#and a few of hers are about old flames/lost love which is obviously not the vibe we need here

[heynhay]

using my credentials as a top .1% mitski listener for two years in a row i have brought you mitski KL classifications

recommendations/strong matches are bolded

Laurel Hell // Be The Cowboy // Puberty 2 // Bury Me At Makeout Creek // Retired from a Sad, New, Career in Business // Lush

Keith

Everyone

Valentine, Texas

Stay Soft

Love Me More

A Pearl

A Horse Named Cold Air

Blue Light

Washing Machine Heart

I Bet on Losing Dogs

Thursday Girl

I Will

I Don't Smoke

First Love/Late Spring

Humpty

I Want You

Strawberry Blond

Wife

Door

Lance

The Only Heartbreaker

There's Nothing Left For You

Working For The Knife

Nobody

Me and My Husband

Lonesome Love

Remember My Name

Fireworks

A Burning Hill

Texas Reznikoff

Townie

Francis Forever

Carry Me Out

Goodbye, My Danish Sweetheart

Brand New City

Abbey

Both/either/interchangeable

Heat Lightning

Geyser

Come Into The Water

Pink in the Night

Two Slow Dancers

Once More to See You

anything not listed has been given careful consideration but would be too much of a reach to apply to them and/or is too personally about experiences of the human condition mitski herself has lived

Im open to healthy debate on any of these but just know i come armed with explanations for all

[queercontrarian]

Eris calls in his bargain with Rhysand: he wants Nesta to join him in the Autumn Court to help him in his scheme to bring down his father.

an @acotargiftexchange fic dedicated to @secret-third-thing. my goal is to post one chapter a week until the end. big thanks to @iftheshoef1tz for letting me scream in your dms about this fic and to @acourtofladydeath for being the best spy i could've asked for. i love you, please enjoy ♡

read on AO3

Prologue

Eris had been born in the middle of the night on an unusually cold day, less than a week before the Summer Solstice. He’d been told the story of how he came into the world many times by his mother, and even more often by her midwives who liked retelling it every time his mother went into labor again. Six times they had repeated it to him while he was waiting outside of his mother’s quarters along with the rest of the family and later his younger brothers. He knew it by heart, every last detail of it etched into his mind. 

How his mother had gone into labor a few days earlier than the healers had anticipated. Just couldn’t wait to be born , they would say. The first Vanserra child born in centuries, with all the hope of saving a failing bloodline resting on his tiny shoulders. 

How loud he’d screamed. Strong lungs - a good sign . He needed to be strong, and loud, to make people pay attention to him. Attention was currency in his grandfather’s court. 

How his father had burst into the room the very first time he heard him scream to welcome his firstborn into the world. How he’d held him, how happy he’d been, how proud of mother and child. Fires shining brighter all over Autumn, flames so high some even believed the phoenix had finally returned.

Eris couldn’t remember a time when Beron had ever been so open to his family. He couldn’t remember his father showing love for anything at all, least of all for him or his brothers. 

Maybe that Beron had died when he finally became High Lord, maybe the females had simply embellished the story to paint a picture of a strong, healthy family leading the Court. One in which fathers didn’t go up in flames at every minor provocation, one in which children weren’t tortured and mothers did not turn a blind eye to their suffering, drowning their fear in old tales of long lost honor and glory, in religion and romance and too much wine, where brothers didn’t try to murder each other for a throne that would poison any that sat upon it. 

Unfortunately, that was not Eris’s family. 

He’d learned to live with it. It wasn’t as if he’d ever known anything else. He grew up never expecting more. He knew his place in the world, and it was standing at his father’s side, standing behind his father, standing in his father’s shadow. The War had come and gone, he had been promoted, demoted, praised and humiliated, revered and replaced. Six brothers, six rivals; four brothers, three rivals. He’d loved and he’d lost and he’d left himself behind when he went Under The Mountain, had lied and cheated and bargained and had come out on top. He had grown too big for his father’s shadow. He knew it was time. He could feel it.

All that to say that Eris was used to waiting. He had waited for over 500 years, so really, what was one more hour to that? Just one lousy hour until the plans he had set up so meticulously over decades were set into motion. 

One hour, maybe two. You could never be quite sure with Rhysand. He liked to keep Eris waiting. A power play, obviously. A cheap one, but as a High Lord he could afford it. 

Eris dragged his finger over the table. It was dusty. He tried to wipe his finger on the upholstery of the chair in front of him, which was only slightly less dusty. The whole damn room was dusty. Sometimes he wondered if the Court of Dreams, as they liked to call themselves, ever even used these halls outside of when they had to meet with him or Keir. They certainly didn’t use them often enough to have them cleaned regularly. Eris supposed it was part insult, part evidence of incapacity. Why clean these rooms when you did most of your governing in some hidden city far away anyway? 

Either way, Eris was being just as petty by insisting on meeting now, just after the solstice. Festivities in the Solar Courts often lasted nearly the whole week and Eris knew for a fact that Rhysand always dedicated more time to his family around the Winter Solstice in particular. Eris didn’t feel in the least bit guilty for interrupting it. Consider it payback for the insults, for mistreating his soldiers and for making him wait in this cold, dusty, ugly room. He didn't expect much from the High Lord and his inner circle, but that didn't mean he had to be happy with what he got. His thumb found the hilt of the Made dagger on his hip. He had no use for empty words or disloyal armies, and he certainly didn’t need Rhysand to hold his hand while he stabbed his father in the back. He had bigger plans.

By the time Rhysand finally slinked into the room it was past five. He reeked of sex, of his mate and very faintly of the godawful tea they liked to serve in the Night Court. Eris was tempted to check his pocket watch to know exactly how long the male had kept him waiting for these vain pursuits but he chose not to. Rhysand disrespected his time on purpose, so he would not let him see that it got under his skin. 

The little things were how he took back his power. Acting unaffected, refusing food or drink, to be treated as a guest, standing instead of sitting no matter how long he was made to wait so he wouldn’t have to get up to show respect when his so-called allies deigned to appear at their meetings - he had a long list of grievances to pay back in small petty gestures.

Eris took his time to greet the High Lord, slowly angling his head and then his entire body to face the High Lord and sketching a bow that was lazy yet precise. After all, he was a cauldron-damned Autumn-taught and trained courtier, and he would never be caught dead disregarding the manners that had been beaten into him since he was a little boy. There was a certain amount of respect demanded that he would give - no more than necessary though.

“Rhys,” he said smoothly, trying hard not to breathe through his nose. The smell was really quite overwhelming and he did not need to know all the details of the High Lord's night so intimately. Another grievance on his list. He forced a neutral expression onto his face. 

Rhysand inclined his head in Eris’s direction, baring his teeth in what only barely resembled a smile. Eris knew it was meant to look wrong and unsettling, but he could tell that Rhysand's heart wasn’t in it. He looked tired. Something was weighing on him, something that would either help him in this or complicate his plans. Unfortunately he didn’t have the time to spend on finding out what exactly it was.

“Eris. I have to admit I was surprised you requested another meeting so soon, seeing as you just joined us at the Solstice ball earlier tonight." Eris watched Rhysand settle into the high-backed throne at the end of the dusty table, shaking his head when his host motioned for him to sit also.

"I figured this was something you would rather discuss in private. Don’t worry, it won't take too much of your time." 

Rhysand chuckled darkly. “No, you only insist on meeting in the middle of the night for what, a chat? To what do I owe the pleasure of your disturbance?” Eris mirrored his smirk, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. A disturbance . How charming.

In this at least Rhysand had the right hunch. After Eris told him his demands he wasn’t so sure Rhysand would sleep any more at all tonight, nor enjoy the week of festivities planned in the Night Court to celebrate the Solstice and their High Lady’s birthday. There was a sort of sick satisfaction he found in that, in rendering the powerful powerless, in reminding the comfortable of how vulnerable they really were. Sometimes they needed a little push off of their high pedestals. It served to build character. In Eris’s humble opinion, he was doing them a favor.

Fifty years Under the Mountain, fifty years under the bitch queen’s thumb and still, Rhysand did not understand that he wasn’t the only one planning ahead, not the only one with tricks up his sleeve. It had taken him only two years to forget how easily one could lose everything on a bargain. Too comfortable . 

As if to prove his point, Eris felt a talon of darkness swipe lazily at his mind’s wards. They stayed firmly in place as they always did, but Eris still bristled at the half-hearted attempt. Disrespectful . Breaking into another’s mind unbidden was a grave breach of trust and generally considered an act of aggression against foreign dignitaries, especially against allies. 

Of course, such rules did not exist for the High Lord of the Night Court. Rhysand, pretending like he hadn’t just blatantly and audaciously broken protocol, stayed silent, only vaguely gesturing with his hand for Eris to go on. Performing superiority, impatience, boredom. Again, incredibly rude. Oh, Beron would have a field day with a son like Rhysand. 

Still, Eris kept his mouth shut, clasped his hands behind his back and swallowed the insult like he’d been taught to. 

"I am here to call in our bargain," he said calmly. And oh, that certainly woke the High Lord up. His eyes cleared and he sat up in his chair almost like he was pulled by invisible threads. Now he had his attention. Now they were playing the game by Eris’s rules. He had to fight back a smile as he said his next words:

“I demand the support I was promised. I want Nesta Archeron."

[mapsofnonexistentplaces]

question for you... top cc divorces?

GOD where do i begin. i think there’s more like divorce than actual maintained relationships throughout the whole thing LOL might as well run through all of them

the fucking. one that’s ruled my mind and heart for the past few months nonstop has been isel and olzhas specifically because their whole dynamic revolves around how much these two care about each other even in spite of like. the loose conceit of a breakup haunting them. they both have this thing about, despite mutually deciding on separation, making exceptions for one another in terms of aiding and even being outright affectionate with one another… they’re still being very tightknit whilst also refusing to let other people pry into these ‘transgressive’ acts that contradict the broadcasted external image of their relationship. they’ve got a very private kind of love between them and their whole divorce is basically just a charade built off a misunderstanding but it’s still this constraining force that just. guilts the both of them out of genuineness. it’s fucked up. it’s my favorite thing in the world. i’m glad everyone else just finds the whole ordeal gormless and i’m glad people like freya and dalisay exist to make fun of these guys for being soooo unbearably facetious

beatrix and marjolaine are also complicated…. with them it’s less a thing of them like. tugging at my heartstrings and more just being like the most twisted fascinating puzzle of codependency LOL. like the two of them met each other whilst they were very young and they were both kind of just like. superficially enthralled with one another. very artistically pretentious pair of wayward fiction writer/famous opera singer which like. slowly lost its spark over the years and like two decades later they’re basically both just tugging on one another. utterly refusing to break things off despite then both obviously only being captivated by the past veneer of their old young love. with beatrix in particular it’s fun because he’s got like. this whole complex about seeming well-put together and accomplished and classy and whatever and he’s basically holding onto marjolaine as a status symbol like “hah look at me i’m an accomplished woman who is MARRIED” and he basically views outright divorce as like. admitting to making a mistake in choosing to marry marjolaine. and him admitting to a mistake would basically like kill him so eh. in the dull relationship he must stay. like something i adore about the whole situation is that beatrix basically DID divorce him and quickly walked back on that for aforementioned prideful reasons which is like. yeah. he’s a bit of a disaster it’s fine. similarly i’m fond of the way marjolaine latches on to beatrix for a similar reason of like. “i already started this marriage and ever since my life’s gone down the drain (especially socially) so i need to keep this flame alive if nothing else” whilst also. only really being half-hearted in her interest of beatrix as an individual. they’re both just very devoted to. not really one another. but the period of time that their inversion represents.

cas and lanuola are like a complete nightmare to explain i’ll do it separately if anyone wants it but like MANNNN they’ve got a mixture of things that kick my ass which is like. a) born arose from very heavy performance-based careers and both never really had profound connections with other people nor managed to really effectively evade the public eye. got to do the latter on the train quite plainly and also got attached to one another quite quickly due to shared experiences. they’re both each other’s “first person to really understand me”. b) they both died trying to protect each other it’s all in vain and it fucked!!!! they turn into weird abstract ghosts and you think it’d be fine BUT c) divorce happens due to a convoluted domino fall of events basically boiling down to “cas is extremely bent on revenge for her early death and exerts it on someone completely unrelated by sending them vague scary visions meant to warn the living of the person who killed her and lanuola finds this completely uncouth and breaks things off for moral purposes. however cas is also conflicted about her actions and is incapable of admitting it. lanuola also misses cas but maintains his morality steadfastly. ahhhhhhhh!” to harken to an old sketch made by my good friend stanley:

there’s like some smaller divorces that don’t quite matter that much. like faris and volkan. latter of whom is literally an absolute speck of dust of a character he literally just exists to be faris’ ex boyfriend who barely even comes up. this dude’s job is to simply get a divorce. it’s not even that dramatic they just cut things off because faris wants to leave for the scary train that’s rumoured to probably just kill people once they get on there and it’s like. amicable enough. faris hardly ever gives him much thought afterward LOL

mazin’s divorce also like vaguely matters but it’s another more metaphorical thing. dude literally just disappears without a word to his wife because he’s just THAT ravenous to leave for the train and sabotage it from within. only ever brings her up to get pity from other people and was never really that attentive to her or anything. he sure is a really lovely guy

the brief rendezvous between olzhas and faris is also funny to me just because these guys have been like. good friends for years and like the first thing olzhas does upon breaking up with isel is go AW SHIT i feel useless and bad on my own are there any other beautiful bears on this train that i can tie myself to. and so e kind of just jumps into a relationship with eir old bestie only for faris to like. no more than a week later. go “yeah i do care for you and i want to see you get better but also i am Not isel and using me as a rebound is bad both for you AND me” and olzhas is kind of just like. “Shit yeah. sorry. let’s go break chairs over each others heads.” and they do. they’re still friends and this whole incident basically means nothing to either of them nowadays but it humors me. the woes of the gay italian man….

