post the next chapter here, I will, if not you can find it on AO3 here.

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

Emily Prentiss is beautiful.

All of the time, really, but right now, her face half flush from the wine, hair pulled back away from her face, and legs tucked under her on Garcia's couch, Tara is sure the woman has never looked better.

Emily laughs at something JJ says, and Tara swears she can feel it in her own chest. With her inhibitions down she finds herself leaning closer to Emily on the couch. Feeling her shift, Emily looks over to Tara with a warm smile.

“I love you”

The words slip out of Tara’s mouth before she can stop them and her blood runs ice cold. She’s frozen in panic. She glances at the two other girls in the room, who luckily are far enough away to not hear the whispered confession, but pick up on her sudden panic. She looks back towards Emily bracing herself for her reaction but Emily is still smiling.

…no, that can’t be right.

“I love you too Tara,” Emily says, as if it were the easiest thing to admit. “I love all of you guys. It’s nice to have nights like these with my girls again.”

Oh.

Tara is frozen for a moment as Emily goes back to her discussion with JJ. She wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, she’s relieved that the confession didn’t ruin anything, but on the other…a rejection when the other person didn’t even realize they were rejecting you was a pain she hadn’t braced for.

Tara says to nobody in particular that she needs to refill her wine. It’s just an excuse to leave the room, she was definitely done drinking for the night. In the kitchen, Tara leans her hip against the counter and takes a breath. She looks down at the little wine she has left in her glass, swirling it once before pouring it out in the sink. She turns the water on to wash it down the drain, rinsing her glass out in the process. She lets the water run over her fingers longer than she needs to, hoping it'll center her, and calm her pounding heart. 

Emily had said exactly what Tara wanted, but it was wrong, so completely wrong. She squeezes her eyes shut and turns off the water, setting the glass down before she drops it. She needs to pull it together. She is an adult, acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher. Seriously what did she expect? Emily was going to hear her confession and pull Tara into her arms? No. She got the best possible outcome and yet she's still in here moping.

She blames it on the wine. 

She finally opens her eyes and she startles as she sees Garcia standing in the kitchen with her. 

"God Pen, you scared me." 

"Sorry," she says with an apologetic smile. "I thought you heard me walk over. I was just checking on you." 

"Yeah," Tara says with a breath. "Right, yeah I'm good. Thank you."

"Weren't you getting more wine?" Garcia asks, noticing the glass now lying in the sink. 

"Changed my mind," Tara says with a shrug, but Garcia gives her a look that says she's not convinced. 

"You know you can talk to me..."

"I know," Tara says quickly. She hopes it wasn't too quickly. She gives Garcia a smile that she hopes is convincing enough. Garcia nods, lingering a moment before heading back into the living room. For what feels like the first time, she doesn't pry, and Tara is thankful. 

After another breath, she follows Garcia and makes her way back into the living room again. But this time she doesn’t sit next to Emily. The distance feels strange.

The night goes on and every minute feels like an hour. Tara laughs with them but it feels hollow. She knows it doesn’t reach her eyes, but they don’t notice. She wonders if she could just leave without them knowing any different. Probably, but she figures it's best to at least say something. 

“I’m gonna head out, I don't feel well.” She hears questions and protests from the girls behind her but she keeps moving towards the door. Once she’s outside and the cool night air hits her face, she takes a deep breath, holds it for a moment, and then blows it back out until her lungs are empty, before walking to her car and heading home.

- - - - - - - - - -

Tara has always been distant.

The first time Emily met her was when the BAU assisted her with a case when she was still at Interpol. Emily could tell she was a brilliant agent, and from what she saw the team seemed to love her, but she also noticed the way she kept the rest of the team at arm's length. Though it never sat right with her, it wasn’t much of her business. She was leaving for London the next morning. But when she came back, eventually replacing Hotch, she noticed the same pattern and frankly, it bothered her.

Emily insisted that the girls start inviting Tara to their girls' nights. They tried to explain that they had, and she had always politely declined. Still, Emily wasn't sure if she believed them because when she invited Tara, she had agreed. That girls' night set into motion not only just a great relationship between the four girls but also a strong friendship between her and Tara.

Tara still has her moments of course, so when she excused herself into the kitchen for more wine Emily didn’t think much of it. She didn’t even bat an eye when she returned and didn’t take up her usual seat next to Emily. She even thought that her quiet demeanor for the remainder of the night was just because it had gotten so late, she was feeling a little tired herself. What she doesn’t miss though is the way Garcia shoots her cautious glances or the mumbled excuse Tara gives as she heads out early instead of staying the night.

She watches Tara with a furrowed brow before turning back to the girls who are now looking at each other. It seemed like Tara had taken the spirit out of the room when she left.

“That was weird right?” Emily asks, but the girls don’t respond, still sharing nearly identical expressions, that in Emily’s wine-filled haze she can’t decipher. “Come on…you guys know something don’t you?”

“I don’t know anything, honey, I’m just the technical Analyst, not a profiler,” Garcia says.

“Don’t ask me,” JJ says as Emily’s gaze shifts to her. “You must’ve said something to her”

“Me?” Emily asks. “Why do you think it was me?”

“Because you talk to her the most,” Garcia says picking up their snack bowl and standing up. “Process of elimination means it has to be you.”

“That’s not at all how process of elimination works,” JJ says to Garcia as she stands too.

“I talk to her because I want her to feel included,” Emily says.

“Em, she’s been on the team for over a year, I think she knows she’s included,” JJ says moving into the kitchen with Garcia.

“What are you guys implying?” Emily asks, scrambling to follow them.

“Nothing,” the girls say at the same time and Emily lets out a small groan.

“I’ll just talk to her on Monday,” Emily says.

She has a sneaky feeling that everyone else knows something she doesn’t

- - - - - - - - - -

Tara's drive wasn’t long. She doesn’t really remember it, and with the wine she had she’s lucky she even made it, but she knows the drive like the back of her hand. She’s dazed as she walks through the doors and drops her keys onto the table. Mind still reeling, she pulls off her jacket and collapses onto the couch. She has half a mind to pour herself another drink. 

She pulls out her phone as it buzzes in her pocket. She opens it to see she has two missed calls and three text messages. Both of the calls are from Garcia, and two of the texts are too. 

Garcia | You ok? What happened?

Garcia | If you’re ok, you owe me drinks for leaving early. And for the emotional stress you're putting me through worrying about you. Answer your phone! But not while driving!

JJ | Get home safe? 

She shoots a quick text back to JJ, hoping she’ll relay the message that she has gotten home safely to Garcia. She doesn’t miss the fact that there was nothing from Emily. 

With a sigh, she leans her head against the back of the couch. Above all else right now she just feels dumb. Not only for letting her feelings slip but also for now sitting at home instead of brushing this off like a normal 40-something adult would. It’s not the first time she’s been rejected, not even the most humiliating way that she’s been rejected. But why did this feel so different? 

“I love you too.” 

The words still reverberate in her head and they make her heart flutter for a moment, the what-ifs flying through her mind. What if Emily had meant it? What if Tara had stayed to clarify instead of running away? She presses the palms of her hands to her eyes and stands up with a groan. She was better than this, too old for this. She wasn’t sure yet how she was going to get over this but she had to. And she had to do it before Monday.