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aemondsbabe · 11 months ago

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Come What May

summary: aemond gets his first true taste of battle, you comfort him in the aftermath.

pairing: aemond targaryen x baratheon!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, reader is described as having long black hair to suit baratheon standards but no other physical descriptors are used, spoilers, mentions of canon character injury but no gore, angst, breast/nipple play, fingering, oral (f receiving), piv sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, slight breeding kink, slight possessive aemond, soft aemond, vulnerable aemond, we love men who cry

word count: 5.8k

a/n: i've had this idea in my head for the longest time and i think it turned out much more delicious than i was expecting! hope you all enjoy!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

gif creds to @aemondtargaryensource

divider creds to @targaryen-dynasty

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“My love, surely Ser Criston can hold his own,” you plead, wringing your hands nervously as your husband reads from the small scroll that was delivered to your chambers only moments ago, “It’s already been days, surely if they were going to retaliate, they would’ve done so by now.”

“We made the mistake of underestimating my sweet sister and her traitorous lot once before,” Aemond sighs, lilac eye scanning over the rolled parchment once more before before holding a corner of it to one of the many dripping wax candles housed on the small desk in your rooms, “It’s an error we can never afford to make again, not after what happened to little –” The muscles in his jaw clench as he cuts himself off with another harsh sigh, tossing the burning paper into a small metal bowl before turning to you.

“It’s an official summons,” he continues, voice softer now as he swiftly crosses the room until he stands before you. “I can’t simply ignore the Hand, nor my brother,” he murmurs, pulling a sigh from your lips as his hands wrap around your waist. You let your eyes slip closed for a moment when he leans down and presses a sweet kiss to the top of your head before resting his forehead against yours, your own hands gripping tightly to the front of his black tunic.

“I understand,” you say softly, swallowing thickly as you try to ignore the tightness at the back of your throat, a million unsettling what if’s playing in your mind's eye, “I just want you to come b-back to me.”

Upon hearing the break in your voice, Aemond pulls away with a tight smile. “Shh, little wife,” he whispers, gently wiping at the corner of your eyes as tears begin to gather, “I will return to you, I swear it.”

A slight flush covers the apples of your cheeks as you peer up at him, still so cautious of being weepy and emotional so soon into your marriage despite the prince’s many assurances that he was more than happy to have you exactly how you are. After a moment, you manage to blink the tears from your eyes and steady your breath, giving your husband a reassuring nod just as the doors open and a flood of servants and squires rush in to assist Aemond with his armor.

Leaving them be, you step out onto the balcony of your chambers, grateful for the cooling breeze rolling in from Blackwater Bay. Resting your hands atop the rough stone wall, you gaze out over the calm waters, watching as the sun rises and paints them in shades of orange and pink. Each time you spot a stray seagull, your heart clenches tightly in your chest – worried for a moment that it’s Meleys and her rider, come to finish what they started at Aegon’s coronation.

You startle as rough hands wrap around your middle from behind, a small gasp leaving you as your eyes pop open, seeing the sun a bit higher in the sky now before you look over your shoulder.

“Dare I ask where your pretty head was?”

“Praying,” you answer your husband with a smile, turning in his grasp, “Asking the Seven to protect you, to bring you back to me in one piece.”

Chuckling, Aemond tenderly cups your jaw with one hand, the smooth leather of his glove soft against your skin. “I assure you they will,” he says, dipping his head and kissing you with a small sigh, the metal plate armor on his torso cool against your skin, even through the fabric of your nightgown. “I do not fear this battle, sweetling, not with Vhagar at my side – she has more years of experience fighting in wars than either of us could dare imagine, many more than that old cunt or her beast. I trust her to know what’s right.”

Nodding, you follow him inside, a small smile on your lips while you listen to him talk about his dragon, finding endless amusement in the way he always speaks of her with such reverence. The two of you stand together in the low, flickering light of the many candles in your chambers, the early morning light from the drawn curtains casts faint shadows across the room as you look over your husband, unused to seeing him in true armor.

“I suppose you’re ready, then?” You ask, glancing over the fine black plates, each custom made to hug his lithe form perfectly.

“Almost,” he says, the corners of his lips quirk into a small smile in the same instance that familiar, mirthful glimmer takes residence in his eye.

“Oh?” You question, already familiar with where this is going; the smile on your lips only grows as he takes your hand and leads you over to your vanity table by the wardrobes.

“Braid my hair,” he says, always one to keep his requests of you simple, “As you do before I go riding… please.”

It’s the small please that always gets you, a courtesy Aemond so rarely bestows upon others. With a small nod, you watch as he sits on the small silk-covered chair, his lilac eye watching you from the mirror as you lean forward to grab the ornate metal hairbrush Alicent had gifted you after your wedding to her son.

Meeting his eye in the mirror once more, you give him a small smile before focusing on his hair. You run the brush through the pale, silky strands with a practiced ease; before you, the prince hadn’t dared to let anyone do his hair, and was quick to snap at any of the servants if they tried. But with you, he was quite different – much more vulnerable behind closed doors than many would expect.

Glancing up in the mirror as you brush through his long hair, the smile returns to your lips when you see his eye closed, a small sigh leaving his lips as he allows himself to relax for a moment more. It’s easy to fall into a rhythm in the quiet of the early morning, your hands steady as you run the fine brush through section after section of hair, humming a song to yourself as you go.

Finally, you set the brush back down and carefully section off a lock of hair at one of his temples, already knowing how he usually preferred it be styled. Just as you have it separated into three sections, however, one of his hands closes around yours and you lift your eyes up to his in the mirror.

“Is something the matter?”

“No, no,” he replies softly, his one eye glancing away from you, almost nervously, “I simply have a favor to ask of you, my lady. Something I’ve been unable to get off my mind, not since the threat of war became real.”

“Ask it, then.”

With a small sigh, Aemond turns in the chair, moving to face you as he takes your hands once more, calloused thumbs rubbing gently over the backs of them. “I know it is a strange request but… I would like a lock of your hair, sweet one, to braid into my own.”

Your brows knit together at his words, having not expected a request such as that, and your head tilts to the side questioningly, “I see no problem with doing it, but may I ask why?”

“I am not a superstitious man, as you well know,” he starts, smiling when you nod along with his words, “However, I have come to think of you as a good luck charm, of sorts.”

“A good luck charm?” You echo, a little blush coloring your cheeks as a shy smile tugs at your lips, your heart racing at the thought of being something so precious.

Aemond squeezes your hands and nods, “These past few moons have been difficult, between my brother adjusting to the crown and everyone else shuffling about, and the horrors that my sweet sister endures, little Jaehaerys, the numerous threats from Dragonstone, everything, I…” He pauses, brows furrowing as he stares at the stone floor, jaw clenched.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you raise a hand to his cheek, thumb stroking over the scarred skin just below his sapphire eye, the sight of it mystical to you even after so many months spent with him. Studying his face, you can’t help but notice the darkness under his eyes, a product of the many restless nights he’s faced, though a small sad smile claws at your lips as he leans into your touch – eye closing briefly as he savors it, practically purring like a housecat.

“Your presence has been the only thing that brings me comfort,” he murmurs finally, lilac eye peering up at you as he makes no move to lean away from your touch, “I find my spirits lift when I’m around you – your touch, your sweet scent, they… they calm my mind, steady my heart.”

“Oh, Aemond,” you breathe, heart racing in your chest at his words.

“I would like a piece of you with me always,” he continues, lilac eye brimming with sincerity, “To calm me when you’re away.”

You’re nodding before he can even finish his sentence, “Of course, my love, of course we can do that.” You sniffle, trying your hardest to keep your emotions at bay as the backs of your eyes sting with love-filled tears.

Again, Aemond watches as you quickly walk over to the small side table where you keep your needlework supplies. Shuffling through the small woven basket they’re stored in, you locate the small scissors used to cut thread and make your way back over to the vanity.

Bending at the waist a little, you look into the mirror, briefly meeting your husband’s eye again as you select a small lock of hair toward the back of your head, one that will be easily hidden among the rest as it grows back. With practiced motions, you quickly knot the fine strand into a thin braid before getting the scissors as close to your scalp as you dare. You carefully cut away at it until it comes away, the bundle of strands clutched tightly between two of your fingers.

Returning the scissors to the basket, you grab a small bundle of thread, close to the same dark color of your hair, and return to the prince, quickly tying off both ends of the braid before holding it up with a small smile.

“Good?”

“Good.”

Quickly taking your place by Aemond, you once again separate a lock of his hair into thirds, adding your own strand to the mix before easily winding them together in a long, silvery braid, the black of your own hair standing out strikingly against your husband’s. Finally, you gather the rest of his hair into its usual half up and half down style, thick braid skirting down one side of his head before joining the rest as you secure it with a thin leather cord.

“There,” you breathe, stepping back just enough for Aemond to stand, “All done.”

“Perfect as usual, sweetling,” the prince smiles, tight lipped, “Thank you.” He murmurs, again, a courtesy reserved for you.

“Of course,” you all but whisper, both you and Aemond pausing as you stare at one another, neither of you wanting to say goodbye first.

You nearly jump out of your skin as a knock interrupts the moment, both of your heads swiveling to the doors of your chambers as they creak open.

Ser Willis Fell, a member of Aegon’s Kingsguard steps into the room, bowing politely as he addresses you both. “Prince, Princess,” he says curtly, one hand balanced on the pommel of the sword that hangs from his waist, “I apologize for the intrusion, I’ve been instructed to inform the prince that he is to depart for Rook’s Rest immediately – King Aegon is already waiting at the Dragonpit.”

Aemond nods with a heavy sigh, turning back to you. Before he can get a word in, you practically throw yourself at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as the doors click closed once more. “Please come back to me,” you breathe against the crook of his neck, tightness once again taking residence at the back of your throat as his arms wind around you, one hand rubbing soothingly up and down your back.

“I will, my sweet girl, I swear it,” he promises lowly, long arms squeezing him to you as tight as he dares, not wanting to bruise your skin against his armor, “I swear upon the Seven I’ll come back, I will not leave you, I refuse.”

Nodding, your breath catches in your throat as you slip away from him, just enough to angle your face up to his. His eye glances over your face quickly before he presses his lips against yours, both of you desperate to pour as much emotion into the kiss as you can as your lips move together for a moment.

Finally, he pulls away with a pained sigh, holding your face in his hands. “Avy jorrāelan,” he whispers, the very first Valyrian phrase he taught you. (I love you.)

“Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha valzȳrys,” you reply, the practiced phrase coming easily to you after all these months. (I love you too, my husband.)

With one final kiss, Aemond departs, the walk toward your chamber doors seeming like the longest of his life.

The rest of the day passes by painfully slowly, though you do all you can to entertain yourself. Everything from taking a much longer time than usual to eat meals, forcing yourself to stomach what little you can with your belly in nervous knots, to spending hours walking through the Red Keep’s gardens.

Which is how you find yourself now, in front of the fire in one of the many ornate sitting rooms, wiling away the time by half-heartedly working on a needlepoint. Alicent sits next to you on the small sofa, restlessly reading over a small stack of letters as Helaena paces, wringing her hands and mumbling to herself under her breath, a common sight following the death of her son.

With a tired sigh, you put down your embroidery hoop, fingers too sore and overworked to continue. “I just want him to come back,” you mutter, staring vacantly into the fire, “Or to get some word, some update. Just to know.”

“He’ll come back, sweetling,” Alicent murmurs softly, setting the letters aside as she places a comforting hand on your knee, “They both will.” She finishes, glancing over at her daughter with a longing stare, wishing there was anything she could do to ease her pain.

The both of you sit for a while longer, the navy sky outside growing steadily darker, before Alicent sighs and looks at you with a sad half-smile. “You may as well go to bed, dear,” she says softly, “Staying up worrying won’t do any good.”

Knowing she’s right, you quickly bid her goodnight before taking your leave.

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for a long while, thoughts filled with nothing but your husband, before sleep finally takes you. Even then, it’s not restful, dreams filled with visions of blood and fire, of the sounds of screaming and swords clanging together.

It isn’t until the wee hours of the night, almost sunrise, that a sound wakes you – clanging again, only soft this time, like metal on stone.

You blink your eyes open, a little groan leaving your lips as you rub at them with your fists before –

“Aemond!” You breathe, scrambling under the blankets to get to him, nearly toppling off the bed in your haste.

He makes a small “oof” noise as you throw yourself against his chest, catching you in his arms and holding you tightly. “Careful, love,” he laughs softly, letting his eye slip closed as he kisses the top of your head, breathing in the familiar lavender scent of your hair.

“You came back,” you breathe, winding your arms around his waist as you kneel at the edge of the bed, knees digging into the plush mattress. Upon hugging the prince, you come to realize that the small clanging noise that woke you had to have been him quickly untying his plate armor and stripping off his chainmail, leaving him in a soft tunic and pants – the aforementioned garments lying haphazardly on the floor, their sheen reflected somewhat in the dim glow of the fire.

“Of course I did,” he murmurs, stroking a hand over your back, “I swore I would, didn’t I?”

The two of you fall easily into a comfortable silence, arms wrapped securely around one another as the only noise in the room is the sound of soft breathing and the crackling from the hearth. You can’t help but notice that Aemond smells smokey, much like he does after riding on Vhagar but stronger now, no doubt having been around dragon fire for hours.

After a moment, you peer up at him, eyes finally adjusted to the low light. When you do, you can’t help the small, pitying little gasp that leaves your lips and one hand rises to gently cup his cheek. You’re no stranger to seeing him after a long day training in the yard with Ser Criston, but this is wholly different.

In the pale light, you could make out small dark splotches on his face and neck and upon skirting your thumb over one on his cheek, you come to realize it’s remnants of ash, staining not only his skin but the bits and pieces of his tunic and pants that weren’t covered by armor as well. His hair was still fixed how you’d left it, though messier now – windswept and slightly dusty as well, many of the white strands stained a faint grey, the flash of black from your own braid still cutting through the paleness of his like a knife.

But what really stopped you was his eye, his lilac one; you frown when you notice the uneasy look in it, full of a bitter sadness. “My sweet husband,” you say softly, brows furrowing when you notice a few scant tear stains on his cheek, their paths carved through the spots of ash, “What happened? What did they do to you?” You question, heart racing at the thought of the horrors he must’ve seen – his first real taste of battle.

The prince gazes at you for a long second, his lips parting as one of his hands comes to rest at the nape of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. All at once though, the sadness in his eye changes to a familiar fire, one that makes your heart race for an altogether different reason and desire curls in your belly, coming to rest like a cat in a sunbeam.

“Aemond?” You question, blinking up at him. Suddenly, his lips are on yours, hot and insistent and you’re all too eager to comply, easily melting against him. A whimper leaves your lips, instantly swallowed by his mouth as it moves against yours.

The kiss is more teeth and tongues than anything else, your husband’s slipping against yours with a practiced ease. His hand threads more harshly through your hair, making you moan against his lips as your hands cling tightly to the dark fabric of his tunic, a growl reverberating under them as it emanates from his chest.

“Need you,” he breathes raggedly as his lips part from yours, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your jaw and to your neck. You shudder against him as his teeth nip gently at your skin before his lips suckle at it gently, painting bruises on your throat that match the many he surely has.

“But –” you start, a myriad of questions swirling in your mind despite the pleasure threatening to blot them out.

You’re stopped mid sentence as Aemond suddenly cups one of your breasts, palming eagerly at the tender flesh in a way he knows makes your head spin and don’t miss the ghost of a victorious smirk on his lips at the way you cut yourself off with a small, shuddered moan, squirming in his hold as his thumb skirts over your nipple through the thin fabric of your nightgown.

“Please, sweet one, I need this,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your neck. His hand at the nape of your neck slips down to wrap around the small of your back, arching you against him, “I need you, I need to feel… t-to feel something good again.”

Once more, you’re nodding before he can even finish his request, chest heaving as you fight to keep your eyes open, wanting to keep him in your sights as if he may disappear again if you don’t. “Then take me,” you sigh, a broken moan leaving your lips as he kisses down your neck and across your chest. The hair at the back of your neck raises on end as he mouths over the fat of your breast, dampening the front of your nightgown.

Both of your hands claw desperately at the back of his head, tangling into his long hair messily just as his lips close around your nipple. “Gods!” You cry as he suckles at it needily, still pawing at the other one, savoring the feel of it in his hand.

Just as your thighs begin squeezing together, your center aching, Aemond pulls away, smirking when you whine. Impatient as ever, he quickly pulls at your nightgown, tugging it up and over your head, and tosses it onto the floor with his armor – delicate silk pooling over hard metal – before quickly undoing his tunic, eye glimmering proudly at how you always stare at him with such reverence.

“Fuck,” he growls, hands descending passionately against you once more, one again kneading at your breast as the other slides against your hip, long fingers digging into the fat of your ass, “You get more beautiful every time I see you.” He whispers against your lips, strands of silver hair falling loose from his braid and fanning around his face.

His lips press against yours once more, teeth teasingly nipping at your lower lip as your nails dig into his shoulders and chest, anxious for more even as you blush at his words. Always one to please, the prince wastes no time in trailing kisses back over your neck, pausing to nip and suck once again at his marks from earlier, needing to see remnants of himself on your delicate skin.

Again, he traces a bath down across your chest before licking over your nipple, needing to give attention to the breast he’d missed earlier. His tongue laves over it greedily and you moan at the feel of his length, hard and hot against your lower belly even through the cotton of his trousers.

Just as his teeth nip softly at your taut bud, the hand on your hip shifts toward your center, making your breath catch in your throat. Suckling at your nipple once more, Aemond gently runs his fingers through your already dripping folds, pulling a loud, whiny whimper from you as his lips curl into a smirk, a pleased hum radiating against your breast.

“Husband, please,” you whine, finding your voice once more as he rests his forehead against yours, chuckling at your cries.

“Seems I’m not the only one that needs this, hm?” He teases, eye glancing over your face as his fingers lightly rub against your aching bud, your breaths mingling together.

“A-Always need you,” you say breathily, your hips moving of their own accord as he plays with you, your own hands clutching at him like an anchor, “I’ll always, fuck! I’ll always need you, Aemond.”

He feels his heart skip in his chest at that and once again grows restless, the need to have you, to feel nothing but you burns through him like fire. Distantly, in the back of his mind, he thinks how the sincerity in your tone reminds him of your wedding vows, whispered to him in the Sept as if the two of you were the only people in the universe – how he wishes that were true.

With a grunt, he presses his lips harshly against yours once more before leaning forward, pressing himself over you until you have no choice but to buckle and fall to your back against the bed. Unable to think of anything else, he wastes no time in kneeling at the side of the bed, knees against one of the many fur rugs dotted over the floors of your chamber.

A squeal leaves your lips as the prince clutches at your ankles and pulls you toward him, until your ass is nearly hanging off the edge of the bed. A breathy whimper leaves you as you peer down at him, resting back on your elbows as your teeth bite into your lower lip.

Your hips buck as Aemond kisses up your thighs, long hair tickling your soft skin, and you whine as he licks at the curve where your thigh and center meet. A breath leaves him as he uses his thumbs to part your folds, licking his lips at how your arousal already coats them, wetness catching in the dim light of the fire.

“The Stranger himself wouldn’t be able to tear me from this,” your husband murmurs lowly, nearly growling as he glances between your face and your dripping heat like a starving man looking over a feast.

With a groan, he finally dives in, moaning nearly as loud as you do as he greedily mouths at your cunt, tongue licking harshly over you from bottom to top. Every muscle in your body seems to seize as lightning bolts of pleasure crackle up and down your spine.

Your head flops back against the bed as Aemond licks and suckles at your folds, burying his face against your center as he licks into you, nose pressed tightly against your pearl. Your fingers tangle into his hair once more, back arching as he groans into your heat, all but fucking you on his tongue as obscene wet sounds echo about the room.

“Oh Gods, f-fuck,” you whine, hips rutting against his face as the heat in your belly threatens to boil over already. Your eyes roll back as he chuckles against you and licks up to your bud, suckling at it eagerly, making you clench around nothing.

“Gods, you taste good, so sweet,” the prince mumbles against you, lapping at your pearl as he runs two thick fingers through your folds, coating them in your arousal. “I would kill Death himself for this, my love,” he rasps, leaning up to watch the expressions on your face as he presses his fingers into you, impatiently crooking them up in just the way you like, fucking and rubbing them against the sensitive spot within you with practicied ferocity.

“Please, please, please,” you pant, belly knotting tighter and tighter at his words, the gruffness of his voice, head so clouded you aren’t even entirely sure what you’re begging for.

Aemond smirks and licks and sucks at your bud for a moment more, savoring every whine and whimper he pulls from you. “Let go, my love,” he murmurs, grinning at the way your heat clenches tightly around his fingers, “Peak, let me feel it.”

You wail as the cord within you breaks, shuddering and babbling the prince’s name again and again as pleasure washes over you, your muscles tensing and relaxing in a dizzying rhythm as he works you through it. You nearly peak again as he groans against you, lips wrapped around your pearl as he suckles, gradually slowing his fingers within you.

Finally, you come down, though the fire within you still burns brightly, still aches for him. You watch through half-lidded eyes as he rises from the floor, lilac eye looking over your disheveled form proudly as white strands of hair cling to his face, still sticky with your arousal.

His chest heaves as he quickly undoes the ties of his trousers and tugs them off his long, lean legs. He wipes at his lips with the back of his hand as he leans back over you and you whine when you feel the heat of his length pressing against you, trapped between your two bodies, the tip already red and leaking against your belly.

“You’re so good to me,” he murmurs softly, leaning forward to kiss you as he savors the little gasp that leaves your lips as he reaches down with one hand, positioning his cock at your sensitive entrance, “My perfect, sweet girl.”

You nod your head, hands cupping his face as he pushes into you. Your mouth falls open in a loud gasp and you tremble in his hold as he presses forward, sheathing himself inside of you completely with a pleased groan.

“Oh, my love,” you finally pant, savoring the way his length feels within you, pressing against every part of you as he fills you completely, “You feel so good, husband, always so good.”

He growls at that, the breathiness of your tone making his eye flutter shut as he begins rutting against you, grinding his hips against your own. “You were made for me,” he muses, groaning when you begin kissing over the pale column of his throat, “Made to be mine.”

“For you,” you agree between kisses and licks, heart fluttering at the way his thrusts stutter each time your teeth graze over his skin, “Only for you, my sweet prince.”

Aemond groans above you and settles into a practiced rhythm, thick cock spearing into you again and again as your legs wrap around his hips, holding you to him as if he would ever dream of pulling away. One of his hands rests at the nape of your neck again, holding you against his throat as the other grabs at your waist, marveling at the way your breasts move against his chest, bouncing lightly with each thrust.

The thought of them full of milk, your belly swollen with his seed, flashes across his mind and he growls low in his chest, cock twitching within you.

As you squirm beneath him, your husband can tell you’re close, as if the steady pulse of your core around his length wasn’t warning enough. “I would go to war for this cunt,” he groans, locking eyes with you as your foreheads press together once more, “I would burn whole villages to the ground just to have you like this, sweetling.”

His words cascade over you like lava, making your brows furrow together as you gaze up at him, mouth agape. You all but forget to breathe for a moment before a loud, whining moan tears itself from your lips, chest heaving as you fight for air.

“A-Aemond, Aemond, Gods,” you babble, legs tightening around his waist as your nails scratch down his back, making him grunt above you. After only a few more thrusts, you break once more, writhing beneath him.

Distantly, you hear the prince groan and grunt above you as your cunt squeezes around him, determined to hold off his own pleasure long enough to watch you peak once more.

Finally, unable to hold back any longer, Aemond surrenders to the fire within him and moans, voice breaking, as he lets it consume him. Your eyes flutter open as you feel his cock kick inside you and you watch him, mesmerized, as warmth fills you, his seed adding to the sticky mess between your thighs.

He collapses against you, hips still rutting against your own in broken, twitching movements as his own high fades. The two of you lay like that for a moment, panting as you catch your breath, until you realize your husband’s shoulders are shaking beneath your hold, his breath coming in unsteady bursts against your neck from where his head rests against your shoulder.

“My love?” You question, cupping his cheek and bringing his face up just enough to see him. Your heart nearly breaks at the sight of tears pooled in his eye, a few already running down his cheek, “What is it? What’s wrong?” You question, quickly glancing over him, searching for some injury, some source of pain.

Aemond merely shakes his head and sniffles, blinking to dispel his tears as his cheeks flush – he hates the thought of you seeing him so weak. “I’m… I-I’m sorry,” he chokes out finally, holding you against his body tightly despite his embarrassment.

Immediately, you shake your head, pressing a hand against his shoulder until he rolls over, pulling you with him. A soft gasp leaves your lips at the feel of his softening length slipping from your drenched folds as he comes to rest on his back, you at his side, one hand across his chest.

“Shhh, husband,” you murmur, cupping his cheek once more as you lean up on an elbow, “You needn’t apologize to me.” He nods, somewhat half-heartedly, at your words and sighs deeply, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows thickly, trying to chase away the tightness at the back of his throat.

You stay silent for a moment, giving him time to calm down, and let your eyes sweep over his form. Aside from the blotches of ash on his pale skin, and some bruises here and there, he looks nearly untouched. A small smile tugs at your lips despite the situation when you see your lock of hair still wound into his, pale braid practically falling apart by now, most of it pulled free of the leather tie holding it together.

“What’s happened?” You finally ask once his breathing evens out some, your thumb rubbing soothingly over his cheekbone.

“Aegon,” he chokes out, jaw clenching once more as tears run down his cheek yet again.

Your heart clenches as a shot of adrenaline all but knocks the wind from your lungs, “He’s not… h-he didn’t –” You start to question, stopping yourself once Aemond shakes his head.

“No, no,” he confirms, voice ragged and soft as his chest heaves with a sniffle, “Almost, but no.”

“Almost?”

“He… He’s hurt,” Aemond starts, barely a whisper as his eye finally meets yours, “Badly. I don’t… I don’t know what comes next, o-or what to do, what’ll be expected of me, of you –” He mutters, breath picking up as panic rises within him, regretting each time he’d looked at his brother with envy – saw the black crown atop his head, glimmering with red rubies, and thought bitterly that it would suit him better.

“Shhh,” you breathe once more, draping yourself over him like a blanket and pulling a tired sigh from his lips as your touch immediately slows his racing heart. You run your fingers through his hair, black intertwined with white, and press a soothing kiss to his cheek, “I don’t care what comes next, my love.”

Your soft words draw his attention and he looks at you, brows furrowed in surprise, “You don’t?”

“Not at all,” you murmur, steeling yourself to be strong for him regardless of the future, “Whatever happens, I shall face it with you. That’s enough for me.”

gen tags: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @wickedfrsgrl @echos-muses @imawhorecrux @avidreader73 @marvelescape @rae-11 @ms-morningstarr @chaotic-fangirl-blog @grsveeth0m @twglitching @hb8301 @delulumhaggy @burntliquorlips @fan-goddess @cl-0-vr @kittendoll05 @beautbuck @eponaartemisa @trshngyn @brettlovessuckingcocks @alerisc @moonriseoverkyoto @wolfdressedinlace @do-double-g @kennafild @cruelworldlana @mheraxes @eternallyvenus @chaotic-fangirl-blog @simp-hub-bro @badxbabyyy @venchi-cremino

aemond tags: @demirunner @iloveslasher @neithriddle @moneypriestess @anak1nsx @angelinap09

hotd tags: @cuddlejeongin

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

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underoossss · 2 years ago

Text

Head over Heels - S.H

masterlist

pairing: steve harrington x grumpy!f!reader

summary: Steve falls for Robin’s grumpy friend, and he falls hard.

warnings: family problems mention, trust issues, angst, hurt/comfort, no spoilers, (there’s fluff I promise!!!)

grumpy x sunshine trope

an: I know this is the first Steve fic I’ve posted IN FOREVER and I’m sorry! my writer’s block, personal problems, work and health, have all contributed to how long it took me to finish this. But I promise to make it worth your while, this is the same length as babe baby beautiful and I hope it makes you happy. I dedicate this to all my grumpy beloveds out there, who, like me. don’t relate 100% to the sunshine tropes bc sometimes life just freaking sucks. I poured my heart out with this one so, I hope this comforts you and that you like it! Please let me know. 💘

——-

The September breeze pushes Steve’s hair back as he makes his way to the Hawkin’s start-of-autumn fair, a new thing the town is trying out to make the citizens feel more upbeat after all the incidents they’ve experienced. His friends trail after him, Mike and Lucas arguing over something he doesn’t understand, Max listening to Dustin complain about some prank the soccer team played on the Hellfire Club and Robin walking by his side. Everyone shouts food orders over their shoulder, running towards the picnic tables in search for an empty one, and leaving Steve and Robin alone.

His friend is rambling by his side, and Steve nods along to what she’s telling him. She has a new friend this year, met her at homeroom when she was introduced as a new student. A senior like Robin, she got along with her just fine. I talk a lot and she doesn’t, it’s a good fit, I think she really needed a friend that day, Robin says, and now she’s friends with all of us. Steve hums in understanding, switching schools in senior year sounds awful, and he wonders why you chose to do that. He wouldn’t, unless it was for something serious.

“Anyway here she comes!” Robin says excitedly, waving you over. “I can’t believe she actually came, she’s not comfortable with strangers and she doesn’t know you. I thought she’d sit this one out.”

Steve follows Robin’s line of sight and spots you walking towards them in the distance. Baby blue sweater, light washed jeans and black high-top converse, make you stand out from the orange foliage around you. Your face is serious as you get closer, only breaking into a small smile when you wave at Robin and accept her hug. When you step back your face morphs back to neutrality, a slight furrow to your brow as you hide your hands in your back pockets.

Robin says your name and motions towards Steve. “This is Steve, the friend I told you about.” She explains, “He’s our chauffeur, monster-fighter and designated babysitter.”

Steve furrows his brows and looks sideways at Robin before he looks at you and grins. “Hi, nice to meet you.” He offers his hand and you give it one quick shake before pulling back and looking away. Steve wasn’t expecting that reaction, but he guesses what Robin said is true, you don’t like strangers.

“We’re going to get Apple fritters! They have massive ones here and they serve them with big scoops of ice cream.” Robin tells you, glancing down the line as it moves. There are only three people left to order, so the three of you step into line. “Let me check if they’re still doing the ice cream on top.”