[rite-te-suli-kireysi-ite]

Emrey— Survive || OC & Sully Family

Chapter 12: You're A Coward

Summary:

The story about love and family, about beginning and end, about life and death. All shown equally and unfairly, for that is the way it was intended.

Follow the story of the Sully Family as they journey across the seas, seeking sanctuary, only to find war and death.

But they emrey— survive, because their family is their fortress.

words: 8.1k

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

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It had taken a few days for them to prepare and pack. (It was actually four days, but who was counting?) The ceremony would take place on their last day, where her father would renounce his title as Olo’eyktan and pass it on to Tarsem, a resilient young warrior, one he and Mo'at deemed worthy of the title and responsibility. Niri'te didn't know much about him in the beginning, the first time she really interacted with him was during her Iknimaya a few odd years ago, where he had clasped her shoulder firmly when they returned from the hunt, pride in his eyes as he gave her a dazzling smile. Niri'te would be lying if she said she didn't feel a little flutter in her stomach at his grin, her pale cheeks burning as she smiled back. 

He had laughed, his hand clapping her shoulder, eyes shining with mirth.

And then he was off, celebrating with his friends as they gathered around the growing fire, which Niri'te steered well clear from, something about the licking flames stirring up old memories she didn't need tainting this joyous moment.

But that wasn't the last that she saw of him. Her cheeks would flush as he greeted her in passing, sometimes dropping what he was doing so he could talk to her, even if was just simple pleasantries. Still, it had made her feel warm, even if she didn't know why he was doing all of this. Maybe that's just how he is, Niri'te thought as she entered her family's marui for most likely the last time.

Packing up her belongings felt strange, like she wasn't really there, like she was watching someone else do it as she rolled up her sleeping mat, tying it off and putting it with everyone else's. There obviously were things she couldn't take, like her little collection of knickknacks that she acquired throughout her life, though she had lost most of them when the Sky People had first returned and burned their home to the ground, forcing them to move into High Camp. But despite herself, she placed a few into her pouch that she just couldn't leave behind, namely a bright river stone that she was planning to add to her song cord, a small tooth from Makita, and the first bracelet she had received from Tuk, the making of it was the joint effort of both Tuk and Lo'ak, but it was Tuk's idea, she just needed a little help.

Night had started to fall when she had considered herself finished, the pile of her family's belongings looking impossibly big, she wondered how they were going to fit everything on their ikrans. But that was tomorrow's problem.

With a sigh she turned away from the pile, exiting the marui and making her way to the communal sleeping area. It had been a while since she last slept there, often preferring the privacy of her family's tent that the large open area where most families slept together. Quickly she found her family's swaynivi, a large woven hammock that was suspended high off the ground, right in the middle surrounded by equally large hammocks. 

Now getting up there was part of the reason she seldom spent the night there, it being so high off the ground and basically in the middle of the rest of the hammocks, it was a bit of a hassle to get to it. And by the time she got there, she would be out of breath and heaving so loud that it caused people to stare, which she already didn't like given the way she looked. But tonight she would just have to power through it since she couldn't sleep in the marui, with it being used as the storage space for all their things til they leave. Making her way between the other families, most were already asleep, huddled close to their loved ones.

Niri'te tiptoed past them, trying to quiet her heavy breathing from the climb up, basically holding her breath til she could get it under control. Once she finally got there, she collapsed next to Lo'ak, who grumbled in his sleep, kicking her leg as he turned around. She laughed quietly, finally able to relax, her stiff back thankful after all the packing and lifting. 

She folded her hands over her stomach, her foot moving lightly from side to side as she started to doze off, her eyelids growing heavy as she stared up at the dark cavernous ceiling. It was quiet, peaceful. Still.

She sighed softly, closing her eyes, but sleep evaded her. Thoughts swarmed her mind, worrying, and racing. She missed Spider, surprisingly, even if they weren't such good friends, she feared for him, for what the Sky People could be doing to him right now. Was he okay? Was he hurt? Is he going hungry? Her brows furrowed as she worried, a sinking feeling in her chest. Anxiety started to build up, making her heart race, her hands shaking. Her tail twitched and her ears swivelled, picking up every sound as she silently panicked.

It was dark, but that was expected considering how late it was and the fact that there wasn't a lot of light coming in from the cave's openings. But wasn't like she minded it, actually preferring the dark. She had always found it comforting in a sense, when she was younger, she would revel in the inky night, when she could barely see her hand when she held it up to her face. She only really discovered this when the clan had moved to High Camp, away from the forests that glowed in the night, where it was never truly dark.

Here, in the dark, she found that it was hard to see, naturally, but that meant that others couldn't see as well. And if others couldn't see, then it would be harder for them to stop and stare at her, to point and whisper. They couldn't do that in the dark, because they couldn't see her.

And she liked that, very much. It soon got to the point where she was up all night where she would just... walk around, jump and run around, just exist in a place where she could just be. But soon her parents had started to notice, and the fear of getting caught and scolded by this cold and harsher version of her father made her stop. She stopped staying up late, stopped going out and living like it was only her. And that hurt. A lot.

But all good things must come to an end, is what she heard her father once said. One of her few good things came to an early end.

She shook her head, the anxiety that had built up in her chest was crushing her, her breaths short and quick. Eywa, why was she thinking about herself when Spider was literally taken, swept away by the Avatars and is probably being hurt by the humans? Why was she being so selfish? Spider is gone. And she might not ever see him again because her family is running away. Her heart pierced with pain, her short breaths were making her lungs burn. Yeah, she may not have been that close to Spider, might not have been friends with him, but she liked him. He was funny and weird and so different. He didn't act like the other humans, he was wilder, freer than the rest of them. And that had drawn her to him, she was starting to see why Kiri liked him so much, and when she had the opportunity to actually be his friend, he was taken away. And now she might never see him again.

Niri'te felt like the world closing in on her, becoming smaller and smaller. Her head started to spin as she forced air into her lungs, sitting up abruptly, making the hammock shake. Distantly she heard someone grumbling, the shifting of fabric as they moved, but she wasn't paying attention to that, her mind occupied by her swirling thoughts, all the whats and hows consuming her mind.

She stood up, her legs shaking slightly as she left the hammock, carefully making her way across the woven walkways. She had tried not to rush, but her head was swimming and she needed to get down from here, needed the ground, solid and affirming.

Once her feet had touched the cold rock, her shoulders slumped as she leaned against the wall, pressing her forehead to it as she relished in the coolness. Niri'te breathed deeply through her nose, her eyes shut tight as she tried to calm her mind. She stood there for a while, she didn't know how long but she had noticed her feet start to hurt, her legs cramping from having been tensed for so long. Niri'te lifted her head, basking in the darkness of the cave, her eyes still shut as she forced her body to relax.

Turning around and opening her eyes, Niri'te tried to make out what was around her. She could see a few dying fires spotted here and there, most likely left to smoulder after the family had prepared dinner and kept alight to chase away the cold that the night brought. She could see the labs in the distance, the usual sharp lights dimmed as the humans retired for the day, the floodlights outside shut off and soft lights spilling out from the windows.

Vaguely she remembered a conversation her father and Max had, but it had sounded more like a screaming match, their words being heard loud and clear throughout parts of High Camp.

"They took him," her father had started, his voice tense and controlled. She could imagine the look on his face as he broke the news to Max, his hands on his hips as he avoided eye contact, his head bowed as he shuffled from foot to foot, something she noticed Neteyam started to do when he was nervous or thinking too much. It was endearing in a way.

"Who took him?" Max had asked, his voice hesitant yet brimming with worry. Niri'te was sure he would have that guarded look on his face, his eyebrows drawn together as he set his jaw tightly.

"The RDA—" her father had barely started to speak before Max cut him off.

"The RDA?" Max bit, hissing his words. "How did that even happen!" 

"The kids went out without permission—"

"They what? Don't they know how dangerous it is?"

"I know, but they were caught by Quaritch and his team—"

"Quaritch is alive? I thought Neytiri killed him."

"And so did I! Now would you let me speak, please?" Jakesully sounded more annoyed at being interrupted than concerned at the news he was telling his friend. Niri'te could only imagine the look her father was giving the human scientist. She had begun to stalk closer to them, her curiosity getting the better of her.

She heard Max huff, imagining him crossing his arms as he stared up at Jakesully.

"Okay," he started, "Yesterday, the kids went out without permission, at first it was just to get out but then Lo'ak started to follow these tracks made by the RDA Avatars. I was told that Spider tried to stop him but Lo'ak wasn't listening."

Jakesully sighed, "They followed the tracks to the old shack, the one we used when we fled Hell's Gate. They found Quaritch there, and he was alive and an Avatar, leading his own team of Avatars."

"I thought that team died," Max said softly. There was a moment of silence where she was sure her father nodded, a look of sympathy on his face.

"That's when Lo'ak called in, telling me what was happening and who was with him. I told him to get out of there but they were caught, held hostage. When Neytiri and I got there, his team was holding guns to their heads, there wasn't much that we could do for them. I had Neytiri cause a distraction while I picked them off.

"Then a fight broke out and the kids ran off. I took Neteyam with me to find Lo'ak and Tuk. Neytiri had gone to find the twins and Spider, but before she could get to them, Quaritch was already there, he had Spider and Ri'te, both barely conscious. She could only get one shot in before they left, she had to choose, and she chose Ri'te."

Another pause. Niri'te could hear Max breathing deeply. She could only imagine what was going on in his head, to know that there was a chance that the boy he thought of as his son could have been saved but it was decided that someone else was more important. It must be breaking his heart, to know something like that.

"Don't hold it against Ri'te, or Neytiri, she was only—" 

"Stop Jake," Max said softly, "I, I don't,"

"I know," was all her father said.

"W–we have to get him back, we can't just leave him with them."

"Max, we don't have—"

"You don't get to tell me that."

"Please Max, there isn't,"

"Jake, you would be doing the same if it were your kids, so don't tell me what I can and can't do, alright?"

"I know Max, but the RDA's base is too heavily fortified for us to infiltrate."

"Then we think of something, I mean they can't have everything blocked off, right?"

"They do, everything you can think of, they got it covered and under constant surveillance."

"There's nothing for us to do," her father tried to console the frantic man.

"But we–we can't just, we can't just leave him, Jake, he's just a kid."

"He can take care of himself, I know he can, he'll just have to push through."

"You can't just push through what the RDA does to you! He's being held captive and is probably being hurt because they want information from him. Who knows what they could be doing to him!"

"Max, you gotta understand that—"

"No!" 

"Max,"

"He's my boy! I raised him and he's mine! You can't just tell me to leave him with them!" Max screamed, his voice cracking with emotion and conviction.

"I'm not telling you to leave him! I'm telling you to stay out of it and not try to get him back because he's as good as dead." Came her father's cold reply.

"No, I can't do that, he's my kid, I can't leave him there."

"Max, you gotta listen to me, there's no hope for Spider, for all we know the RDA's already had their shot at him and disposed of him, there's nothing we can do."

Niri'te couldn't believe the way her father was talking about Spider, like he was a stranger, like he wasn't the kid who had grown up with his children, become one of their closest friends and was basically the son of his own friends. She knew that before the war her father would not have acted like this, but she knew that the man he was back then was long gone, not to come back for even longer.

"You don't know that, you don't know anything!"

"Max please, I'm just trying to do what's best for the People."

"You would want to do the same if it were any of your kids," Max spat. Niri'te had never heard the man speak like that. Max had always been more reserved, the strong silent type that didn't need too many words to get their point across, and he rarely got mad too, no matter what anyone had done, he was forgiving like that. But now Niri'te could see that he won't be so forgiving this time.

"The need of the many outweighs the need of the few, right?" Max muttered, "I see how it is."

"Max wait," her father called out, but Max had already started to walk away, ignoring the calls of the man he once thought of as a friend.

The silence that followed after was tense, with Jakesully left standing there as his friend walked away.

Niri'te had watched as Max disappeared into the labs, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. If she had strained her ears, she could have heard him yelling, his furious words muffled by the thick metal walls.

A cold breeze drifted past her, sending a shiver down her spine. Goosebumps travelled up her arms as she wrapped her shawl closer around her, wincing as she did so, the tender flesh of her neck thrumming with a sharp pain. Niri'te had almost forgotten about it, the cut on her neck, though it wasn't very deep it had still bled so profusely that her grandmother had thought that she might not make it. The tsahìk had stuffed the wound with various herbs, to clot the blood and encourage the body to heal faster, but the blood flow was too heavy, quickly pooling under Niri'te's head as it oozed down her neck, the puddle dark and sluggishly growing bigger.

Her mother was helping too, keeping a cloth pressed tightly against the cut, trying to ignore how her daughter would hiss and wince every time she so much as moved the cloth, or even when her fingers gave the slightest twitch. Neytiri couldn't even look at her daughter, refusing to see her pale skin stained with blood, face wrought in pain. It was a scene too close to the one she saw when Neteyam and the twins had gone to explore when they were younger, Kiri coming back to tell them Ri'te was hurt, seeing her little girl sprawled on the ground, her blood flowing like rivers through the earth.

Niri'te shook out the stiffness in her back, standing up from where she had crouched down, something she usually did when she was lost in thought. She felt weary all of a sudden, her limbs growing heavy, her eyes burning with fatigue. She felt so tired.

She looked back to the collection of swaynivis, weighing the options in her mind. She could go back, climb up the bridge in the dark, with nothing but the sparse glow of the moons to light her way, or she could stay down here, light a little fire by her family's marui, and spend the rest of the night there, warmed by the fire and as close to the ground as she could possibly be while being inside a floating rock.

The breeze blew past again, brushing through her hair and seeping into her shawl. Second option it is then. Niri'te didn't want to think how colder the wind would be up by the swaynivis.

Soon she was sat by a little fire, just big enough to warm her. She didn't know how long she had been sitting there, staring into the flickering flame before she noticed a figure moving towards her. She didn't react, assuming that they would just pass her by, but they didn't. Niri'te heard the sigh before the figure sat by the fire as well. She tore her eyes away, though a bit reluctant, to see who had chosen to sit with her.

It was Kiri, looking bored and tired as she put her chin in her hand, staring into the fore as Niri'te had done not just moments ago. She couldn't help but stiffen at the sight of her sister, just waiting for whatever cruelty that was sure to be unleashed upon her. 

But it didn't come, and she felt herself relaxed the slightest bit.

They sat like this, in mutual silence, for a while, not one of them really finding anything to say to the other.

Then Kiri sighed. "You're worried about him too, aren't you?" she asked quietly, not looking away from the licking flames.

Niri'te turned her head to look at her sister, a silent question on her face that Kiri couldn't see.

Kiri huffed when she didn't answer, finally looking at her. Her green eyes seemed to dance in the firelight. "Spider, I mean. You're worried about him too."

Niri'te didn't say anything as she nodded, feeling a tightness in her chest. She didn't know what to feel when Kiri looked at her like that, without that glint in her eye that spoke of her dislike for her twin. This time when Kiri looked at her, it seemed like there was this warmth to it, something Niri'te wasn't used to seeing directed at her.

"Did you hear Max and Dad's conversation?" there was this tone to her voice, sad yet resigned, like she had expected it.

Niri'te nodded again. "Who hasn't?" she asked sardonically, her lip curling in silent anger. She still couldn't believe what her father had said to one of his oldest friends.

Kiri surprised her with a laugh, rolling her eyes at Niri'te's uncharacteristically sarcastic tone. She didn't expect it, and had startled huffed laughter from her.

Niri'te felt herself smile a little, glad to get a reaction from Kiri that wasn't a sneer or an insult.

But there was a question that was bubbling up inside her, she wanted to ask it so desperately, but she didn't want to disrupt this tentative moment.

"What are you doing here?" Kiri asked, seemingly taking the words from her mouth. She was still looking a her, her furred brows pulled together as her green eyes squinted at her.

Niri'te didn't say anything at once, turning her gaze back to the fire, which had grown dimmer since Kiri arrived. Silently she reached for the little pile of firewood next to her, throwing it into the fire and watching as the embers jumped and the fresh wood crackled with heat.

Finally, as she watched the flames lick at the wood, she mumbled her reply. "Couldn't sleep."

She heard Kiri huff, certain that she was rolling her eyes as well. "Yeah, I can see that, but what I'm asking is what are you doing down here?"

Niri'te glanced at her sister, feeling a little queasy as she recalled the anxiety that had built up in her chest. And she looked away just as quickly, unable to handle Kiri's searching gaze. "I don't really like heights, and it was a bit cold up there," Niri'te found herself saying, her hands unconsciously rubbing her arms.

She didn't see the way Kiri tensed, how she looked away from her with a frown and saddened eyes. If she did, she would know why without a doubt.

The silence stretched between them, suddenly awkward and stifling, far from the somewhat calm one they had earlier. 

Niri'te couldn't stand it any longer, the urge to say something was burning her tongue, but she had no idea what to say. Should she try and salvage the awkward silence with a question about the weather? Or would that be stupid? Should she tell Kiri about this one thing that happened to Lo'ak a few weeks ago that she could use to blackmail him? Or would that be unfair to Lo'ak, he had sworn her to secrecy after all.

The silence was starting to get to her, fidgeting with her shawl strings as she stared into the dying flames. She would have to add some more wood to it soon, lest she allow it to die out. 

"I'm sorry," Niri'te started suddenly, eyes resolutely kept in front of her.

She saw Kiri look at her from the corner of her eye, her back straightened from its slouched position, as if she were actually listening to what Niri'te had to say, confusion on her face.

"For, uh," she faltered, trying to find the words her stupid mouth had decided to say. "For, for lunging at you, um, earlier, when we were uh, you know." She shrugged one shoulder and quickly glanced at her sister, her words failing her tremendously. She was surprised to find a slight smile on Kiri's face, so small it was just a quirk of the corner of her mouth, but she knew her sister, unwilling as she was to admit it. She could tell.

Niri'te returned an unsure smile, but it felt more like a grimace as she tried to understand. Wasn't Kiri mad? She had every right to be, especially at how she reacted in the first place, all hissing and glaring, Niri'te was sure that Kiri was going to come for her in her sleep.

But Kiri only huffed, this one much different to the plenty she's prone to whenever she's annoyed or mad, no, this one seemed like she was laughing. Kiri was laughing at her. Was this her trying to cover up her seething anger about being tackled by Niri'te but she was trying not to seem mad so she could pounce at Niri'te when she least expected it?

No, you're being stupid, a voice whispered in her mind, a mixture of her voice and somebody else's.

"It's cool," Kiri said softly, laughter still in her voice. She brought up a hand and ran her fingers through her hair, tugging at a knot at the back of her head. She winced, pulling her hand away so she could pick at the knot with her fingers.

Seeing an opportunity, Niri'te carefully reached out. "You want some help?"

Niri'te has always had a strained relationship with her sister, never really getting along with each other, it was never what people expected when they found out that they were twins, because surely, if the two were born together, raised together, grown together, they would be inseparable, attached at the hip. Sometimes Niri'te wished it were like that, where she and Kiri would be like best friends, like Neteyam and Lo'ak, or herself and Lo'ak. She really just wanted even a semblance of a relationship with Kiri.

Kiri looked at her, her face unreadable, tail flicking.

"Sure," 

Tension released from Niri'te's shoulders, her lungs burning from when she had held her breath and finally exhaled in a rush of relief.

Hesitantly Niri'te stood and made her way to Kiri's side, hands trembling the slightest bit as she began to work the knot with her fingers.

Silence filled the air, the occasional crackle of the dying flames the only reprieve to the quiet.

Niri'te didn't know what to do with herself. her heart was pounding in her chest and her hands trembled as they worked out the knots in Kiri's hair. She had gotten up to dig out a comb from the pile of their packed belongings, pulling it gently through Kiri's hair as she worked. Neither of them said anything, mostly out of not knowing what to say as to not wanting to talk.

"Do you," Kiri started, cutting herself off with a huff, like she was angry at herself for wanting to ask the question. "What do you think is gonna happen tomorrow? When we leave?" She turned her head to look at Niri'te, her eyes holding a careful vulnerability, like she was unsure if she could show this part of herself to Niri'te.

And Niri'te was unsure if she could answer the question, like if she gave the wrong answer it could shatter what little relationship they had built tonight. But if she didn't, it could be even worse than answering.

And the way Kiri asked the question, her voice small and uncertain, like a child when they knew the answer was hard to explain. Niri'te didn't know what to make of it.

Niri'te opened her mouth to speak, but her words failed in her throat, sticking to the sides like fresh tree sap.

"I think," she began again after a moment. "I think... that things are going to be different and..." She stopped, looking away from Kiri's intense gaze.

Her eyes flickered over to the dying flames, hands leaving Kiri's hair to place the last few logs into the fire, dusting off her hands before she resumed brushing Kiri's hair like it was second nature to her, like she has been doing it all her life. She didn't know what to make of this new familiarity either.

"And... that might not be a bad thing, maybe,"

She felt Kiri tense a little, her head tilting away from Niri'te's hands.

It's shattering now, she thought, what little we had is breaking apart.

Kiri turned to her, face half hidden in the shadows, but it didn't draw away the intensity of her eyes, the something that was burning in them that Niri'te didn't know what to do with.

She didn't know what to do with a lot of things.

"Why?" Kiri asked, voice quiet.

Niri'te stared dumbly. "Why what?"

"Why won't it be bad?" Kiri raised her voice slightly, conscious of the others sleeping close by. "It's like mom said, we're leaving everything we have ever known."

Niri'te tried to say something, but couldn't as Kiri stood, her shadow looming over her as she stood in front of the fire. She couldn't see Kiri's face, but she could feel the heat of her stare, the burning she was used to.

It's shattered, she thought, it's gone and I don't think it's going to come back.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but Kiri whipped around, feet kicking dirt into the fire before she stormed away, muttering under her breath.

Niri'te was taken aback by the suddenness, eyes still glued to where Kiri was looming over her before they followed after her, watching as the darkness swallowed her.

She was breathing fast, heart pounding as she came back to herself. With a dry mouth, she looked back to the fire, mind swirling and blinked.

What?

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The next morning brings a flurry of activity, the air itself alive with nervous energy. In a few short hours, they would be leaving.

Niri'te sat by the long dead fire, a numb indifference surrounding her as she stared at the sooty circle, ignorant of what was happening around her.

She felt someone sit beside her, pressing their shoulder to hers.

"Good morning," they said cheerfully, a stark opposite of what Niri'te was feeling right now.

When she didn't replay, nudged her, pulling her attention away from the dead fire.

Jakesully was giving her a strange look, one that was swirling with concern. She tried to smile at him, to ease his worries but all that she could manage was a tired grimace. She didn't really get any sleep last night.

'You alright?" her father asked, his arm coming over her shoulders to bring her to his side. He didn't comment on her icy skin, nor the tension that seeped from her.

Niri'te didn't say anything for a moment, turning her face into her father's neck. "Yeah," she said softly, pulling away slightly. "Just a little tired."

Jakesully smiled gently, but she could see the tightness in the corner of his eyes, the concern that hadn't left him yet.

He nudged her shoulder again before he stood with a sigh, twisting his neck as if to shake away stiffness. "Have you packed everything?"

Niri'te glanced up at him, then at the pile of luggage in front of her. She had spent most of the night staring at it after the fire had gone out, the outline seemed burned into her eyes. Wherever she looked, she saw it there, front and centre of her vision, looming and inescapable. She looked back at her father.

"Yeah, all the important stuff."

Jakesully nodded, his gaze set on the group gathering at one of the cave entrances. "Remember to have something to eat before we leave, alright sweetheart? It's a long trip."

Niri'te just smiled in response, watching her father walk away before she could even answer. Her heart did a funny thing, it jumped and clenched and stilled, all at the same time and left her a little breathless. Something sat heavy on her chest as her eyes began to burn, begging her to close them, just to get a little sleep before her life was turned upside down. Again.

She looked around, stubbornly ignoring the mass in front of her, which was something she should have done the night before, but what could she do about it now?

Niri'te sighed as she stood, twisting her neck in a similar fashion to her father, stretching her arms above her head as she felt the muscles in her back pull with a satisfying ache. Her arms felt lax as she lowered them, kicking her feet in front of her to get the blood flowing again. She can admit that she lost feeling in her legs some hours ago, but she didn't do much about it besides stretching one leg out before pulling it back again and repeating the action with the other.

She can also admit she only did it because she refused to stand up, as she had gotten strangely comfortable on the log.

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, goosebumps rising over her arms. Eyes, watching her. She tried to shake it off, she was used to people watching her, from their quick glances to fully facing her as they stared. It was nothing new to her.

She tried to pretend that she didn't notice their gaze, but the weight of them unsettled her. She started to walk away when a hand brushed her arm, fingers catching in her shawl.

"Ri'te," a voice rumbled. She stiffened.

Turning she saw Tarsem staring down at her, face pinched. She said nothing as she stared up at him, a new feeling rising in her. Her face felt warm and the goosebumps spread further, up her neck, making her ears twitch with the feeling.

Tarsem tilted her head to the side slightly,  the corners of his mouth pulling down in a frown. Not that Niri'te was looking at his lips. no, definitely not. She just noticed it.

"Are you all right?" he asked, voice gentler, but still that smooth rumble from his chest.

Niri'te felt the words die in her throat, she could feel the warmth radiating off him, so close he was standing to her, and his hand was now tentatively holding her arm, like he wasn't sure his touch was welcome. She didn't notice how cold she had gotten throughout the night. She had a fire, yes, but it was a feeble thing, barely enough heat to truly warm her. There was a reason she never helped with making fires in the first place, not being able to make one that would last more than an hour, no matter what she did, the other reason... she didn't want to talk about it.

The hand on her arm tightened slightly, enough to bring her wandering mind back to the present.

"Ri'te?" Tarsem sounded a little worried now. Oh Eywa, she must truly be a sight to have him acting this way. "Are you all right?" he repeated, his brow pinching.

Niri'te smiled up at him, stepping away, shivers ran across her skin as she did, no longer close enough to feel his warmth. She found that she missed it, strangely, but she wasn't surprised.

"I'm fine," she said, keeping her smile firmly in place, she didn't want to worry him further. "I just didn't sleep well."

Tarsem narrowed his eyes, clearly not believing her. His hand was still in the air from when he had been holding her arm, as if he'd forgotten about it.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, taking a small step closer.

If it were anyone else, Niri'te would have taken a step back, but she didn't. She could feel his warmth again, and she almost sighed, but instead, she wrapped her arms around her middle, something she usually does when she's uncomfortable.

Tarsem watches her closely, and she's reminded of the focused look his face would adopt when hunting, eyes trained on every small movement of the jungle. Every falling leave, every twitching branch.

Tarsem watches her closely, and he sees. His face does something strange. Niri'te almost missed the guilt and the touch of sadness that crossed his face as he took a step back, taking his warmth with him.

Did... did he feel bad for... for making her uncomfortable? He did. He did feel bad. But why?

Instead of dwelling on the thought, she buried it deep, somewhere close to the memories of visiting Grace with Kiri when they were younger. She takes it and she buries it deep.

"I'm fine, Tarsem," she said, voice coming out harder than she intended. 

She looked away, she didn't want to see the look on his face. She knew that he was only checking on her because he was worried, but why? Why was he doing it?

Niri'te chanced a glance at him, telling herself it was because she wanted to check if he was mad, nothing else.

But he wasn't, not in the slightest. He was concerned, and somehow that was even worse.

"I do not believe you, though," he started, keeping his distance, but he reached for her again. Niri'te didn't know if she should pull back or not. "You can tell me, Ri'te,"

There he goes again, being all concerned for her. Why?