With that, Steve is left to wait next to you until Robin is back. You shift from one leg to another, almost nervously and Steve glances at you. Your eyes meet his and then look away, not scared or nervous, just looking away like you can’t be bothered to make conversation with him. Is he intimidating? Steve asks himself or are you just a massive buzzkill that can’t even comment on the weather.

Steve tries again, scratching his cheek. “So, uh, you’re in senior year like Robin?”

You nod, looking down at your feet before looking at him. “Yeah, we have a lot of classes together. I know the guys over there as well.” Your hand lifts to point at Eddie, who’s just arrived at the table, and the kids talking around him.

Huh, so you do speak, Steve notes, but only when prompted. “Cool.” He nods, looking at your face and noticing the way you look away immediately. “So why did you move to Hawkins all of a sudden? I mean senior year, that’s gotta be rough.”

You press your lips together, looking uncomfortable by the question. Steve has the faint idea that he asked the wrong thing. “I should go say hi to everyone.” You say after an awkward cough. “If there’s ice cream can you tell Robin I’m good with cookie dough?”

Steve wordlessly takes the 5 bucks you hand him and sees you rush away from him. In the distance he can see everyone’s faces light up when they spot you, beckoning you over with excited waves, and your reluctant barely there smile as you greet them and sit down. Steve doesn’t get it; he is half mortified and half confused when Robin comes back. How is it that everyone is your friend when you’re so closed off and Steve doesn’t want to say it but… grumpy.

“Are you sure your friend wants to be here?” Steve asks Robin, looking over at you again. You’re sitting with your elbows leaning on the table, listening to everyone talk around you, neutral expression on your face. Bored, even.

“Of course, she does.” Robin is quick to say. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, she doesn’t look too thrilled to be talking to you.” Steve shrugs.

“You clearly don’t know her.” Robin shakes her head. “What did you do?”

“I only asked her about her move to Hawkins.” Steve holds his hands up defensively, then adds. “She said she likes cookie dough ice cream.”

They pause their conversation to order the fritters and pay, then continue talking while they wait.

“Okay, you shouldn’t have asked that. First of all.” Robin rolls her eyes, “Second of all, she’s friends with all of us.”

Steve huffs in disbelief. “Oh so she likes you? That’s her I like you face.”

“She adores us, you… not really but that’s cause she doesn’t know you.” Robin nods with certainty, then worries her bottom lip. “The move question is just tricky for her.”

Steve moves to say something when their order is called, and she go back to the booth to take the trays laid out in front of them. There are eight apple fritters with ice cream they have to juggle back to the table but manage to fit in their hands and arms.

“Look Steve.” Robin says seriously, lowering her voice after a sigh.” She slows her pace, so they take longer to get back to the table. “She has been through a rough time; I won’t tell you what because it took her a long time to trust me enough to open up.”

“Okay…” Steve nods, going over her words and feeling a soft pang of guilt. He wouldn’t have judged you so harshly if he knew you were struggling with something. He wouldn’t have asked you about you changing towns. “You could’ve told me that before I messed up earlier. Before I was bitchy too.”

“You’re always bitchy.” Robin huffs, then hums when she looks at you sitting in the distance. “She’s wonderful Steve, in her own way, so don’t judge her by the way she presents herself. When she trusts you, you’ll see what I‘m talking about.” She gives him a pointed look.

Robin’s words echo in his head as they reach the picnic table and hand over the food to their friends. Steve places yours in front of you with a nod to which you say thank you. Now that he knows a little more about you, Steve guesses you were both left with a bad first impression. They aren’t his forte, and it’s not his fault you weren’t the same person with him as you are with Robin. You don’t know each other, of course it was going to be awkward. Steve sees what Robin means as everyone chats and eats; he sees it in the way your eyes soften, and lips smile slightly when Max begins to tell you something. He sees it in the way you lean closer to the redhead and whisper something that has her laughing soon after; you smile as well before turning your attention back to the group. Dustin and Eddie are planning some sort of revenge on the jocks from the soccer team who messed up something in their Hellfire Room.

Steve tries to focus on what they’re saying but he’s too busy looking at you, trying to figure you out. What happened? What’s the thing that you told Robin that made you keep the gentleness you showed to Max tucked away? You feel him looking at you and meet his eyes, it’s a distrustful glance from the way you narrow your eyes at him. Okay, Steve probably stared at you too long. He looks away and hears you sigh before you do too, tuning back into the conversation between the Hellfire club sitting at the other end of the picnic table.

“That’s a horrible plan.” You say plainly, making Max snort and Eddie pause the conversation. The metalhead rolls his eyes –no annoyance, no malice in sight. Steve supposes Eddie knows you like Robin does.

“Why is that, buttercup?” Eddie asks.

“They’ll know it was you, and they’ll beat you up, Munson.” You tell him seriously with an eye roll of your own –Steve doesn’t need to know you to catch the concern in your tone. “Put some laxatives in their protein powders instead.”

Steve lets out a bark of laughter that startles the table; that would be a good prank if he’s being honest. Everyone turns to look at him, including you and Steve clears his throat. “It’s a good idea.” He mumbles rubbing his chin, then meets your eyes briefly to find something like amusement in them.

“No, no, no.” Dustin shakes his head. “It is an objectively good plan, there’s no way they’ll know it’s us.”

“Yeah, we’ll wait for them to leave and then sneak into the locker room.” Eddie adds. “We’ll seal their lockers shut, they can’t change into their gear the next day and their coach yells their ears off.”

“The perfect plan.” Dustin says proudly and looks around the take to see who agrees.

“You sure they won’t be able to trace the prank back to you? See it as immediate revenge for what they did?” Max asks nodding towards you, “She’s right.”

“We’re absolutely sure.” Eddie confirms with a nod, clapping his hands in front of him.

“Can I read the eulogy at your funeral then?” You ask Eddie and Dustin with fake enthusiasm. “I call dibs.”

Steve chuckles and next to him, Robin fakes discontent as she rolls her eyes. “Damn, I wanted to do it.”

You send a smile her way before you clear your throat. “Eddie and Dustin died as they lived.” Your words are solemn as you speak. “With bad plans and too much confidence that they’ll work.”

“They always work.” Eddie says, chuckling at your words with everyone else. You simply raise one eyebrow at him, which Steve must admit is hot, and Eddie shakes his head. “I guess they sort of work.”

“So, laxatives?” Dustin asks Eddie after a minute, a defeated hunch to his shoulders.

“Laxatives.” Eddie and the rest of Hellfire repeats before the table bursts into laughter– including Steve.

His eyes don’t leave you though. You’re not laughing like everyone else but there’s a small smile on your face. It is reserved but softens your face in the loveliest way. It shows him you are enjoying their company despite the otherwise inexpressive look on your face. Steve begins to wonder then… if he wins your trust, the one you have with Robin and Max, will you smile at him the same way you do with them? Bright and beautiful enough to blind him? He guesses it would be worth a shot, getting to know you more, because if he’s being honest, he’s intrigued.

--------

The next time Steve sees you it’s at a party. It’s mid-October and the cold weather turns it up a notch with the cold bite to the air. He wouldn’t have gone to the party in the first place, if he’s being honest, but Robin forced him to go. Everyone will be there she’d said but Steve didn’t know who everyone would be. Only when he arrived at Kevin Rotner’s house did he begin to recognize some familiar faces. Nancy, Johnathan, and Eddie arrive at the same time he does and the five of them walk up the driveway and the small path leading to the front porch. There’s loud chatter inside and a boombox playing to the loudest volume in the dinning room. There are people sitting in the staircase laughing at a joke and more loud conversation coming from the backyard. He navigates the house with his friends until Robin spots you in the kitchen, and Steve doesn’t know why he’s so nervous when he sees you. You greet Robin with a hug and shrug when she tells you something, he can hear. Your face is pretty and serious as you look over Robin’s shoulder, spotting everyone else coming to say hi. Steve sees you take a deep breath before you greet everyone — almost as if you’re preparing yourself for small talk and hugs. He greets you last, more open and approachable than last time, and he’s surprised when you wave. “Hi, Steve.”

Something inside Steve jumps, but he thinks it’s only his own surprise. He’s about to say something, when Robin and Nancy take your hand and drag you away with the promise of some new gossip, they have to tell you.

Steve talks to a few people here and there; mostly the ones he’s kept in touch with after high school. Other than that, he doesn’t know anyone else; he doesn’t know if it’s cause he’s grown up but he’s not really having fun. There are people jumping into the pool despite the weather while those who mind the cold have gathered inside the house. Steve’s mostly avoiding the crowds, where the air is too hot despite winter being near, while keeping an eye out for his friends. Nancy and Jonathan are talking to some people he doesn’t know in the kitchen, Robin is trying not to combust while she talks to her crush —her lab partner in biology— and Eddie is walking around the entire party with his lunchbox.

When Steve sees you again, you are people watching in the living room, eyes trained on a few people in the middle of the room. He moves to stand next to you, and you shift your gaze towards him but say nothing; Steve thinks it means it’s okay if you stand here. Your foot taps to the music –Tears for Fears’ Head Over Heels –and your head moves almost imperceptibly to the music. The two of you are quiet for a while, and it’s not awkward like Steve expected it to be, not after the way he messed up at the fair. He’s pleasantly surprised, and relaxes a bit more next to you, slouching slightly against the wall. One of your arms is crossed over your chest while your other elbow rests on it, a red cup in your hand. The music continues to play and your eyes are still trained on the people talking in the living room, they’re some old Hawkins High students Steve kind of recognizes. There’s Angela and Karen, Bradley and Peter and some other people he doesn’t know the names of. Steve leans his weigh on his right leg, which brings him closer to you.

You don’t move away, simply pass him your red cup. Steve moves to shake his head no and say he’s driving, but you speak up before he does. “It’s only soda.” You say and nod at the cup that Steve takes the cup from you shortly after.

“What’re you watching?” Steve asks.

“The only interesting thing that’s going to happen in this party I think.” You look at him finally and lean closer, Steve isn’t sure you’re aware of it. “I think there’s going to be a fight.”

Your eyes hold amusement in them, like you’re excited for what’s about to happen. The tiniest movement of your mouth has Steve glancing down, you’re grinning, barely; he thinks it’s cute.

Steve’s eyebrows raise, interest spiked, and is about to say something when you turn your head again. Bradley is saying something to Angela, his voice loud and slurred but incomprehensible over the music, and not a second later an equally intoxicated Peter swings a punch at him. Another girl, who Steve doesn’t know, confronts Angela they start arguing with Karen joining the fight. Bradley and Peter fall to the ground, wrestling each other while others try to break the fight.

“Wait isn’t she?” Steve’s mind catches up the everything that happened puts two and two together. He’s pretty Angela is dating Bradley, not Peter.

“Yup.” You say with a shrug, tilting your head. “It was all a matter of time before it happened.” It’s all you say, then chuckle. Steve does too, he can’t help himself at the sound of your own laughter, until the two of you are giggling at the fight in front of you.

The music changes then, to something more upbeat, and Steve’s mind can only think about asking you to dance. Would you say yes? Probably not. Before he can ask you though, you step away from the wall. More people have gathered in the living room to watch the fight, and you decide to make your way to the front door. Do crowds bother you? Steve wonders.

“Wait.” Steve goes after you and closes the door behind him. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” Your back is turned to him. The cream-coloured sweater you wear over your lilac skirt and your black boots look lovely on you, and so does your hair. Steve doesn’t know why but he thinks it frames your face perfectly. There’s also a hint of remaining lip-gloss on your lips that shines with the streetlamp’s light… and Steve, well Steve thinks You’re so pretty.

“It’s cold, don’t tell me you’re going to walk.” Steve speaks again, shaking away his previous thoughts.

You shrug, “I usually do, it’s not too far.”

Steve doesn’t know where you live but he knows Rotner lives far away from almost everyone in Hawkins. Your house is probably far away. “I’ll drive you.” Steve offers, but you sigh and look away.

“Go back to the party Steve, you can drive Robin home.” You say simply. “I’ll see you around.”

“No, she can go with Nancy.” He follows you until he’s walking next to you. “It’s not safe for you to walk home, come on.”

You sigh again and look up at the sky, annoyed. If you’re annoyed, then he’s too, because you’re making a dumb decision for the sake of being stubborn. And you probably don’t know that he’s stubborn too, so you might have to argue all night about whether this decision is right or not. Why is it so hard for you to accept a ride home? You offered him soda and were talking to him just now; it was nice. More than nice.

“I won't stop asking.” Steve says, crossing his arms and stepping in front of you.

Your eyes meet his in an intense half-glare, and Steve can’t help but think how nice your eyeliner looks on you. It does something to him he hasn’t felt in a while. He feels like he can’t breathe while heat creeps up the back of his neck —it’s October, he shouldn’t feel hot at all. A moment later you roll your eyes, though backing down first, and giving Steve some time to breathe as you turn around.

“Alright.”

Steve can’t help smiling in triumph, knowing he just won, and follows you as you walk towards his car further down the road. Amusement paints his eyes as he looks at you; your lips are pursed, and a huff escapes you.

“You’re pouting” Steve says, looking at your lips and the annoyed look on your face. It makes him smile. You’re pouting.

“I’m not” You look sideways at him.

“Oh, you are.”

“Shut up, Harrington.” You say and he laughs, opening the passenger’s door for you.

-------

From then on Steve does his best to increase his charm and be a gentleman. He offers you his help as well as rides home whenever he can, especially when you’re alone. The last thing he wants is for you to think that he’s only being nice when your common friends are around. Steve sees you more often now, not as much as he’d like, he must admit, but enough to know more about you. What you’re okay with sharing, more like.

As he suspected from the party, you don’t like crowds (they make you nervous), and when Steve asked why you’d changed the topic. You work at the Deli on Main Street, have a younger brother named Chris, and you love coffee. He always sees you drinking one in the morning when he gives both you and Robin a ride to school, and whenever he stops by at the deli for lunch during your shift. Most important of all, Steve is starting to see what Robin meant when she said not to judge a book based on its cover. Because, despite your grumpy exterior, there’s a whole personality hidden underneath.

Steve can tell. There are hints and pieces; from the way you dress, to the music you like, and comic books you read and often exchange with Max. When he takes the time to look, he sees the gentleness with which you do things, and the care with which you treat your friends. He also sees your distrust for what it is: fear. You’re afraid, to let new people in, to get hurt, and Steve doesn’t know why.

He wishes there was something he could do to fix it, to make you see the glass half full instead of half empty, or to change your sporadic pessimism. But then he figures, he would be changing you, and that’s not something he wants. If he’s being honest, your friend group (Steve isn’t sure if he’s your friend, officially at least) needed someone with an objective outlook on life to set their heads straight. And if he’s honest with himself, he likes all the things that make you you. He likes your confidence when you don’t care what people think about you. He likes it when you fight with Robin over who chooses the music, despite it being his car. And he's pretty much obsessed with your face; the hard set of your jaw when you get impatient, the brow you silently arch that makes him feel things he shouldn’t, and the silent way you listen to conversation, only speaking up when you think it’s necessary. Steve is more than a bit obsessed.

He had been wrong that first day. He didn’t know you and wrongly assumed you weren’t happy to be there with them, when you actually were. He reflects upon it now that he knows your facial expressions; your eyebrows had been relaxed, and your eyes didn’t have a hard edge to them. You had been at ease, only closing yourself off when Steve tried to dig into your move to Hawkins. He really started off with the wrong foot, but it all takes a turn on a Friday night.

You visit FV for a tape mid-afternoon, surprising Steve at work. The weather is more than chilly outside, and Steve notices right away how you have no jacket on, only a dark red sweater. He’d been doing some paperwork behind the counter when the bell over the door for his attention. It rewarded him with the sight of you walking in, looking around before your eyes settle on him.

“Hey, Steve.” You say voice light as you approach him and lean your elbows on the counter. “Do you have karate kid available? My brother is begging us to watch it again tomorrow.”

Steve doesn’t know why but he struggles to speak for a moment —it probably has to do with the fact that you look very pretty, and two, this interaction is so different from your first one he shortcircuits. After a long pause you raise a questioning eyebrow, “You okay?”

Steve clears his throat. “Yeah. Um, we have it, let me go get it.”

“Thank you.” You nod as he dashes away from the counter.

“Did you walk here?” Steve asks once he’s cleared his head and reaches the action movie aisle. He sees you shrug over the stands.

“I usually do, I don’t mind it.” You explain simply.

“You’re not wearing a jacket though.” Steve grabs Karate Kid and goes back to the counter. Why are you always out in the cold without a jacket? It’s a miracle you haven’t fallen sick, he thinks.

“I left school in a rush, I was gonna be late for work.” You shrug again, eyes visibly lighting up when you spot the movie. “Thank God. Chris would have been insufferable if someone beat me to it.”

Steve crouches down behind the counter and retrieves his own jacket —a grey bomber— before placing it on the counter in front of you. “Here.”

“Steve,” You tell him seriously, rolling your eyes. “I’m not taking your jacket.”

“Why not? You’re the one walking out in the cold, I only have to walk towards my car.” He dismisses your refusal with a wave of his hand.

“Hey!” Robin says, calling your name as she emerges from the back room. “Perfect timing, I was going to call you.”

“Here to rent karate kid.” You tell her, a small smile on your face.

“And choosing hypothermia over my jacket.” Steve chimes in, sliding his jacket pointedly towards you.

“It’s not that cold Steve.” You roll your eyes at him again, “But I know you’ll annoy me until I say yes.”

Steve gives you a triumphant smile and you shake your head, Steve would even say it’s shyly, before you take the jacket and shrug it on. “The movie? Please.”

Robin speaks up while Steve rings you up. “We’re gonna hang out at Nancy’s tonight. The kids will be there too, you should come.”

Steve risks a glance at you, in his jacket; a huge mistake. He seriously underestimated his reaction to seeing you in his clothes, because it is downright adorable and something he was unprepared for. The sleeves go past your hands and the whole thing is oversized on you, his shoulders being broader than yours and his torso longer. Steve bites back a smile —he hopes you never give it back to him; this is a sight he’d love to see more often. He turns back to the computer to hide his grin from you and silently hopes you’ll say yes.

“Will there be other people?” You ask Robin, and Steve is quick to shake his head no and reassure you. Too quick.

“Just the usual gang.” Steve tells you, clearing his throat to hide his eagerness. “No one else.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Robin insists with a smile, then moves her gaze towards Steve, who tries to ignore the way she raises a knowing eyebrow at him. He’s gonna have an earful once you leave, he can bet on it.

“Okay, I’ll be there.” You nod, then exchange some cash for the movie Steve hands to you. “Thank you, Steve.”

Steve leans his forearms on the counter, trying to give you his most charming smile to see if he’ll get one of those you give Robin in return. “We’ll pick you up after work.” Steve says and you look into his eyes for a long second before nodding.

“Sure.” You shrug, eyes shifting away from his. “I’ll see you guys later.”

------

At Nancy’s, chaos ensues. The kids argue over what board-game to play while Eddie and Robin argue over what record to play next. Steve is listening to Nancy and Jonathan talk about a volunteering drive she’s organizing and from where he stands, he can see you leaning against the wall next to Robin. Your face is neutral as you listen to the record that’s currently playing, tuning out Eddie’s argument for the most part until you speak up.

“Or you can let me choose?” You ask calmly, glancing at them briefly before going back to looking down at your feet.

“No!” Both Eddie and Robin say at the same time, and Steve notices the corner of your mouth twitch upwards.

“You chose this one, buttercup.” Eddie says with a sigh. “You’re only gonna choose one to annoy us.”

This earns Eddie an eye roll. “How exactly do you know that?” You ask. “It could’ve been a great pick, now you’ll never know Munson.”

Steve tries to tune back into Nancy’s explanation when Max pushes the board game she wanted to play away with a huff. It clatters to the ground as she stands from her place in front of the coffee table. You spot her and call her name only a moment later.

“Hey Max, I got the new Wonder Woman!” You say after a moment when the read-head stops glaring daggers at the boys.

Her eyes light up, a dramatic change from the look in her eyes moments ago. “Really? Can I see it?”

“‘Course, I brought it for you.” You roll your eyes, this time full of fondness, and nod towards the kitchen. “It’s in my bag.”

Steve can’t follow your conversation because the doorbell rings, signalling the pizza Nancy ordered arrived. The weather feels much colder than earlier as he opens the door and steps outside, he pays for the pizza, tips the delivery guy and goes back inside. Arms full of pizza boxes, he walks back to the dining table, shooting a pointed look at Dustin and Mike. “Zip it or you don’t get a single slice.”

The high schoolers move more discarded boardgames away from the table in a heartbeat, scrambling to undo their mess and opening the pizza boxes in a hurry. Steve spots you still standing in the kitchen talking to Max as everyone helps themselves to pizza and decides to let you both know the food is ready.

“So, you skate too?” Max is asking you excitedly, leaning her hip against the kitchen counter.

You chuckle — it hits Steve in the chest and Steve doesn’t know what to do with that. “I do,” You grin, “I mean I used to when I lived in Indianapolis, but I haven’t since I moved here.”

“We can go to the skate-park tomorrow.” Max proposes raising her eyebrows, “If you want.”

You nod, “Sure. I’ll look for my skateboard tonight, let’s hope I still remember how to use it.”

“Pizza’s here.” Steve says, interrupting and smiling at you both. When your eyes meet his, your lips move to smile but in a matter of seconds you stop yourself.

It makes Steve furrow his brows and walk over to you as Max leaves to grab a slice. “You okay?” Steve asks, and your eyes meet his again briefly before they dart away as you sidestep him.

You make your way to the front door in a rush, this time though you do grab your jacket—his jacket— on the way. Just like he did the night of the party, Steve follows you, worried and confused at your reaction. Robin glances at him from the dining table, an unspoken question in her eyes but Steve can only shrug. He is certain he didn’t do anything wrong just now, but somehow, he messed up because you just fled from him.

“Stop.” Steve says after calling your name. “What happened?”

“Nothing, I just need some air. You should go back inside Steve.” Your back is to him, shoulders tense and close to your ears defensively.

“No,” He shakes his head. His lips go down into a frown briefly as he looks at your back. He voices the question he always asks himself when you shut him down. “Did I do something?”

“No.” You say when you turn, eyebrows meeting in the middle as you glare at him but Steve sees the way you struggle to hold it in place. After a second it falls, and your face just crumples to exhausted look. “I want to be alone.” You whisper.

“You think a glare and a pout are intimidating enough to drive me away?” Steve shakes his head.

“I don’t pout.” You say, lips pursed and jaw tense. Pouting.

“You do and it’s not working.”

You change tactics then, raising an eyebrow and staring him down like the night at the party but Steve shakes his head. “That’s not working either.”

“Why are you insisting so much on this!” You finally ask, raising your voice and crossing your arms in front of you. Your jaw clenches as you look away and Steve sees your eyes squeeze shut.

He runs a hand down his face and breathes out. “Whether you like it or not there are people who want to get to know you.”

“What, like you?” Your eyes cut a suspicious look Steve’s way and he can see your walls come back up right in front of him. A tear falls down your cheek and you’re quick to wipe it away, harshly. “Why?”

Steve throws his hands up in the air, exasperated but not raising his voice, “To be your friend! Just like Robin and Eddie are your friends.” His shoulders move up and down, trying to cover up how much he likes you and looks forward to your company. “Why are you so distrustful, is it something I did?”

“It’s not about you, Steve.” Your eyebrows meet in the middle again, and you look away from him, directing your gaze to the snow-covered lawn. “If… If it bothers you so much, why do you even want to be my friend? Because you’re wrong Steve. No one else does, and I’m more than fine with that.”

Steve shakes his head, knowing you’re lying to him and trying to convince yourself. His voice softens. “Because despite it, I like you, I think you’re… cool.”

“Cool?” The way you raise your eyebrows makes Steve chuckle.

Funny, caring, fucking beautiful, Steve wants to say but he just nods his head at your question.

“Yeah, and you’re interesting, and I… want to be your friend.” Steve’s hands settle on his hips as he shifts his weigh to one leg, looking down to the ground. Glancing at you briefly, he drops his voice to whisper your name. “Don’t leave. I’m not lying… that’s what worries you right?”

Steve assumes that’s where your distrust comes from; you told him it wasn’t something he did, then it must be that you’re scared to trust him. He’s known there are many feelings behind your hard exterior, one of them being fear. Steve doesn’t want you to fear him, and he wonders who broke your trust in the past. Silence settles between the two of you; you seem to be going over his words and Steve is giving you the time to do so. He’d wait an hour if necessary and reassure you a thousand times if it would mean you believe him. Steve panics when he sees you swallow hard and shift your eyes at the sky, the last thing he wanted to do was make you cry.

But you don’t cry. Instead, you take a deep breath and look into his eyes. There’s a vulnerability there that awakens an urge in Steve to hug you. “You promise?” Your voice is a whisper, but he hears you clear as day. You’ve never spoken so softly before, and Steve wishes it could have happened under other circumstances.

Steve looks into your eyes and nods with sincerity, hoping you can see he’s being completely honest with you. “Yes.”

“I do like you, Steve. You just scare me.” You look down at the ground for a moment and nod to yourself as Steve’s eyebrows shoot hop in surprise. A moment later, your eyes drift back to Steve and there are emotions dancing around in them he’s never seen before. “I’m sorry.”

Steve nods and something inside him tightens when you offer a small smile. It’s like something shifts between the two of you despite neither of you moving. In a matter of seconds, everything feels easy, natural, like the brief moment your shared at the party in October. Steve realizes it’s because you’ve let your guard down; you stand differently in front of him, more comfortable, less apprehensive. You scare me. “You wanna tell me why?”

You press your lips together and shake your head. “Another time, maybe?”

Steve tries to hold back a smile, but he can’t, it takes over his entire face. When he sees you shiver, he offers his hand. “Let’s go back inside, or I can drive you home if you want to leave.”

“I can stay a bit longer.” You say when you grab his hand –an electric shock goes up his arm. “I really want some pizza. But if they play Monopoly I’m definitely leaving.”

Steve’s laughter follows you as he leads the two of you back to the house.

The coffee cup Steve places in front of you at work the next Monday lands with a soft thud on the counter. It’s black coffee with some milk and sugar; the way Steve’s learned you take it every day. The sound and his presence make you look up at him over the top of your book, a doubtful eyebrow raised and a serious look on your face. Fuck your pretty, Steve thinks. Your eyes shift from the coffee to his face a couple of times before you close your book.

“What’s this?” You ask, leaning back on your seat and tilting your head.

Steve leans his elbows on the counter in front of you and tilts his head right back. “Considering you drink around 5 of these a day, one would think you’ll know what it is.”

“Ah, that’s where you’re mistaken. I actually drink 10.” You deadpan, looking at him with fake disappointment. “I thought you knew me, now that we’re friends and all.”

Steve laughs, looks down and shakes his head. When he looks at you again, there’s a half smile on your face. “Come on.” He says. “Let’s go grab some food.”

“I literally work at a deli, Steve.” You tell Steve seriously, motioning to your surroundings. “We’re surrounded by food.”

Steve copies what you just said with a roll of his eyes and smiles again. “I mean something else, babe. Come on.”

With a sigh you stand up from your seat and round the counter, leaving your apron behind. “You’re lucky I get a break in a couple of minutes.” You tell Steve before yelling over your shoulder. “Hank I’ll be back!”

Steve’s eyes light up and he considers his visit a triumph. He’s becoming surer and surer his feelings for you go beyond friendship and fondness and lean more towards: I want to hold your hand all the time, and cuddle you while we watch movies then forget about the movie and get lost on you. He wants to put his arm around your shoulder freely, have you lean your weigh against him and steal a kiss, probably more than one. No. It won’t ever happen so Steve shouldn’t even be thinking about it. He opens the passenger’s door to his car for you and smiles when you get in, your coffee in your hand.

It becomes a routine of sorts, either you visit him at Family Video bringing sandwiches for him and Robin or he picks you up, a coffee waiting for you in his car and drives you wherever feels right that day to eat your lunch. You talk about your day, or whatever gossip you heard that day. One day you even confessed to be scared about graduation.

“Everyone is so excited to finish school, and here I am so terrified about the future I haven’t opened any of my college application letters.” You muttered, picking at a loose thread on your sweater.

“Why are you scared?” Steve asked you and you swallow hard.

You turned your body on your seat, facing him as you shrugged. “I feel lost, I don’t know what I should major in. I also don’t know where I’d like to go, and I can't even research these colleges without panic settling on my chest.” Your eyebrows furrowed and your jaw got tense and Steve knew that meant you felt angry and this time it was at yourself.

Steve took your hand without a second thought, but you let him. “You know, you don’t have to figure it all out right now.”

“It feels like it.” You whispered looking at him, frustration and embarrassment shining in your eyes. “Everyone else has it figured out.”

Steve shook his head; you shouldn’t feel embarrassed with him. “If there’s something I’ve learned about you, is that you don’t care about what other people are doing. What do you want?”

“I ask myself that question every day.” You mirrored his head shake and looked away. “Let’s talk about something else. Please?”

Steve was happy to change the subject, anything to cheer you up. By the time you go back to the Deli to continue your shift, he realized it was the first personal thing you’ve told him. Ever. It made him happier than he cared to admit.

-----

Two months after your talk in Nancy’s driveway, you invite Robin, Nancy, Eddie, Jonathan and Steve to your house. It’s the first time you’ve let anyone other than Robin into your home, this time for movie night. Your father and brother went back to Indianapolis to pick up other stuff from your old house, you said, it’s perfect timing. Steve and Robin arrive together, and shortly afterwards Eddie’s knocking on the door.

Your house is cozy and simply decorated with a forest green comfy looking couch, a dark brown coffee table and a TV in the living room and all the basic stuff in both the dining room and kitchen. There’s a record playing somewhere, and Steve can’t help the smile that comes to his face when he sees the way you’re mouthing the words as you move back and for the between the kitchen and living room bringing snacks, drinks and pizza for everyone. You’re wearing a cream-coloured sweater he recognizes from the party back in October and something funny happens in his stomach when he realizes just how far your friendship’s evolved since then.

“Babe come on take a break, we can help.” Steve stops you from going back to the kitchen with a hand on your shoulder and a fond look on his face.

You open your mouth to say something when Eddie and Robin appear on either side of you, presenting the movies they –surprisingly– were in charge to pick. “The best horror movies.” They say in unison.

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as you take the three VHS tapes from them. “Oh. Um, great! Thank you.” Your reaction hides behind the grin you shoot both, who nod and disappear to the kitchen.

“You’re pouting.” Steve says stepping closer to you again in the living room; your eyes that were fixed on the VHS tapes drift upwards to meet his own. Steve smiles.

“I’m not pouting.” You tell him with a roll of your eyes, lips settling back into a pout as you scan the titles of the movies once more. “These are just scary.”

“You’re still pouting.” Steve whispers, like it’s a secret. His eyes drift down to your lips, a mistake that has him swallowing hard, before the doorbell rings, signalling Johnathan and Nancy arrived. He’s quick to turn and go let them in. It’s a perfectly timed distraction. He shouldn’t think about kissing you, because despite no matter how badly he wants to, you’d never let it happen, or feel the same way he does to let it happen. “Just saying!”

Once the first movie plays, Eddie and Robin settle on one end of the couch, while Nancy and Johnathan sit on the floor in front of them. Steve shoots Robin a I know what you’re doing look before sitting next to her and feeling the couch dip under your weigh when you settle on the empty seat next to him. A sweet floral scent he now recognizes as your shampoo or your perfume reaches him and Steve actively decides to focus on the movie, not the way he wants to pull you over his lap and breathe you in. Eddie and Robin laugh every now and then and the four of you turn to look at them, there’s nothing funny about the movie. You begin covering your face with the bucket of popcorn as the movie progresses, your face grimacing as the suspenseful music picks up.

Steve leans closer to you, his voice a whisper as he speaks. “It’s just special effects don’t worry about it.” You turn to look at him, worried puppy dog eyes gazing into him and dammit you make it so hard to keep his distance. “Trust me.” Steve winks, lightening the mood only to jump and scream when he turns to the movie once more and a jump scare comes on.

It seems like the perfect medicine for your fear. For you forget about it and lean your head back laughing, a full-on belly laugh, that’s so contagious and beautiful Steve laughs with you. Nancy and Robin share a knowing look he doesn’t notice before they shush the two of you, shoving at his elbow and your knee. You cover your mouth with your hand and your shoulders shake as you lean your head on Steve’s shoulder, turning your body towards his; Steve’s never been so happy to be scared in his life.

Everyone leaves after 3 movies. Robin gets a ride with Eddie, and Nancy leaves with Jonathan as well. Steve though, stays behind insisting on helping you clean up, but it’s a weak excuse to check on you before he leaves. He noticed you getting nervous, fidgeting with your hands anxiously when everyone started to leave. The films were long done, so Steve knows something else is worrying you and it doesn’t sit well in his heart to leave you like this. Which is why he is currently picking up trash in the living room while you do the same in the kitchen.

You’re finishing placing the dirty dishes in the sink when Steve enters the room. He noticed right away the way your shoulders hunch and you take a deep breath. “Steve…”

“You okay?” Steve closes the trash bag and moves to the sink. His eyes roam your face as he looks sideways at you and washes his hands.

“I um… I wanted to apologize to you.” You tell him quietly, passing him a kitchen towel before moving away from the sink. “For how closed-off I was when you met me.”

After drying his hands quickly, Steve turns and leans on the edge of the sink. “It’s okay, it’s not easy to trust new people right away.” He reassures you –it’s something he understands now; he understands you.

You sit on the counter opposite to him and stare at the floor for a bit, polka dot sock clad feet dangling in the air. “It’s more than that. I’m just scared of getting close to people since…”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Steve shakes his head, keeping his eyes on your face.

“I trust you, Steve.”

Those four words make Steve’s chest flutter –relief, happiness, nerves– but he pushes the feeling to the back of his mind and patiently waits for you to continue. Your lips are pursed as you stare at the floor, gathering your thoughts.

“My mom…” You swallow, getting chocked up with those to words but soldiering on. With a shake of your head, you look up to the ceiling and will your tears away. “My mom left my dad, brother and I last April. She’d been cheating on dad for years… and that’s not even the worst part.”

You wipe your eyes quickly, lips pulled downwards into a deep frown when you pause again –an upside-down U Steve wishes he could smooth out with his thumb. But he stays where he stands and lets you continue.

“The other man was married too” Your eyes find Steve’s and where there’s usually a spark –like that night at the party– there’s only sadness directed at the memory. “He’s the father of a popular kid at my old high school, so you can guess what happened when everyone found out.”

Steve’s mouths opens again and this time a soft no escapes him.

You press your lips together and nod, “So not only did the news wreck our home… they made life at school unbearable for my brother and I. People who I thought were my friends just threw me away as if I was trash for something I didn’t do. Something I had no fault in.”

“Is that why you moved here?” Steve asks softly, walking closer to you. The answer to the question he asked many months ago, right in front of him and it doesn’t make him feel any satisfaction. No, it hurts him to know this. Moving away from everything you’ve known and starting over again during senior year sounds brutal.

“Yes.” You whisper and close your eyes briefly; more tears fall down your cheeks and Steve’s heart aches. Teary eyes move away from his and fix themselves on the kitchen window instead, your lips are pressed so hard against each other they’re losing colour. “She packed her bags right after school the day we found out. We saw her leave with that man, no other explanation, not even a goodbye or a note. Everyone except my dad and my brother decided to leave me that day.”

A sob escapes you then, finally breaking free and shaking your whole body; another one replaces it once it stops. Your hands move from the counter to your face, covering it as cries continue to escape you in succession. Steve wastes no time and walks to stand in front of you; he hates seeing you in so much pain. God, it must have hurt so much, just being left behind like that. His hands move to your hips and gently urge you to hop off the counter before he wraps you up in his arms. His shoulders shake with the force of your sobs as you cling to him.

“Stevie.” Your hands are bunched up in the back of his polo, holding onto him like a lifeline.

Steve can’t even relish the sound of your calling him Stevie so softly. He swallows hard as he witnesses the pain, you have felt inside of you for so long. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers.

“She left us, Steve. She just disappeared and left us grieving her despite her being alive.” You say between your tears, they soak the right side of his shirt, but Steve couldn’t care less, his arms just tighten around your waist. “She’d been pushing us away for years, treating us like garbage and now I can see it’s because we weren’t good enough for her anymore. She didn’t love any of us anymore. We… we didn’t make her happy.”

Your voice sounds hoarse from crying, and your hands tighten behind Steve’s back. When you bury your face in his chest, Steve hunches his shoulders and forms a cocoon to protect you from the past. His protective nature takes over as he holds you flush against him; his hand moves up and down your back firmly –you need to know he’s there, that he’s got you. Steve puts his cheek over your head and whispers his next words. “I’ve got you; you can cry as much as you need to, I’m not going anywhere.”

It takes a few minutes, but your sobs soon transform into soft sniffles even as you press yourself closer to him. Steve doesn’t want to upset you anymore, but he’s itching to comfort you and let you know what he wishes someone had told him years ago. “I know my own shit experience with my parents isn’t the same as what you went through.” He starts, taking a small step back so he can look at you.

His fingers take a gentle hold of your face until puffy and teary eyes meet his; Steve wipes away some stray tears. “But what your mom did to you doesn’t say anything about you alright? You’re more than good enough for anyone. If she didn’t see that, then she made the worst mistake of her life.”

You close your eyes at his words and look away, but Steve shakes his head and urges you to face him again with a whisper of your name. “You don’t have to prove your worth to anyone because your mother left. All of us see it, and we’re so lucky to have you here.”

Steve’s thumb catches more tears as your lips begins to tremble again. “I’m so fucking lucky that you trust me, and I understand why you didn’t at first, okay? I understand you.”

Your hands on his waist tighten again as your forehead drops to his right shoulder. “I didn’t used to be like this… I’m sorry that this is the me that you met.”

Steve shakes his head, sure that you feel it when he does, and pulls you flush to his chest again. Is this how you’ve felt since last summer? He wonders. Like this version of yourself is wrong or unlikable.

Sure, you’re not a smiley person, but that makes your rare smiles even more special –and they drive Steve crazy. You see the glass half-empty most times to protect yourself if things do indeed go to shit, but you also recognize genuine goodness. You don’t hesitate to encourage or celebrate everyone else’s happiness; he’s seen it firsthand, with the kids, with Robin and even himself. Steve doesn’t think he could ever get tired of your dark humour or that pretty pout that settles on your lips when you get annoyed, not to mention that making you laugh is his favorite thing in the world. Steve understands your anxiety and panic at your college decision, you don’t want another change; you don’t want to choose something you don’t like and face another disappointment again. Most of all, Steve finally understands your hesitance and the root of your gruff exterior, and he wouldn’t change a thing about it. He’s stupid in love with you; your grumpy and soft looks; your frowns and your smiles; your heart; and that tender way you’re holding onto him right now.

Steve places a kiss to the side of your head to keep himself from saying all of this out loud –it’s not the right time, not yet. Instead, he whispers above your ear, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about you.”

For a moment, stillness surrounds the two of you in the kitchen and there’s no other sound but your quiet sniffles against Steve’s shirt again. Steve doesn’t mind, he’s happy to hold you for as long as you need, which ends up being five more minutes. You take a step back and look at him with those pretty eyes of yours; they’re teary and red-rimmed but lovely all the same.

“Thank you, Steve.” You whisper, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips until your gaze drops to his shirt and embarrassment shines in your eyes. “Sorry I cried all over you.”

“I don’t mind.” Steve shrugs and looks at you softly, hands still on your waist. “I think I know what we should do.”

You look at him curiously. “About what?”

“To cheer you up.”

The head shake you give him is immediate, just as he imagined. “I don’t–”

“You deserve a happy life.” Steve states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world and sends a wink your way hoping to amuse you. “And I think, ice cream is a good way to start. I should know, I worked at an ice cream shop remember.”

He leaves your side and walks over to the freezer to grab the ice cream he saw earlier that night when he got up mid-movie to get more ice. It’s cookie dough ice cream, which he knows to be your favourite –he’s known since that first night he met you. Knowing he’s completely serious now, your eyes stare into his eyes for a moment before you turn and grab two spoons from a kitchen drawer.

“I guess we’re having ice cream then. Considering you’re an expert.” You say with an eye roll Steve can only describe as fond when you approach him again. A moment later, you sit on the counter and Steve follows suit, sitting next to you. “Spoon?”

“Thank you.” Steve says and takes it from you after opening the ice cream tub. He offers the tub to you first, letting you scoop some ice cream with your spoon which you pop in your mouth. Your arms brush from how close you’re sitting, and Steve has to lean forward to look at you, but he doesn’t mind. He’s happy with the proximity.

A sigh escapes you and you close your eyes as you savour the ice cream. Steve feels heat creep up the back of his neck at the sound, but he shakes the feeling off; you’re only eating ice cream, to make you feel better. “You were right Harrington, this is like medicine.”

“Told you, I’m an expert.” Steve chuckles and eats his own spoonful, the creamy ice cream melting in his tongue before he laughs as you search for the cookie dough in the tub. “This is going to be just plain vanilla ice cream if you keep doing that.”

“Finders keepers.” You tell him with a shrug as you bring the cookie dough to your mouth. “It’s arguably the best part of this ice cream.”

“You’re supposed to eat the ice cream with it!” Steve argues, holding the tub away from your reach. “I want cookie dough too you know.”

You roll your eyes at him, but there’s a soft look on your face as you look at him and nod. The two of you go back to eating ice cream in silence until Steve speaks up again. There are so many things he wants to know about you still –he thinks he’ll always want to know more. “What’s something you miss from living in Indianapolis?”

You pause mid-scoop and concentrate for a few moments going over his question. A moment later a tiny smile makes its way to your lips. “There used to be a wonderful campsite my dad used to take my brother and I; we’d camp for three days and do all sort of activities.”

Steve smiles. “Like what?”

“Dad and Chris love fishing, so we’d do that. There was also hiking, swimming, s’mores. Oh! We’d all tell each other stories sitting next to the fire. They were all completely made up of course, and I think the more ridiculous they were, the more fun we had.”

Your eyes wander around the kitchen, like you’re back in the forest with your family and not next to Steve anymore. Light dances in your eyes and Steve can almost picture the three of you laughing around the fire as the catch of the day roasts on a grill nearby. He knows better than to ask about your mother, he’s got a pretty good idea what the answer would be. Besides, you’ve cried enough already, so much that Steve’s own heart feels bruised from seeing you in pain.

“You haven’t camped here in Hawkins?” Steve asks after a minute, voice quiet to avoid disturbing your memory.

You shake your head and sigh, the mirage in front of you disappearing as your eyes drift back to Steve’s. “Dad’s not the same person he was during those camping trips… he hasn’t scouted a good place for us to go. I don’t think he even wants to go camping anymore.”

Steve puts the ice cream tub on the counter and takes your hand instead. “Maybe we could go camping someday, invite everyone, have fun…”

Your head moves to rest on his shoulder, the dizzying smell of your shampoo and perfume reaching Steve’s nose at the proximity. He leans his cheek on top of your head and feels the faint nod you give him. “Maybe.”

A comfortable silence settles between the two of you, your hand still in Steve’s grasp. Until he gives it a squeeze that makes you jump, as if you forgot you were holding hands in the first place. Steve chuckles. “What?”

Your head leaves his shoulder in an instant and for a second Steve is sure you’re going to hide behind your walls again, like you did so many months ago. His fear though, is replaced with concern when you hop off the counter and check the time with a frown.

“Babe come on, what’s going on?” He hops off the counter and stands in front of you. His eyes search yours until finally your gaze meets his, your embarrassment clear in them.

“I just hate being home alone at night. It makes me anxious.” Your hands fidget in front of you, as if you’re waiting for Steve to laugh at you. Oh, so that’s why you were nervous earlier. “I can’t sleep. At all.”

He looks down at his watch and sees that it’s midnight already. “I don’t mind staying over.” Bringing his eyes back to yours, he speaks up again. “Would that make you feel better?”

You close your eyes and let out a shaky exhale before you nod. “A lot better.” When your eyes open again, they’re full of gratefulness and surprise, as if Steve wouldn’t do anything for you.

A smile grows on Steve’s face, and he takes your hand before you can thank him, threading your fingers together as he speaks. “Come on, you’re probably tired.”

Steve, however, is everything but tired. His heart is racing at the thought of spending the night here with you. You’ve never spent so much time together in a day, he’s never seen your bedroom, and there’s something about this impromptu sleepover that makes heat creep up the back of his neck. No. He’s here to give you emotional support; you were so anxious earlier and there’s nothing he wants more than to see you happy and comfortable. If staying here, despite it sending his feelings into a frenzy, is the key for you to rest then so be it. He can stay for one night.

You don’t let go of his hand as you lead him upstairs, passing various pictures of you and your family that hang from the wall opposite the handrail. There are three bedrooms upstairs and yours is the last one down the hall, its view towards the backyard. You open the door a moment later and let go of his hand as you step inside. Now that he’s here, Steve remembers neither of you made sure the doors were locked downstairs. He should do that.

“I’m going to take a shower.” You tell him as you walk towards your dresser.

Steve nods and swallows hard, using the excuse of your safety to be downstairs while that happens. “We forgot to lock everything downstairs. I’ll go do that.”

“Oh, right.” You press your palm to your forehead; Steve can see you reprimand yourself. “Thank you, Steve.”

“No problem.” Steve is quick to shake his head as he takes a step back from the room. “I’ll be right back.”

Once Steve is back downstairs, he makes sure to check the windows and lock the front door. He fiddles with the light switches for a while before he finds the right ones and turns the lights off. The whole process takes him less than five minutes, and the shower is still running when he’s back in your room. With a deep breath he finally looks around, gazing through a metaphorical window into your world, which he surprisingly already knew a lot of. The pastel walls make him smile, and he walks along the furthermost wall where various posters have been hung –all bands and singers Robin and you have played in his car. There’s a small vanity by the closet next to the bathroom, full of tiny bottles and a couple of lip-gloss tubes. Steve also spots a purple bottle of perfume on top, and a grin makes its way to his face –that’s the one that drives him crazy, he’s sure of it. He’s about to move closer and look at the pictures you’ve pasted in the vanity’s mirror, but he’s startled to a stop when you speak.

“I left a shirt for you to sleep in, if you want it.” You say and Steve turns around.

His heart summersaults when he sees you, fresh dewy face, hair out of your face, an oversized grey t-shirt with a pink Queen logo on the front and pink cotton sleeping pants. The overhead light of the bathroom makes a small rectangle in the carpeted floor, and some steam from your shower still circles around behind you. It takes all Steve’s self-control to stay where he is and not walk up to you and pull you into his arms; no tears between you this time, just Steve holding you the way he wishes he could all the time. He looks at the t-shirt you left on your bed to distract himself and laughs when he notices the colour.

“How’d you guess I love pink?” Steve asks you, glancing your way as he walks towards the bed and holds up the t-shirt. It’s very oversized like yours, and it has a black and fuchsia print of Blondie’s lead singer on it.

“Dunno, just thought it would suit you.” you chuckle, and Steve sees you hold back a smile as you point towards the bathroom. “There’s a spare toothbrush on the sink.”

Steve nods and hurries to the bathroom, lest you notice him blushing. He finds the toothbrush instantly and proceeds to brush his teeth, and though he doesn’t know why, Steve feels extremely happy to know both of you use the same toothpaste. He glances around and looks at all the details that are entirely yours around the room. There are some facial creams on a shelf next to the mirror, a vanilla scented hand soap on the sink, and a look towards the shower shows him two purple and pink shampoo and conditioner bottles –the ones that make your hair smell like flowers. Steve rinses his mouth, then takes off his sweater and jeans before he puts on the pink t-shirt you gave him and, like a freak, smells it to find that somehow your scent still lingers in the soft cotton.

If he was panicking before, he’s panicking even more now. He’s obsessed with you, he realizes, stupidly head over the heels and all of this is making it worse; lying on a bed next to you will make it so much worse. He’s got to pull himself together. He’s doing this because of fear of being home alone, that’s all. He can sleep alongside you for a night without making a fool of himself –or worse, accidentally confess his feelings. So, pushing all bed related thoughts to the back of his mind, he walks out of the bathroom to find you already under your duvet in bed.

Not letting himself think too much about it, Steve turns off the lamp on your nightstand and slips under the duvet too. He keeps his body still, tense more accurately, as he lies next to you. That is until you turn to face him, and he immediately does too, like a magnet naturally attracted to you.

“Do you ever fear that you’ll wake up one day and everyone you know will be gone?” you whisper in the dark; your voice is almost silent, but Steve hears you loud and clear with how close he is to you. The minty smell of your toothpaste mingles with his own breath. Is this how things are going to be between you now, deep conversations and secrets you only trust to each other? He really hopes so.

Steve shakes his head, trying to make out your face in the dark as his heart constricts in his chest. “No,” he says just as quietly, “But sometimes I’m afraid that something terrible will happen and I won’t be able to help.”

Steve closes his eyes and exhales through his nose as he voices one of his fears for the first time. He’s sure that everything that happened in the Upside Down that they managed to fix was thanks to the brains in his friend group. Steve is all physical strength, which has proved useful in the past, but against monsters or whatever the hell could come next, he’s not sure it will be enough. The thought of being useless like that and everyone suffering because of it terrifies him. Even more now that you’re a part of said friend group. He’s sure of one thing though, he’d protect you and all his friends no matter what.

Your hand slowly moves to his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. “Knowing you, Steve, I’m a thousand percent sure you’d find a way to help. Your stubbornness can be a good thing.”

A breathy chuckle leaves him as your words punch the air out of him. He’s silent for a moment, scrambling for something reassuring to say back. Words aren’t his forte, not unless he’s flirting. He’d rather pull you close to him and comfort you that way, the way he did in the kitchen. “You know… if we were to disappear for whatever reason, you can bet I’d fight my way to you. You won’t be alone.”

Steve sees you nod your head in the dark, his only sign that you haven’t fallen asleep yet. Your hand goes back to your side, in front of his before you stifle a yawn. Assuming your eyes are tired from all their crying, Steve moves his hand to cup your cheek gently.

“Go to sleep, you need to rest.” He whispers; he wants to give you more comfort, pull you close and rub your back until you fall asleep. He doesn’t because he can’t, that would make things weird.

“Thank you for staying with me.” You whisper back.

Remaining silent to avoid saying something that’d give away just how deep his feelings for you run, or the fact that the opportunity to be lying here next to you is something he should be thankful for, he only rubs his thumb softly on your cheek once more before letting go. With another yawn you turn around, your back facing Steve as you whisper goodnight.

Steve doesn’t know when he falls asleep, but he knows he sleeps more peacefully than he has in a while. Not that he doesn’t sleep well often, but most days his dreamless sleep is a result of the exhaustion of the day and not peacefulness. Last night though, there were no nightmares, no tossing and turning, just a distant dream of a campfire in the woods, fireflies, and a silhouette standing peacefully by the water. At some point, early in the morning, he finds himself waking to the light sneaking into the room from a small gap in the tulle curtains. His eyes that were too sleepy to open, blink awake at the awareness that you’re in his arms. Lovely floral scent and cozy softness pressed to him.

It seems that during the night, you’d shifted to your side and burrowed yourself on his chest, an arm around his waist and leg thrown over his hip. His left arm is around you, settled between your shoulder blades, holding you to him. He lifts it and checks his watch, barely 6am but Steve knows he should go. The last thing he wants is your father getting back home and finding him in your bed. Steve doesn’t know him and that’s not the first impression he’s looking for. Besides, there’s a pressing problem in his briefs, that has appeared from being tangled up with you, that he needs to hide in his jeans before you notice. Shifting his hips way from you he looks down at your sleeping face, brushing hair away from your face before he whispers your name.

“Hmm,” You frown, eyes still closed. “What?”

“You’re a cuddler,” Steve says as he smiles; it’s something that should surprise him, but it doesn’t. Not at all.

“I’m not.” You mumble and, contradicting yourself, press closer to him.

“Yes, you are.” He chuckles, shifting his hips backwards again. “I have to go.”

You frown but move away from him, turning and facing away. “Why?”

Steve slips from bed and puts his jeans back on, adjust himself, before pulling his sweater over his head and on top of the pink t-shirt. Call him a lovestruck fool, but he’s not giving it back. “I don’t know when your dad’s gonna be back, I don’t want him to find a boy he doesn’t know in your bed.”

You chuckle, then yawn as you shift and sit up in bed. Steve stares at you longer than he should. His eyes take in your messy hair and your still puffy eyes from all your crying the night before. He smiles widely.

“I have drool on my face, don’t I?” You sigh, moving the back of your hand to the corner of your mouth.

Steve laughs and shakes his head. “No, you don’t; you look pretty that’s all.”

His words reward him with an eyeroll and a headshake before you stand up. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

You remain silent as the two of you walk side by side all the way down to the front door. Steve takes his car keys, and you move to open the door, but pause after a moment. Steve’s eyes look into yours as he wonders if there’s something wrong but when your eyes shift up to him, a small smile settles on your lips. Next thing Steve knows, your arms go around him in a hug.

He can’t help but sigh at the feeling and leaning his cheek on top of your head. “You okay?”

You nod and look up at him. “Thank you, Steve.” You say, stepping on the tip of your toes and pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t thank me.” Steve smiles, letting his arms fall to his sides as his heart skips several beats. “Wanna get a coffee later?”

Is he bribing you with caffeine just to see you again? Of course, he is. Steve is charming, and he has a lot of work to do if he wants to make a move soon.

“Only if I get to pay.” You raise an eyebrow but smile nonetheless, that rare big smile he loves.

Steve huffs and opens the door. “Sure, babe.” He says though he knows you don’t believe him.

He walks to his car when you nod –heart pounding– and smiles as he drives away. Your figure on the rear-view mirror watches him leave until he turns at the end of the driveway. Steve leans his elbow on the door, his hand settling over his mouth as he thinks about the events of last night and this morning. Hope fills his chest, and Steve feels like this is the beginning of something really good for both of you.

---

There’s a small shift in your dynamic after that late night conversation in your kitchen. It’s like almost as if it brought you both closer: like a barrier breaking between you and Steve. Steve knows he should take it slow, that he should better conceal his feelings to avoid scaring you off. But another part of Steve wants to throw caution to the wind because there’s been a change in you too. I trust you, Steve, you’d said, and it shows. In the way you sit closer to him, how you give away more pieces of your past and yourself when you talk. There’s less apprehension and more curiosity from both of you and Steve can’t help but fall and fall and fall. He only hopes it doesn’t end up with him crashing down painfully.

The two of you make a new habit of visiting a small the café on the weekends; you sitting sideways on the couch and Steve talking nonsense to make you laugh. It starts the day after the sleepover, and the two of you use it as time to catch up on the events of the week. It delights him; every Saturday, he wants nothing more than to lean close and kiss your smile, the one he never thought he’d be at the receiving end of. You have bad days too, days in which Steve knows you’ve been crying, days where all you want to do is sit in silence with him. Steve doesn’t mind, at all, in fact he loves all your mood equally and now that he knows the backstory of what you went through, he offers you the quiet reassurance of his presence next to you, so you know you’re not alone.

Weeks pass like this, until winter leaves and spring comes. Overnight, the breeze has no bite to it anymore, the flowers bloom again and you begin to wear the prettiest floral dresses that give Steve a whole new reason to be obsessed with you.

“You two are adorable; when are you going to tell her, dingus?”

Steve and Robin had stopped by the Deli to get something to eat during their lunch break while you were on your lunch break too. The three of you had spent the 30 minutes talking between bites of your own sandwiches until the moment Steve had to drive away and you had to go back to your shift. He hears Robins words but his eyes follow your retreating figure until you’re out of sight –his mind is begging him to find you and steal a kiss just so he doesn’t go crazy. Robin snaps her fingers in front of his face and laughs when Steve startles. He rolls his eyes and gets in the car while Robin asks him the same question again.

Steve rolls his eyes again, “Tell her what?”

“That you’re obsessed with her dummy!” Robin hits his arm, Steve sends her an annoyed look, “You love her come on, you have to tell her.”

“No, I can’t.” He’s been thinking about it more often now. Keeping it to himself has been almost impossible lately and he knows he should do it before he breaks.

“Yes, you can, and you have to.” Robin asserts, setting her converse on the dashboard. “She clearly feels the same way.”

“She doesn’t.” Steve’s answer is instant as he focuses on the road and getting back to FV, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so hard they turn white. It’s a half-lie, and they both know it.

“She does and you know it.” Out of the corner of his eye he sees Robin shake her head. “The way she looks at you Steve… it’s unbearable to watch, coming from her.”

Steve knows it, he’s seen that change. He’s felt the pitter patter of his heart, the way his hands shake when you look at him like that, like he’s all you want. But Steve is a coward in denial, he doesn’t want to assume wrong and send you running away from him. But if Robin’s seen it… “You really think so?” He says as he parks his car and Robin nods enthusiastically.

“Duh!”

He nods to himself, “Okay... I can tell her tonight. We are hanging out at my place anyway.”

“I’ll make myself scarce, just say the word and I’ll disappear.” When Steve nods Robin cheers, opening the passenger door and stepping outside. “Don’t mess it up, Steve.”

“I’ll try.” Steve grips the steering wheel, trying to calm himself down.

Steve doesn’t get a chance to though, for that afternoon with greying clouds in the sky you show up at Family Video as soon as your shift at the Deli ends. Steve is about to go to the back and finish some inventory he has procrastinated all week when he sees you pacing in front of his car, arms crossed over your chest. His heart soars, then fills with dread –somethings wrong. He knows it right away which is why he rounds the counter and rushes outside in a heartbeat.

“Babe, what’re you doing here?” Steve says as soon as he opens the door. “It’s gonna rain come on, let’s go inside.”

But you shake your head and look at him with a look he can’t name. It’s a sad look, and it makes Steve panic; he panics even more when he sees your eyes are teary and red-rimmed. “Did something happen? At work or at home?”

“I love you.” You say, at the same time thunder cracks in the distance. Your trembling lips press together when Steve’s move to smile, and your headshake makes Steve pause. “But I don’t think we should see each other again.”

“What?” Steve’s question is a whisper, almost lost to another booming thunder. “Why would you say that? Did I do something?”

“No, Steve.” You sigh, voice shaky, looking everywhere but his eyes. Steve knows this tell though; you don’t want to be caught in a lie. “We just don’t fit–”

“No.” He says simply, shaking his head as he interrupts you. This is that night in the Wheeler’s driveway all over again, you trying to shut everyone out. His hands still shake slightly though, at your confession, your words afterwards, at the idea of losing you.

“Steve it won’t work.” You tell him, it cracks halfway with feeling, and you swallow hard before repeating yourself. “It would never work.”

“Yes it will, it’s us.” Steve tells you, shaking his head. He remembers how far you’ve come, how close the two of you have gotten. He should’ve have known it would scare you, after what happened with your family. “Of course it will! It has worked for months.”

“It won’t! It won’t work regardless of our feelings. Because I’m me! And you’re you –you’ll get sick of me and then leave. And it’ll hurt more than anything I’ve ever experienced.” You tell him, shaking your head and looking at him with reddening eyes. Both your arms are crossed over your chest, as if you’re physically protecting your heart from feeling what if feels for him. I love you, you said. Around you, the sky begins to open, bathing both of you with big droplets of water. “I told you before, you scare me because I’ve never felt this way before.”

Steve tries to take a step closer, but you take a step back; it makes him groan in frustration. “You can’t make that decision for me! How can you think I’d just leave you?”

“Because the person who I thought never would, LEFT.” You yell, eyes brimming with tears that roll down your cheeks. They mix with the raindrops that fall on both of you and Steve’s heart aches.

“Then she didn’t love you enough, not the way you deserve.” Steve places his hands on his hips, looking at the wet concrete underneath his shoes. His eyebrows meet in the middle as he swallows hard. He can’t put into words how angry it makes him that someone hurt you so much, that you’re scared of being happy again. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do.” You tell him, hands falling to your sides. Your voice is so quiet that the rain falling around you almost drowns it out. “You know I do.”

“Then let me love you!” You’re stunned into silence by Steve’s words, confessed loudly in an outburst as he brings his hands to his hair. He meets your eyes and feels his own tear up; he really doesn’t want to lose you. “Let me prove to you that I love you like crazy, baby. Because I do, you have no idea how much.”

Your eyes squeeze shut and Steve knows you can see all of his feelings reflected on his face. “I don’t want to be heartbroken again Steve! Can’t you see you’re sunshine, and I–”

“Don’t say that.” He whispers and steps closer to you, holding both of your hands. The way you cling to them sparks a fire in his heart, keeps his hope alive. “I told you I wouldn’t change a thing about you, that I’d fight my way to you.”