She allowed his hand to brush against her arm, not sure if she wanted any more contact than that, even if it made her stomach flip and heart flutter, she didn't think she could handle it.

What was he expecting her to say? That it felt like every decision she made somehow caused something bad to happen? How it felt like she was a stranger to her own sister and that she was sure that whatever relationship they could have built was shattered the night before? How it felt like her whole life was crashing down around her ears?

Could she even tell him that?

She thinks she could, Tarsem had always been willing to listen whenever they talked, and had seemed interested in whatever she had to say, even if she was just complaining about the smallest of things.

But were they close enough? Close enough that she could bear her insecurities and troubles to him and not chase him away?

She didn't know, and that scared her a little.

Tarsem felt like the only friend that she'd really made, apart from her siblings and Spider. Thinking about Spider made her heart clench in a painful way.

"Tarsem, I'd love to talk, but I-I'm really busy right now," she shook her head, stepping away, not looking at Tarsem. "I got to pack," she gestured lamely to the marui, where most of her family's belongings were still stacked.

A light sparked in Tarsem's eyes, an eagerness filling him as he stepped towards her again. "I can help you pack," he offered, not waiting for her to answer as he grabbed one of the heavier crates from the pile. "Two hands are better than one."

He turned a blinding smile her way, the corners of his eyes crinkling and the lone dimple on his right cheek appearing.

"Um," Niri'te hesitated, reaching out an awkward hand as if to stop him. "I-I'm not sure if,"

Tarsem's smile dimmed slightly. "Do you not want the help?"

Niri'te's eyes widened. "No! No, that's not what I meant," she glanced at the crate in his hands. "It's just, I don't think my mother would like you handling her... personal items."

Something on Niri'te's face must have scared him a little, as his face paled slightly and hurriedly put the crate back down. Niri'te couldn't help the giggle that escaped her lips, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

A hidden smile graced Tarsem's lips, a warmth filling his chest as he turned his burning face away. That's better, he thought to himself.

After that little incident, Niri'te suggested they start moving the bigger items to where her parents ikrans were waiting, ready to be saddled to the great beasts. It was a bit slow going, with Tarsem being the only one of the two capable of easily handling the heavy crates, while Niri'te carried bunched-up bags and mats. It was an hour before the ceremony when the two finally finished, Niri'te tying one of her lighter bags to Makita's saddle, the ikran having come curiously poking around the growing pile of luggage as Niri'te and Tarsem ferried between there and the marui.

Niri'te laughed at the sight, Makita had her snout stuck in one of the bags, most likely sniffing around for food. She removed the bag from the creature's snout, still laughing as Tarsem came up to her, though a bit hesitant with Makita so close. He looked at her with a soft gaze, still flushed from all the moving, hair tousled slightly.

"I have to go now," he said, his voice back to that smooth rumble from earlier that morning. Niri'te felt her skin flush. "But I look forward to seeing you after the ceremony," he smiled, his hand coming to her shoulder, the warmth seeping through her shawl. He stared at her for a moment, a thoughtful look in his gaze. Before she could even realise what had happened, Tarsem's quick fingers reached up and caressed the shell of her ear, his touch scorching. 

"Goodbye, Ri'te," he said, turning and quickly disappearing between the hoards of people bustling throughout High Camp.

Numbly, Niri'te reached her hand up to her ear, to feel the ghost of Tarsem's touch. Her breath hitched in her throat when her brain had caught up with what had just happened. He... touched her ear. He touched her ear. 

Surely he must know what that meant, right? Right?

Quickly she looked around to see if anyone was staring, anyone who might have caught sight of that little moment.

One person did. She felt her face pale as her eyes met the bright green of her sister's. Kiri stared at her with an open-mouthed shock, frozen in place.

Oh no. Nonononononono.

She was one of the last people Niri'te wanted to have seen what Tarsem did. Why her?

Kiri all but dropped what she was holding and came storming over, an unexplainable rage in her eyes. Well, it was only explainable to Kiri, but it wasn't like she was going to tell anyone else why she got so mad.

"What was that," she demanded, face shoved so close to Niri'te's that she could feel her huffing breath ghosting over her cheeks.

Niri'te opened and closed her mouth like a fish out of water. "I-I don't know wh-what you mean,"

Kiri's eyes flashed, the green becoming vibrant as she stared her sister down. "Don't play dumb with me, god knows you do that enough time with everybody else," she muttered the last bit under her breath, intending for Niri'te not to hear, or did she? Niri'te was sure that she noticed that Niri'te noticed everything, it being one of the few things they have in common, always being aware of whatever was around them.

"He touched your ear!" Kiri all but shouted, though not loud enough for those around them to hear. "Surely you're not that dumb to not know what it means."

Niri'te bristled at the words. "I know well what it means, I just don't see what it has to do with you."

Kiri drew back from her, not having expected Niri'te to fight back like this, having always been used to her sister rolling over and showing her belly at any sign of an altercation, but recently that hasn't been the case. She wondered what changed.

But she didn't let Niri'te's sudden gain of a backbone stop her. "But do you know what it would mean when we leave? What would happen if he announced his intentions to the rest of the clan?"

"What makes you think I'll go along with it?" Niri'te bit back, a simmering anger rising up in her chest. The frustration of a restless night and the headache that was growing behind her eyes was starting to get to her. As well as the whirlstorm of thoughts swarming her mind.

Kiri pauses for a moment, as if she was thinking over her words. Something that she doesn't usually do.

"Because you want the attention, don't you?"

Niri'te scoffed at the words, but internally she balked. That was the last thing she expected Kiri to say. Attention? She hated it, hated when eyes would follow her from a distance, the skin-crawling feeling whenever someone looked her way. That was the last thing she wanted.

"Is that what you really think?" she narrowed her eyes. "Is it so impossible for you to think that might not be the case? That I might actually want the same thing?" she didn't wait for Kiri to answer. "That's low, even for you."

Kiri sneered. "But do you know what it'll mean for the clan if he chooses you and you leave?"

"What if I stay?"

Her eyes narrowed at her sister, daring her to challenge her again.

"Mom and Dad won't let you," Kiri took her silent warning and squashed it under her foot. "Dad said it isn't safe for anyone in our family to stay in the forest."

Something ugly curled in Niri'te's chest. "Why do you even care? It's not like you've ever been concerned for my safety." As she said this, her hand unconsciously grabbed the hem of her shawl, twisting and pulling at it. The movement caused the fabric to slip off her shoulder slightly, revealing a creeping scar slashed into her skin, pale and bumpy, much like the rest.

Kiri flinched away at the sight, face taking on a twist of emotions, though there was no guilt, but it wasn't like Niri'te noticed it anyway, too caught up in her own emotions, crowding Kiri as she came closer.

"And even if you were, you would have no say in it anyway, because this could be something I won't be swayed over."

Their noses were almost touching, breath mingling together, fierce yellow eyes boring into green.

The air was tense and thick, nearly suffocating Niri'te as she stared Kiri down.

"You're not gonna do it," Kiri whispered lowly.

Niri'te narrowed her eyes, heart in her throat. "I am,"

But Kiri shook her head, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. "You won't. Wanna know why?"

She paused.

"Because you're a coward."

Niri'te had stopped breathing for quite a bit, her head getting light and vision blurry, but she heard the words clearly. And they made her burn.

Suddenly, it was as if something inside her snapped, pulled too tight or worn down enough that it ceased to exist. Then something dark and hateful latched onto her, consuming her as her face twisted. She shoved Kiri back, tight fists connecting with the other's shoulders, knocking her to the ground.

"Don't say that," she muttered. "You don't get to say that,"

Kiri only stared, eyes wide with shock. She didn't get up either, as if stuck to the floor.

Then she got mad, her face twisting into something Niri'te was sure mirrored her own. She pushed herself from the ground, mouth open as if to say, scream something back.

Then the air shook, a whistle and a deafening explosion. Then the smell of smoke.

The first missile hit the neighbouring island, tearing it almost in half with the blast that followed. They couldn't do anything but stare as the island fell to the ground, thick clouds of black smoke billowing in the wind, the fires large and roaring.

Debris from the island rocketed through the air, colliding with the wall of High Camp, shaking the ground they stood upon. Ikran were swarming, looking for their riders, screeching and hissing. The smoke from the burning island was being swept up in the wind, coiling thickly before it was blown into the many openings of High Camp, the acrid stench filling the cave.

Niri'te knew she was standing in High Camp, she knew, but the smoke, the fire, it sent her back. Back to before they made this floating island their sanctuary, before the war really started. She remembered the massive groves they used to live in, the sprawling trees and the walkways connecting them. She remembered the peace, the joy, then the attack, the fire, the smoke. The screams.

She knew that she was standing in High Camp right now, but in her mind, she was back there, on that one night that started like any other, but ended in them fleeing their home, smoke lying thick in their lungs, burns marring their skin.

Someone yelled, "Incoming!" just before a loud explosion tore through the atmosphere. People stumbled as they fled the explosion as shockwaves rattled the ground. Chunks of rock were propelled through the air, crashing onto the ground, onto buildings, onto people.

Then the screaming started, but Niri'te could barely hear it with her muffled hearing, feeling as if wads of cotton were stuffed in her ears as she pushed her aching body off the ground, dust curling in the air around her.

Stunned, she looked back to Kiri, who stared into the roaring flames quickly spreading through High Camp.

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lil a/n: did this chapter surprise anyone as much as it did me??? no wonder it took me so long to bloody write, i had no idea what was going on

and for that ri'te/tarsem thing i had going on, it was just me projecting a bit about something going in irl thats been eating away at me, and writing that scene was like me coping with it, but dont worry, i can assure you that nothing will become of it, and for the sake of my sanity and inability to google basically anything, lets just make tarsem a little youger than he is in the movie so he doesnt catch a case, alright? please? great

translations in order of appearance:

Olo’eyktan - clan leader

Iknimaya - Stairway to Heaven (the rite of passage for young Na’vi)

Ikran - banshee (flying mount)

Swaynivi - family hammock

Eywa - world spirit/the Great Mother who protects the balance of life

Taglist

@sweetirilly

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13

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Dream: 

When the both of you started dating he knew he couldn’t let anyone know about you.

The only two people who he trusted to know about you were George and Sapnap, solely because they knew who you were before the both of you dated.

Dream met you during Wilbur’s revolt against the SMP, you were a member of one of the villages he frequented.

Dream would constantly trade with your grandparents for ender pearls. They happened to sell the cheapest ones.

One day instead of them you were standing in their place.

The both of you clicked instantly, you laughed at his jokes, and were filled with a certain spark and fire, that had him hooked.

It was safe to say he was addicted.

He adored you, when the time came for him to cut off all the things he loved he couldn’t leave you behind.

Therefore you were the only person he’d allowed himself to have when he had to get rid of all personal attachments. 

To him you were a goddess who could do no wrong, he’d kill for you.

If anyone hurt you all their lives would be gone in an instant. 

He still remembered the first kiss the both of you shared, he had just gotten back from a rough battle. 

Dream was practically bleeding out on your floor, you were screaming at him calling him an idiot. 

You were fretting over him like a mother hen, he just felt so warm and cared for, he took off his mask to give you a crooked smile before falling into your arms. 

He couldn’t help but think you looked gorgeous in your grey sweatpants, hair all messy, eyes glassy from sleep.

Another string of curses fell from your mouth as he leaned forward and captured his lips with yours. 

He felt fireworks pop against his lips and you for sure tasted the blood staining in his teeth. 

He then promptly passed out in your arms.

Dream woke up wrapped in your arms and on a cushy bed. 

He knew you tended to his injuries he also knew when you woke up you’d beat his ass.

At the moment, he felt nurtured and tended to, Dream buried his face in your chest and smiled to himself. 

You were his good girl.

GeorgeNotFound:

Waking up in the woods to a girl standing over him was certainly not how he envisioned the next stage of his life going. 

She glared down at him and he hesitantly adjusted the glasses on his face, he greeted her meekly and she huffed. 

She introduced herself to him and called him a pretty boy in such a condescending manner that it made his stomach wrap up in knots. 

Oh no she was mean and hot. 

You apparently lived very far from the SMP and had no idea how he got to where he was, maybe he slept walk or something. 

You knelt beside him and grabbed his cheeks between your fingers eyeing him like you were trying to see into his soul.

He passed whatever test you had because you helped him to his feet and offered up your home to him. 

Having no other options he agreed to go with you.

As months went by he realized you weren’t all that bad. You could cook, and let him sleep all he wanted. 

(Mostly to try and get his energy back, but still)

He learned you knew a lot about nature and loved animals probably more than anyone else he knew. 

You really were soft under that tough exterior and George loved that it was him who could make you like that.

As much as he enjoyed himself he couldn’t help but miss Sapnap and Dream.

Were they even looking for him? Dream had to care at least...right?

He felt guilty for being happy here, for being happy with you.

It took another month for George to recognize his feelings for you and as soon as he did Sapnap and Dream found him. 

They both seemed to like you after he clarified that, no you didn’t kidnap him. You were a kind soul who opened your home up to him.

Dream and Sapnap looked at one other with a smirk and George’s face turned red. 

The two of them left the house to let the both of you say goodbye to one another. 

George wrapped you in a hug and pressed a soft kiss against your lips, much to his surprise you kissed him back. 

It was hesitant and he could feel the nerves radiating off you. 

He pulled away and rested his head on your forehead, he loved the flush on your face. 

“Don’t be a stranger, pretty boy.”

“I won’t my savior.” 

Sapnap:

At first, his flirting was just good fun, after all, he flirted with everyone. 

What he wasn’t expecting was for you to flirt back just as hard and confident as he did.

It was Karl who pointed out that he’d get a faraway look in his eyes whenever he talked about you. 

Sapnap didn’t get his point and Karl glared at his denseness. 

“You like her Sappy Nappy.”

“What no I- Oh shit.” 