You try to let go of him, but Steve only pulls you closer even as you look away from him, lip trembling. “You know my issues, especially after what happened last year.”

“I do know them, and I’m telling you now that I don’t plan on ever letting you go. This isn’t just a fling, and you know it.” His hands go to your face, holding it gently and looking into your eyes. Those beautiful eyes he’s seen tear up, the ones that crinkle in the corners when you laugh and turn steely when you’re mad. He wants to look at them forever.

You close them, bracing yourself, as the sky continues to fall all around you. Big drops of water hitting your skin and soaking your clothes every second that passes. “Even if I have bad days, or get exasperated with you, or I’m a grump?”

Steve smiles and shakes his head. If only you knew. “I love it when you’re a grump, I want to kiss your pout so badly every time.”

“I don’t pout,” You roll your eyes, but Steve can see you’re trying to hide your fear. He’s learned every little detail about you to memory, this is you trying to build a wall. Well then, Steve knows how to break them down.

“I promise,” Steve says, like he did that November night you fought outside in the cold. His nose brushes against yours as tenderly as he can, rainwater sliding down between your faces –his breath catches on his throat. “I love everything about you, everything baby, trust me. It’s you and me, that won’t change.”

You nod, trust shining in your eyes as a teary smile makes its way to your face when you let it free. It knocks the air out of Steve’s lungs. “Stevie, I love you.”

He leans his forehead against yours, happy beyond words and because he’s not good with them he says, “I really want to kiss you.”

“Then kiss me,” You urge him.

Steve leans down, holding your face in his hands and lingering close as he braces himself for this; this moment he’s wished for so many times. He smiles, and thinks finally, before leaning in and kissing you. A noise dies in the back of his throat, his chest feels full of helium and his mind reels at the everything he’s feeling. It’s even better than he dreamed it would be. Your lips soft against his, your hands in his hair, the sigh that escapes you when one of his arms wraps around your waist and presses you flush against him. His skin is buzzing, his fingertips are tingling. So he kisses you until you’re both dizzy, brushing his tongue against yours, matching your intensity head-on. Everything is intoxicating, the sweet scent of your perfume, the softness under his hands, the way your face feels like it’s on fire as his hand remains cupping your cheek. Steve is so in love he could faint, so he breathes you in as he kisses your cheek, your jaw, your neck and just below your ear until the two of you pull back. Soaked in rain, without a care in the world.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” You ask him softly, stepping impossibly closer to him.

Steve smiles proudly, heart soaring. “Yes it does, I’m yours.”

“I want to kiss you again.” You confess after a minute, blinking away that raindrops that have gathered in your eyelashes and smiling at him. “But I’m cold.”

Steve laughs when you frown and pulls you closer to him. “Yeah, we should probably get out of the rain.”

----

thank you for reading! reblogs are really appreciated and so is any feedback 💖

(I also wrote this tiny insight to grumpy reader’s feelings here )

#steve harrington fic #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington x you #steve x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington angst

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formylovetodaryldixon · 2 months ago

Text

"Karma butterfly." Daryl Dixon Imagine.

(Not my gif)

The actions we take produce their corresponding results, good or bad. And that's what happens with Spencer when he decides to play the bad guy against you and Daryl after you two decide to move in together in a house like the married couple you were before the apocalypse.

A/N: This is like a new version of "In your eyes". Spoiler alert: Daryl being a softie for you, and a complete badass when someone dares to threaten you. You know, the usual hehe. Hope you like it!

The sunset light crosses the curtains of the white–walled room, bathing the place with orange tones while you continue lying on the bed with a book in your hands, head on the pillow. Lying on his left side, one arm under his head, the sound of your voice fills Daryl’s ears while his blue eyes follow the smooth movement of your lips with every word you say, filling the void in his world, as you have been doing since you came into his life. All the peace exists in your eyes, sharing a little bit of that with him. And even though he wasn’t interested in books, Daryl always enjoyed watching you read, all the time, all his life since the moment he met you.

“Guys?” Carol’s soft voice cuts you off as she knocks on the door softly, making you sit on the bed to greet her.

“Come in.”

Carol pushes the door open, smiling sweetly at you two.

“I will go back to work now.” She says, her smile so innocent but sincere. “You have the house just for you… but don’t get too playful.”

Carol closes the door before you can understand the joke, but when you finally do, you chuckle even though Daryl doesn’t find it so funny. You lay down again, turning your head to look at him, to his serious expression, so you leaned forward and towards him to kiss him softly before pulling away, your body turning slightly by instinct. As usual, his eyes travel from your eyes to your lips before he leans himself towards you, his rough hand caressing your waist, with him wanting you to share the sweetness of your lips. The world disappears every time he closes his eyes to kiss you, just like now, and the darkness behind his eyelids isn’t bad, but pleasant.

However, his beard stops tickling your skin when he pulls away.

“Keep readin’.” He whispers, moving his hand away from you.

“We have the house for ourselves and you want me to read? What a waste of our time.” You say with false annoyance before continue.

While you do it, Daryl looks at the necklace that disappears under your black t–shirt, the one that holds and hides the wedding ring he gave you before the apocalypse began, because your marriage is still the secret you two keep from the neighbors who don’t trust in you all yet. However, your marriage is the contrast of Maggie’s and Glenn’s, because they already live in the house next door. But Daryl thinks about those old days when you two lived alone, when you used to come back from work first to that old apartment you two shared. It wasn’t the best life he could offer you, but your love was honest as always, your eyes were full of life, as if that life was the best one you could have had. And the way you used to welcome him, a simple kiss that was so sweet just because he had nothing but you.

Daryl wishes he has that back with you.

“Ya miss it?” He asks suddenly, making you look at him. “Ya miss the life we had? When it was jus’ the two of us.”

The best moments are shown before your eyes, like the Sundays when neither of you had to work, free hours that you spent reading at him.

“Yeah. I think I do. Not the place but the memories we made there. We didn’t have much but I felt I had it all. However, you are still here with me; maybe that’s why that feeling has not changed.”

You both didn’t move out alone when Deanna gave you the opportunity to, just because you two were being cautious, always keeping your marriage as a secret because in that world, bad people used love to destroy their enemies. But although nothing would be like before, starting your own home like you did once sounds good again.

“Wanna try it?”

“Moving in together again?”

“Unless ya want to get a house for yerself.” He scoffs, making you roll your eyes.

“I wouldn’t be surprised at all if you came into my house in the middle of the night just to get in bed with me.”

“Hell, yeah. I know ya get cold at nights.” Daryl chuckles, the corners of his mouth curving upward.

You roll your eyes.

“I do not. That’s your excuse to stick your body to mine all night.” You try to hide a smile. “Not to mention you like to be the little spoon sometimes.”

Daryl scoffs, again.

“Woman, ya want to move in with me or not?”

You chuckle, moving in bed until you are lying on your side as well, your free hand caressing his face, yours so close to him that Daryl just has to lean in a little bit to kiss you again.

“But ask me nicely.” You tease him. “You know I love when you got soft on me.”

His arm holds you against him, hand disappearing under your t–shirt to caress your soft skin, his calloused fingers sending a tingle throughout your body as his ocean–colored eyes hold your gaze.

“Would ya move in with me, peach? Please?” He asks softly, smiling at you.

Suddenly, you feel a little bit overwhelmed, so you nod before kissing him. Eyes closed, Daryl keeps smiling softly against the kiss as he pulls out your necklace, until the golden ring appears again.

“So… how’s your married life going?”

Spencer leaves the cake on the kitchen granite table, the same one his mom sent for you and Daryl. His charismatic smile is as bright as the day itself, and although you smile in an act of kindness towards him, it is strange to you that there were still personalities as open as Spencer’s. He seems confident all the time, as if he didn’t fear anything, but even if it seemed to be nothing to fear in Alexandria, the harsh life outside the gates made you step on the ground carefully, even under the apparent security inside those walls.

“Everything is going well. Thank you.”

But it was pretty innocent of you to let in that wolf just because he belonged to a family of sheep.

“I must say I was a little surprise when I heard the news.” He chuckles sadly, for a second making you believe in his words. “I thought there was something going on between us.”

From the other side of the table, you frown, totally shocked for his sad but direct confession.

“I’m sure I’ve never flirted with you, Spencer, but I apologize if you thought I did.”

You are sure you never did, but being polite seems better than to make a scandal of an apparently misunderstanding.

“It hurt my feelings.” He says, walking towards you. Your silence was what attracted his attention from the beginning, as well as the strength in your eyes. Now, his body hits yours against the kitchen countertop, just as your hand touches the empty spot on your waist where your gun used to be. Spencer chuckles towards your innocence because you all had to surrender your weapons, his body making contact with yours in places you don’t want to feel him. “I’m not happy about what you did to me, making me look like an idiot, that’s why you have to leave him. Please do it while I ask you nicely, okay?”

Although your heart is a wild animal pounding in your chest, like a lion trying to look for his own freedom inside a cage, you hold his gaze as calm as you can be. But the danger that should be outside is inside of Alexandria, breathing against you, shining in the eyes of a pretty boy.

“I’m sorry, Spencer, but I won’t.” You say calmly. “And out of respect for your mother I will ask you to leave before my husband comes back, because if Daryl finds you here so close to me like this, threatening his wife, you will walk out of this house crying for help, or dragging yourself out, depending on his mood. And I think you've known Daryl well enough to know that he has a fiery and short temper.”

Spencer looks at you through his angry eyes, but his curiosity about the man whose presence made others intimidate affects him too, because he is afraid to face the real danger that Daryl can be. But, even after your warning, his hand snakes through your body, stopping in your hair as he takes it in a tight grip.

“I warn you, princess: leave him before something bad happens to him. Who knows what can happen during a run? I don’t want you to end up being a widow. You are too young and hot for that.”

The release of your hair doesn’t make you breathe calmly, but when Spencer finally walks out of the house, leaving a trail of sulfur from the hell from which he came out, that first breath of air you take releases the pressure in your chest. But disgusted by the feeling his body against yours left, you throw the cake in the trash before heading upstairs to take a shower.

It takes you a day to think deeply about what you are going do to, but you realize you can’t protect Daryl without telling someone about what happened.

It's like a crossroads, because you wanted to tell your husband, but you knew him too well to know that his response to the danger Spencer put you through, without even thinking for a second about the threat to his own life, would be to go straight to leave Spencer so badly injured that his mother wouldn't hesitate for a single second to throw you out of the community.

“I don’t like this, (Y/N).” Glenn whispers and looks at you with a worried expression, finally stopping after pacing back and forth on your front garden as you told the truth to only him. “I think you should tell Daryl. Spencer threatened to hurt him, and even though we don't know well that pretty boy, I don't want to think that he would be able to keep his word.”

Glenn had been your friend ever since you met him at the camp outside the city shortly after it was bombed. Plus, he was the only friend out there with Daryl during the search for supplies, the only one who could keep an eye on Spencer if he ever decided to hurt Daryl by making it look like an accident.

“He is a pretty boy, isn’t he?” You chuckle sarcastically, earning a smile from your best friend. “I know, Glenn, and I’m really sorry for asking you to keep this as a secret. But you know Daryl, and literally no one would stop him from killing Spencer if he finds out.”

“Yeah, and I know Daryl well enough to know he would be angrier at Spencer for what he did to you than for threatening to hurt him.” Glenn chuckles too, rubbing a hand over his face to try to erase his worried expression. “Fine, I’ll keep an eye on Spencer. But, can I tell my wife about this? You know I am a terrible liar, and Maggie can read my face like you read your books.”

You sigh, not wanting to involve more people, but you don’t want Glenn to keep secrets to his wife either. Before you talk again, you look back at your house: Daryl is about to leave at any moment, and with each passing second, you feel your breathing becoming more irregular.

“Okay.” You look back at your friend. “But please, don’t tell anything about this to Daryl.”

Glenn can see clearly your sad expression.

“I won’t, don’t worry…” He comes closer, holding you in a hug before starting to walk towards the gate to wait for the new group. “I will see you in a while. Okay? Everything is going to be fine.”

You nod.

“Thank you. And please, take care of yourself.”

He smiles before turning around. And after a few minutes, Glenn is far away when the front door of your home opens again. Daryl walks out, the strap of his backpack in one of his broad shoulders, his crossbow in one hand as he comes closer to where you are.

“Ya okay, peach?” He asks, his voice low and hoarse as always.

You lick your lip, trying to smile at him.

“Yeah. I’m okay. But if I'm honest, I worry every time you go away without me. Who's going to protect your ass if I'm not there?”

Daryl chuckles. sliding his free arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Hell, yeah, nobody protects me better than ya.”

You narrow your eyes at him.

“Are you making fun of me, Dixon?”

“Never. I know ya’ll kick ma ass if I do.” Daryl kisses your forehead before pulling away. “Don’ worry ‘bout me, sweetheart, not even the devil will stop me from comin’ back to ya.”

You chuckle softly.

“I know. You're so stubborn that sometimes I think I married a mule.” But to your surprise, thinking that your words would offend him, Daryl smiles, his eyes closing slightly under the burning sun. “What? I thought you wouldn't like the comparison.”

He shrugs his shoulders.

“Guess I like it when ya say we’re married. S’ nice to know I’m the lucky bastard who sleeps next to ya at the end of the night.”

You gulp, your heart remembering Spencer's words, but you try to smile again.

“Don't think so little of yourself, Dixon, because according to Maggie, there are a couple of female neighbors who enjoy the view of you every time you leave the house wearing your sleeveless shirt. Those bitches…” You joke, cursing under your breath, earning a scoff from him.

“I don’ care ‘bout those women…” Daryl comes closer to you, so dangerously it makes you giggle. His forehead rests against you for a few seconds, and even though you know he likes his privacy, you're surprised when his free hand caresses your face, his fingers in your hair as he leans in kiss you. “Love ya, Mrs. Dixon.”

His whisper is so soft, that for a second, it makes you forget about the danger.

“I love you too.” It’s your turn to pull apart. “Be careful, okay?”

“Always.” He says, finally walking away. “I'll bring some squirrels jus’ for ya.”

You chuckle making a face, because before you met him, you had never even thought about eating squirrels. However, the happy moment doesn’t last for long when Daryl finally reaches the truck near to the gate.

“The fuck ya jus’ said?”

On the other side of the open trunk, Glenn feels the heat of his body leaving him. He closes his open mouth, but now, he’s fully exposed to Daryl’s eyes, who stops at his side to confront him. As Glenn said the words: (Y/N), Spencer and threaten in the same sentence just to warn Maggie too, Daryl’s anger rises like boiling lava in a volcano.

“Please, calm down, Daryl.” Glenn says, but not believing for one second that he actually would. “I can explain it. Don’t make a fuss about this, please.”

“A fuss?” Daryl grunts under his breath, those words souring his mouth. “A moron threatened ma wife and ya don’ want me to make a damn fuss?”

But as the sweet karma that is about to punch Spencer right in the face just as Daryl’s fist would do, Spencer walks down the street toward the car, smiling at Rick like the good boy he pretended to be. However, Daryl’s anger covers his eyes and paints the world red as he walks towards him just to punch Spencer before Glenn or Rick can try to stop him, hitting him so hard that Daryl makes him fall. Daryl falls on him too, with all the weight of his body, punching the thick skin of the wolf. His strong arms push away who tries to pull him back, his ears covering with the word threat, his fists turning red as blood leaves Spencer’s face.

“Daryl, stop!” Finally, Rick pulls him hardly, giving Spencer some time to breathe again. “You’re gonna kill him!”

“That’s the fuckin’ plan!” Daryl shouts back, trying to avoid Rick’s body as he looks straight at Spencer. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ya, coward! Nobody messes with ma wife!”

“Hey! Hey. Listen to me.” Rick blocks his way, looking at him, holding his gaze seriously. “Go home. I will fix this. Talk to (Y/N), Daryl. If something happened, stay with her. Okay?”

You lay down on the bed after walking around the house, not wanting to go to work today, so you hold a book in your hands just to try to silent the fears in your head, loud voices urging you to tell the truth before something bad happens. Again, it’s like being trapped in a dark maze, too scared to even think about taking a step. You don’t want to think about the consequences of being silent, but the only result you could think of was Deanna forcing you to leave.

And it is an overwhelming idea, and even though you weren't a very sentimental person anymore, it is difficult to keep the tears behind your eyes.

But the moment you hear Daryl’s boots on the stairs, you brush the tears away before sitting up the second he walks in.

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

Daryl sits on the edge of the bed, and his eyes look at you with concern through his calm expression, but his inside is a complete mess because of the fear of you being in danger.

“Ya tell me.” He says softly. He looks for something inside your shy eyes as you look down, watching his red knuckles as you realized what he did. “Come ‘ere, sweetheart. Lemme hold ya.”

He pulls you closer to hug you, your arms around his neck and shoulders, melting you against the heat of his well–defined body. His right hand travels to the back of your neck, making you hold your breath when he stops where Spencer touched, even if Daryl doesn’t know. But his hand caresses that place, his rough fingers touching you gently as always as his other hand holds your back.

“He ain’t gonna hurt ya, peach, not while I’m here.”

You gulp, the guilt forcing you to pull away while you drop your arms, just a little bit because he won’t let you go completely.

“Spencer threatened your life and you're worried about me?”

But to your surprise, Daryl smiles, his hand still massaging your neck and part of your hair.

“Ya are ma life, peach. Ya are everythin’ to me. Thought I made it clear to ya.”

For some reason, his words are sweet but sad too, because a part of you knew well that he didn't appreciate his life as much as he did with everyone else's.

“Your life is important too, Daryl…” You whisper, one hand over his heart. “I don’t want to be left alone here is something happens to you. I know I couldn't handle it. You made me love you too much to live a life without you.”

Daryl smiles softly, bringing his hand to the front to touch your lower lip. He knows well now that Spencer is dangerous, but in that instant, he is sure he can protect you, himself, and his family.

“Jus’ kiss me, okay? I’ll help ya forget ‘bout the rest of the world.”

You chuckle but you get close to him, closing your eyes the moment his lips fall on yours. Daryl closes his eyes too, loving the idea that since he met you, he was never afraid of the dark again.

#daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon twd #daryl dixon #twd daryl dixon

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ineylesian · 10 months ago

Text

— FELL ON BLACK DAYS

AVENTURINE X FEM! READER

AO3 | NAVIGATION

WORD COUNT — 9.5k

WARNINGS — spoilers for penacony’s storyline, enemies (??) to lovers, slowburn fr (it gets good i promise) mentions of genocide, mentions of child exploitation (not explicit), weapons & violence, smut, fem anatomy reader, sub!aventurine, mentions of traumatic events, one bed troupe

SUMMARY — Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last.

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — AHHH i love aventurine so much he made me write again <333 i will defend this man to the end of the earth i swear. also holy word vomit, this is officially my longest piece!!

“BREAKING NEWS: Reports incoming that the International Peace Corporation has been seen with an employee suspected of Avgin origin from the planet Sigonia-IV. All habitants from this world were thought to have been wiped out or lost to the galaxy, so the appearance of this mysterious individual has grasped the attention of–”

The broadcast slowly fades into the background, overtaken by the synth and snare of a song that lightly shakes the ground at your feet.

Sometimes you’re better of dead–

“Oh, you think you’ll be an asset? You’ll have to learn to make tough decisions on the go here if you want to succeed, so tell me…”

There’s a gun in your hand, it’s pointing at your head–

“You want to help this clan? Help claim this world and rid it from the remaining filth that roams?”

There’s a piercing screech amidst the bar, the high pitched wail of the speaker blasting the music fighting against the volume. A few seconds pass before the song picks back up again, a few lyrics skimmed through.

Which do you choose, a hard or soft option? (How much do you need?)

In a West End town, a dead end world, The East End boys and the West End girls–

“...”

“Before your initiation, you must make a prayer to the winds and mountains. Do you swear to devote your thoughts and beliefs to them, and reclaim the glory of Sigonia-IV?”

We’ve got no future, we’ve got no past

Here today, built to last–

“I swear.”

The bass fades and you’re left standing amidst a crowd of chatting people, some high on buzz, others passed out beside the restroom. Your eyes slowly fix forward, coming to a halt as the masses shift in formation, curving in a circle around the biggest table in the casino. Lined with forest green felt and red chips, hands bang against the surface joined in a cry of frustration.

“God damn it. This is rigged!” A player screams, hot-faced and teeth grit. “YOU!”

He stomps his way around the table, stopping at the dealer’s chair, failing to gain any attention despite the magnitude of his boots on the floor. In retaliation, the man takes a fistfull of the dealer’s hair, spinning him violently around and grabbing the collar around his neck.

Seldom have there been times where you didn’t see him in this sort of setting, a man with glasses that carried the same orange tint as the drink in his hand, die mounted between his fingers as he speaks with a wealthy patron. His words weave like velvet on a fine tailored suit as he invites you to play a game of chance, and before the game has even begun, you’ve lost.

His name is Aventurine, and, just as his reputation precedes him, the corners of his lips turn upward as you enter his field of view. He is never one to be down on luck.

“Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to exit the casino. The drinks have riled you up a bit too much, and I’m afraid you’re no longer sober enough to keep playing.”

The smell of outlandish alcohol hits your nose in a foul wave as he turns, rudely shrugging your hand off of his shoulder.

“And who do you think you are? Protecting this weasel like that.” You take a step back as he advances, completely abandoning his grip on Aventurine as his gaze focuses on the emblem tailored to your shoulder. “You’re in on this scam too, aren’t you? Fuckin’ IPC, always looking to take money from people.” A sizable crowd has gathered at this point, and with that, guards are quick to stand at your side. You tilt your head to the side, extending a hand to gesture at the coat draped over his empty chair.

“You may gather your things and leave now, sir. Refusal to comply will result in you being forcibly removed.”

A few more seconds of seething stares pass before he grumbles an insult toward you and rushes to gather his things, attempting to push the guards following him away. You sigh, turning to the dealer, who is now comfortable in his chair, feathered hat placed neatly on his lap as he shuffles the pool of cards pushed his way.

“Alright folks, now that’s over with, how about another–”

“Mr. Aventurine unfortunately won’t be able to join you all this round.” You quickly cut him off, laying the newly layered deck of cards onto the table. “May I have a word, please?”

The blonde takes a glance between you and the rest of the patrons at the table before nodding, allowing a charismatic smile to decorate his face as he slides the cards forward.

“Of course. Miss Antonia, would you please find another dealer to step in for the remaining games?”

He gathers a kind nod from a nearby waitress, before turning to follow you outside of the casino. As the door opens, strong drafts of icy wind blow against your face, and you hear a shiver from behind.

“Sheesh, couldn’t we at least have talked inside? I didn’t come prepared to stand in the cold…”

You send a look his way, and Aventurine’s hands rise, lips pursed in faux apology. He pushes his glasses farther into his nose bridge as you lean against the casino’s exterior wall, shielding yourself from the chill. It’s clear he’s not taking you seriously, stifling out a yawn and rubbing his eyes before he even spares you a glance.

“Here to lecture me about the, wait…” His eyes suddenly narrow, honing in on your uniform. “Who are you?”

You remain silent, watching as he taps a few fingers against his forehead, thinking. The talisman of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department sits firmly laid into your uniform. A smoothly carved onyx, inferior to the cornerstone you know he possesses and certainly lacking in power. His eyes linger on the stone for a few moments, biting the inside of his cheek as he tilts his head back up.

“Never seen that stone before..” He says after a few seconds, voice substantially lower. “What rank are you?”

His gaze is opaque, on guard. You resist the urge to bite your lip, figuring lying in this kind of situation wouldn’t be the best decision. Subconsciously, you bring a hand up to your stone, adjusting your coat flap before bringing it back down.

“P39.”

His eyebrows form a sharp line, but his lips remain flat. The lens behind thick shades linger on the stone, burning into the lights that reflect off of the darkness. He’s never seen someone who isn’t a part of the Ten Cornerstones wear something like this, so who are you?

“If you’re here to try and convince me to do something, I’m not interested. I’ve had enough orders drilled into my head since I came to Jarilo-VI.”

His forefront is confident, but you can see the hand that lingers at his side, struggling to stay put. It reeks of mild uncertainty, and a lack of security. He doesn’t feel safe when he’s not in control.

“I’m here to tell you that your assignment’s changed.” Your response is straight and to the point. There’s no room to betray any underlying feelings of guilt you may have from years passed. “You’ll be with me and my team, we’re going to the Loufu in three days to sort some business out. I suggest you finish your deals here before we go.”

“Well then.” Aventurine clicks his tongue, mild annoyance riding the smile that forms on his lips. “Let’s acquaint ourselves then, shall we? You must know who I am, so please allow me the pleasure of returning the favor.”

A small passage of frosty air rises into the atmosphere as he breathes, hand extending in formality. You take it, slowly shaking, taking in the defensive rise of his shoulders. It seems he has zero tolerance for strangers.

“Nice to meet you, Aventurine. They call this stone the onyx.”

–

The Interastral Peace Corporation only takes workers to be strong-minded and just as toughly willed. In the Strategic Investment Department, greed is a virtue, and wanting nothing but it all is a prayer. Those who earn their spot as a cornerstone will stop at no means to chase their desires.

Aventurine values risk, but he always loves to have control in his corner. Without control, the chips in his hands are of no use, and his bargains crumble beneath him.

A gambler's true nightmare, sitting right between his eyes.

Your relation to him is a true mystery, despite all of the digging he’s been doing after arriving at the Loufu. Despite the numerous deals you’ve closed together, he still fails to know anything about you, other than the fact that you have quick wit and fascinating knowledge of the universe. He won’t dare approach you directly, his inhibitions are too high and he knows too little.

However, there’s something off about you and that stone of yours. It’s unlike anything he’s ever seen before.

“Does the IPC really need that many funds to perform a vitality check on the Sky-Faring Commission? From what I remember, this is nearly triple the amount of last year’s fee.”

“Well, Helm Master, from what our reports say, you had agreed to the accumulation of interest based on reports of safety in the Loufu. Based on recent events, there has been a substantial raise in alarm concerning the safety of the citizens here. We hope you can understand.”

Aventurine unfolds his hands, sliding a glossy black dossier over to the woman known as Yukong. After skimming over the first page of analysis, she sighs, and places her hand over the cover.

“Is it possible that we could touch bases on this later this week? I need time to look over these documents and discuss them with my team before making any decisions.”

Biting back a groan of exasperation, you nod, politely shaking her hand and bowing your head when she stands. What you thought was going to be a quick excursion of debt collecting had turned into two long weeks of debate, and you’re starting to lose sleep. After Yukong exits, you run a hand through your hair, allowing the flow from the outside to flood your ears..

You can admit, the place they chose is certainly impressive in its theatrics, blooming with tall fountains of pristine water and a live band of foxians playing classical music on a mahogany stage.

After a few minutes of jotting down notes you find yourself leaning against the bar’s edge, elbows cool against smooth wood. Your thoughts swirl like the vibrato of the woman singing a cover of a local song in a language unknown to you, but it’s calming, and you begin to itch with the desire to order a drink.

The waiter polishing glasses near you seems to pick up on your wants, quietly gesturing with her hand that she’ll take your order.

“A Rose in Rain, please.”

She makes your drink at an astonishing speed, sliding the glass next to your hands with a smile. You stare at the royal blue liquid sitting at the rim, contemplating if the hangover will be worth it.

Aventurine eyes the finger that rests along the base of the glass, humming quietly to himself. He figures there’s no better way to get to know someone than through a few drinks.

“You gonna drink that or keep staring at it?”

You turn your head, watching as he slides onto the barstool next to you. He raises his three outer fingers, ordering a small glass of Wintry Garden before turning to face you.

It’s been a long month with the Cornerstone. His approach remains restricted, evident in his snippets of sarcasm that he still doesn’t trust you. Your situation is… unusual, so you tolerate it. However, there still lies a fear within that he’ll go deeper than what’s for his own good.

“Do you usually drink? Or are you afraid to spill your guts?”

His words drip with conviction, blindly accusing you with the corners of his mouth tilted upward. It’s been too long, and he still doesn’t know a damn thing about you other than the stone you wear. He needs to flip this in his favor, fast.

Aventurine’s fingers drum against the bar’s edge as he picks up his drink, taking a small sip. The slight tilt of his head inclines you to start yours too, drinking half of the tall glass in one swig. His eyebrows raise in surprise when the drink hits the table, taking all but a few seconds to completely down the entirety of its contents, a resounding clink following.

When you don’t rush to finish your own drink, Aventurine chuckles, crossing his arms as he turns to face you fully. He’s eyeing you, daring smile plastered on his face.

“What, scared?”

He’s challenging you. And it works, since your drink is empty and you’re ordering a second round in a matter of seconds. Fizz sluggishly bubbles down your throat, followed by rich spots of thick, clear syrup.

A few drinks is all it takes for you to begin feeling lightheaded, pressing a palm into your eye to try and alleviate the nausea. Aventurine is at least 6 drinks in, setting down his next with an exaggerated sigh. Raising his hand for another, he lightly dings his glass against yours, the scent of redsunset sauce high on his breath.

“Let’s talk, Onyx.” He remarks, placing his hands on the table as the bartender comes over. “What’s the real deal with you? How come I haven’t seen you anywhere in the IPC and you show up in my faction one random day?”

You cough, attempting to clear your throat before you answer. It’s tough to keep your resolve with the amount of alcohol in your system.

“Maybe you’re just not perceptive enough, I’ve always been around.”

It’s clear he doesn’t like your answer. Another drink down.

“How many years have you worked for the IPC?”

“Almost 4 now.”

“What’s the entrance project that got you into the Strategy Department?”

You hesitate, and he grins, satisfied. This interrogation is going as planned.

“Well then? I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad, unless you’re more dangerous than you seem.”

It’s your turn to down a drink, wiping a small trace off of your chin as you think.

“Izumo.” You answer, short, watching as his fingers clasp tighter around the glass in his hand. Surprise.

“You really expect me to believe that?” He scoffs, a tinge of fire evident in his voice. “No one goes to Izumo any more, not after the slash.”

“You’d be surprised at the sheer amount of people that go to Magatsu no Morokami to uncover history. The IPC has their eyes set on valuable relics left behind from the war.”

He leans forward, dangerously close to your face. Past the thick orange lens of his aviators, you can see the irate spark in his eyes, alight with a plethora of shades you’ve never seen before.

“It’s not wise to lie to your superiors.”

You back away, sliding your card across the counter to the bartender. The moment Aventurine gets up to follow, you stop in your tracks, holding a small drive in his direction. You have some tricks up your sleeve, too.

“You’ll change your mind.”

He pauses, slightly bent over in a stupor of alcohol.

“Best keep your cards close to your chest, Aventurine. Snooping in places you don’t belong bodes bad fortune.”

His mouth opens, but no words come out. Slowly, he takes the drive from your hand, leaning back onto the bar’s surface, eyebrows knit in thought. The world is suddenly too loud and amidst a flurry of harmonic bellows and blinding lights, you disappear.

—

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGY INVESTMENT DEPARTMENT HQ | ONE MONTH LATER

“I guess I should apologize.”

Several weeks of absence. You look up from the papers on your desk, watching as Aventurine places your drive back on your desk. He straightens back up, waiting for you to respond.

“Understandable.” You answer, finalizing a document with a quick signature. “I would have had my apprehensions too.”

“Still do, but it’s better to work with someone you tolerate, right?”

You look up. He shrugs, eyeing the papers you have scattered around.

You had given him a flash drive with your report on Izumo, or, at least, a report on it. Sometimes things are left best buried. Still, Aventurine is certainly not stupid, and you know that. The final version of the report is vague and full of small incidents that contrast the planet’s true history There are inconsistencies, but he seems a little less hostile for the time being.

“Whatever you’re hiding from me, I intend to find out in due time. But I can’t do that if we’re at odds.” A hand is extended your way, held a little less straight and professional. “Let’s just try and hate each other a little less, huh?”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you take his hand and shake it for the second time. Aventurine smiles at you, a little less pointedly, but still on guard.

“Friends it is, then.”

His grip tightens slightly at the proclamation, leaving your veins seared and eyes wavering. As if you just made a deal with the devil. Your gaze drags along the fancies of his coat, figuring this is just another gamble he’s won. Something closer to certain death; the passion for it intrigues you.

Sooner or later you’ll suffer the consequences of a lie, you tell yourself. There’s no good outcome when striking up an agreement with a gambler, especially one like Aventurine.

Especially when the gambler is holding a knife to your throat.

The blade is cool, barely holding back from your trachea. Leather gloves hold a fistfull of your hair, shoving you down onto the filing cabinet you were sifting through moments before. Your eyes dart around, only able to see the edge of his shoe pressing against your ankle and the papers you dropped scattered across the floor.

“Just as I thought we were getting along.” His spits, words slithering around your chest and settling around your neck. “It was only a matter of time before you slipped up.”

Confusion spreads across your features, and Aventurine scoffs. His shoe digs deeper into your achilles, and you stagger against the metal.

“What the Hell are you talking about?” Your words come out choked, gasping for air against Aventurine’s hold.

“That man, the one you had a long conversation with at the meeting tonight? You two seemed to get along.” Aventurine’s breath runs short out of anger, grip scalding against your skin. “You know him, don’t you?”

You close your eyes, tracing the night’s events back several hours. You only recall shaking two men’s hands, one being the esteemed Doctor Ratio’s, and the other the reason why you were down in the IPCs archives. He was dressed nothing short of what a gentleman would wear, offering you many commending words as he spoke of the recent inflation concerning the astral economy. However, you didn’t miss the brilliant stone embedded in the shell of his tie, reflecting vibrant colors you’ve only seen once in your lifetime. And neither did he.

“Pretty stone isn’t it?.” Aventurine continues, pressing your hands against the wall you’re shoved against. “I’ve seen it a lot throughout my lifetime, but I’m sure you know that already. Silly me, forgetting how easy it is to conceal them.”

He reaches for your shoulder, and you push back, using the slightly stagger of his feet to grab the blade’s edge, violently smashing your head into his and spinning him around. His blade traded for your stone.

“I’d like to know…” His fingers flip the stone around, taking in the colorless mass, like a void amidst the stars. With a quick swipe of his hand, a lighter is held to it, engulfing the black in a dance of pale fire. Aventurine shakes the rising smoke off of him after a few moments, and your eyes narrow.

“...Why you have this?”

Turquoise meteorite, a brilliant blue stone infused with veins of a green just as bright. A kind of beauty that could only be found on Sigonia, tailored in a way only an Avgin could. The crafter spoke of a tactic that could hide the stone’s true color, while keeping its spirit alive with you still.

Blood drips from your hand, staining your clothes a deep crimson. Gritting your teeth together, you slice a sleeve of your dress shirt off, slowly wrapping it around the wound.

Aventurine stands, still, fury riding his waterline. His glasses sit beside his feet, hues of purple and blue wavering in the dim light. His hand slowly clenches, in and out, smoothing the cooled piece over his palm.

“What now, Katican?” His voice is quiet, gently ricocheting off of concrete walls. “Came to settle one last score, fulfilling your dream of tracking down the last Avgin? Oh, I bet you’re itching to use that knife right now.”

You step to the side, shaking bloodstained papers off of your feet. The knife drops to the ground, scraping cruelty against the ground as you kick it to a corner far out of your reach. A sharp intake of breath follows, and he steps back.

“I’m no Katican.” Your tone is low, locking eyes with Aventurine, his gaze darts from the knife to you. “The stone was a gift from an Avgin I saved during the second extinction.”

The air is stale, prickling with fear as you pass. Aventurine stands tall, but you know all too well that his greatest fear has come alight in this very room. The thought of coming face to face with a Katican chases him in his nightmares each dusk, a terror looming over his head akin to a raging storm. For once, he’s speechless, completely dumbstruck, mind racing to comprehend all that you’ve bestowed upon him. So little said, yet so great a burden unveiled.

You would be right in telling him that such information is better left buried. Yet Aventurine knows only how to shatter the destiny that calls for him, and monumental change has left in its wake.

He opens his mouth to speak, yet words fail him. The hand holding the stone sits slotted behind his back, holding on to it as he would a birthright. A piece of his past that would never bless him again, sitting in the shade of Sigonia’s darkest nights, mimicking a color that does not belong to it. He wants to scream, take his knife and shove it so hard into your chest that it comes out on the other side.

“I am on your side, Aventurine. I always have been.”

After forcing himself to swallow, he straightens up, but you’re already gone.

Distantly, a heavy thud hits the floor.

–

TUMBLEWEED, SALSOTTO.

“I’m Daisy, here this morning with Tumbleweed’s daily weather report. As usual, there’s sun about. However, a rude awakening is coming at around 6pm, as a pretty hefty thunderstorm is coming our way. Make sure you carry your umbrellas! And remember, as our beloved Fleetworld Marc says, thunder only happens when it’s destined.”

Destiny. The word lingers in your head as a pang of hunger hits your insides. Placing your last suitcase beside your bed, you set off for your hotel room’s kitchen. Reaching over and opening a cabinet, you groan when it reveals itself to be empty.

Shrugging your coat over your shoulders, you pocket your room card. However, when you open your door, you’re quick to step back, feeling your heart rate spike instantly in shock.

“Uh…” You take a few short breaths, regaining your composure. “Can I help you?”

The man standing before you is no other than Aventurine, chin receding as he looks at you with evident confusion.

“Can I help you?” He retorts, flipping his hotel card up to the light. “This is my room.”

You pull the exact same card out of your pocket, and the two of you share looks of bewilderment. After reading over the numbers on your card for what felt like the 50th time, Aventurine sighs, long and drawn out.

“Well, this isn’t what I imagined when the front desk told me they could fit a room in for me.”

“I’ll go ask–”

You’re cut off with a swift wave of his hand.

“Don’t bother, I already did. They’re fully booked for the next week.”

Before you know it, both Aventurine and his bags are heading into your… your room. Exhaling, you mutter a quiet “okay..” and follow him inside. However, he’s quick to stop you once you make it past the bathroom, exaggeratedly pointing toward the wall to your right.

“This has to be some kind of joke, right?” Aventurine laughs, pulling his glasses off as if attempting to see better.

His gaze is fixed on the bed sitting across from you. The single bed, accompanied with a single nightstand and a TV. In that moment, you both share a second groan, and Aventurine palms his face.

“I’ll figure this out.”

In a matter of moments, he’s gone, suitcases set haphazardly on the ground beside you. After a few minutes of thought, you head to the bathroom, soaking your hands in cold water. A brief inhale follows the icy chill that drags over your face, and you silently curse destiny.

A few hours pass before Aventurine returns, shirt slightly ruffled, annoyance clearly displayed upon his features. The click of boots melds into the soft step of socks as he enters the kitchen, and you silently pass a bowl of fried rice you had been able to scavenge from a local grocery store over. Running a hand through his hair, he nods your way, sliding into the stool across from you and stopping the bowl with his fingers.

“As you could have guessed, there are zero people in this whole building willing to switch rooms with us.”

“Ah, yeah. Tourists are usually snobby.”

A hum signifies his response. Silence encompasses the room as a blanket would, save the soft clangs of silverware on bowls. You fix your gaze on the granite countertops, following intricately woven lines of mixed stone and drawing patterns in each section you come across. Becoming so immersed in the cracks, you don’t even notice when Aventurine passes you twice, once with his bowl, and once without. Seconds turn into minutes as you stare at the sheet of stone, only taken away from thought when he returns to the table, dressed in a black set of silk pyjamas.

“What’s your story?”

Your eyelashes flutter, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. Raising your head, you push the now cold rice to the side and glance at the man across from you, fingers interlocked in wait.

You’re shocked at the simplicity of it. The lack of accusations are a breath of fresh air when it comes to his words, typically cold fronted and dripping with malice. You would expect him to be angry still, perhaps even worse, giving that you lied, but you can feel the genuine curiosity lingering within. He seems to want to understand.

“I joined the IPC when I was young, almost ten years ago.” You start, fighting the urge to snap away from his gaze. “In my second year, word was out that there was trouble on Sigonia. It was thought that the IPC had it under control, but everyone knew there was something else coming.”

You pause. Aventurine remains quiet, attentive.

“I took it upon myself to convince my superiors to send me to Sigonia, despite their warnings. But… the work we did there, it wasn’t enough. I could help no one under the bounds of the IPC, so I sought out the Katicans. No more bounds. I was on the inside, where I could do things my own way.”

“Such lovely people, weren’t they?” He questions, apathy leaking from deep within. “Didn’t have a single care in the world other than themselves. They wanted to see everything burn, the women, children.”

“I have never seen a deeper hatred than what lies within them.”

You stop, again, toying with your fingers. Aventurine’s silence beckons you to proceed.

“I could only help so many, and they all ended up dying anyway. There was no escaping them, they were ruthless.” Your voice trails off, shaking your head slightly at the recollection of dark days in the wasteland they call Sigonia. No horrors match the ones that took place there. “I couldn’t imagine what you went through, any of you. And still, you’re alive.”

A word softly chants in your head. Destiny.

“Ever since I was born, I knew what was made out for me was never good.” Aventurine says, a hint of irony in his voice. “I fell on black days without knowing what it was like to live on the other side, and it’s been like that since.”

Flashes of your past mix in with current thought. You remember them, the Avign children, clinging to scraps of life even when it was evident their lives would soon end. Their eyes, just as brilliant as his, drowned by crashing waves, yet afloat on the prayer of hope. You imagine Aventurine was just like them, and you understand. Anger breeds and it seethes.

“How do you control it?” Such a simple question, yet so many answers.

“I put it all into risk. Every single last bit of it. I gambled, and I won.” His pointer finger gently hits the table, and he raises his hand to wave it through the air. “I survive, and I bet again.”

“A bold motto, I must say.”

A small smile graces his features, shrugging lightheartedly.

“Luck seems to be on my side.”

You look to the side at the sound of a crack, noticing that rain has started to fall. The sky is obscured by deep grays, and the rumble beckons you to the sliding door separating you from the balcony. The crash of drops on concrete is soothing to your ears, bestowing a peace upon your heart you’ve failed to find for a while now. The serenity thickens as Aventurine steps to your side, the hues in a ring of his eyes reflecting the storm outside.

“I didn’t rain much back then.” He muses, gaze following the slow drizzle of fallen streaks on the balcony’s edge. “A privilege I can keep alive, now that I see it so often.”

You look to the side, meeting Aventurine’s eyes halfway. The corners of his lips turn up as he looks past you, covering his mouth as he stifles a yawn.

“Almost forgot about the bed.” He laughs, running a hand over his lower face. “You can have it, I’ll be okay on the floor.”

“Absolutely not!” You counter, head tilting in defiance. “I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“That would be extremely impolite of me.”

“As it would be for me…”

“Will you please just sleep on the bed?”

“I brought extra pillows! I’ll be more comfortable than you on the floor.”

Aventurine stops, sending you a half lidded look. You walk over to your suitcase, swiftly pulling the two large pillows you packed out, holding them at your sides. He walks over to you, snatching a pillow out from one of your arms before walking toward the bed.

“Or, how about this?” He shoves your pillow on top of the hotel provided one. “We put the extra pillows on the bed, and we both take a half.”

You purse your lips, and shrug in reason. After patting your pillow into place, you climb onto the bed, turning on your side to ensure you’re only taking up half of the bed.

As you land on your other shoulder, you nearly touch noses with Aventurine. He chuckles, eyebrows raising in a teasing manner.

“It’s not often someone gets the chance to be this close to me.”

You groan, tugging the coarse blanket to your chest as you flip to your front. Stifling a few chuckles, Aventurine turns so his back is facing you.

Within a few minutes, quiet snores begin to drift through your ears. You sigh, and roll your eyes. And yet, only peace visits you in your dreams.

–

There have been few nights of your stay in Salsotto without rain. You’ve grown accustomed to the melodic pad of morning to the erratic roar of the night. This night is different, however, as dew is high in the air but the clouds of the afternoon are white, tainted with swirls of pink that bode better weather.

You fumble with the pearls on your neck, carefully positioning them so they rest on your collarbone. All IPC events require a clearance of wear that is above the standard grade of formal, nothing short of extravagant, explaining the fine tailored suit you wear over your dress. Ivory on cream, a palette that bodes well when making business deals.

Heels click on pavement, Tumbleweed’s National Museum in sight. Golden lights cast the establishment in an elegant glow, and the stream of classical cello welcomes your ears as you approach. Welcoming smiles are given your way as you enter the building, and you start a long night of shaking hands and business chatter with the esteemed mechanical aristocrat Screwllum.

Leisure chats of the Genius Society’s next project flow in and out of wine chutes, with gentle opera joining new deals of funding. Another hand shake bodes your farewell to a philanthropist from the Herta Space Station, and you take a seat at one of the tables nearby, attempting to gather your thoughts. Sipping on a glass of sparkling rose, you start jotting down tonight’s business proposals onto your phone.

“Having fun?”

You look up, offering a smile toward your temporary hotelmate as you pull the chair next to you back.

“Was wondering when I’d run into you, Aventurine.” You say, clinking glasses with the blonde. “How many deals have you clinched tonight?”

“More than you, I bet.” You scrunch your nose, folding your arms after sliding your phone his way. Aventurine takes a look through your notes, smile expanding on his face as he progresses.

“...And it seems I would be right.” He exclaims, holding up two full hands. “Don’t feel bad. It’s the natural charm.”

“Mhm. Super natural, and not annoying at all.” You quip, earning a light jab in the shoulder.

Your past two weeks with Aventurine had proved to be an easier feat than you had thought. Beside the snoring (that you had learned to tune out), he had served as a good source of company, squandering your worries of lingering grudges as you spent more time around one another. You were grateful he had the will in his heart to see the reason behind what you had done, although you were a little surprised to see that he had forgiven you with such ease.

Now, to you, he seemed to be an easy soul forced to carry burdens that were undeserving of him.

“Hey.”

You’re roused from your thoughts by the gentle tap of Aventurine’s foot against your heel. He cocks his head, and you’re suddenly aware of the soft serenade filling the room, sung by an artist famous for this piece.

“Let’s get our minds off of business for a while. Care to dance?”

He straightens his jacket before standing up, beckoning you to do the same. You accept the hand outstretched, threatening to roll your eyes as Aventurine lays his other on your back, guiding you to the floor.

“Trying to show off?”

Aventurine slowly spins you into a shroud of spotlight, laughing when your eyes go wide from the precision of his arms slowing you back down.

“Of course.”

A look is shared between the two of you, and the dance begins. You recognize the piece, Seid Umschlungen, Millionen! (Be Embraced, You Millions!), and fall into a sort of waltz, slow, quick, slow. Your feet move in a symphony of chirping violin and cello vibrato, swirling carefully around other dancers as you step from box to box.

The music quiets in a moment of repose, and you slow, winding your hands around his neck as you sway, in wait.

“What’s with the long face?”

The question catches you off guard, as you weren’t aware that your thoughts had reflected off of your face. Lips pursing, you wonder whether taking the chance and ruining the moment is worth it, but the question nags deep within, festering like a cancer that will not cease until it is freed.

“Do you forgive me?”

Strings echo and rise; Aventurine fits a hand behind your back before spinning you into dance. His eyebrows are furrowed lightly, as if your question had caught him off guard in some sort of way, but you both knew it was coming. Trust is an uncertain entity, not easily won or wagered, never certain in whether it’s attained or lost. Forgiveness is a trial for trust, and within inquiry lie a question of deeper truth that never made it to the surface

Do you hate me, Aventurine?

There have been many times in the passing days where you’ve been questioned about your time in Sigonia-IV. A test to determine whether your actions deserved merit. Recounting stories of countless lives you worked tirelessly to save at the risk of your own. Gallons of blood stained on your hands from the guilty, those whose karma ran the empty river beds of the desert red.

So much, and yet nothing at all. It’s as if life is out to play some game of twisted fate, as you see all of the lives you could not save in the man right before you. The brand slightly hidden by his collar and wispy blonde, jewelry glittering at his wrists, irises that shine in the darkest of nights. Bewitching, yet so alive.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” He says, after some time. “You did a brave thing, I would be a fool to condemn you for it.”

Elation. It’s the feather touch of his hands, graceful in the way they dip you, nearly stopping time as you lay suspended. Your eyes lock, and you nearly drown in the glow of lavender and maya that stare back. Slowly, you feel one of his hands leave your back, dipping in his suit pocket and coming to rest in your vision.

“Their memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.”

You’re lifted to stand, and, amidst a rather slow spin, Aventurine pins the turquoise meteorite you’d thought was long gone onto the span of dress fabric above your chest. The resounding smile shared is trust.

You twirl and sink until the song comes to an end, stopping in a hold of hands and interlocked legs as orchestra is overtaken by voice. In the midst of fading spotlight, your breath evens out, and you find yourself following the gambler’s hand to escape the noise, elbows brushing on a balcony railing as you stare out into the fading daylight.

The sky is tinged with the baby blue of afternoon, arising into a deep interweave of violet and blush. A small, red casino chip flips between Aventurine’s fingers, rolling to sit between his pointer and thumb in short pauses.

“Got any tricks up your sleeve, gambler?”

Aventurine tilts his head to the side, invigorated by the rise of your lips, challenging, daring. The game you propose has risk, but what is life without taking leaps blind? Aventurine is sure he can see you now, after all.

With a flip of the chip and a wave of his hand, the red disappears, and a cool sensation lands firmly on your lips. His face is inches away from yours, fingers gently pressing against the chip that severs the distance between you.

“There are tricks to any risk, as long as you know what you’re doing.”

You raise your hand, sliding the chip from your mouth and palming it. When he doesn’t move, you tug on his collar, chin tilting upward to press your lips to his. The sensation is warm, gentle, as if you tread on ice that threatens to shatter. Honey sears your tongue, and you revel in the touch of his lips, soft as the velvet of his tie.

The moment is all too short, yet your mouth feels numb as you break away. In a moment of silence, you take the hand that sits lightly clamped around your wrist, sliding the chip in his palm and closing his fingers.

“I think I’ll be gambling a lot with you, Aventurine.”

His face moves closer, and you look down for a moment, noticing the hand that sits behind his back.

“I look forward to it.”

–

INTERASTRAL PEACE CORPORATION, STRATEGIC INVESTMENT HQ | TWO MONTHS LATER

Knock, knock.

“Coming.”

The door opens in fluid motion, revealing a room cast in gloom, tan shade, blinds drawn.

“Hey, Aven.” You sigh, placing a chaste kiss on the blonde’s cheek. “Long day?”

“Long day.” He mirrors, offering to take the stack of papers off of your hands. You accept, slipping into the chair across from his desk. “Are you done for today?”

“Mhm.”

Aventurine sits in his desk chair, shrugging the navy coat he sports onto the back. You stretch your arms behind your back, watching as deft hands undo the cross hatched tie representing the cornerstones from his collar. As he sets the piece down, his office phone starts to buzz, and he groans.

“Hello, this is Aventurine… Uh huh, what time?” He draws circles into ebony, holding the phone to his shoulder as he reaches for a notepad. However, as he clicks the pen in his hand, he nearly drops the phone, clearly startled. “Can you repeat that? Si- okay. I’m coming.”

In a flurry of movement, he stands, tie and coat snatched.

“We have to go, right now.”

His tone is impatient, brimming with anxiety and unwilling to contest. You blink a few times before following him out of his office, grabbing his coat to hold onto as he fits his tie back to his shirt. The walk is silent, save a quiet “thank you” when you hand the coat over and the click of shoes on tile. Your nerves rise as you move, watching the way he frets with his gloves, tugging on the ends repeatedly.

In a matter of minutes, you arrive at the boardroom of the IPC’s Strategic Investment Department, stopping at the edge of the table as Jade turns around, followed by a concerned looking Topaz.

“Ah, Aventurine. What a surprise, I was sure not to include your name in the list of attendees tonight.“She sends a look to the white haired cornerstone, before directing her gaze to you. “Unfortunately, ranks below P40 are prohibited from attending this meeting. Guards, please see her out.”

You push against the guard that seizes your wrist, but are unable to resist as more come to his aid. After having the door shoved in your face, you’re dragged to the hallway outside of the meeting hall, forced to sit in wait.

30 minutes. Another 30. An hour before the doors open, with Aventurine first, Topaz following close behind. He rushes past you, eyes on the ground, gone within seconds. Concern etches your features as Topaz runs up to you, lips pursed in distress,

“Aventurine-” She pauses, hand on her chest as she catches her breath. “Please go after him. You’re the only one that he’ll see now, after what just happened.”

“What happened?”

At your inquiry, she shakes her head, nodding her head toward the direction Aventurine took off in.

“It’s best you hear it from him. But, please, go see him tonight, he needs someone who’s close to his heart.”

Worry is quick to seep into your features, but you nod. A quick visit to his office and you’re off, taking the next jet off of Pier Point, to Klimt Republic. Weaving through streets and bullet trails full of life, you arrive in the heart of Klimt just two hours later, standing on the penthouse floor of an apartment complex worth more than the entire block you’re on.

Knock, knock.

Silence. You hesitate, and knock again.

The shuffling of feet hit the floor, and you wait in anticipation, hands firmly at your sides as the noise stops. After a few moments, the door slowly opens, and you sigh in relief.

Aventurine stands, slightly hunched against the doorframe, hair disheveled, eyes red and irritated.

“Aven, what happ-”

A pair of hands seize your wrist, tugging you inside and slamming the door behind you.

“Not now.” Your eyes widen at the plea in his voice, whole with a basal need that makes your chest tighten. “Please, just, make me forget about it right now.”

He looms over you, yet the shadow he casts is the antonym of threatening. Fear reeks off of him like vodka, as tears brim on his waterline. The feeling spreads to your skin like wildfire, and you feel him shake as you take his face in your hands, breathing shallow and scared.

The first taste of his lips is sweet, but the salt of his tears is quick to sink in. Clumsy and trembling, your bodies rock and hit walls as you make your way to his bedroom. You throw his coat to the side as he does yours, pushing him down onto his bed as you break for air.

Aventurine’s hair flows out around him as he falls onto the mattress, shrouding him as a halo would. You chase after him, littering his neck with soft bites that elicit soft groans from the skin beneath. You unbutton half of his shirt before diving for his collarbone, reveling in the whines that respond as you nip and bruise.

His hands reach for your pants, and you stop him before he can reach for your panties.

“Ah-ah, hands behind your head.” Your voice pools out smooth, running a hand down his shirt. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

Gently pinning his hands above him, you let go, and he complies. You reward him with a kiss, messy and careless, pulling a string of saliva between your lips when you leave them. Your free hand pushes hair out of his eyes while the other works on the zipper of his slacks, watching as his fingers lock together as you apply pressure.

A shudder leaves Aventurine’s lips as you pull his boxers down, hand gently running along the length of his dick. Teeth tug at lips as you spit on your hand, working at his cock while running your free fingers along your folds. His neck lifts up as your hands move faster, and you grin, choking the noises that threaten to spill from your mouth at the display before you.

A sight like heaven, an angel laid out for worship. Aventurine’s skin is coated in a soft sheen of sweat that shines in the dim light, hand laid over one eye whilst the other remains barely open. Under the mix of hues that resemble wild fields of flowers, blush coats his cheekbones, a light to the darkness that blooms on his neck. The vulnerability of it makes your heart soar, and you feel a fire ignite in the depths of your being that fails to stoke.

The hand that toys with your clit lifts, prodding at Aventurine’s mouth as you lower yourself on his cock. Muffled whines vibrate around your fingers, and you moan at the fullness that envelops you. You swirl your fingers in his mouth, biting on your cheek as his tongue wraps around them, sucking on the sweet taste of you.

His hands abruptly reach up, fingers winding and tangling in hair as they pull you down, replacing fingers with lips. The sensation is hot, as if an unquenchable balm has set your skin alight.

“Feel good?”

“What kind of- ughh- question is that?”

You clench around him as if it's instinct, and Aventurine calls your name as he would a prayer. His moans are akin to song, divine in melody, alluring in a way that shuts your mind off from anything else but him. One of his hands leaves your hair, fingers clumsily clamping around your own, holding you like fine china.

The stretch of his dick does little to quench the hunger within, you crave more, a devout worshiper crying a hymn of need. Your motion becomes erratic, a twist of limbs and friction that siphons tears that streak down your cheeks, falling to mix in with the sweat on your lover’s face.

“Gonna-” Aventurine chokes on his own words, eyes shut harshly as he blinks back ecstasy. “Cum.”

Your words are lost to you, only managing to groan in response as Aventurine pulls you back to him. His lips seal over yours in a searing kiss, arms winding around your back to hold you still as your orgasm shakes you. White light flashes through closed eyes as you spasm around his dick, mixing with the cum that leaks inside of you.

The room is quiet, save the howling wind of night and the dance of unstable breath. Blankets shuffle as you drop to Aventurine’s side, allowing him to drape your discarded shirt over your bare chest. Time seems to cease as you meet his gaze, touch serene as the plains of distant worlds as he encourages you to come closer. You accept, eyes closing for a moment, feeling the warm fan of his breath over your nose.

“The IPC is funding a project to excavate Sigonia.” The silence breaks, peace shatters and your eyes snap open. “Turquoise meteorites are rare, so they’ll scrape the whole planet dry until every last piece is gone.”

Your face falls, corners of your lips pulling downward. Aventurine’s eyes are half lidded, seemingly already accepting the fate of the planet he calls home. He refuses to look your way, eyes focused somewhere past you, the sorrow spreads and leaks into your soul as it opens further. A place so full of hatred and loss, yet a place that he will never be able to let go of. It burrows within the deepest neurons, refusing to snap and forget.

“You have to say something, Aven.” You pull at his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Whatever you have to do, I’ll help you.”

“The IPC doesn’t have time to listen to Avgin.” He sighs, hope stale on his breath. “Not even if it's the last one alive.”

You still, fingers falling to rest against his cheek. Aventurine’s eyes close, brows furrowing lightly against pale skin.

“Sigonia will fall, and only Kakavasha will remain.”

Defeat. It seems that what events occurred in that meeting room left no room for conversation. Guilt flows through your veins like it’s replaced the red, and your chest aches, latching onto the horror that no doubt holds sovereignty in his head.

Kakavasha. Blessed by the heavens yet cursed by the living world. Such a beautiful name that deserves no hell it endures.

Amidst the quietude, Aventurine’s hand slithers under the blankets, latching onto your wrist. He traces skin, knuckles brushing against your own, coming to rest intertwined.

“Can we try something?”

You nod, and your hand is slowly lifted to the air, palm against palm between your chests. You’ve seen this motion back on Sigonia, yet it’s always remained distant to you, and the words echo in obscurity.

“I’ll go through it once, and we can do it together.”

You nod, once more. Aventurine closes his eyes for a moment, reciting a prayer lost to you in time.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

A brief pause passes. You sigh in unison, and lock eyes. A voice whispers within the depths of your mind, and you smile.

The memory is always alive somewhere. It’s up to us to keep it.

“May the Mother Goddess thrice close her eyes for you… keeping your blood eternally pulsing. May your journey be forever peaceful… and your schemes be forever concealed.”

As the last words drift off of your lips, you bend your fingers, slotting them between his. Aventurine shares your sentiment; hope flashed in the gentle smile that graces his lips. Your eyes wander, and notice that a single tear trails down his face, disappearing into his skin as it rolls.

Outside, you hear the crack of thunder. You pull Aventurine in, and in your clutch, the downpour begins.

–

Some months later…

The chatter of voices on the phone rouses you from sleep, rubbing a hand over your eyes in annoyance as you come to. Light spills through drawn curtains and open glass doors, filtering the room in hues of honey and hazel.

“Mhm. Alright, I understand. Let’s schedule the interview for today.”

Songs of canaries and mourning doves flow through the air, and you sit up, raising a hand to block out the sun’s gaze. Aventurine sets his phone down on the bedside table, stifling a yawn with his hand. You roll onto your side, hand propped up onto your chin as you soak in the sight of your lover.

His hair is slightly ruffled from sleep, bangs astray and cast into his eyes. Only the top button of his sleep shirt is buttoned, leaving lean, sun kissed skin on display.

“It’s rude to stare, you know.” You roll your eyes, allowing him to pull you in for a kiss. “Morning. Sleep well?”

“Mhm.” You hum, knowing full well tonight has been one of the worst nights you’ve slept yet. Aventurine sees right through you, but chooses to say nothing, opting to pull you forward so half of your body drapes over him.

Today Aventurine leaves for Penacony. And, seeing as he was called in for a meeting, he’s probably leaving even sooner now.

He seems to read your thoughts, offering a comforting peck to the corner of your lips in apology. Your hands card through his hair, head resting against his collarbone.