That’s how Sapnap knew he was fucked, cause now all he could ever do was think about his crush on you. 

Sapnap at first tried to avoid you and Karl had to knock some sense into him, saying that, that was not the way he would win you over. 

Ironically, you pinned him to a tree and confronted the fire demon about his behavior.

Out of pure panic, he pressed his lips to yours, when you kissed back he was so flustered his hair caught on fire. 

You had to help him put it out with water because he couldn’t calm down enough to stop the flames from shooting out of his head. 

He was so flustered when you said you’d never let him live this down, but got over it the moment he felt your lips on his cheek (His hair almost went up in flames again).

From that moment on the both of you started dating.

You never minded his constant flirting with other people, he was glad too that was like some weird form of a love language to him. 

When Dream betrayed George and him you were there to comfort him. 

You assured him that you’d never leave his side no matter what happened. 

You would kiss him all over his face and whisper sweet nothings to him whenever he looked too lost in thought. 

He loved it. He loved being spoiled rotten.

When Karl and he moved to the Konoko Kingdom you were right by his side, you helped build your shared home from the ground up. 

You were his little Firecracker. 

Technoblade:

You were Phil’s little helper.

For as long as Technoblade knew his old friend you were by his side, you were quiet and tended mostly to the angel’s flock of crows. 

At first, The Blade thought nothing of you just the girl who always followed Phil around. 

Until he saw you stab through the chest of one of the Butcher’s army soldiers like they were butter. 

The blood that splattered your face and the unbothered look shook him to his very core. 

Oh no, you were hot. 

Technoblade was shaken out of his stupor by you handing him one of the weapons he had lost in the fight. 

You softly asked if he was alright to which he responded with a soft nod, his face was red and you raised an eyebrow.

He noticed a cut across your shoulder blade and reached out to touch the wound. 

You flinched at the touch and cradled the wounded shoulder with your hand, with a soft grumble he offered to patch up your shoulder. 

In the bathroom of his house he stitched up your shoulder, you let out of whines of pain.

The voices liked that way more than they should’ve and it made his face turn beat red. 

You looked up with him through your long lashes and he melted, the voices assuring him that he was ‘down bad.’

Phil came home and caught the both of you staring into one another’s eyes and he gave Technoblade a knowing smirk.

 The glare he sent his old friend was piercing. 

As days rolled into months his feelings for you never faded, especially since the both of you had grown closer. 

Eventually, Phil had forced Technoblade to at least ask you on a date, you dropped the birdseed at your feet and flushed up to the tips of your ears. 

You agreed eagerly and Technoblade was relieved. 

He had kissed you that night under the stars, it was a spur of the moment thing, the moonlight illuminated your best features. 

The voices couldn’t help themselves and he just listened impulsively 

Technoblade was relieved when you kissed him back, he’d protect you from all the horrors of government. 

You were his Princess. 

Philza: 

He’s lived for decades, seen those he loved grow old and pass away. 

That’s why he liked Technoblade, he lived as long as he had, had the same experiences as the angel of death. 

Phil swore he’d never love again, then he met you.

You lived next to him when he was living in New L’manburg and thought you were very pretty as well as very friendly. 

He didn’t know much about you only that:

You were fond of Ghostbur and he seemed to be fond of you.

It made Phil happy that someone else was looking after his dead son when he couldn’t.

Ghostbur had officially introduced the two of you a few weeks before Technoblade’s execution. 

After that moment, you both were practically inseparable.

You bonded over your love for building and all things shiny, he broke his own rule. 

He fell in love with you. 

When he caught wind of what the butcher army was planning on doing to Technoblade he frantically sent a crow to his companion. 

He was promptly placed under house arrest. 

You snuck in through his window once everyone departed for Technoblade’s retirement home and helped Phil disable his ankle bracelet. 

Phil pleaded for you to join him when he went to check up on Technoblade and you agreed wholeheartedly. 

The both of you flew towards Techno’s but it was already too late, they had him. 

You and Phil didn’t intervene. 

After the execution, he introduced you to Technoblade and he seemed satisfied with you sticking around.

Anyone who helped Phil out was a friend of his

You both acted like an old married couple.

Technoblade was dumbstruck to find out the both of you hadn’t had a first kiss yet let alone started dating. 

Phil hit him upside the head for that comment but it urged the old man forward to make his move on you. 

He set up a lovely dinner date, a homecooked meal by the fire was just what the both of you needed. 

You kissed him at the end of the night. 

It was soft and sweet just like you were, his hands tangled in your hair as he pressed close to you. 

You were his angel

Wilbur:

After Sally, he was sure he’d never love again.

That mantra lasted years, but after he won freedom for L’manburg, he had met you. 

You were a crew member of Captain Puffy’s ship and he always did love watching the boats come and go from the ocean. 

You had arrived in L’manburg alongside Puffy and he fell for you hard and fast.

He was a blushing, stuttering mess as you smirked over at him. 

You were strong and tough and he wanted nothing more than for you to pin him against a wall. 

After talking with Puffy you decided to stay in L’manburg and get a feel for the country, Wilbur was ecstatic. 

He showed you around all proud of what he created, you interlocked your hands with his and he felt faint. 

The two of you were an item not soon after.

Fundy approved, happy his father was finally moving on plus he loved your take no shit attitude. 

They both loved when you sang the best. 

You always had a wide assortment of sea shanties to share, and a plethora of stories to tell. 

You had taught a few of them to Wilbur so he could play them on his guitar, another great bonding moment he remembered fondly. 

When you sang it was the only time he ever considered you soft. 

Before Wilbur announced the results of the election you had done the very thing he hoped you would do when he first met you.

Grab him by the hair, pin him against a wall and give him a heated kiss that made his knees weak.

“Go get them, Wilby.” 

“Yes ma’am.”

Losing was not something either of you foresaw. You ran away with him and Tommy to join Pogtopia. 

You were by his side in his slow descent into his eventual madness and stayed by his side up until his inevitable death. 

As he slowly died in you and Phil’s arms you sung to him one final time.

He told you he loved you on his last breath.

You were his muse.

Fundy:

Being left at the altar was one of the most horrifying experiences Fundy had ever had the displeasure of going through.

You’d been there when Dream left with George, you had threatened to stab out the man’s eyes. 

You stayed beside him the entire night, you refused to take no for an answer. 

Fundy had never been more vulnerable than he was with you that night.

He was embarrassed at first but you shushed him and assured him it was alright.

Fundy flushed and felt guilty for doing so, he shouldn’t feel that way around you. 

Your hand reached up to pet his ears and he began to purr loudly in your arms. 

Eventually, Fundy realized he had feelings for you.

Much like Sapnap, he went to immediate Panic Mode.

He didn’t want for this to end up like Dream again, not that you were anything like him, but at the same time, he didn’t want to ruin your friendship. 

However, much to his surprise it was you who confessed to him. 

Fundy said he felt the same before you even finished your confession. 

His tail was wagging rapidly and he had to physically hold it down to stop it from wagging 

Which was something you laughed at but he felt embarrassed about, you had to assure him that you thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world.

He whined at that but you kissed all over his cheeks so he had to immediately forgive you. 

Fundy introduced you to Wilbur who grilled you about your love for Fundy, he wanted to kill his dad. 

You assured him that you loved Fundy, and would never want to hurt him. 

Wilbur seemed satisfied with your response and wished both of you well. 

After Wilbur left, Fundy kissed your lips softly, his tail once again wagging rapidly.

As he pulled away you leaned back in and kissed him back, your hand gently stroked his ears and he purred again. 

He knew for sure he was going to marry you, and it wouldn’t end up like Dream and his wedding.

However, that was still a long way away.