You have your apprehensions about Penacony, having heard whispers on the streets of mysterious disappearances of people in the world’s famous dreamscape. The IPC has had a limited number of run-ins with the family, leading you to assume a recent grounds of suspicion has arised, and Aventurine was chosen as the solution. In his eyes, it’s just another gamble of life or death.

You’re roused from your thoughts by a tap on your cheek, making you look up at him.

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart.” His words do little to soothe you, but you listen regardless. “The risks I take are always foolproof.”

Risk. It’s the word Aventurine lives by, a motto that claws at your heart when he’s gone. A reality that spills tears when he closes the door to your apartment, leaving only the ache of your heart in his absence. A danger that never guarantees the next time he chases his destiny will not be his last.

You will never fight to change it, because that’s all it is. Destiny.

His phone rings, and the two of you groan before he gets up and tells the person on the other line that he’s on his way. You watch from his side of the bed as he throws his clothes on, grabbing two packed suitcases from the side of the bed before bending over to give you a kiss. The touch of his lips is bittersweet, nearly taunting as it is over before it even begins. You peck him again, running a hand over his hairline to straighten his bangs.

“Be safe out there, Aven.”

He smiles, so radiant it rivals the sun and all that it shines on. You think yourself blessed to see it survive.

“I will. Luck is always on my side.”

And he leaves. You turn to the window, awaiting the rain.

#eleysiacalling #eleysiansighs #hsr aventurine #aventurine honkai star rail #aventurine x reader #aventurine smut #aventurine x you #honkai star rail #aventurine hsr #honkai star rail smut

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dungeon-meshi-tournament · 1 month ago

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We're celebrating the amazing outfits Kui drew on her characters with the

Best Outfit in the Dungeon Tournament

This is the masterpost for the tournament. I'll pin it and update it with every new round, so you'll be able to find all polls easily.

The rules are very simple: You just vote for whichever outfit you like better, for whichever reason. The outfit with the most votes advances to the next round.

Propaganda is encouraged! Please put it in the body of the post so I can reblog it. I don't reblog propaganda from tags or replies.

Spoiler warning: This tournament contains material up to the end of the manga. If you haven't caught up yet, you may be spoiled.

Finale:

Izutsumi's winter outfit vs Dungeon lord Marcille (Dungeon lord Marcille won)

Laios' Halloween costume vs Senshi's Hawaiian shirt (Senshi's Hawaiian shirt won)

Previous rounds under the cut

Semi-finals:

Laios' Halloween costume vs Izutsumi's winter outfit (Izutsumi's winter outfit won)

Senshi's Hawaiian shirt vs Dungeon lord Marcille (Dungeon lord Marcille won)

Quarter finals:

Laios' Halloween costume vs Fleki's orange suit (Laios' Halloween costume won)

Senshi's Hawaiian shirt vs Mayjack's standard outfit (Senshi's Hawaiian shirt won)

Falin's dancing outfit vs Izutsumi's winter outfit (Izutsumi's winter outfit won)

Thistle's standard jester outfit vs Dungeon lord Marcille (Dungeon lord Marcille won)

Round 4:

Laios' Halloween costume vs Otta's tank top (Laios' Halloween costume won)

Fleki's orange suit vs Cithis' Halloween costume (Fleki's orange suit won)

Senshi's Hawaiian shirt vs Dia's medieval outfit (Senshi's Hawaiian shirt won)

Mayjack's standard outfit vs Chilchuck's Halloween costume (Mayjack's standard outfit won)

Falin's dancing outfit vs Falin wearing Laios' outfit (Falin's dancing outfit won)

Benichidori's modern outfit vs Izutsumi's winter outfit (Izutsumi's winter outfit won)

Thistle's standard jester outfit vs Leed's standard outfit (Thistle's standard jester outfit won)

Marcille's standard outfit vs Dungeon lord Marcille (Dungeon lord Marcille won)

Round 3, part 2:

Falin's death / stomach T-shirt vs Falin's dancing outfit (Falin's dancing outfit won)

Falin's blue coat vs Falin wearing Laios' outfit (Falin wearing Laios' outfit won)

Benichidori's modern outfit vs Hien's Christmas dress (Benichidori's modern outfit won)

Inutade's swimsuit vs Izutsumi's winter outfit (Izutsumi's winter outfit won)

Thistle's orange jester outfit vs Thistle's standard jester outfit (Thistle's standard jester outfit won)

Gnome Kaka vs Leed's standard outfit (Leed's standard outfit won)

Marcille's standard outfit vs Marcille's dark blue dress (Marcille's standard outfit won)

Marcille's black dress vs Dungeon lord Marcille (Dungeon lord Marcille won)

Round 3, part 1:

Dungeon lord Laios vs Laios' Halloween costume (Laios' Halloween costume won)

Laios' leather underarmour vs Otta's tank top (Otta's tank top won)

Fleki's Unicorn T-shirt vs Fleki's orange suit (Fleki's orange suit won)

Werewolf Lycion vs Cithis' Halloween costume (Cithis' Halloween costume won)

Senshi's Hawaiian shirt vs Senshi's modern outfit (Senshi's Hawaiian shirt won)

Fem!Kabru vs Dia's medieval outfit (Dia's medieval outfit won)

Rin's standard outfit vs Mayjack's standard outfit (Mayjack's standard outfit won)

Chilchuck with his shirt collar undone vs Chilchuck's Halloween costume (Chilchuck's Halloween costume won)

Round 2, part 4:

Thistle's orange jester outfit vs Flute player Thistle (Thistle's orange jester outfit won)

Thistle's Walking mushroom T-shirt vs Thistle's standard jester outfit (Thistle's standard jester outfit won)

Namari's wearing Marcille's outfit vs Gnome Kaka (Gnome Kaka won)

Kiki's standard outfit vs Leed's standard outfit (Leed's standard outfit won)

The Elf queen's standard outfit vs Marcille's standard outfit (Marcille's standard outfit won)

Marcille's frog suit vs Marcille's dark blue dress (Marcille's dark blue dress won)

Marcille's black dress vs Marcille's swimsuit (Marcille's black dress won)

BBQ party Marcille vs Dungeon lord Marcille (Dungeon lord Marcille won)

Round 2, part 3:

Chimera Falin vs Falin's death / stomach T-shirt (Falin's death / stomach T-shirt won)

Falin's Chimera dress vs Falin's dancing outfit (Falin's dancing outfit won)

Santa Falin vs Falin's blue coat (Falin's blue coat won)

Falin's dress and cape vs Falin wearing Laios' outfit (Falin wearing Laios' outfit won)

Benichidori's modern outfit vs Benichidori's Christmas dress (Benichidori's modern outfit won)

Hien's Christmas dress vs Inutade's school uniform (Hien's Christmas dress won)

Inutade's swimsuit vs Inutade's Halloween costume (Inutade's swimsuit won)

Izutsumi's Christmas dress vs Izutsumi's winter outfit (Izutsumi's winter outfit won)

Round 2, part 2:

Senshi's underwear vs Senshi's Hawaiian shirt (Senshi's Hawaiian shirt won)

Senshi's medieval outfit vs Senshi's modern outfit (Senshi's modern outfit won)

Fem!Kabru vs Kabru's standard outfit (Fem!Kabru won)

Dia's medieval outfit vs Dia's yellow dress (Dia's medieval outfit won)

Dia's yellow swimsuit vs Rin's standard outfit (Rin's standard outfit won)

Holm's standard outfit vs Mayjack's standard outfit (Mayjack's standard outfit won)

Chilchuck's standard outfit vs Chilchuck with his shirt collar undone (Chilchuck with his shirt collar undone won)

First collab cafe Chilchuck vs Chilchuck's Halloween costume (Chilchuck's Halloween costume won)

Round 2, part 1:

Dungeon lord Laios vs Laios wearing Thistle like a backpack (Dungeon lord Laios won)

Laios' frog suit vs Laios' Halloween costume (Laios' Halloween costume won)

Laios' leather underarmour vs Laios' standard outfit (Laios' leather underarmour won)

Otta's tank top vs Otta's fur-lined jacket (Otta's tank top won)

Fleki's Unicorn T-shirt vs Fleki's winter outfit (Fleki's Unicorn T-shirt won)

Fleki's orange suit vs Fleki's stoner backpack (Fleki's orange suit won)

Werewolf Lycion vs Cithis' one-piece swimsuit (Werewolf Lycion won)

Cithis' Halloween costume vs Wakuwaku-san Mithrun (Cithis' Halloween costume won)

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dunmeshi spoilers #fashion #clothing #outfit #poll #tumblr poll #masterpost #best outfit in the dungeon tournament

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deadlesbianfight · 2 years ago

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Dead Lesbian Fight - Rematch

Dani Clayton (The Haunting of Bly Manor) vs Poussey Washington (Orange is the New Black)

#deadlesbianfight #orange is the new black #orange is the new black spoilers #the haunting of bly manor #the haunting of bly manor spoilers #bracket #polls

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loomis-maxima · 10 months ago

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word count;; 14k+ pairing;; sebastian sallow x f!reader warnings;; depictions of injury, violence, and death. use of crucio. slight jealousy, angst, and a lil fluff and mutual pining to go along<3 slight lore changes regarding fiendfyre, and use of y/n. slightly dark wizard!sebastian but also saviour!sebastian 💖

*minor hogwarts legacy spoilers but nothing outright*

a/n;; this took longer than expected- i haven't written in so long so i hope you guys enjoy 💖 (i didn't expect it to be this long, and i feel like the end is a bit shit but i appreciate all of you guys sm for entertaining my fics)

Nestled in the Scottish Highlands, away from prying and mundane eyes, stood a behemoth of magic, history, legend and mystery. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle’s many stained glass windows glistened, the Black Lake sparkled under the stars, and the Forbidden Forest looked just as foreboding, yet at the same time, peaceful, under the last of that night’s moonlight.

The serenity of the landscape was suddenly disturbed, but not by destruction, instead by one of the most regal and proud creatures. A large, majestic Hippogriff broke through the light clouds that hung over the castle, and on the creature's back was a girl, nothing more than a Hogwarts student. “Let’s go Highwing, before anyone notices we’ve been gone all night,” said the girl on the creature's back as she took in the sights from the height they flew at one more time before returning to her usual student life. As Highwing soared in the sky, her huge wings beat against the wind causing an undeniable rhythm in the air. The large, majestic creature flew, a loud and proud call was let out from her chest as she took one last long soar before beginning her descent back to the ground.

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Back in the quiet of the castle, where students slept soundly, the only thoughts in their minds were the dreams that played out behind their closed eyes, there was one student who hadn’t slipped into the comfort and safety of his dream realm, a fifth-year Slytherin by the name of Sebastian Sallow. Instead of being nestled up cosy in his bed just like his fellow students, Sebastian sat perched on a long sofa in the Slytherin common room, eyes drifting between the doorways that were across from him, his books and the mix of half-used, blank pieces of parchment that sat on the table in front of him. “Where is she…?” he muttered to himself, slinking back into the cushions behind him. Usually, Sebastian wouldn’t keep himself so concerned with what someone else was doing, against the rules or not. But Sebastian found himself in this predicament more often than he would care to admit.

The new student, y/n, had a penchant for sneaking off unnoticed, with only the occasional comment from Imelda or Poppy drawing any attention. However, Sebastian on the other hand was more than aware of her disappearances. In fact, her absence never failed to register with him. Initially, he didn't dwell on it too much, respecting her need for privacy, just as he would want. Yet, an underlying sense of worry persisted within Sebastian, despite his rational understanding.

His eyes drifted around the large open room, taking in every inch of the usually bustling common room. Even the large windows at the end of the room that stood proud, looking out under the murky, Black Lake provided no signs of life, not a single thing except for the usual green hue coming from the windows, casting a haunting, yet beautiful atmosphere. It seemed for all the world, that everyone but Sebastian was asleep, everyone but Sebastian was without a worry. His eyes settled on the fire, the flames were a deep, vibrant orange, hinted with hues of yellow and red as they twisted and danced together. Sebastian found himself, once again, getting lost in their hypnotic sway. There had always been something so inciting to him about fire — the beauty of it, yet the destruction it was capable of always just twinkling beyond the captivating twists.

The sudden sound of a light step began to echo throughout the stagnant silence Sebastian found himself in, pulling his focus away from the dancing flames, choosing instead to watch the entrance to the common from the staircase, a drop of hope bubbled in his stomach as he sat up a little straighter and picked up his book, as if to seem like he was unable to sleep; instead of sitting, waiting for y/n to return. The footsteps were soft, almost imperceptible, like the gentle patter of raindrops on a windowpane. They echoed through the dimly lit room, creating a rhythm that seemed to reverberate through the very air. It was as if the very walls of the castle were whispering secrets, hinting at the arrival of someone who could provide answers to the questions that had been swirling in his mind.

"Sebastian?" a voice asked, barely a whisper, barely rising above the gentle lull of the crackling hearth. The soft patter of approaching footsteps punctured the quiet, drawing nearer to where Sebastian sat, engulfed in his thoughts.

"What are you doing up so late? I didn’t expect anyone to be up." y/n inquired, her voice laced with a hint of worry as she settled onto the sofa opposite him. The faint glow of the embers cast a warm light upon her face, revealing the fatigue etched into her features.

Sebastian lightly shook his head, placing his book atop the disarray of parchment. "Sleep eluded me, so I thought to come down here, see if I can make a dent in Sharp’s assignment" he replied, his tone carefully measured to hide the deceit. He hoped the flickering shadows would hide the concern that he felt was all too apparent in his eyes. "Let's not dwell on just my sleeping habits," he deftly redirected, his gaze intently studying her, "You're the one cutting it close, aren't you? Classes in a few hours, and here you are. I'd wager you not making it to our morning classes tomorrow." A strained chuckle escaped him as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, bridging the distance between them.

Her response was uncharacteristically delayed, and when it came, it didn’t come with its usual excitement. She drew in a breath, her gaze fixed on the dancing flames that seemed to ensnare her reflection in their fiery ballet. Her hands moved in a subtle, self-comforting gesture, leaving a hint of an inner turmoil that she hadn’t confided in him.

A flicker of movement drew his attention to a slender cut marring her face—a wound that was unveiled as she turned towards the fire, how he didn’t notice it the second she had joined him escaped him, it bothered him that he hadn’t seen it straight away, he almost felt guilty. His instinct urged him to reach out, to bridge the gap and address the injury that seemed to scream for attention. Yet he restrained himself, settling back into the shadows with a quiet resolve. "When she's ready, she'll confide in me," he told himself, the thought more a plea to convince himself rather than a conviction.

"I… I was out with Highwing," y/n finally murmured, her voice a soft echo in the room. "There was… something I had to tend to, a matter related to the trials. We encountered some poachers, a couple of goblins—nothing more." But her words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken truths, and Sebastian's intuition screamed in silent alarm deep within him.

The crackling fire no longer commanded her attention as she turned to gauge Sebastian's reaction, searching his face for signs of doubt. She hoped he'd let the matter slide, and as if sensing her silent plea, he simply nodded, acceptance flickering in his eyes. "You know, if there's anyone capable of giving poachers a run for their money, it's you, y/n," Sebastian remarked, the softness in his smile reaching his eyes.

Her response was a half-hearted echo of his grin, her eyes locking with his for a fleeting moment. "Thanks, Sebastian. It means a lot, you know? Having someone believe in me when everything here is still so relatively new," she murmured, the vulnerability in her voice brushing against the silent space between them.

Sebastian's chuckle broke through the heaviness, his smile widening, a shared moment of lightness taking the edge off his earlier worry. "Not believe in you? Come on, you had me outmatched from day one. Anyone who can do that is destined for greatness." His words teetered on the edge of sentimentality, and he quickly steered the conversation back with a playful challenge. "But, since I've been demoted to second-best, courtesy of you, you owe me an adventure. It's only fair, right?"

There was a teasing tone to his voice, but behind it lay his sincere desire to join her, not just for the thrill, but to ensure her safety—something he couldn't admit just yet.

The suggestion drew a soft, airy laugh from her as she rose to her feet, sidestepping the deeper implication of his words. "Next time, maybe, Sallow," she deflected with a lightness she didn't feel, sensing the undercurrents of concern that both of them were dancing around. "But for now, I'm off to bed. We've got Hecat first thing, and you better not be up all night either. Promise me you'll get some rest too?" "Promise," Sebastian nodded, the care in her voice buoying him a touch, though it couldn't fully brush off the thought of her concealed injuries. "Go on, then. Get some sleep, y/n. I'll meet you here in the morning before class."

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The next day had come all too soon, the cool morning breeze wisped around the castle grounds as the rising sun’s glow cascaded over every inch it could touch. A fragment of the golden glow broke through the dark water that sloshed against the large windows within the common room — causing the room to have more of a glow than usual.

Y/n sat on the edge of her bed, the freshly made bedding underneath trapped between her fingers as she pulled and twisted at the thick fabric subconsciously, deep in her thoughts; she felt almost glued to the bed, her eyes stuck focused on one point on the floor in front of her as her thoughts ran rampant within her.

The sleep that she had promised Sebastian hadn’t come as she had hoped, instead, she had spent the last of the night tossing and turning, arguing with her inner thoughts, overthinking every detail and thought that crossed her mind.

She would love nothing more than to have Sebastian come with her, to have Sebastian by her side every time she left the castle, but she knew that no matter what; great danger would always be waiting right around the corner for her — not a single situation so far had proven anything different. She wondered if she would be able to live with herself if anything happened to Sebastian, but what didn’t cross her mind — Would Sebastian be able to live with himself if something happened to her and he wasn’t there to help her? Or save her?

Her racing thoughts were interrupted by the heavy dormitory door being pushed open and spoke a voice, causing her to jump from her sitting position and almost out of her skin. “Aren’t you coming y/n?” said the voice as a head peaked through the door, the head of Imelda Reyes. “You know Sallow is waiting for you down there, he seems to be under the impression you aren’t coming to class.” she continued, entering the room. “You know how Sebastian is… Not a man with a lot of patience, now is he.” y/n replied swiftly, hoping to avoid discussion as to why Sebastian thought as much, the last thing she needed was someone else asking questions.

Imelda waited for y/n as she grabbed her robes and wand she had left on her beside the locker before following Imelda out of the dormitory and down the winding hallway that led to the common room. The two girls walked in silence, the only sound being their steps across the metal flooring mixed with the light morning chatter of sleepy students coming from the common room some distance away. “What are you doing tonight?” Imelda asked suddenly, catching y/n off guard. “Tonight? Why?” y/n responded without turning to look at Imelda, her brain suddenly coming up with all types of scenarios, her anxiety slightly spiked as she waited for Imelda to spit out her reasoning.

“Well, you’re the only one who feels like a competition out on the pitch y/n, you’re getting better. You can almost keep up with me, so even though Quidditch is cancelled this year, maybe you wouldn’t mind helping me practice? I need someone who pushes me… Anyone else and it would be too easy… You’ll get some experience out of it too, and you might be ready for Quidditch tryouts next year.” Imelda quickly blurted out, completely unaware of how laced with ego her words were, but y/n knew it wasn’t intentional. Imelda wasn’t afraid to let people know she knew what her strengths were, and she never downplayed them for anyone, and that was something y/n admired in her.

“I really wish I could Imelda” y/n said softly as they cascaded down the steps and towards where Sebastian and Ominis sat talking between themselves. “I haven’t gotten around to Sharp’s assignment yet, and I haven’t gotten a chance for Hecat’s assignment yet either, I wish I could help you out, Imelda but I just don’t have the time tonight.” y/n finished, throwing Sebastian a pleading look once she realised he was watching them approach. “Well, what about this weekend? Any assignments we get today won't take the whole weekend to do” Imelda continued, stopping in her tracks once they reached the couches where the boys sat. Imelda perched herself on the arm of the couch, her eyes bore into y/n’s, almost as if she was trying to get into y/n’s mind to make her agree, but before she could even give Imelda an answer, Sebastian had realised the conversation y/n was trying to wiggle out of, knowing she couldn’t tell Imelda the truth.

“I mean, she would love to help you Imelda, but we’ve got plans this weekend, so unfortunately you might have to pick one of the other students, even if they don’t hold a candle to y/n’s skill” Sebastian said as he walked over to stand beside y/n, a smile on his face which y/n returned with a soft smile, grateful for his swift thinking. Imelda opened her mouth quickly to argue with Sebastian, probably to say how practising for Quidditch next year is more important, but Ominis was the next person to protest against Imelda’s arguments; but not for the same reason as Sebastian—Ominis simply didn’t want to listen to their conversation.

“You know Imelda, maybe more people would want to practice with you if you didn’t speak down to them and act as if you were a gift from Merlin himself. You’ve no chance of changing their minds, you’ll learn, as well as I, that there’s no changing their minds once they’ve decided something, together.” The way Ominis spoke left a feeling of bubbling guilt between Sebastian and y/n as they exchanged looks. Was that really what Ominis thought? Y/n began to worry that her and Sebastian’s adventures so far were driving a wedge between Ominis and Sebastian, the last thing she would want would be to cause a rift between the two lifelong best friends, but a nudge to her arm pulled her from her thoughts and she looked up to meet Sebastian’s gaze. He just shook his head lightly, indicating for her to not start overthinking Ominis’ words.

Imelda rolled her eyes at what Ominis had to say, but she didn’t have a retort for him; instead, she turned her attention back to y/n and Sebastian. “Well. Enjoy your adventures. Don’t come crying to me when you need someone to fly with y/n” The snark from Imelda was natural, something anyone who knew her was used to; even y/n already understood despite her short time at the school. “Oh, Imelda you know that’s not-” y/n began to speak, but Imelda was quick to shut her down, her willingness to talk back to y/n but not Ominis didn’t go unnoticed. “Save it, I don’t have time. Some of us have actual responsibilities. I’ll see you in class.” Imelda snapped as she turned to leave, her nose turning even more upwards than it had been in its natural position, leaving the three friends in silence.

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“She’s going to kill me the next time I turn down practising with her.” y/n said as she walked with the two boys towards the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, she knew she’d definitely get an earful from Hecat over not having the assignments, so being late wasn’t an option. “Surely the girl who beat me at Crossed Wands can put up a fight against Imelda unless she had something to hide about our duel..? Maybe, Felix Felicis?” Sebastian said, turning his head and giving her a look, a sly smile on his face. Anyone who didn’t know him would think this was a real accusation, that he was genuinely accusing her of cheating in their match—but his two closest friends knew it was just lighthearted banter.

“Oh please Sebastian, you know I didn’t know how to brew Felix Felicis back then, tell him Ominis, I won fair and square.” y/n said, looking between the two boys. “She’s not wrong Sebastian, she had only just gotten to Hogwarts, she probably didn't even know that potion existed. She won out of skill, like she said, fair and square” Ominis said tauntingly, getting a scoff from Sebastian. “Well, she’s had actual help and time with professors to learn! Oh, leave it..” Sebastian finally said defeatedly. He would have been annoyed at what Ominis was saying if it hadn’t been about y/n, hearing that he just wasn’t good enough to win did sting him a bit.

They left the warmth of the castle, the cool autumn breeze ran over the friends as they made their way through the grounds of Hogwarts. As they crossed the Viaduct courtyard, y/n noticed the decorations that seemingly appeared overnight. Cobwebs seemed to be hanging on arches, doorways and corners, pumpkins lay strewn about in a range of sizes. Even the smaller decorations and candles had seemingly been placed in such a fashion that it almost transformed the feeling of Hogwarts, even in the morning time.

“Well, those little house elves were hard at work last night,” Sebastian said looking around at their passing surroundings as they crossed over the Viaduct Bridge. “They’re always hard at work… They never get a break.” Ominis muttered, his voice low. The two other friends exchanged glances, knowing where Ominis’ sudden attitude change came from. For a Gaunt, Ominis’ views were unheard of.

The Gaunt’s were cruel.

They were descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself, their heritage and lineage were of utmost importance to them. They had no time for Half-Bloods, and most definitely no respect for Muggle-Born witches and wizards. When it came to house elves, they were no different. They viewed the elves as nothing more than what their purpose served, and at that, there was no respect. Violence was common, physically and verbally, and that didn’t stop at house elves… Their obsession with blood purity, obsession with the Dark Arts, their sadistic ‘hobbies’ Ominis hated everything about their beliefs and what they did, choosing to have his own set of beliefs instead. Any time Ominis spoke about his family, it was never positive. Y/n knew there was more to his story, but she didn’t want to press him about his family and the Dark Arts; knowing the subject would be sensitive.

Y/n hated hearing her friends sound anyway upset, she racked her brain for something to say, to maybe comfort him somehow. “I agree Ominis” she said, placing her hand lightly on his arm as they continued into the Astronomy Wing of Hogwarts. “..but Hogwarts is the best place for them. If they were left to their old masters, who knows what could happen to them.” her voice matched the soft, sensitive nature of the conversation. However, as soon as her hand reached his arm, Sebastian had become all too aware of it. A strange feeling started brewing inside of him as he watched and listened to them. Was he jealous? Was her hand on his arm more than a friendly touch? Sebastian’s mind filled with questions, questions fueled by his sudden jealousy. “I know, I know, but there’s not much comfort in knowing they are still being worked to death,” Ominis spoke glumly, y/n looked sympathetic towards his feelings, and Sebastian wanted to know why it bothered him so. “That’s all they know Ominis, at least they’re safe here..” y/n said, her hand dropping from his arm, not knowing what else to say to ease Ominis’ pointed feelings on the topic. Sebastian felt calmed when her hands dropped to her sides, but now he had to face the fact he was jealous, and over such a small thing. They walked in silence up to the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower, unsure of where to take the conversation after it hit such a sensitive tone.

“Hecat’s going to have my head you know.” y/n said trying to divert the conversation, and their moods. Sebastian and Ominis both let out a small laugh at her sudden statement. “You didn’t finish your assignment?” Ominis asked, almost as if he was disappointed in her. Y/n shook her head as they crossed the marble flooring and up the right staircases and corridors to reach Hecat’s classroom. “Well, someone was out all night causing trouble,” Sebastian said giving y/n a knowing look, a slight smirk played on his face. “Maybe she will let me hand it in late? If I tell her some of what I was doing? Surely she’d understand right” y/n asked, unsure of how Hecat would handle the situation.

Ominis just shrugged before he spoke, “I wouldn’t know. I like to get my assignments in on time.” y/n just smiled before rolling her eyes, “Gee, thanks Ominis. That is a great help” she said jokingly. Sebastian took the situation a little more seriously, since he knew more than Ominis about what she had been doing.*

“What are you going to tell her?” Sebastian asked, looking down at her. “What if you just tell her you were out gathering supplies or something, and you got into some trouble? She can’t disprove it, and it’s not really a lie, you’re just… withholding the full story. Plus, you still have that cut on your face still too so surely she’ll believe you..” Sebastian said in a hushed voice, genuinely trying to help her situation. A sigh left her as they approached the classroom, “I guess we’ll find out won’t we..” She said, opening the classroom door and entering, Sebastian and Ominis behind her.

As usual, they were the last few students to walk in besides a couple of stragglers that waltzed in after them. The class was lively, chatter coming from every direction as students spoke among themselves. Ominis walked and took his usual seat in the middle of the class, not bothering to speak to anyone, instead just preparing his belongings for class, the thought of his family heavy on his mind again. Sebastian perched himself on top of his desk at the back of the class, preparing for the incoming babble and nonsense as he watched Garreth Weasley approach him. y/n on the other hand made a direct beeline for the steps up to Professor Hecat’s study, repeating the excuse in her brain. She knocked on the door lightly and it was just a few seconds before the door opened and a voice spoke gently. “Come in, come in” said the older voice, y/n followed her instructions and walked into the little room above the classroom. “Professor Hecat, would you have a few moments?” y/n asked, her voice unwavering but she was still nervous nonetheless.

Hecat turned from the array of books she was sorting, directing her attention fully to y/n. “Of course, what is it Ms. y/l/n?” Hecat asked, raising an eyebrow slightly at the girl's words, stepping closer to her student. “I, I don’t have the assignment Professor” y/n said while looking at the ground, she looked up at her professor before continuing; “I intended to finish it last night but-” Hecat cut swiftly across her sentence; “but you thought you could come with excuses instead of the assigned work?” Hecat asked, her hands crossing over themselves in front of her. Hecat examined her student’s reaction to her words, suddenly noticing the mark on y/n’s cheek. “Merlin, what happened to you child? You’re hurt” Hecat said almost in a distressed voice, y/n simply just continued on her ramble in hopes Hecat would let her finish. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Professor. While I was out, we came across a poacher camp. I couldn’t leave without doing something, and I understand my studies are important..” y/n spoke fast, but Hecat listened to every word, just as y/n hoped; she prayed Hecat would understand the excuse she had, considering Hecat’s past of fighting poachers.

“But with all due respect Professor, I won’t let poachers or any other horrible person get away with their actions just so I can do an assignment” The words came from her before she even could think about them, it was kind of what she wanted to say; but it came across a lot more disrespectful than she expected, or so she thought.

Hecat’s face remained stoic as she took in her student's last few words, giving the impression that she was not happy. Suddenly a small smile cracked across her face as she looked at y/n. Hecat had not expected such a valid excuse in her mind, never mind expect such with passion, conviction and sincerity. Hecat merely nodded, her smile never once fading now. “I’ll give you until our next lesson, I see no reason to punish you for something I would have done as a student, someone’s got to do something about that lot,” Hecat said, her voice was light now, almost as if what y/n had said to her reminded her of herself.

“Thank you Professor” y/n said as she turned around to leave the study, unsure of what else to say; this wasn’t the outcome she had expected. She reached just outside the door, on the balcony looking down at the class, her eyes instantly looked at Sebastian. Her heart began to race slightly as she realised he was looking directly back at her, ignoring whatever nonsense Garreth was spewing at him. Hecat’s voice calling her pulled her attention back from Sebastian, turning around once more to face the Professor. “Oh and Miss y/l/n? Next time you decide to take on poachers, be prepared. Never go wrong with carrying some essence of dittany with you as well as your usual potions” She took Hecat’s words seriously, nodding once again at the older woman. “Of course Professor, I’ll make sure to keep that in mind.”

Y/n made her way back down the short flight of steps and across the classroom as she ran through the thoughts of how lucky she had gotten with Hecat, how lucky she had gotten that Hecat saw some of the young student in herself. She took a seat beside Sebastian, letting out a sigh of relief as she sank back into her chair. “I see you’ve still got your head.” Sebastian laughed, turning to look at her. “She was… Okay with it. I told her about the poachers and that seemed to work in my favour.” y/n said, the worry that was present in her voice before class was now gone, finally able to think of more important things than an assignment. The class passed by relatively slowly, but no student was surprised. Even in such an interesting class, theoretical studies were always dragging time along, seemingly never-ending. So once Hecat dismissed the class, students almost threw themselves out of the door to get to their next class in hopes that whatever was next was more lively.

Ominis left the class without a word to anyone, leaving Sebastian and y/n to throw each other worried glances. They knew better than to follow Ominis and hunt him for answers as to what was wrong, instead, they gathered their belongings and made their way from Hecat’s classroom, making their way back down to the Potions classroom.

“So, about our adventure,” Sebastian said, the two walking side by side across the hallways, they moved slightly every now and then when another student, or group, pushed their way past. “I was thinking we could go tonight, I don’t have much to get done and I’m sick of being in this castle.” Sebastian’s words were filled with hope, and something else that she couldn’t put her finger on.

“I don’t know Sebastian I-”

“Oh come on y/n, I’m not some fragile little thing that’ll get hurt the second we leave, I can defend myself you know.” Sebastian’s voice didn’t have its usual joking tone to it, causing y/n to look up at him while they walked.

“I never said you were Sebastian, I know you can but-” He cut her off again. “So it’s decided then. Tonight, we’re going on an adventure.” Sebastian’s voice was light again as he spoke, basically telling her rather than asking now. “Fine Sebastian. But we’re doing it my way. There’s something I have to do, so promise me you won’t do something reckless?” her words were serious, and a tone of defeat was lingering in her voice. “I promise y/n, we’ll do it your way.”

She didn’t know if he was being honest or just telling her what she wanted to hear, but she had accepted it, knowing Sebastian would not let it go, not until he got to come along with her. ‘This is the last thing I need..’' she thought to herself, as she mulled over the fact that any task would only be made more difficult with Sebastian there, his tendency to charge in guns blazing all of the time left little space for plans to be executed with stealth and precision was something y/n knew could be an issue and could possibly jeopardize the task at hand.

They walked the rest of the way to Potions without talking anymore about the topic, instead just talking together like normal friends, no talk of dark magic, no talk of danger or poachers, no dark wizards' name even graced their lips… It was something she wished was more common, but between her life and her friends that she held close; having a ‘normal’ friendship was off the cards. Between her two best friends, one a Gaunt who defied his family’s expectations, and the other with a longing for dark magic and power, she knew that the current flow of normal conversation wouldn’t last long; the trio were anything but regular students of Hogwarts.

Sebastian, Ominis and y/n all chose the same workstation, each friend on each side of the large table between them, a collection of cauldrons, ingredients and vials laid strewn about on every table; chatter was lively in the class as the students worked on their potions. Professor Sharp walked around the room, his injured leg causing his steps to falter occasionally as he made his rounds, not affected in the slighest. He inspected everyone’s potions, some gaining compliments; others causing him to say nothing more than a grunt before moving to the next. Ominis avoided joining much of the conversation as y/n and Sebastian discussed their plan for that night, y/n on the other hand didn’t delve too into detail about what she had to do, not wanting to speak about it in such a busy environment.

The potions class seemed to fly by relatively fast, some students received praise for their attempts at the potions; other students would have been lucky to be ignored by Sharp. One of those unlucky few students being Garreth Weasley. The trio looked up as they heard Sharp clear his voice as he approached Garreth, who was standing by his cauldron. The potion Garreth had brewed seemed to stench up the class the longer it brewed, the mixture seemed to expand in the cauldron before it swelled up; a large bubble formed on the top; shaping into a hand that seemed to reach for saving from the dreadful potion — the desperate potion’s stretched hand deflated with an amusing “poof”, the sound it made seemed like the last painful exhale from something that had been holding onto the last few seconds of it’s life before letting out that last, pathetic sound.

Garreth’s failure earned him a deep frown from Sharp. “Mr. Weasley, I cannot keep repeating myself. Please follow the instructions that are provided to you and refrain from your own… concoctions. You may yet still have time to pass this class and prove you’re not a failure. Please keep your own ‘potions’ for when you have mastered the simplest, yes?” Sharp said as he looked down at the ginger boy who was fighting off a frown of his own from falling upon his freckled cheeks.

Sebastian, Ominis and y/n couldn’t help but chuckle amongst themselves once they heard Professor Sharp’s words and watched Garreth’s attempt at the potion dissolve the shape it had taken and recoiled back into the large cauldron.

Professor Sharp had taken notice of the three best friends joking amongst themselves as he made his way towards their shared table, not failing to compliment Amit’s potion to a high extent as he passed by the table Amit shared with Garreth and Poppy— Amit always had a way of succeeding, even if it wasn’t a strength of his. He held himself to a high standard within his classes, so it was no surprise that this class was no exception.

The three friends subdued their light laughs and mutterings towards each other the closer that Sharp got, turning their attention back to the potions that had sat in front of them. Sharp didn’t speak a word as he made his way around the table, glancing at each of their brewings intently. They stood and almost held their breath — hoping that their potions, at minimum, were passable. A thoughtful ‘hmm’ left Professor Sharp as he stood up a little straighter after studying their potions. “For three who seemed most interested in watching others, you haven’t disappointed me completely” Sharp said in his usual indifferent tone, his eyes flittering between Ominis, Sebastian and y/n. “Next time, please pay attention to your own cauldrons and not other students,” Sharp said bluntly, causing y/n and Sebastian to look at each other. Professor Sharp turned his attention to Ominis fully now; “Well done Mr. Gaunt, I assume you’ve been practising? This potion is well brewed — Ten points to Slytherin.” Sharp said before he turned and made his way back to his desk. Sebastian and y/n turned to Ominis, a smile on each of their faces. Ominis hadn’t been the best at potions — but he was determined to overcome the struggle that came along with the class due to the pressure he applied to himself. A satisfied smile came across Ominis’ face upon hearing Sharp's words. A sense of contentment washed over Ominis as one of two friends spoke; “Nice work Ominis, I guess we should probably practice too” y/n said with a chuckle, genuinely happy that her friend managed to overcome a hurdle that he too often struggled with.

Luck had been on their side as the three had received compliments on their potions, clearly showing they had some skill when it came to the careful craft, but Professor Sharp didn’t hesitate to let them know they still were not up to his high-held standards, that they still had some growing to do within the area.

Once the class had tidied away their potions and cauldrons, returning ingredients and books to their rightful place, the rest of the day passed with surprising ease. Most of the classes seemed to pass swiftly, and the friends were not about to complain about that — all complaints had been reserved for their History of Magic class. The class dragged on as Professor Binns’ dull, monotone voice filled the room. The odd student took notes, and paid attention to the dry words that left the ghost professor's mouth, the rest of the students feigned interest. Some students watched Binns float as he lectured on, staring through the transparent man, and some passed notes (taking full advantage of the professor’s obliviousness). Sebastian sat with his head resting on his hand; his eyes fighting to stay open. Ominis sat in silence, his gaze turned towards the window as he let Binns’ lecture float by his ears — his mind elsewhere. Y/n’s energy to the class was not much different, her body language showed she was listening intently to Binns’ words, but rather her mind was somewhere else — somewhere far away.

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As nightfall came, the usual hustle and bustle of the castle quietened down, most students now working on assignments, while others wandered about the castle or loitered around talking to friends. The only chaotic noises to break the relaxed environment and subdued chatter came when some of the ghosts of Hogwarts flew past, Peeves was tormenting a couple of first years, and the usual screams and shouts of Eddie Cleaver rang through the halls as he wisped past.

Outside of the castle, the Halloween decorations came even more to life, the candles cast their golden, warm hue upon parts of dark passageways, corners of the courtyards, casting an a beautiful but ominous glow over the decorated areas — the aura hanging on each of the old stones of the castle radiated halloween charm.

Where festive scenes were lacking, there was one student, beyond the walls of the castle, beyond the care of Halloween decorations. Flying above the Forbidden Forest was a large creature with a small figure on its back. The autumn breeze blew past y/n as she perched on Highwing, she took in every sight below her, taking advantage of her high vantage point. She knew this task wasn’t going to be easy, she knew this was where danger truly lay. Highwing and the girl made their way lower to the ground before Highwing began to gracefully saunter through the forest, the creature knew of every twist and turn within the treacherous forest. Y/n’s senses were on high alert as all sorts of noises happened around her, but she and the Hippogriff continued on, not willing to be shaken or have her focus thrown off.

Back in the safety of Hogwarts, Sebastian stood outside of the Slytherin common room, frustration bubbling in him. Y/n had been an hour late meeting him and it bothered him deeply. He marched briskly up the steps leading to the main part of the castle, praying in his mind that she would be around the corner — though his silent pleas had not been answered. Instead when he rounded the corner, to his surprise, he saw Ominis sitting on one of the seats near the entrance to the library, his wand in hand and a rather thick book in the other.

“Sebastian? What are you doing here?” his voice was confused as his attention to the book he held dropped. “I thought you were going on your adventure?” Ominis’ voice was heavy, his tone dropping at the last word. “I was but, Y/n. She was meant to meet me outside the common room an hour ago. I’ve been looking all over for her.” Sebastian sighed, approaching his friend. “What?” Ominis asked bluntly, suddenly a tone shifted in his voice to slight concern. “Sebastian, she left already. I passed her before she as she was on her way, she said you were meeting near the forest.” Ominis finished his sentence, the genuine concern now present in his voice. “She said what?! She intentionally left without me? And lied? Why-” Sebastian was now full of emotions, a mix of worry, concern and a tinge of anger that she would lie to him, that she would leave him behind; Sebastian’s thoughts and emotions were then flickering all over the place.

“You don’t think, do you, Sebastian? She doesn’t want to drag you into trouble, or danger.” Ominis said knowingly, and he was right, she didn’t want to but Sebastian in any dangerous, or stupid, situation — but this logic didn’t sit with Sebastian in the slightest. “So it’s okay for her to run towards danger alone but not with me?” Sebastian’s voice showed all of his emotions at once, causing Ominis’ eyebrows to rise and a sigh to leave him before he spoke.

“She just doesn’t want you getting hurt Sebastian.”

“And I don’t want her getting hurt, but she doesn’t care about what I want, so why should I care about her wanting to go it alone?” Sebastian had a good point that even Ominis couldn’t argue against, and Ominis didn’t argue his friends point; instead what he spoke next was the quite opposite.

“Then go after her Sebastian, she was heading to the forest. She seemed flustered when we met, she was quite anxious…” Those were all the words Sebastian needed for his mind to decide his next course of action. “I’ll talk to you later Ominis,” Sebastian said as he turned on his heel and began to jog briskly from his friend before he began to run towards the large doors that were at the end of the large hall, every fibre of his being told him something was wrong.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Y/n was quiet and careful with every step she took. Her wand was held tightly in her hand, ready for anything. She took note of the surroundings, seeing what she could use to her advantage. Just on the edge of where the poachers set up camp, was a clearing, giving a view of the night’s starry sky over the hill’s ledge. She thought about being able to cast the poachers off the steep edge that looked over the forest, she took note of where the forestry ended, the last thing she would want is to end up burning down an entire magical forest. To her advantage, the trees stopped just before the encampment, allowing for the use of fire spells; a favourite of y/n’s.

She watched from behind the bushes as poachers spoke to each other about plans, not knowing of the student who lurked not far from their camp. She stepped quietly across an opening in the trees, Highwing not far from her. Highwing’s safety was a major concern to her, even in such a tense moment. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if anything happened to the creature.

“What will we do with the egg?” said a poacher, y/n’s head snapped around the tree to get a better view. “Cage it, don’t know if it’ll hatch. Keep it safe. That’s a lot of money.” said another poacher with a laugh, y/n’s stomach twisted at the sound of capturing and selling any creature or egg. “How d’ya reckon they managed to capture that beast ‘nyway? Nowt’ easy ‘bout a Horntail, ‘n’ bet a few of ‘em ended up crispy” said a poacher who sat by the fire that burned in the middle of the camp. There were a few tents set up around the area, all around the fire. Cages were all over the ground, some empty, and a couple contained little Nifflers that looked terrified, Y/N’s heart cracked as she saw the full scene, but her mind was now in overdrive.

A Horntail? Captured? How? This added a whole new layer to everything going on, added something else that she felt that she needed to take care of. The thoughts of her initial reasoning for being out that night swarmed her mind, now with the added stress of releasing the Nifflers and a dragon egg. Her mind spun with solutions to the situation that seemingly got more dire the longer it dragged on.

She couldn’t stand there anymore, looking at the creatures and listening to the horrible conversations between the poachers.

As poachers continued to talk about the dragon amongst themselves, y/n made her way closer to the camp, taking a mental note of where every poacher was located. She glanced back at Highwing who stood proudly in the shadows, the Hippogriff took another step forward. Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, afraid Highwing would catch the attention of the poachers. ‘I should have never brought her’ y/n thought to herself, swearing at her own stupidity and recklessness, thinking now she may have put Highwing in danger too — that Highwing would draw attention. Thankfully, as if Highwing would read her mind, the creature didn’t make a sound, and y/n pressed on, relieved.

She noticed a lone poacher close to her, his back turned to the student. She closed the gap between them while raising her wand, a whisper then left her lips, only loud enough for the incantation to work; “petrificus totalus”

The lone poacher seized up as if frozen before his body dropped to the ground. Y/N breathed a sigh of relief once he was down, ready to approach the rest of the camp. She took note of the three poachers that were left, thinking to herself; “only three, okay..” She had dealt with more than three poachers in the past, so this didn’t cause her any concern. Instead of taking a tactful approach, she took advantage of how little poachers were at the camp.

She leapt from the shadows pointing her wand directly at the poacher that sat by the fire. “Depulso!” she shouted, a blast of light came from her wand, directly hitting the poacher and sending him flying into the high burning fire that once provided a source of warmth for the poachers — and now it was being used for their demise. His screams filled the air, even as his body was engulfed in the flames, his screams were still audible but now mixing with the sound of the fire crackling in an attempt to break down the foreign mass of skin and bone that had been forced into its core.

The remaining two poachers were suddenly caught off guard as turned to see her standing there, her Hogwarts robes billowing in the breeze that drifted by — but the robes were a dead giveaway as to who she was, a situation she had not predicted happening. “You!!” shouted a poacher, his wand quickly got drawn as he got prepared to fight. “Confringo!” came from the poacher, a burst of fire headed straight for y/n, she quickly rolled out of the way, barely missing the intense attack that had been directed at her.

Her heart began to beat faster, and she realised she made a mistake wearing her robes; now giving everyone a sign that she was the student causing trouble for them, the student that Rookwood was pursuing rather intently. She ran across the camp, firing at both poachers but neither seemed to b giving up or dropping anytime soon. Neither she nor the poachers gave up their relentless casts, and the situation only seemed more dire when a couple of more figures started approaching. Y/n noticed this and she panicked, causing her to almost get hit with a powerful cast of Reducto that someone just fired at her.

“Highwing!” she yelled, not seising her casts or wand movements once, “Get out of here! GO!” she screamed at the Hippogriff to leave her behind, knowing if more poachers came that they wouldn’t hesitate to try take the creature — or worse. Highwing hesitated, watching the student who cared for her so much fight off the oncoming attack from multiple directions. “NOW HIGHWING!” y/n screamed, her voice breaking as she deflected a jinx hurling towards her. Highwing didn’t take another second before sprinting out of the forest, understanding the urgency of the situation. The Hippogriff’s heart was now beating fast as she ran back through the forest and towards the school — hoping to catch someone’s attention, anyones attention that could help.

Y/n kept fighting and dodging curses, not stopping for a second. She knew if she didn’t put her everything into this, she wouldn’t be coming out of this fight, not alive anyway.

“Reducto!” she got a hit on a poacher that was moving closer to her, the man suddenly burst into nothing but ash that lingered in the air before settling on the ground, every atom of the poacher was simply reduced to nothing but specks of grey that settled on the ground where he once stood.

Despite her success so far, it had seemed to her as if every time one poacher went down, another appeared in the last’s stead. Frustration began building in her as she did everything she could to try to keep her mind focused on the fight, but as soon as she found it, the focus was snatched away with blunt force. Y/n’s full attention was pulled from the fight by a swirling stream of purple smoke that twisted its way to the ground, as the smoke dissapated, y/n got a clear view of who had just joined the fight, and the stakes were raised tenfold when she realised who had just joined the fight. “You’re the little bitch Rookwood wants!” shouted a scratchy female voice, the insult cutting through the air like a knife.

Ashwinders…

Y/n cast a quick protego shield as the poachers kept their attack going, she knew she had to get out of this and fast. Her mind ran through spells, jinxes, curses anything that would give her a leg up on the competition now but it seemed almost impossible, her knowledge finally halted her, leaving her with little choice. She kept letting off fire spells one after another, the bombardment somewhat helped the odds of the fight be in her favour for a moment — just a moment. A familiar swirling sound was light upon y/n’s ears. She forced herself to pay no heed to the sound, until a second purple tornado-like smoke appeared before spreading. Once the violet smoke disappeared, in it’s wake stood another Ashwinder, this one seemingly larger than the first.

“Petrificus totalus!” shouted the new Ashwinder, this time a male voice came from the Duelist. He landed a perfect hit on her without much effort, causing her entire body to freeze up. She had lost complete control of her body as her wand fell from her hand and landed by her feet. She was completely defenceless. She screamed obscenities in her mind, unable to open her mouth even the slightest bit. She was done for. Her body didn’t even have a chance to fall and hit the ground before another spell was cast at her now statue-like body. “Wingardium Leviosa!”

She was at the complete mercy of the Ashwinders and the last remaining poachers, the poachers were clearly exhausted from the fight, retreating away from the duelist who now walked closer to the camp. The Ashwinder that cast the Levitation charm pulled y/n closer to them as they closed the distance, leaving her suspended in the air, frozen, unable to defend herself. “Do you realise how much of a nuisance you’ve been? How many problems you’ve caused for us?!” screamed the male of the duellists, his voice was full of venom and hatred, and at that moment y/n truly feared for her life.

“Well no more! No more stupid little brats thinking they can stop us!” the Ashwinder controlling her lowered Y/n so he could stare directly into her eyes as he spoke with his cruel voice. Y/n had no option but to listen, to hang onto every word spat at her.

The looming female Ashwinder began walking towards her accomplice and the frozen student. Once again the scratchy, female voice spoke while stepping up to the suspended girl; “…and when your little friends hear about how we tortured you, how you begged for your life before we ripped you to shreds, they’ll learn not to interfere. They’ll learn their place. Like Rookwood says, ‘Children should be seen and not heard’” the female Ashwinder continued in her vicious, venom-laced voice. The Ashwinders were wholly and completely unaware of the tiny bit of information she had just given y/n, and she knew exactly what she was going to do with it if she got out alive… Even in that moment, she forgot about the threat to her life; only thinking about what the female Ashwinder had just said, information that could help Sebastian and his sister. 'Children should be seen and not heard'

A poacher suddenly appeared, pulling an empty cage with him. The cage wasn’t much bigger than what a couple of Niffleres were in, but that wasn’t something that either the Ashwinders or poachers cared for. “Someone get a word to Rookwood! Tell him we got the little bitch.” said the female Ashwinder as she glanced at the cage, ideas running rampant through her head. “..until then, we’ll have some fun, wont we girl?.” Y/n was suddenly dropped to the ground, but her still frozen body was then shoved into the cage, the girl left completely defenceless, completely overrun with terror.

The remaining poachers and the Ashwinders watched as y/n lay motionless in the cage, finding no amusement in the idea of caging her anymore, not when she couldn’t express her fear, not when she was quiet. Y/n saw the female duellist raise her wand once more, suddenly casting at y/n with something she couldn’t defend herself against; even if she had her wand.

“Crucio!”

There was a split second before the curse hit her that allowed her mind to register the curse and the bright green sparks that emanated from the tip of the Ashwinder’s wand.

The pain was unbearable, y/n’s body was no longer frozen; the Unforgivable Curse that was cast on her overpowered the weak-by-comparison charm. A searing pain washed over her entire body, feeling as if every inch of her skin was set on fire; it felt like a million cuts all over her body that were being cleaned with pure alcohol. The pain caused her to writhe in the cage, her body tensing and dropping, and tensing again. The only sound that came from her was sounds of pain, screams that pierced the night air rang out through the forest, the pain didn’t feel like it was ever going to stop and when it did, the relief didn’t last long before the curse was cast on her again, this time even more painful. Her screams reached a pitch she didn’t think possible, the screams were so bloodcurdling that they set her own hair on edge, anyone nearby surely would think there was a banshee wandering about.

She wanted to beg, to plead for them to stop, but the more she tried to make words come out, the more intense the pain soaring over her body got and the more she in turn screamed.

Some distance away, Sebastian walked towards the Forbidden Forest, his ears caught a scream, a scream that sent a shiver down his spine, and his blood ran cold when it broke through the air. “Y/N!” he said to himself, panic rushed over him as his feet began moving faster, Sebastian was now sprinting towards the sounds. He was so focused on following the directions of the screams and watching the ground for obstacles he had to divert around, that he didn’t notice the white creature heading toward him until it was too late.

His body fully collided with Highwings strong body, knocking him backwards. Highwing took notice of Sebastian and reared on her back legs, trying her best to signal him distress. He didn’t even think about standing back up, panic flooded his voice; “Highwing?!” he knew if Highwing was alone, those screams definitely came from y/n. Highwing was stressed, cries came from the creature, almost begging him to understand her as he stood back up to his feet, ensuring his wand was with him. “I know, I know Highwing! It’s okay, I’ll find her okay? I promise I’ll find her” he didn’t know if he was trying to convince himself or the Hippogriff that was in front of him. He stroked Highwing’s chest signalling for her to calm down, the intensity of the situation and his determination to save her made Highwing and Sebastian forget they hadn’t ever met properly, the Hippogriff uncharacteristically trusted him straight away.

“I need to go, I have to find her” Sebastian said hurriedly as he stepped away from her, continuing on his path to find y/n. Highwing let out a neigh before following him, she then overtook him as if to lead him to the poacher’s camp. He knew Highwing shouldn’t be near the poachers, but he wasn’t about to try to tell a Hippogriff what to do, especially not at such a critical time. Instead, he followed her heavy footsteps through the forest, winding around corners and trails after the Hippogriff.

Screams rang close by to where the boy and the creature, stopping them dead in their tracks, y/n was close by — quite close. “Please Highwing, stay here. Stay safe. I’ve got this.” Sebastian said in a nervous but confident voice. Highwing’s head bowed, acknowledging his wishes which took him by surprise.

The distinctive sound of screams disappeared, but only for a moment. The harsh Ashwinder’s voice was audible from where they stood. “CRUCIO!!” this time it was screamed with pure hatred. Sebastian instantly snapped his head in the direction of the camp, now knowing where exactly to go — his hastened steps taking him to the location of the screams.

Y/n wanted to beg, to plead for them to stop, but nothing but harrowing screams could leave her mouth, tears streamed down her face and she finally felt defeated; finally met her match. In that moment she wished for it to be over, wished for the pain to end at any cost, but it never did. The excruciating pain only ever stopped for a single moment until another round of the torture curse was thrust upon her. Y/n felt her mind drift from her, she was unable to think of anything anymore, unable to focus on anything but the pain; not even thoughts of Sebastian could break their way through the brutalising pain that the Ashwinders cast on her.

From out of the blue, an explosion erupted from the camp, debris from a tent flew in every direction. The remaining poachers and the male Ashwinder were the first ones to act in retaliation, turning their full attention to the cause of the explosion. The female Ashwinder on the other hand, kept her focus on y/n, clearly enjoying inflicting pain on the student — revelling in her screams and cries rather than the idea of joining in on the combat just yet.

Sebastian walked into the camp as debris fell around them, the fire that had caught on the tent fabric now burned intensely around them, but it didn’t bother Sebastian in the slightest. He didn’t so much as flinch as he stepped through stray flames on the ground, the fiery atmosphere seemed as if it motivated him even more. He was enraged. He set his sights on one of the poachers who was preparing an attack, but Sebastian was quicker. “Diffindo!” Sebastian’s cast caught the raggedy-looking poacher, the spell’s power sliced through the man as if it were a knife and he was just a sheet of paper, the poacher fell to a lifeless pile on the ground; his fatal injuries directly across his stomach that split him into two caused blood to run and stain the ground around him.

The female Ashwinder that had been intently torturing y/n looked up from the writhing and contorting girl in the cage, the anger radiating from the duelist was imminent, but Sebastian’s anger was more. “Oh look. One of your little friends has come to see the show,” spoke the raspy-voiced woman. Y/n’s eyes drifted towards the camp’s entrance, catching sight of Sebastian firing off at the surrounding poachers, making quick work of them. The Ashwinder considered her next course of action for a split second, toying with her options of joining in the fight or torturing the girl.

Just as the poachers dropped, two more swirls of purple smoke slammed into the ground, and Sebastian’s eyes snapped around the camp. He was determined to not let them get the better of them. Once the female poacher realised there were more Ashwinders for reinforcement, she knew what she would do next, try and fluster the student who had just so brazenly walked into the camp, thinking he was a match for them. The ego of the student was something that the Ashwinders hated, that a student thought he would be a threat to them.

But that was the Ashwinder’s undoing.

Underestimating Sebastian Sallow and hurting the ones he cared for was one way to write your death, one way to bring your death upon you in whatever way he saw fit. He could be unforgiving, he could be just as cruel as them, if not more.

“Crucio!”

Another wave was sent over y/n, just as painful as the last. Her screams didn’t care for her wanting to hold them back, so she didn’t distract Sebastian, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t even fight the pain, even when he was right in front of her. “Sebastian!” she screamed his name,she was surprised for just a moment that his name rang out through the air, yet she was unable to get anything else out as she continued to convulse in the cage, causing her to hit off of the small prison she had been put in. Sebastian’s attention was instantly drawn to where the scream came from. What he saw sent him into a rage, his mind no longer considering a rational approach. His focus was tied to the female Ashwinder, and y/n could almost swear she saw someone other than Sebastian through her tears. Someone to fear. Someone who didn’t care about the repercussions of the actions he would take. Sebastian raised his wand, his intentions so clearly stated in his mind that he didn’t even have to speak a word as he cast at the Ashwinder.

In a turn of events, karma came in the form of Sebastian, the Ashwinder that had been getting so much satisfaction from torturing y/n had folded to the ground, now letting out her screams of pain as she twisted and writhed around on the stone ground beneath her. Even in her own pain, even without him saying the incantation; y/n could tell that Sebastian cast crucio on the duelist. The power required to do such a thing, she knew right now Sebastian had one intent on his mind — but it didn’t bother her, for all of that moment when the crippling pain dissipated she had felt something she had not in some time — relief. Relief from no longer being tortured, and the relief that came with Sebastian’s arrival to the horrific situation she had gotten herself into.

He turned his attention to the now-gathering Ashwinders that cast all types at him from the edge of the cliff. Sebastian dodged and deflected the mixed hues of green and red that flew at him, a sudden power in him unlocking in the heat of the battle. Sebastian held his wand aloft, his eyes glinted with the power that was building within him. Y/n watched as Sebastian moved his wand so elegantly through the air, she was unable to make out what incantation he said, but within a moment she all but knew, and worry came over her in the form of a tsunami.

From the very tip of his wand came fire, but not bursts as he had been casting previously. Instead, it streamed from his wand, his eyes followed the growing stream as it formed shape above and around him.

From her confined space, y/n could feel the intensity that cracked through the air, as harsh as a leather whip that came from hell itself. As Sebastian’s concentration deepened, the once fiery twists that streamed from his wand began to writhe and twist with the movements of his wand, it’s chaos seemed to find order under his control, but how? The flames had a life of their own, as if with each breath Sebastian took, so did the flames; each breath bringing it more to life than the last.

“Sebastian, no!” y/n yelled, hoping that she could stop him from casting such a devastating spell, but it was too late.

The Fiendfyre’s colour was a deep, malignant crimson that seemed to bleed its ominous glow on everything around, casting everything in a hellish glow. The Ashwinders, who once underestimated him were momentarily halted by the spectacle, caused by a student no less. They watched in horror, and fascination, as the flames above Sebastian’s head began to form shape. The fire had begun to grow and take form as the shape of a head formed, followed by a long sinuous body and a flickering tongue. The Fiendfyre serpent, a terrifying sight to see, hung in the air as its body looped and coiled, as if ready to attack at any moment.

Despite the fear that built up within y/n, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. Fiendfyre was known for its destructive properties, synonymous with ruin and its desire to consume everything in its path; including the caster, but as she watched, rather than their surroundings burning to the ground around them, the two students included, it seemed to be controlled by Sebastian with eerie precision. Despite the fear that built up within y/n, she couldn’t help but marvel at the sight that came to life in front of her. Y/n, (and Ominis), knew that Sebastian felt a certain way about the dark arts and dark magic, she knew it was something he desired to learn about, to know how it worked, even how to weild it; but she didn’t know his interest would go to this extent. Oh no, this was far beyond her comprehension.

What would Ominis think if he witnessed something so unbelievable? Something so… Incredible. Something told her that Ominis wouldn’t find it the same awe–inspiring spectacle that she did, that he wouldn’t ever be open to the beauty in anything dangerous or related to the Dark Arts.

It was a clear demonstration of Sebastian’s hidden depths, the years of study and practice, and an undeniable connection to the Dark Arts he had that y/n had never fully appreciated, but was also a show of his determination, and dedication to the craft, but also of the lengths he would go to for those he cared about, the lengths he would go to for power… Sebastian had achieved something so unheard of, something that was considered even impossible; not just casting Fiendfyre, but bending it to his will, controlling the flaming serpent that paid homage to Salazar Slytherin; someone Sebastian revered for his affinity with the Dark Arts.

Her astonishment was complete as she watched Sebastian take control of the flaming serpent. In all the tales she had heard, Fiendfyre was a wild, uncontainable force of destruction, yet here it was, a testament to Sebastian's formidable power and dark affinity.

The spectacle before her was both stunning and terrifying.