For now, he just had to settle for you being his dream girl.

~~~

Hey guys! Thank you so much for 1,000 followers??? I am honored and shocked thank you all so much! Thank you to everyone who send me supportive messages and my amazing anon’s who member fail to cheer me up. Many more stories and projects are in the works but I wanted to do something special and different for the big 1,000. Thanks again and I hope you enjoy 😊

[prof-peach]

if fans wanted to include peach in stuff they write, would that be okay? and how would they write peach's personality? aside from "FIGHT ME" anyway, i think that much is a given lol. i only really write the anime characters 'cause that's what i know, but it sounds like it'd be kinda fun to try making a version of ash that fits into this blog's universe! nerf'd Obviously, but i think she'd probably appreciate how hands-on he gets when training his pokemon!

Ok, I get a lot of these messages, and I often hear folks wanting to throw peach into their stories and comics and writings, and I will always simply ask that if it’s published online publicly, to be linked to it so I can snoop and enjoy the content too. If someone asks about her in your work, let them know about the blog I guess? But literally I love that people take this stuff, these characters and stories, and make new stuff with it. No ones making money off my work here? So where’s the issue? Go for it buddy, knock yourself out, I’m all for it.

For you, and all the others out there who want to add peach, and other characters to your world building, I will give you a detailed rundown of the main lot, and how they behave, what they do, how they function. You can use that, use bits, or use none of it, I do not mind at all. If you’re creating something, you’re in control, not me.

So, peach doesn’t actually fight people as much as you’d think. She’s very aware most cannot and do not want to do that, and so she likes to keep to herself with regards to that aspect of her life, she doesn’t ask to spar with people, or even bring it up at all, but people ask her all the time, even if they clearly would lose or become hurt should she miscalculate during the fight. She looks at people like they usually create problems, and often has a somewhat reserved nature to other humans. You have to work quite hard to get anything more than formalities out of her. She will dead-pan handle people with blunt and very to-the-point statements, aid whenever possible, but very quickly get back to handling the Pokemon she so carefully tends. Her focus is clear, she’s all about hard work, her very small select family, and the Pokemon.

Her brutal, loud and brash personality only comes out with friends, family, difficult humans, OR any Pokemon. She will joke and laugh and play with Pokemon, but clam up around humans, maintaining tight body language and generally will be a little cold by regular standards. She does however have some weaknesses in this emotionless shield she puts up. When peach was young she was always angry, which swung so fast to sadness, back and forth. Her teenage years it just got worse and worse, it was crippling at points. She is to this day, full of fire and rage, even sadness, but now she has learnt to control it, to use it. When she sees that in others, it’s familiar, and she is pushed to drop the front, and be very real with the person. Underdogs I suppose, people who get bad reps, but deserve the same as everyone else. She can’t ignore it.

Once you start to pry open her personality, you’ll find she’s a lot more laid back and fun than originally appeared, you just have to work hard to find that side of her. She will meme reference, can’t dance to save her life, loves her coffee, and can be caught in quiet contemplation while gardening. This hobby is her calmest, and often is why she can stay so level headed when her quiet rage boils up again. Without time outside she will become grouchy, a little snippy, and lethargic. Will not go in the ocean for any reason other than life or death, is fine with ponds and rivers, or water at wading height. Likes the rain.

With regards to her training others, they usually have to tolerate her somewhat strict nature. She is a little....unforgiving, holds a grudge if you make a lot of mistakes, and has no tolerance for ignorance in the age of information that we all live in. In previous posts I’ve mentioned she’s only recently selected two students, after many years of testing kids who want to learn from her. Hundred tried out, only two have ever been approved. How she teaches is very fast paced, be prepared to get some scrapes and bruises, she will test your physical and emotional tolerances with intense tasks, carefully watching students like a hawk. Bad posture in your stance? She’ll be the first to tell you to sort it out. Not hearing your Pokemon partner? Right, now you spend the day without using words trying to communicate, let’s see how you like not being listened to.

This is a woman who has spent her life saying very little, and watching everything, she watches Pokemon and can see an issue from a mile off, and in battles, her observations are why she can react fast, and chose effective strategy to avoid damage and achieve results. Don’t let her body fool you, her strongest asset is analysing, watching, planning. Those skills have over the years transferred to people too. As a student, mistakes don’t go unnoticed with this professor.

Her methods are harsh but fair, and should you prove yourself, she will protect you with her life.

Because of her disinterest in kids and lots of noise, she does pass the training of students on to the other staff members whenever possible. Grey takes on the lions share of battle lessons, he is far calmer, more open and friendly, with patience for people, and an empathy that peach sometimes struggles to have. When you go through a lot of harsh training, and difficult events, it’s hard to change how you feel or think, with peach, well, she’s been through it. Most do not come out the other end in one piece, but she did, and it made her strong. You may think I mean strong like buff and big, and yeah sure she is, but I mean it mentally more than anything. Peach will not quit. She has learnt to destroy the boundaries that stop people getting hurt, gone is the fear that freezes you in your tracks, that feeling that you’ll pass out if you go one more step. She’s learnt to ignore it.

This means she’s a little forgetful at how it is to be normal, to be vulnerable and soft and squishy like students so usually are.

She has her issues, but for the most part, visitors get a laugh, a smile, a calm assertive confidence, and facts. She will indulge those who have genuine interest, or show a connection with nature, an understanding of the balance that needs to be struck for everyone to live well together.

Despite her many flaws, she’s fiercely protective, and will go above and beyond to defend the island, it’s staff, the Pokemon and the visitors. Injustice is her biggest gripe, along with littering, and she doesn’t stand by quietly if something happens that seems unfair.

You will not see her without Valka, her vulpix, close by. That Pokemon doesn’t like to be touched by strangers, at all, and will run the second someone comes at her with that intent. Peach will scold you for pushing yourself onto her, should you persistently try to get close to pet Val. They are in sync, if peach is sad, Val is sad, if Val is stressed, peach is stressed, and so on. They are inherently connected, it’s just been that long, the psychic bridge between them has been built, and reinforced over the years.

The only other Pokemon who follows her so endlessly is Booker, a teddiursa who’s pretty rough looking. He quietly trots behind, grouchy and stoic, they fight closely together a lot. He lost his mom a long time ago to poachers, and peach took him in, and changed her whole life for him. Not many people know, but Booker was the reason she left the rangers, changed career, and got so strong. Will tolerate people petting him but isn’t keen at all, grumbles a lot and tries to move away.

You may also need to know about the others, for the sake of writing, she here a few more bits that may be important to you, or others wanting to do this.

Grey is very tall, very burly, composed, tells bad dad jokes, is a bit of a goof if allowed to be. If he sees a pun, he’ll say it. Can’t help himself. Very nice guy to work with, good at keeping people calm and grounded. Pokemon are drawn to him like a moth to a flame, he gives off warm energy, and has inhuman amounts of patience. If you wrong his family however, he will snap back.

He grew up in the city, loves to swim and hike and cycle, can snowboard, is really sporty. A total brain box with held items, and boosting stats. He will explore many paths, to make sure visitors and students get the information they need, in a way that can be remembered and retained for later. Is a huge guy, but will get on the floor to play with a tiny Pokemon. Treats big “meaner” looking species like babies, very good with all pokemon.

His free time is spent either tinkering, swimming, or trimming his bonsai trees. This guy stares at screens a lot, so appreciates time away from them. Peach built him his own little greenhouse for his trees and tools, which he keeps clean and loves dearly.

His methods as a teacher are built around fun and games, he makes hard work easier to do by distracting trainers from the difficult bits, and focusing in on something more interesting or compelling.

His most commonly seen Pokemon would be a houndoom, Saxon, old battle veteran, retired now to herding and being a good boy. Very gentle, loves a pet.

Pari, now a fully fledged nurse, often oversees the labs front desk and pokecentre features, such as healing pokemon, and informing trainers who come to visit. Her skills with eggs and hatchlings is high, she’s great with younger Pokemon, and hands out good advice to trainers a lot. She’s not a fighter, never was, but can find any file, any study, any book, and any refrence you may need. A true bookworm, loves her romance novels, chat shows and upbeat celebrity gossip mags. Will cry at a lot of stuff, be it sad or happy.

She’s got a seriously upbeat personality, but if caught off guard or shocked, she gets a little flustered. Too much chaos will overwhelm her, but usually she’s on top of things. The years spent on the island have made her better at maintaining composure in emergencies. With lots of siblings, she’s very competent with others, and has a good ability to disarm cagey people with her jolly nature. Because of this, she can sometimes gain information from trainers that some of the more harsh professors may not have access to. Charming is a word for it.

Her partners are an eevee, and a happiny. They are quite sweet and well adjusted, the eevee gets a bit bouncy if you get it too excited.

[wheresmybuckyhoes]

Game Night

Summary: Bucky and you are basically enemies. That’s the only word you can think of to describe it. What else would it be?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, unprotected sex (do not do this irl), smut, slight angst

I really love a good enemies to lovers at the moment and wanted to give it a go. Let me know what you think. As always, enjoy! xx

‘How about truth or dare?’ Wanda suggested innocently, earning her a series of exasperated groans. You threw your head back in playful annoyance, a drawn out ‘Wandaaa’ leaving your vodka - tasting lips. ‘I meant more like monopoly, or something a group of horny teenagers wouldn’t play’ Tony sighed, throwing back the last of his whiskey, followed immediately by ‘Steve it would mean so much to me if you would get me another bottle of this’.

Meanwhile, you noticed the one and only piece of shit Bucky narrow his icy blue eyes at you from across the table you were all crowded around. You mimicked his expression before turning towards Wanda as you rolled your eyes. You could practically feel his eyes delving deep holes through your back. ‘I say we play. I’ve had at least...’ at this point you held up your hands in front of your face as you counted on your fingers like a dumb child, Wanda raising her eyebrow. ‘...like at least, enough shots to be drunk so I won’t remember this anyway’ you shrugged as you reached for the bottle of vodka only for Sam to pull it just out of your reach. ‘Sam...’ you tried to bargain but Tony’s loud voice cut you off as he spoke, cradling his 4th glass of whiskey delivered so gracefully unto him by a frowning Steve. 

‘As the leader of this group of fucks, I decree that I go first. Capsicle, truth or dare’ he asked pointedly, gesturing to Steve with his glass. ‘You guys are so immature...truth, if I must’ he replied gloomily, taking a tender sip of his orange juice. ‘Are you a virgin?’ he simply asked, earning an uncontrollable giggle from you and Wanda. Before Steve even opened his mouth, Tony added quickly with a smirk ‘a virgin is someone who has never fucked anyone, by the way. Oh, and fucking is what you want to do to y/n. I know you don’t always know all the current lingo, old man, but...’ Steve answered quickly before Tony could continue embarrassing him, and you choked on the wine that had magically appeared in your hand. ‘No, Tony. I’m not, and I’m going to bed’. Steve got up and straightened his shirt, placing his glass gently on an Avengers branded coaster, heading out for the night to his floor of the compound. You didn’t notice the slight frown which flickered over Bucky’s face as you kissed Steve on the cheek as you said goodnight. But you also didn’t notice Tony and Sam fighting over the last bottle of whiskey, so who can blame you.

You played a few more rounds of truth or dare as the night grew dark and the others grew tired. After the first few rounds Sam and Tony got up and left, soon followed by Wanda who was drunk beyond words. You hugged her affectionately before helping her to the elevator and going back to sit down. You forgot Bucky was there.

You groaned dramatically as Bucky smirked at you, collapsing dizzily onto the leather couch and tipping the last bit of vodka you had retrieved from Sam’s grasp down your throat. ‘Fuck off, Barnes’ you seethed. ‘Don’t you have some people to kill?’. He chuckled to himself, pushing himself up from the floor to stand up and cross his arms. ‘Don’t you have some validation to seek from literally everyone?’ he taunted, staring your right in the eyes. You looked down. The bitch knew very well you only wanted validation because when you were trained in an abusive institute not so different from hydra, the only thing that kept you alive was their validation, and he knew that he could get under your skin with ease. But you refused to show it. You looked up and found his opal eyes again.

‘It was my turn, wasn’t it? Truth or dare, asshole?’ you asked, chucking the empty bottle of vodka at him. He caught it swiftly with his vibranium arm, walking over to you and leaning down to place the bottle beside you on the couch, face inches away from you. ‘Dare’ he whispered, leaning back and moving to stand in front of you. He smelt like burnt marshmallows, fiery whiskey and rain. You mentally slapped yourself and reminded your brain how much you hated him.

‘I dare you to stop being such a little bitch’ you stood up, staring up at him with flames in your eyes. ‘Maybe if you didn’t act like such a brat all the fucking time, I wouldn’t have to be’ he mocked, tilting his head to await your reaction. The sheer amount of hate your felt for him at this moment, together with the large quantities of alcohol running through your veins, gave you a dangerous confidence boost. ‘Maybe if you weren’t a little pussy who lost his arm and sanity to some weird scientists because he fell off a train, knew how to fuck let alone talk to girls and didn’t make every single person who he meets want to run away and scream, I wouldn’t act like a brat all the fucking time’. Well shit.

You were breathing raggedly, chest rising rapidly up and down, hands balled up in two tight fists by your side. Bucky’s eyes were wide, his mouth slightly open, a flicker off hurt passing over his handsome features. He shook his head and sighed. ‘Shouldn’t have said that, y/n’. ‘What do you mEEEAAN’ you yelped as he moved to pick you up and throw you over his shoulder, as if you were weightless. You kicked him in the chest, hard. ‘Put me down right the fuck now Bucky before I...’ he reached his room and threw you down on his bed, shutting the door behind him. ‘Before you what, hm? Because let me tell you something, darling. I think you don’t hate me. No, you just know I don’t want to sleep with you unlike Steve, Sam and Tony and it hurts. It hurts your precious little ego. But if it stops you from acting like a little bitch all the damn time, I guess I can fuck the bitch out of you’ He climbed onto the bed, as you crawled back, until your back was against the headboard and you were cage in between the wall and the super soldier in front of you. ‘Would you like that, doll?’

You gulped nervously, averting your eyes only for Bucky to grab your chin both roughly and gently at the same time and lift your head up so you were staring him in the eyes. ‘So now you go all quiet on me’ he taunted. You could hardly breath. Your mind was telling you that you hated him with all your heart, but your heart was telling you to get this man’s dick inside of you. Before you could silence the tell - tale beat of your heart, Bucky leant in and kissed you roughly. Your body relaxed into the kiss, and your hands subconsciously flew up to tangle in his chestnut locks. He was actually a really good kisser. You pulled away. You reached a hand out to unbutton his jeans, but Bucky caught your wrist. He chuckled to himself, metal hand gently wrapping around your throat. ‘So now you want me to fuck you? Thought you said I didn’t know how?’ he asked as a small whine escaped your throat, feeling your core burn in desire. You furrowed your brows and frowned at him. He squeezed at your neck. ‘Use your words, doll, or I’ll just leave you here as the pathetic mess you are’ he threatened, eyes clouding with lust and desire.

‘Holy shit Bucky, just fuck me already or fuck off’ you cried out. He didn’t need telling twice. He released your throat, using both hands to undress you in an instant before removing his own shirt and jeans. He hooked a finger in the band of your panties and slid them down your legs, over your heels and onto the floor behind him. He took a moment to gaze longingly at your naked and vulnerable body, muttering an almost inaudible ‘beautiful’. All that was left between your pussy and his dick was the boxers he was wearing. As soon as he took them off, your eyes widened, and you felt your cheeks redden. ‘That’s not going to fit’ you said, a sort of breathless whisper.