As the Fiendfyre serpent hovered, a guardian beast conjured from flame and wrath, it was clear that the battle had shifted. With the serpent of fire at his command, Sebastian was not just a defender; he was a storm that couldn’t be controlled, reshaping the terror of the night into something he could be proud of. The serpent of fire seemed to pulse with a life of its own, its eyes glowing embers that locked onto the Ashwinders with a predator's gaze. The heat that emanated from it was oppressive, the air shimmering in waves that made the scene before her look like a mirage. Yet, this was no illusion; it was a vivid, terrifying reality.

Sebastian moved his wand with a fluidity that belied the danger of the spell he commanded. The serpent of Fiendfyre responded, its movements synchronised with his intentions. With a flick of his wrist, Sebastian directed the serpent, its body slithering through the air, weaving around the spells cast by the Ashwinders, creating a protective barrier of fire and fury around him. Not a single spell or jinx cast by the Ashwinders penetrated the serpent, the flames seemingly protected Sebastian, and and its focus was directly locked onto the Ashwinders.

As the Fiendfyre serpent surged forward, its fiery form twisted and contorted with sinister grace. With a menacing hiss, it lowered its head, the flames writhing and flickering like a serpent preparing to strike as the air around shimmered with its heat. Sebastian's control over the dark magic was palpable as he guided the serpent with precise movements of his wand.

With each command, the serpent responded, its burning eyes fixed on its targets with predatory intent; Sebastian’s eyes matched the serpents. What once seemed like just a reflection of the flames in his eyes was now something more; his eyes glowed with the same bright, fiery, scarlet flames as if his irises were consumed by the flames he produced.

Whisps of fire cracked from the serpent, as if threatening to drop its destructive touch on everything that surrounded them, to ultimately consume everything — but it did not give into it’s dangerous threats. It continued to follow the commands made by the male student, almost as if the Fiendfyre and Sebastian had a deeper connection — as if the troubled student and the chaos he controlled had an understanding of each other.

The fire serpent grew larger, as if standing tall and proud — a predator staring down its helpless prey. The foes that remained infront of Sebastian only had a moment to examine the power being shown right in front of them — they had lost their chance to flee once and for all. Y/n could only make out small moments from the now one-sided battle, her focus was intently tied to Sebastian and the Fiendfyre as her fear slowly melted away, as if the terrifying sight was the answer to all of the issues — no longer viewing the Fiendfyre as their demise.

In the blink of an eye, the serpents mouth opened; it’s jaws parted as it’s blazing fangs were on full display as it suddenly lunged forward with the command of Sebastian’s wand movements — with a simple flick of his wrist, the monstrosity darted through the air with the speed of light. How Sebastian controlled the fiery demon with such grace, such elegance, was something that those witnessing the events unfold could believe — especially not since he did it while anger raged inside of him, if not stronger than what he wielded. The scorching snake dashed across the camp that separated the Ashwinders from their imminent death. All y/n could make out was the blur of crimson and amber, along with its radiating and blazing heat that emminated from the fire beast as it darted past towards it’s prey, its mouth still agape, still baring its fierce fangs. The Fiendfyre was unrelenting once it reached its casters target, its widened mouth slamming shut around one of the Ashwinders with such force, that y/n could have sworn shockwaves were sent through the ground.

Sebastian continued to focus on the frenzy of fire that he commanded, each movement he made was graceful and intentful — like a dancer whoms body married the notes their body intertwined with — the attacks from him and the creature he controlled were just like master and puppet. Deliberate. Intentful. It didn’t take long for Sebastian and the Fiendfyre to make short work of the enemies who had underestimated him — their bodies no longer stood before him, the Fiendfyre had ultimately consumed their bodies — every atom of their beings had been ripped from existence. The serpent that had one stood strong, proud and dangerous retreated back from where it attacked the helpless duelists, and y/n couldn’t help but feel as if Sebastian’s control of the Fiendfyre might just fail as the battle ended. She expected the blazing form to disobey it’s caster, she expected it to lose it’s controlled form and spill its hot, lava-like fire until it consumed everything. To her shock, the Fiendfyre continued to obey Sebastian even though it wanted to break free, wanted to burn everything it possibly could.

The snake slithered back for one more proud stance in the air before its swelled size began to deflate — the fiery snake wove its way around Sebastian once more, as it twisted it soaked in the last few moments of fresh air it would get until he cast it again. It lost its solid shape, as it returned into the tip of Sebastian’s wand it melted back into it’s original form before disappearing completely. Once the conjured beast was completely gone, a spark came from the end of Sebastians wand. He barely acknowledged the spark that sigalled him that the cast was complete before he ran over to the cage that y/n had been stuffed into.

Sebastian noticed the lock on the cage hadn’t been locked — it reminded him of hearing the cruciatus curse, hearing her scream. Even though he had handed out karma, it didn’t make him feel any better. The unlocked cage just showed what the Ashwinders had intended; they didn’t lock it simply because they didn’t have to, because she would be able to leave even if she wanted to. He pushed the thoughts aside quickly before ripping the cage door open with such intensity y/n was surprised that it didn’t break away. Sebastian threw his wand aside as he turned his attention to getting her out of her confinments. His hands grabbed her legs which were closest to him and began to pull her from the cage as gently as he possibly could. Y/n couldn’t move a muscle besides the involuntary twitches her body made — a lingering affect of the repeated use of the Cruciatus curse on her, one that Sebastian hoped was only temporary.

“It’s okay, it’s okay” Sebastian said softly as his arm looped behind her knees, making it easier for him to fully pull her out of the cage. Sebastian sat down on the ground from the kneeling position he had been in as he pulled her body as close to him as possible between his outstretched legs. He put an arm around her shoulders to support her upper body as he held her close, his other arm wrapping around her too. “It’s okay, it’s over now… you’re safe, I’m here,” he said softly before resting his chin against the top of her head. He was just happy to have found her— while she was still breathing. Y/n body still ached from the curse being cast over and over, as if every drop of strength she once had was gone — now barely even able to sit herself up on her own, her upper body being supported by Sebastian, her head resting just at his shoulder as she sat between his legs, Sebastian had let the second arm that wrapped around her fall and moved her legs so they lay over one of his own spread legs so she was in a position that helped him hold her even closer — almost scared that if she wasn’t curled into him that he might lose her again.

Her voice was soft, and slightly weak when she spoke; “I’m sorry Sebastian-” her attempt at apologising for leaving Sebastian behind was cut short by a chorus of “shhh”s that came from him. His hand that had moved her legs then ran through the side of her hair as he placed a kiss atop her head in an attempt to sooth her, as well as himself. “Don’t apologise, please. You’re safe now,” Sebastian said with a light shaky voice, his chin resting on the top of her head, unwilling to let her out of the attempted embrace.

A sudden crack of a tree branch breaking, along with footsteps made Sebastian’s head snap in the direction it came from as his heart began pounding again while y/n felt a surge of fear when the sound rang through the air, instantly thinking of the situation she had barely just escaped not long ago, and she began to tremble slightly with fear.

Sebastian’s own mind went to the worst scenarios possible; more poachers, more ashwinders, some of Ranrok’s loyal goblins — but as quick as his mind presumed danger, the cause of the sounds stepped from the dark shadows into the camp. Sebastian had taken note of y/n’s slight shaking, her head turned into his chest and he began to try soothe her again. “Hey, it’s okay- it’s only Highwing,” Sebastian said softly as he stroked her hair again, his thumb brushed against her cheek occasionally — something that gave y/n a sense of warmth and comfort.

Highwing stepped into the camp and instantly saw Sebastian on the ground with y/n, and even the Hippogriff seemed worried at the sight of the two students as she stepped slowly and carefully across the camp towards the friends. As she grew closer, Sebastian noticed something in her mouth and he raised his eyebrow slightly to himself. Despite the light front the still burning campfire, it did little to help Sebastian pin-point what she was carrying. Y/n’s head rested against Sebastian’s chest as she turned her head ever-so-slightly to see the Hippogriff approaching slowly. As Highwing stood infront of the two friends, she bowed her head to them as she dropped what she was carrying from her mouth just by where y/n layed on Sebastian. “Looks like someone’s brought you something you may have lost,” Sebastian said with a smile as Highwing nudged the object closer with her beak.

On noticing it was a wand that Highwing carried over so diligently, Sebastian reached out the hand that once administered comforting touches to y/n, the other remained around her shoulders and picked up the wand, tucking it into the inside pocket of y/n’s robes for safety. A small smile danced across y/n face as Sebastian placed her wand away safe and turned her head slightly more to look at the loyal Hippogriff. “Thank you, Highwing,” she said, resulting in Highwing raising her head and letting out a satisfied sound before she lay back fully on the ground. Sebastian and y/n watched Highwing settle for a moment before y/n turned her attention back to Sebastian, looking up at him slightly as she took a moment to think about her words.

“And.. thank you, Sebastian… If you hadn’t had come I-” before she had a chance to get the next word out, Sebastian had cut her off. “Stop,” he said, the word was demanding but his voice was gentle as his hand ran through the side of her hair once more before resting on her cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that had fallen from her eyes. “You don’t have to thank me. The most important thing is that you’re safe” Sebastian said as he looked at her with his brown eyes that seemed to make his gentle words seem even softer. As he spoke, his words caused her heart to swell. Sebastian’s voice was more gentle than usual, an inflection of a deeper care for her rang through his words leaving the two to share in a quiet moment before y/n broke the silence - not being completely sure how to approach the conversation.

“When you told me what you heard the day Anne was cursed… ‘children should be seen and not heard’..” she said in a soft voice, hoping to cushion whatever blow her words were about to have on him. She could feel Sebastian’s body tense up underneath her and noticed how the arm around her tensed as his jaw clenched. Sebastian’s heartbeat increased as a mix of anxiety, anger and anticipation bubbled within him - not speaking a word, rathering to let her say what she had to say. “..when the ashwinders had me, one of them said the exact same thing..” she paused for a moment, her own anxiety brewing at the thought of how Sebastian would react. “..they were quoting Rookwood, Sebastian.. Rookwood was there that day, he was the one to curse Anne..” she finally said as she looked up at him, gauging his reaction to her revealing the truth behind his sisters condition.

She had expected Sebastian to take the news badly, terribly even - and he would have been right to. Instead, Sebastian gave a small nod as his jaw remained clenched. He wanted nothing more than to go find Rookwood in that moment and make him pay.. To make him experience even a percentage of the pain and suffering his sister had no escape from. Despite his desire to go find Rookwood and do such unforgivable things, he knew in that moment y/n needed him, even if she wouldn’t admit it to him - or herself. He continued to hold her, his grip around her tightened ever-so slightly; a signal to her that despite his quiet demeanour, his mind was anything but.

Her soft hand being placed on his one of his anger-flushed cheeks pulled him from his thoughts long enough to notice her looking up at him, concern etched across her features. “…we will find him Sebastian, we’ll make him pay. I promise.” her words were flooded with sincerity and determination as she spoke, her eyes locked on his. Regardless of what she had just been through, it was clear that Sebastian and his sisters situation was a priority to her rather than her own wellbeing; her selflessness, her care and determination made Sebastian’s true feelings for her flourish more than they had already. A small smile tugged at the corner of Sebastian’s lips as he gave a gentle nod, not trusting his voice to not waver at her promise. Her words and touch soothed the anger that was twisting within him; it slowly being subdued by the emotions that came as a result of her tender actions.

The two sat there for a moment without speaking a word, instead they just looked into each other’s eyes as the campfire’s slowly dwindling flames cast a warm glow on them. It seemed like the rest of the world melted away around them, as if the Fiendfyre came back to life and swirled them in their own bubble. Every thing in that moment, from the breathing of Highwing who lay not far away to the sounds of nature around them, felt right. Y/n was so wrapped up in the moment, so lost in the brown eyes that bore into her own that she didn’t notice Sebastian’s free hand making it way up until it was placed on her cheek, his thumb grazed over her soft skin in such a gentle way that it made goosebumps wash over her skin. Not a single word was shared between the two, instead it felt like the two were the opposite end of magnets that drew closer to each other in slow motion. Her eyes flicked between his and his lips as his face drew closer to hers, both heartbeats sharing an increased speed as their breaths were slightly elevated against one another's. Everything seemed to move slowly as the distance between them decreased, the tension increased; anticipation bubbling under both of their skins until their lips finally met.

It felt like every firework in the world had been set off simultaneously the second his lips touched hers, for both of them. Sebastian's hand moved from cupping her cheek and ran through the side of her hair before stopping at the back of her head, their lips never parting once as they finally indulged in their once-hidden feelings towards each other.

Everything seemed at peace — even if just for a moment. No thoughts of dark wizards, or goblins intent on destroying the world, or the trip to St. Mungo's that y/n would undoubtedly require For just a moment, the two didn’t feel the pressures of the crumbling world around them, didn’t feel the pressure of all the odds being stacked against them. Instead, they let themselves melt into each others touch, revelling in the kiss that spoke volumes for them — the anxieties relating to their feelings for one another that they had both bottled and shoved aside all melted away.

It wasn’t a moment they would rush from, for the first time that year they felt a sense genuine relief and happiness wash over them, as if the pair had The Draught of Peace coursing through them.

It was a moment of genuine emotion, genuine connection between them - two kindred spirits coming together like dancing flames that grew as one as they intertwined with one another; and nothing could ever snuff out the spark.

(a/n; thank you guys for reading, hopefully it wasn't as bad as it is in my mind~ I'm gonna start posting more regular fics/one shots/scenarios I've been building in my head so keep an eye out💖)

💖Sebastian Sallow Taglist💖 @angel-anna @cyan1decandy (let me know if you want to be added for upcoming fics)

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silenzahra · 4 months ago

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🌜 Super Mario Odyssey: post-ending headcanons 🌛

Today marks seven years since the release of my FAVORITE 3D Mario game:

🌜 Super Mario Odyssey 🌛

This game really means EVERYTHING to me, so I wanted to make a little something to commemorate this date. I have to admit I didn't have any ideas at first, but then I remembered what @pepperycar commented on this post... and was suddenly inspired 🤭 Thank you so much, my friend! I owe you this one 💖

So, here I bring you a few ideas that I had on what could have happened after the end of Super Mario Odyssey. There will be Mareach, brotherly love, and SPOILERS, so if you haven't finished this game yet: beware!! ⚠

(And please go play it because it's AWESOME.)

@vulpixfairy1985 @bberetd @megamagimugi @peaches2217 @keakruiser

@itsavee4117 @roscolate @smokszyvverstar @wahooitsamee @kelbreyworshipper I thought perhaps you might be interested, so I hope it's okay that I tag you 🥰 Of course, no worries if you're not! Feel free to ignore this post and please forgive me for bothering you 😅

Also, I took a bit of inspo from this adorable post that I remember reblogging from my old account. Please have a look if you haven't yet because it's absolutely CUTE 🥹

Without further ado... Let's-a go! ❤️

👑 Peach's wardrobe 👑

Princess Peach has a large and varied wardrobe. So far, Mario only remembers seeing her wearing her signature pink dresses, her favorite. She has several that are very similar to each other, with only a few small differences between them, such as puffed sleeves that her summer dress does not have, or an older design in which almost the entire skirt is a darker shade of pink. Peach always appears before him and his subjects wearing one of these outfits as pink is her favorite color, and one that, in Mario's opinion, suits her very well.

Recently, however, Mario has found that his beloved princess has a wide variety of outfits and has decided to start wearing them to visit the various kingdoms that Bowser has taken her to during her kidnapping, now that she finally has the freedom to choose where, when, and with whom to go.

And Mario loves to dress to match her.

The first time they did it, Mario ran into Peach and her friend Tiara almost by accident as she, as brave as ever, explored the lonely Forgotten Isle in an outfit worthy of Indiana Jones himself. Shorts, a backpack on her back, boots prepared for the earthy soil of the place... and her hair in a bun that was hidden under her explorer's cap.

Mario didn't take half a second to run back to his Odyssey ship and put on his own explorer's outfit to join her and continue exploring the island together.

When he met her in New Donk City, Peach was wearing one of Mario's favorite outfits of all the ones he had seen her in so far: a long pink flying skirt that, unlike her dresses, left her feet exposed; a gorgeous white blouse with a scarf around her neck, in a pastel pink shade that matched her pristine skin; and a wide hat over her abundant blonde hair. She looked beautiful and very comfortable, and the best part: she loved the black suit with matching fedora that Mario put on to go with Peach’s outfit. She told him he looked very elegant, and Mario thought his smile would overflow on both sides of his face since his cheeks hurt so much.

To him, on the other hand, the one who looked tremendously stylish and graceful was Peach when he met her in Bonneton. Her attire was dark, composed of a grayish coat, black stockings and gloves of the same color, which she combined with a beret that adorned her long hair. Mario kept watching her for a while, unable to help it, and he did the same thing when he met her in Shiveria, since the black and gold of her figure stood out among so much blinding white.

On that occasion, Mario felt that he’d never measure up to her with his orange, quilted coat, as opposed to Bonneton, where he was able to look at least a bit elegant with his black tuxedo, his red bow tie and a top hat that gave him the look of a magician. Or, at least, that's what she told him, while letting out a giggle that made Mario think of the softest and sweetest crystal bells.

Another one of his favorite outfits for the princess was her farmer attire, which was the one she chose to wear to visit the Luncheon Kingdom. Mario wasn’t surprised to find her picking turnips to help the locals prepare their famous soup, as it wasn’t the first time he’d seen her pulling vegetables from the ground. When she saw him dressed in his chef's outfit, she immediately applauded him and prepared to hand over the vegetables to him, thus naming him the official in charge of preparing the delicious best dish of the kingdom.

As for the last three outfits the princess has worn, Mario is unable to choose, as all three have provoked various sensations in him that made him wish he could stare at her forever, without having any other worries or mission to carry out. The Yukata with the fire flower pattern was, without a shadow of a doubt, one of them, a beautiful and lovely vision that gave him back some vitality and joy when he ran into Peach in Bowser's Kingdom. He, as bold as brass, put on his samurai outfit, ready to defend her from any evil, and she, always so demure, covered her face with her hand-held fan to hide a soft giggle. Still, watching her hair pulled back in a ponytail and the Boo-shaped buckle adorning her head, Mario knew he’d never measure up to her.

And he felt the same way when, while strolling along Bubblaine Beach and enjoying the coolness of the water with his doggy friend, he found her there, wearing that pretty white sarong adorned with pink power moons, the sunglasses on her blonde head... and that bikini that exposed more porcelain skin than Mario had ever seen. He felt completely ridiculous in his red swimsuit with white polka dots and wanted to sink to the depths of the crystal-clear waters of the kingdom just to prevent her from seeing him like that.

However, that couldn't overcome how stupid and embarrassed Mario felt when, just after rescuing her from Bowser's clutches, he got caught up in an absurd competition with the king of the Koopas to try to get Peach to agree to marry him. They may have both been wearing the perfect outfits, Peach in her beautiful white dress that made her look like an angel and him in his tuxedo of the same color and matching hat.

But Mario realized too late that this was not the right moment.

Still, he is content to have had the opportunity, albeit brief, to stand next to Peach while they both wore what would possibly be their wedding outfits. Mario knows that this will never happen again, that it’ll never come true, because the idea of trying to propose again wouldn’t even cross his mind. It took him a long time to forgive himself for his huge blunder, even though it took Peach only a few minutes to do so, and he’d never be able to be at peace with himself if he bothered her again.

Peach's friendship is very precious to Mario. He loves to meet her on his travels and share a few moments with her, full of fun and trust, which he wishes he could extend in time forever. In addition, on more than one occasion, Peach has asked him to accompany her to Lake Lemonade to make a new dress, and sometimes she has also invited Toad and Luigi. The people there are experts in haute couture, and Mario is always spellbound as he watches Peach pose for the seamstresses, who, in a matter of minutes, are able to create a new dress for her, each one more beautiful than the last.

And, on each occasion, Peach always turns on herself so that the dress can be appreciated in all its splendor, making her look more dazzling than a star and more radiant than the sun itself.

🎈 Balloon Brothers🎈

Shortly after he saved Peach, Mario made two decisions when he continued to travel the kingdoms on his Odyssey ship. The first one was to adopt his loyal doggy friend, the clever Shiba that has helped him find so many power moons during his adventure. He named her Hattie, as she adores wearing a hat on her head no matter where they travel to, and also because her favorite game is chasing after Mario's cap and bring it back to him.

And the second one, as soon as he ran into Luigi for the first time, was that he'd always play Balloon World with him.

Every world he travels to, whatever his purpose or the mission that takes him there, Mario always has time for his little brother and loves to play Balloon World with him. He adores seeing his sibling so cheerful and excited, and the way he claps and cheers him on always causes Mario’s unstoppable energy to soar and his heart to melt with tenderness.

In Fossil Falls, Luigi was so scared of the T-Rex that organizing the game for Mario served as a distraction and a way for him to release some stress, something Mario was extremely relieved about. In Forgotten Isle, the same bird that had captured Cappy was threatening to pop the balloons that kept Luigi in the air and that were an essential part of his outfit as the game organizer, which only motivated Mario to chase the darned bird with the help of his loyal Hattie, until, at last, and to the relief of both brothers and Cappy, he managed to scare it away.

However, as soon as Mario ran into Luigi in the Snow Kingdom, shivering with cold in his shirtsleeves, but still smiling at his brother and inviting him to play while hugging himself, Mario did not hesitate for a moment: he hurried to get rid of his orange coat and, ignoring Luigi's faint protests, threw it over his twin, taking care not to accidentally pop his balloons. Despite his initial reluctance, Luigi couldn't help but close his eyes as he snuggled into the garment, trying to get warm, and Mario, his heart shrinking, hugged him with all his might as he gently rubbed his arms and back. Luigi cuddled up to him and Mario stroked his hair gently, his mind flooded with memories of when they were both little and Luigi would run to hide in his bed because he thought there was a monster under his bed. Sighing as he held his sibling in his arms, trying to shield him from the cold and icy drafts, Mario didn't agree to play until after he had taken Luigi inside his ship to wrap him in a blanket and offer him a hot drink to warm up inside.

Nevertheless, the opposite thing happened in Tostarena: Luigi, always determined to stay true to his original outfit as the game's creator, was too warm for the scorching desert heat. Before playing Balloon World, Mario decided that his little brother needed a change to feel more comfortable. So he grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into the shop. Luigi had to bend down so that his balloons could go in with him, and Mario immediately tried to convince him to, like him, put on a typical costume of the land, poncho and wide hat included, to feel comfier while they played there. His twin resisted a little, always wanting to maintain the elegance a game show host should always display, but when Mario assured him that he could keep his green bow tie, Luigi finally gave in. And, seeing them both in matching outfits, Mario also managed to convince his brother to play Balloon World together, to which Luigi agreed only after gifting him one of his balloons for Mario to wear on his wrist.

And they've done it many more times since then: in Peronza Plaza, in Bonneton, in New Donk City... even on the Moon! Also, whenever they play in the Mushroom Kingdom, the Toads join them and Luigi ends up giving them as many balloons as possible so they can have fun playing on their own, being the kind-hearted person he is.

Of course, Mario is well aware that his sibling knows the locations of the balloons, being the organizer of Balloon World, but he equally enjoys touring the various worlds with his little brother by the hand, dragging him along while Luigi floats after him and simply lets himself go. Mario’s heart sings for joy with every laugh that escapes his twin’s throat, especially when Hattie also joins the fun and runs with them in search for the balloon, only to pop it as soon as they do. Mario also loves the way Luigi guides him, or often misleads him, to make his search for the balloon easier or more complicated. Mario likes to be challenged by the game and Luigi knows it, so he appreciates it when his brother tries to trick him to divert him from his initial goal. This lengthens the game, as well as the time the brothers spend together, thus increasing the fun.

However, when it's time to say goodbye, Mario can read in his brother's face that he’s just as reluctant to part with him as Mario himself. His complicated missions through the kingdoms and, also, the longing to be reunited with Peach and spend some time with her as well have caused Mario to have to leave his brother's side without really wanting to, his soul screaming in the depths of his being that he should not do so, that he should turn back and return to Luigi's side.

When the same thing happens to him in the Moon Kingdom, Mario finally stops before entering his ship and turns on his heels. He sees Luigi raise his head, confused to see him turn around, and the surprise on his face only grows when Mario starts running towards him, although a little slower than he’d like due to the moon's gravity. A smile breaks out on Mario's face as he speeds up as fast as he can, and he stretches out his arms as he approaches his little brother. Luigi barely has time to open his arms as well before Mario pounces on him.

Luigi's gasp causes Mario to burst out laughing as he spins around with his brother in his arms, holding him tightly. It takes him a few seconds to realize that both of them are now floating in the air, propelled not only by Luigi's balloons, but also by the lack of gravity prevailing on the moon. His sibling clings to him as he laughs shyly, and Mario pulls away from him a second before his feet touch down again.

Holding Luigi's hands tightly and energetically, Mario offers him to board his Odyssey ship and accompany him on his travels, so that they can continue playing Balloon World together as his adventure progresses. And, perhaps, Luigi could also help him during their missions, just like in the old days, when they visited faraway realms, such as Pi’illo Island or the Beanbean Kingdom, and even became partners in time.

As he speaks, Mario is very aware that his eyes are shining, full of excitement. His whole face must be, in fact, as euphoria bubbles up inside him like a river of unstoppable lava. He’s unable to keep completely still, so he inadvertently shakes his hands and, with them, those of his brother, as he explains his idea to him. And his enthusiasm undoubtedly rubs off on his twin, as Mario can read in Luigi's blue eyes, identical to his own, which are filling with a special glow that can only mean he shares Mario's eagerness.

And so it was that the brothers began to travel together.

✨ The Golden Trio ✨

In some of their first trips together, when the brothers are about to play Balloon World, Peach meets them and becomes a spectator of their games. Luigi welcomes her with open arms and quickly explains to her what Mario has to do, and while his brother is searching, Luigi reveals in whispers to the princess where the balloon his twin is looking for is hidden.

Although, at first, Mario is a little embarrassed that Peach is going to watch him while he searches, he quickly decides that he must do everything he can to impress her, so he puts more effort into finding the balloon quickly and on his own, despite Hattie's attempts to help him. Whenever he succeeds, Luigi praises him enthusiastically and gives him a big hug, which Mario reciprocates joyfully and heartily. Peach, after applauding him a little more demurely, leans over to place a kiss on his nose, causing Mario's whole face to light up until it looks redder than his shirt. This always happens under the watchful eye of Luigi, who doesn't miss the chance to give his sibling a playful nudge while trying to silence his giggles, causing Mario's blush to increase.

However, the third time Peach meets the brothers, Luigi has the idea of inviting her to participate in the game, which he eagerly puts to her. Both she and Mario are delighted, and Luigi immediately rearranges the game so that Mario and Peach can play in competition against each other.

Of course, respect and friendship prevail in the game. Mario continues to play as usual, but Peach often beats him, as she’s quick and smart, and he can only admire her more and more every time this happens. In fact, he’d say that he enjoys the occasions when the princess beats him the most, as he loves to see her so happy and enjoying herself when playing with him. Needless to say, even though Luigi is a most enthusiastic audience, Mario is the one who always applauds Peach the most, which makes her blush, something that doesn't happen to her when she thanks Luigi's compliments.

When the game is preparing to take place for the fifth time since Mario and Peach started playing together, Mario can't help but notice the way his brother is wringing his hands and fiddling with his fingers as he watches them. The game is about to begin, but he can't take his eyes off Luigi. He can read his face like an open book, something that has happened practically since they were born... and he doesn't like what he sees.

It's not that Luigi is sad. He's happy to be with them and eager to see them play Balloon World again. He's ready to cheer them both on and shower them with praise, as always, for, after all, his little brother is one of the sweetest and gentlest people he knows.

However, Mario can see in his gestures, in the way he bites his lower lip, in the way he fiddles with his own hands, in the way his eyes sparkle, that Luigi misses being able to join the game despite knowing the location of the balloons beforehand.

So even though Luigi gives the start command just a second later, Mario doesn't move.

And it pleases him greatly to realize that Peach, next to him, hasn't moved either.

When he turns his face towards her, Peach does the same. Mario barely needs a few seconds to realize that the princess, always as perceptive and as concerned about Luigi as he is, almost as if she were some sort of big sister to him, has also noticed the longing that shines in his little brother's eyes.

The two hold each other's gaze for a moment before smiling determinedly and giving one another a mutual nod. In unison, the two turn to Luigi, who looks from one to the other, his face the spitting image of bewilderment. As he and Peach start walking towards the game organizer, Mario can't help but let out a laugh in anticipation of what's about to happen, and he hears Peach let out a small giggle next to him that only makes his heart swell.

Decisively, they both hold Luigi, each with one hand, and Mario puts his other arm around Luigi's shoulders while Peach wraps her free arm around the younger plumber’s back. Luigi doesn't understand anything, but he doesn't resist, since, of course, he trusts them completely. Peach and Mario start walking while dragging him along, and the princess proclaims that, by royal order, Luigi must play Balloon World with them. This finally gets Luigi to relax and even laugh, and Mario feels his little brother squeeze his hand as he and the princess laugh together.

For a moment, Mario simply watches them. His heart fills with joy whenever he sees them getting along so well. He loves that Luigi has found in Peach a friend he can trust and be himself with, and he loves that the princess, in each of their interactions, shows that she truly cares about Luigi's well-being and wants only the best for him.

And he just loves them both so much that his heart could burst.

He couldn’t live without either of them.

When the game concludes, shortly before the brothers return to the Odyssey ship, Mario summons the courage to offer Peach to join them. That way, the three of them could travel together, keep each other company and help one another in their adventures, and they’ll always have the chance to play Balloon World together.

As he speaks, however, it occurs to Mario that perhaps he should have consulted Luigi before inviting Peach, so he throws a sidelong glance at his brother to try to apologize to him without words.

But Luigi, ever so sweet and kind, ever the man with the purest heart, is nodding eagerly as he hears his brother speak, and as soon as Mario concludes, Luigi turns to Peach and takes her hands while expressing how much he’d love for her to join them. Mario can't and won't hold back the look of intense love and adoration he gives his twin as he talks to the princess. Who, of course, gladly accepts.

Thus, Mario, Luigi and Peach, accompanied by the inseparable and always loyal Hattie, Cappy and Tiara, embark on the Odyssey to a new world. And, as they travel, the three of them look out the window, Mario and Luigi with their hands on the glass and looking at the clouds with excitement, and the princess, with a hand resting on the shoulder of each of the brothers as she joins in their excitement at the sight they are contemplating.

Their adventure has only just begun.

102 notes · View notes