Bucky leaned in, kissing you deeply and sliding his tongue into your mouth. You almost screamed when you felt his fingers encircle your clit, moaning into his mouth. ‘I still...fuck...hate you’ you grumbled as you felt his hard on brush against your inner thigh. He rolled his eyes as you did earlier, dipping his head slightly to kiss your neck, expertly sucking on your sweet spot, marking you up with hickies. He slowly inserted a finger, followed shortly by two. They only slightly stretched you out, and you clawed at his back as he moved them faster and faster, curling them slightly to hit your g - spot. ‘B...Bucky, I’m gonn... gonna cum’ you moaned, pulling his head eagerly as you kissed him desperately. Bucky kept up with his rapid pace, bringing you right to the edge. You felt the pleasure build up and up until you were ready to cum, and that is obviously when Bucky decided to pull his fingers away completely. ‘What the FUCK’ you screamed, sitting up in surprise, legs squeezing together from the sudden lack of friction. He covered your mouth to silence your cries, and leaned in real close. ‘If I give you the most mind blowing sex of your life, and I stop treating you like a piece of shit, will you stop acting like a bitch?’ he asked, pushing you back down onto the bed, removing his hand when he was done talking. ‘For fucks sake Barnes, yes. Fucking yes. Now please fuck me’. you whined.

‘It would be my pleasure’. He slammed into your now lubricated pussy, stretching you all the way out. It burned, but at the same time it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. Not a single man you had ever been with had been this big, but you wouldn’t want Bucky to know that.

He moaned in your ear, causing you to clench down hard, and Bucky started to thrust quickly chasing his own orgasm. He continued to circle your clit with his thumb as he slammed into you over and over and over again until he had you chanting his name like a prayer along with a generous string of obscene curses. He lifted your legs onto his shoulders to angle himself so that he was repeatedly hitting your g spot and your orgasm finally hit you like a truck. ‘oh SHit Bucky fucking christ holy fucking shit’ you gasped out as Bucky thrusted deeply into you, cumming deep inside. You felt your legs shake as your eyes rolled into the back of your head in ecstacy, Bucky’s hand finding your mouth to at least try to quiten some of your moans. Although he had stilled inside of you, filling you to the brim, he continued to rub at your clit as he worked you though your orgasm. Your mind was filled with ecstasy and you could see stars. You both came down from your high eventually, Bucky collapsing in a sweaty heap beside you.

He pulled you into his body protectively, feeling his softening dick rest against your back. His arm was secured tightly around your waist, and you felt your heavy eyes shut as his warm breath on your neck comforted you. ‘Still hate me now?’ he asked, kissing the top of your head gently. ‘I’ll consider tolerating you for now. Ask me again tomorrow night’ you giggled sleepily in response. ‘Why tomorrow night?’ Bucky whispered as he also felt his own eyes close, a wave of exaughstion sweeping over his muscular body. ‘After we fuck again, of course, and again the night after that, and the night after that, and every night after that.’

[nothoughtsonlynat]

When the Flame Dies Out (W.M.)

A/N: I think this counts as a drabble (884 words)? I don’t like it that much

The flame between you and Wanda had always burned bright. Each day spent with the auburn-haired woman strengthened your feelings. Your love was a wildfire; it burned fast and left miles of destruction in its wake.

It was nice for a while. You watched each other’s backs on missions, whispered reassurances in the quiet of restless nights, and were practically attached at the hip. You had thought she was it for you; you never imagined she’d find someone else to spend her life with.

You were so in love with her that you didn’t notice when she started to slip through your fingers. You were blinded by the bright orange glow. She was no longer affectionate with you in front of other people; she wouldn’t even stand close to you, but not everyone is a fan of PDA, right? She lost interest in the simple things that you two used to enjoy. Now, she’d rather go out with friends instead of cuddling up on the couch with you to watch sitcoms. But maybe it was just the honeymoon phase nearing its end. She spent more and more time with the red android, but they had a connection through the Mind Stone, and you couldn’t blame her for that. To you, there was always a reason, an excuse, for Wanda’s behavior. Love wasn’t all sunshine and roses, and every fire would eventually slow its burn.

You had been determined to fix your relationship with Wanda. Maybe if you changed things up, she would remember why the match got lit in the first place. You spent weeks planning a surprise for Wanda. She’d always wanted to travel the world, so that’s exactly what you were going to do. A three-week trip all over the globe, and a diamond ring in a velvet box to end the journey. But you never got to that point; you never even had the chance to tell her about the trip.

You were okay with pulling the weight in the relationship, but when you got back to the compound from buying the ring, everything fell apart. Wanda never watched sitcoms with you anymore because they were just ‘boring’ now. But there she was, cuddled up on the couch with Vision, watching some old TV show.

While it definitely didn’t make you feel good, you could’ve learned to live with their closeness. But when she laughed at something he said, and that lovesick grin spread across her face, you knew it was over. That was the same smile she gave you on your first date under the stars. You hadn’t seen that smile in so long. The velvet box in your pocket suddenly felt like a concrete weight, anchoring you to the floor.

You don’t know how long you stood there before you cleared your throat and said, “Wanda, can we talk? Alone?” She lets out a quiet, annoyed sigh, which you definitely weren’t meant to hear, and leads the way to your shared bedroom. You close the door behind you and slowly walk into the center of the room.

“What do you wanna talk about?”

“I don’t really know how to say this, Wands, but…” You pause, searching for the right words, and a look of concern washes over her features. “Am I not enough for you anymore?”

“Wha- what are you talking about?”

“I see the way you look at Vision. You don’t even look at me like that,” you breathe out.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Y/N. He’s my friend, I obviously care about him.”

“You’ve been distant for months, Wanda. Please, stop dancing around it. It only makes it hurt more. I just need you to be honest with me. Do you love him?”

“I...yeah, I love him. I don’t know when it happened, but I’m in love with Vision.” She doesn’t even seem upset that she just shattered your heart. She just looks like she wants to end this conversation and get away from you as soon as possible, and that breaks your heart all over again.

“So these past few months with me...you just wanted to be with him?”

She looks away from you and nods her head, whispering a small, “yeah.”

“I- you...you couldn’t have just told me? You had to make me suffer and look like an idiot?” She doesn’t say anything so you continue. The anger takes over the despair as you huff out a breath. “Well, good for you, I guess. You two deserve each other. I’m sorry that I couldn’t live up to the fucking microwave.” You grit out as you pull the ring from your pocket and throw it onto the bed. You don’t stay to see the shock and guilt flash in her eyes.

You leave the room and head towards your old bedroom— the one from before you moved in with Wanda. You clench your jaw as the tears stream down your face in the hall. Once you make it to your room, you slam the door behind you and collapse to your knees. You sob into the empty room as reality hits you. She’s gone. She doesn’t love you anymore, maybe she never did. The fire of your love had burned strong at the start, but every flame dies out eventually.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

Pink is the Color of Love (G.W.)

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Cursing

To say that your week had been bad would be an understatement. On Monday you had woken up too late to go to the Great Hall for breakfast which left you in an uncharacteristically bad mood. A bad mood that landed you in a two-hour detention with Snape, causing you to miss a quidditch practice at the behest of your captain. On Tuesday you’d left your charms essay on the couch in your common room, an excuse Flitwick didn’t believe. On Wednesday you’d snapped at a poor first year who had run into you in the halls, a moment that had been witnessed by none other than Professor Snape, a man you swore had it out for you. That little incident had cost Hufflepuff five points, which only further sullied your week. And on Thursday, a thread had begun to run on your uniform. And when you attempted to pull it off, nearly half of your sweater unraveled. So when you awoke on Friday morning, you prayed that the final day of the school week would go by uneventfully. So when the sun filtered its way through the curtains and forced your eyes open, you let yourself hope that today would be a good day.

And then you looked into the mirror.

You hear your shriek escape you before you even realize that you’re screaming. You furiously rub at your skin to no avail, hoping that you could somehow fix the predicament that you found yourself in.

“(Y/n) what’s the matter- oh my Godric,” your roommate says, sidling up beside you. You turn to look at her, angry hot tears forming in your eyes.

“So it’s that bad huh,” you ask sarcastically, your voice breaking partway through the sentence.

“(Y/n)... You’re pink,” she says, clearly at a loss for words. You chuckle darkly.

“Wow thank you, Michelle, I didn’t even notice,” you bite back. Michelle flinches at your words. You turn back to look into the mirror, assessing the damage that has been done. Michelle was right, you were pink. A very hot pink to be exact. Every inch of your skin had been replaced with the flaming hot color. You found yourself furiously rubbing against your skin once again, somehow deluding yourself into believing that it would somehow get rid of the pink. After a few moments of this, you turn back to Michelle, who is looking at you with nothing but pity in her eyes. You bite down on your lip hard, attempting to keep the tears at bay. Michelle pulls you into a gentle hug, wrapping her arms around you while you lay against her limply.

“What am I going to do?” you ask her, voice thick with emotion. She pulls back from you and holds onto your shoulders.

“You stay here today. I’ll tell our professors that you’re sick. Okay (Y/n)?” She says in a nurturing tone. You sniffle and wipe your nose.

“I don’t know Michelle. We have an exam in potions today and you already know Snape hates me. What if he won’t let me take it later? I can’t afford a bad grade in his class,” you reply. Michelle shakes her head slightly.

“Well, Snape’s an ass,” she says.

“Yeah, an ass that could fail me,” you retort, beginning to become frustrated. Michelle sighs, dropping her hands from your shoulder.

“Fine. But are you really going to go to class like that?” she asks.

“I guess I have to,” you say.

“I mean it has to wear off eventually. Or maybe Madame Pomfrey has an antidote or something, though I’m not sure she’d know how to fix this,” Michelle says, gesturing to you. You groan in frustration and fling yourself back onto your bed.

“Yeah I doubt she just keeps an antidote around for pink skin,” you say bitterly, running your hands over your face.

“Do you know who did this to you,” Michelle asks from her place by the mirror. You frown to yourself. You hadn’t thought about that yet, too caught up in your anger at your condition and your ruined week.

“I have no idea,” you reply, moving to prop yourself up on your elbows. “Who’d want to do this to me?” you question.

“Maybe that first year you almost hexed the other day,” Michelle said with a laugh. She snapped her mouth shut once she caught sight of your glare.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Well, obviously whoever did this to you got their materials from the Weasley twins. Zonkos doesn’t sell anything like this,” Michelle continues casually. You sit up with a start.

“Of course! Oh, Michelle, you’re a genius!” you practically yell, jumping up from your bed.

“Huh? I know but what did I do to deserve the title?” Michelle asks as you grab your wand from your nightstand. You smile at her mischievously.

“If the Weasley twins made whatever turned me pink, then they obviously have the cure,” you say as you quickly slip on your slippers. Michelle’s mouth forms an “O” as she realizes your plan. You shout a quick goodbye before heading out the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you march down the halls towards the Gryffindor common room you find yourself lost in your thoughts and getting increasingly angry.

How dare they! Who gave them the right to mess with people’s lives for profit? You think to yourself as you near the large portrait that guards the room. Your frown deepens as the stress of your entire week envelope you. By the time you stand in front of the fat lady, you feel anger coursing through your veins like an uncontrollable wave.

“Password?” she asks, looking down on you with a wide-eyed expression.

“I don’t know the damn password just let me in!” you shout back at her, red hot anger overtaking you.

“Do you actually think I am going to let you in if you don’t know the password? Are you daft?” she responds haughtily. You feel you face flush (though considering your skin was already a deep shade of pink, you weren’t sure if anyone could tell) with rage.

“I swear to Merlin if you don’t let me in there right now I will rip down your frame with my bare hands! Do you understand me?” you yell back. You watch her expression morph into one of extreme shock before she is pushed open by a group of first years who appear to be on their way to breakfast. Your gaze snaps to them, watching as their eyes widen at the sight of your appearance. You quickly take advantage of the situation and shoulder your way into the common room. The portrait hole closes behind you with a bang, causing the students in the room to all to turn their attention to you. You glower at them all, not caring how you must’ve looked with your hot pink skin, pajamas, slippers, and extreme bed head.

“Where are they?” you growl, eyes shifting around the common room. An array of hands point to a couch on the far side of the room. You turn to look at the couch to see one twin sitting on it, his feet propped up on the coffee table in front of him. His face was twisted into an amused smirk as he took in your appearance. You began to stalk your way over to him, the other Gryffindors practically jumping out of your way. You arrive in front of him, the redhead still donning the same obnoxious expression.

“Weasley,” you say, seething.

“Speaking. How can I help you?” He replies, amusement lacing his voice.

“Give me the cure for whatever it is that you did to me,” you spit out.

“I’m sorry love but I’m not exactly sure what you’re talking about,” he says.

“Fred Weasley I swear to-”

“It’s George actually,” he says from his spot down on the couch.

“I don’t give a damn which one of you this is! Just give me the antidote,” you scream. “I have had possibly the worst week of my entire life so I need you to give me the cure right now or so help me God,” you say, anger lacing every word. George at least has the decency to look guilty for a moment, but the look is quickly replaced with another overconfident smirk.

“I really am sorry but there’s nothing I can do,” he says, holding his hands up in front of him. You huff in anger before grabbing the collar of his uniform, pulling his up out of his sitting position to be eye to eye with you.

“George Weasley I do not care if there is nothing you can do. You will find some way to fix me or I swear on my life that I will castrate you!” you say through gritted teeth. George looks shocked for a moment before a grin spreads across his face.

“Promise?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows. You frown, pulling him slightly closer to your face.

“Weasley do not test me,” you retort. George stares at you for a moment, smirking. He then looks over your shoulder at his younger brother.

“Ron? Go fetch Fred for me? And tell him to bring the antidote for the skin tinting potion,” he says with a smile. You release his uniform from your grip, stepping back slightly.

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” he says with a lopsided grin. You turn over your shoulder and see Ron scrambling up the stairs to the boy’s dormitory. You glance around the common room and realize how many eyes are on you before crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from their gaze. You steal a quick glance at George only to see him still looking at you with that dumb smirk on his face. You attempt to scowl at him, but now that you have been made aware of the audience you garnered, you can’t quite muster it up. You look back down at your feet, mentally scolding yourself for running out of your dorm before you thought to change your clothes. If the scene you had just made wasn’t embarrassing enough, you were wearing an old tshirt for a muggle boyband and slippers shaped like rabbits. You wanted the floor to swallow you whole.

After what felt like hours but was likely only a few minutes Ron returned with another red head at his side.

“What is it George,” Fred asks, clearly still half asleep. George turns his gaze away from you and turns to his twin.

“Did you bring the antidote?” He asks. Fred rolls his eyes before producing it from the pocket of his robes.

“Yes George. Why do you need it?” he asks. George gestures to you before saying, “This young lady right here threatened to castrate me if I didn’t find her a cure.” Fred turns to look at you, seemingly just noticing your presence, before beginning to laugh. If your face could turn any pinker you were sure that it would.

“Oh Merlin I can’t believe that really worked!” Fred exclaims. “I really had my doubts about this potion but clearly I was wrong,” he says proudly. You flare your nostrils in annoyance.

“Weasley,” you say. “Can you please just hand over the antidote?” Fred taps his chin for a moment, as if in deep thought.

“I’m not sure. It’s against our company policy. After all we were paid good money for you to look like that,” he answers. You feel your expression shift into a glare before turning to look at George.

“George, you told me I would be getting the antidote,” you say.

“Hey, I never promised anything,” he says with his hands held out in front of him. You scowl at him.

“Do I need to remind you of the conversation we had a few minutes ago?” you ask. With that, George turns towards his brother with a smile.

“Fred, if my balls are in this much trouble I think we ought to give her the cure,” he states, crossing his arms. Fred gives him an incredulous look.

“George what are you-” Fred begins.

“Come on mate just give her the antidote,” George says, cutting off his brother. The twins stare at eachother for a second, appearing to have a silent conversation. Fred eventually sighs and gives you the bottle.

“Congratulations, you’ve become the first exception to our ‘no antidote’ rule. I hope you enjoy your day pink free,” he says in a slightly sarcastic tone. You smile triumphantly before grabbing the bottle.

“Thank you very much,” you reply as you examine the potion in your hand. You quickly look back up at the twins. You nod at them before turning around and making your escape towards the portrait hole. The other Gryffindors avert their eyes and pretend that they hadn’t been listening in on the whole conversation while the twins stare after you. After the portrait hole closes behind you Fred turns to face his brother.

“What the hell was that?” he asks. George continues to stare at the portrait whole, almost like he was in a daze.

“Huh?”

“I can’t believe you gave her the antidote! We had an agreement and that kid payed us for the potion so you can’t just go around curing people for free! What if hat kid wants a refund now or-”

“Freddie?” George says, interrupting his brother’s rant. Fred lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Yes Geroge?”

“I think I may have just fallen in love."

[contemplativepancakes]

enough to drive a man mad

~7k geraskier fake dating, because that is what this fandom needs. read on ao3 here!

Jaskier smells anxious. He reeked of apprehension all of yesterday, not to mention the fact that he hasn’t been able to sit still or stop tapping his foot on the wooden floorboards this morning. 

It’s grating on Geralt’s last nerve. 

“What, Jaskier?” he finally growls. 

Jaskier jumps, almost falling out of his chair from where he sits tapping his quill idly in his notebook. 

“What?”

“What has you so worked up?”

Jaskier looks Geralt in the eyes before glancing away again. He clears his throat. “Nothing.”

Geralt grunts. 

“Oh, don’t sound so unconvinced,” Jaskier complains. 

Geralt rolls his eyes, turning his back to Jaskier to finish settling all of his things into his pack. He wraps the glass jars carefully and tucks them between Jaskier’s shirts, so they don’t break. “If nothing is wrong, you’re ready to go then, right?”

Jaskier grumbles, but he tucks his notebook away and gets to his feet. 

They make it about three hours before Jaskier finally broaches the subject. 

“So, Geralt,” he starts. “Dear friend of mine.”

Geralt doesn’t even bother to look back at him. Nothing good can come with this as a conversation starter. 

“Have I ever told you about my parents?”

“No.”

Jaskier sighs. “I suppose not. Well, they’ve written to me. They want me to visit.”

Geralt thinks back to the letter an innkeeper had handed to Jaskier a few weeks ago, the one that made him eerily quiet the rest of the night and that he had clammed up about when Geralt questioned him. Jaskier was perky and practically completely back to normal the next morning, so Geralt had almost forgotten about it. Apparently, Jaskier had not done the same. 

“Hmm.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Dreadfully inconvenient for you. What will you do without your loyal companion?”

Geralt frowns. He hadn’t even thought about that, just registered the smell of unhappiness coming off of Jaskier at the thought of his parents. Jaskier  is  rather helpful, though. He’s never afraid to step in the middle of pay negotiations, inevitably getting Geralt more coin, and he’s certain Jaskier has stopped them from getting kicked out of at least three towns after Geralt had stumbled back to the inn covered in viscera. 

“Do you want to visit them?”

Jaskier trips over his feet, and Geralt dutifully looks away, pretending not to have noticed. “Not particularly. But I have to.”

Geralt won’t pretend to understand how a typical human family works, so he just accepts Jaskier’s words at face value. He’s never felt  obliged  to return to Kaer Morhen every winter; it’s something he looks forward to—to seeing his patchwork family. But Jaskier deliberately never speaks of his family, and gets twitchy every time anyone brings them up, so Geralt had accepted it as one of Jaskier’s many quirks and moved on. 

“Hmm. Well, I can travel with you there, at least. I’m sure there will be contracts in the area somewhere.”

Jaskier flushes red. “I was...I was actually hoping you would come with me.”

“What? I’m sure that’s not what your parents had in mind when they wanted you to visit. They wouldn’t want to meet  me .”

“Well, they said it’s unbecoming for someone of my age to be a bachelor. And, so I. I, um.” Jaskier scratches the back of his neck. “I told them I wasn’t. And I maybe sort of perhaps insinuated we were together.”

Geralt can feel a stress headache brewing.

-

Marilla looks down at the letter in shock. 

Dear Mother,

I fear I am not quite as much of a bachelor as you suppose. Have you heard any of my songs? I have gone and fallen head first into my muse. Typical, foolish me, but I’ve never been happier. We’ll visit soon. 

Julian

She doesn’t like to think about Julian’s songs, about how he couldn’t even keep the name she had given him. She thrusts the letter to her husband. “He’s coming to visit,” she says in disbelief. “When’s the last time we saw him?”

Ethbert considers this as he reads the letter. “At least five years.”

“And I can’t believe he hasn’t spoken of this ‘muse’ any sooner. I’m not sure I believe him.”

Ethbert gave Marilla a placating smile. “He’s probably just ashamed he hasn’t found himself a wife yet. We’ll find out when he comes, doubtless with an excuse about where his beloved is.”

Marilla sniffs. “You’re right.”

Nell looks down at the scene in the kitchen with wide eyes from her spot crouched down between the banisters at the top of the stairs. Her brother? With a wife? She could scarcely imagine it. She thinks back to the last time Julian was here, the way he had boasted to her about his conquests for hours, away from the prying ears of their parents. 

Well, surely if he had someone, he’d have talked about her in his songs. She resolves to get her hands on some of his music. She’ll solve this mystery before Julian even gets here.

-

“The first thing to know is that they’re awful,” Jaskier says, ticking down one of his fingers as he walks along beside Roach, seemingly uncaring of the dust that’s drifting up from her hooves and onto his doublet. “Well, except for my sister. Be nice to my sister, please, Geralt.”

“I’m nice to everyone.”

Jaskier stifles a laugh. “Mm. Be extra nice to her, then.”          

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“You need to loosen up, too. They’re never going to think we’re together when you look all...constipated like that.”

Geralt huffs. 

“You’re lucky opposites attract,” Jaskier says, before dragging a hand down his face. “This is never going to work, is it?” 

-

Nell squints at the lyrics spread out before her. This doesn’t sound very romantic to her at all. Maybe a breakup song?  She’ll destroy with her sweet kiss , Nell hums. She can’t help but notice there’s three different people the song is talking about, though. Odd. She shakes her head and moves onto the next song. 

This one is just a ditty, so Nell turns the page to see a song about the witcher Jaskier travels with. And then another, and another. Is he all Julian writes about? She expected to see love songs, not this nonsense. She goes through more of his catalogue, briefly regretting spending her allowance on the songbook, but she supposes it supports her brother, after all. 

She’ll just have to see what she can wheedle out of him while he’s here. 

Finally, after flipping through no less than four more songs about the witcher, she lands on one titled “The Eternal Flame.” 

Interesting. 

Around your house, now white from frost

Sparkles ice on pond and marsh

Your longing eyes grieve what is lost

But naught can change this parting harsh

  Spring will return, on the road the rain will fall

Hearts will be warmed by the heat of the sun

It must be thus, for fire still smolders in us all

An eternal fire, hope for each one

There, Nell can read some romance in. She rubs the ends of her hair together in thought. This one song certainly isn’t enough proof that Julian has actually found a wife. More like he’s still pining over some old flame. It doesn’t seem like he’s written very many good love songs at all. 

Nell rolls her eyes, thinking back to all the raunchy songs in his catalogue. Typical. 

There’s the squeak of the door opening downstairs, and Nell hastily slams the book shut and hides it under her mattress. She doesn’t want Julian seeing and getting a bigger head, after all. 

She straightens her dress and runs down the steps, eager to see if Julian’s by himself, which is her guess. She comes to a skidding halt when she sees who is with him. 

Oh.

She supposes he does write love songs, after all. 

-

Geralt shifts uncomfortably from the scrutiny Jaskier’s family is giving him. He wraps an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder, hoping he doesn’t look as awkward as he feels. He looks over to Jaskier for help, and Jaskier shrugs off his arm and takes Geralt by the hand, leading him forward to meet them. 

“Mother, Father, this is Geralt. Nell, this is a very large, scary witcher who will eat you up if you don’t behave.”

Geralt frowns. He thought Jaskier told him to be extra nice to his sister?

Nell laughs, a delightful, tinkling thing that reminds him of Jaskier’s. “He’s going to like me better than you by the time he leaves.”

Geralt looks back to Jaskier, only to see him sticking his tongue out at her. Right. Their relationship is definitely more antagonistic than Jaskier had prepared him for, so Geralt is glad he had Lambert to prepare him for these things. 

He’s not sure his interactions with Lambert would be appropriate to apply to Jaskier’s sister, though, so Geralt will let Jaskier handle the ribbing. 

“Nice to meet you,” Geralt finally says. “Jaskier’s told me a lot about you.”

Which, of course, is a lie, but Geralt knows that’s the polite thing to say. 

“He’s never even mentioned me, has he?” 

When Geralt waffles, Nell sniffs dramatically and casts Jaskier a betrayed look. 

Jaskier shoots that look right back to Geralt, and Geralt is so impossibly out of his depth right now. “Hmm.”

“Now look what you’ve done, you’ve made him regret agreeing to meet you in the first place!” Jaskier cries. 

“That’s quite enough, Julian,” Jaskier’s mother cuts in, and—Julian? 

He shoots Jaskier a puzzled look. Obviously, there was a little more he should have told Geralt before they came here. 

“Well, I’m afraid we are absolutely knackered; we’ve been riding all day. I’m going to head upstairs…” 

Geralt shoots him a look. 

“I mean,  we are going to head out to the stables and make sure that Geralt’s very polite mare is taken care of.”

“We have someone—”

“No, no, Geralt is very picky about who cares for his horse.”

With that, Jaskier drags Geralt out of the house and to the barn. “I thought the goal was for them to like me?” Geralt asks. 

Jaskier snorts. “Gods, no. The goal is to have them believe that we’re in a relationship, and they would never believe I would choose anyone they actually  liked .”

“Hmm.” 

Jaskier rolls his eyes. “Honestly, Geralt. It’ll be fine. Just stop acting like you’re terrified of me every time I touch you. Maybe we should practice.”

Jaskier gets a gleam in his eye as he darts a glance back to the house, and then his very warm mouth is on Geralt’s. Geralt’s surprised for a second before he relaxes and kisses Jaskier back. He’ll show Jaskier he’s not  terrified of him. Geralt would scoff if his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. 

Geralt brings one hand up to rest on Jaskier’s jaw and one to wind through his soft hair. Geralt strokes his thumb over Jaskier’s cheekbone, and Jaskier melts against him, wrapping his arms around Geralt’s waist and tugging him closer. 

“What was that for?” Geralt says, trying to keep his breathing even after they pull away. 

Jaskier peers around him and looks back up at the house. “Well, they  were  watching through the window. Figured we’d give them a show. Alas.”

Jaskier turns and heads to the stables. Geralt trails behind him, surreptitiously bringing a hand up to his medallion to make sure it’s not vibrating. 

He is in way over his head. 

-

Nell stares at them with wide eyes from her bedroom window. She had...not exactly doubted them when Julian showed up with his witcher in tow, but she hadn’t exactly believed them, either. Who could let Julian trail around after them for years and not get sick of him? 

If she hadn’t witnessed them kissing with her own two eyes, she never would have believed it. She pulls the book out from under the mattress and looks at the songs again, this time with a more critical eye. She can’t believe she didn’t see it before. Especially “Her Sweet Kiss.” She’d never admit it to Julian, but she’s glad he won over whoever this  her  is. He looks happy, in a way that he never did while he was here. 

Her mother calls for her, so Nell sighs and puts away the book. She runs down the stairs. “Yes?”

“I need help with supper.”

Nell sets the table, noting they’re using the fancy silverware, which is a surprise, because her mother has never taken a particular interest of what Julian thinks of her before this, so this is an interesting time to start. She’s sure their meal is going to be a very uncomfortable affair. Well, not for her, unless it starts to become painful to hold her laughter in. 

She can’t wait. 

She’s just finishing arranging the cutlery when her mother turns back to her. “Can you believe Julian? I knew witchers were for hire, but I didn’t think their services extended to...this.”

Nell barely holds back a snort. 

-

Jaskier looks over to Geralt and suppresses a sigh. He had just planted a hand on Geralt’s thigh, and he’s sure his parents think that he just stabbed Geralt, from his reaction. He scoots his chair closer over to Geralt and drapes an arm over his shoulders. “Relax,” he whispers into Geralt’s ear. 

Geralt does, marginally, but Jaskier can still see the doubt on his parent’s faces. 

Jaskier’s father clears his throat. “So, Geralt, um. I suppose we know what you do, but, um. Um.”

“Honestly, haven’t you heard any of my songs? They are all the very true accounts of what Geralt gets up to,” Jaskier butts in. 

Geralt takes a gulp of wine from his goblet to avoid commenting. 

Jaskier notices, and elbows him in the ribs. “Geralt loves my songs, right?”

Jaskier’s parents are staring right at him, and it’s more than a little unnerving. “Right. They’re...very romantic.”

Jaskier’s grip around Geralt’s shoulders tightens. “Thank you, darling.”

Geralt is sure Vesemir once told him witchers can’t blush, but his face feels hot all of a sudden, and everyone is looking at him expectantly. 

Geralt takes another drink. 

Jaskier shakes his head. “Geralt’s been so nervous about meeting all of you. The poor dear is overwhelmed.”

Geralt shoots him a glare, before softening the look into something more akin to convincing Jaskier’s parents that they’re very happily together. Jaskier hastily bolts down the rest of his dinner before he drags Geralt up the stairs and to his room. 

He shuts the door behind them, leaning against and tugging at his hair. “There’s no way they’re buying this,” he moans. 

“I thought I was being rather convincing.”

The corner of Geralt’s lips twitch, so Jaskier hits him with a pillow. “You did not, you brute! Geralt if you’re doing this on purpose—”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt soothes. “I’m not. It’s just. Acting is not exactly on my list of talents.”

Jaskier crosses his arms and huffs. Geralt tugs him over to the bed and makes him sit down, plopping beside him. “What can I do?”

Jaskier throws his arm over his eyes and lays back, rather over dramatically, if you ask Geralt. “Nothi—Well, actually.”

Geralt does not like the sound of that. He was offering more to be nice than anything. 

“We have to have sex.”

Geralt’s mouth goes dry. “What?”

Jaskier scoffs. “This is no time to act the blushing virgin, Geralt,” he says, before his hands are on Geralt’s clothes, tugging them and unbuttoning. 

Geralt jerks back, but Jaskier is already done. “There. Nice and dishevelled.”

Geralt gapes at him for a moment, giving Jaskier the opportunity to muss his hair. Geralt growls.

“I know, I know. That took you hours to accomplish.”

Geralt catches his wrist. “Just, hold on a second. What are we doing?”

“We have to consummate my childhood bed, Geralt,” Jaskier says, completely seriously. “Or at least make my parents think we did.”

Jaskier starts moving his hips on the bed, making the headboard brush up against the wall with every gyration. “Mmm, fuck, Geralt, right there!” he cries.

“ Jaskier!”  Geralt hisses, but Jaskier pays him no mind. 

“You feel so good, darling!” He throws Geralt a wink, and Geralt tries not to combust. 

Jaskier undoes three of the buttons of his doublet, revealing a thicket of chest hair. Geralt casts his eyes to the ceiling. Gods help him. “You know, you don’t have to be so stoic all the time, dear heart. You can let me hear you,” Jaskier says, pointedly prodding at Geralt. 

Geralt shakes his head furiously. This is  not  what he agreed to. 

Jaskier gives Geralt a put on sigh before clearing his throat quietly. “Oh, Jaskier,” he says in a deep voice. 

“That doesn’t even sound like me,” Geralt whispers furiously. 

Jaskier just arches an eyebrow, and Geralt knows that’s a challenge. He swings his leg over Jaskier, straddling him and trying to ignore both of their pounding hearts. It’s the heat of carrying out their plan, Geralt is sure, and not at all Jaskier’s proximity. 

Geralt rocks the bed back and forth, making the headboard  slam against the wall now. 

Gearlt gives a half hearted moan, and Jaskier gives him a glare. “You’re making me sound like a terrible lover who’s left you horribly unfulfilled!” he hisses. 

Geralt rolls his eyes and gives a more enthusiastic moan this time. Geralt begrudgingly keeps this up for a few more minutes before he grunts and clambers off of Jaskier. “A little quick to the finish line?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt shoots him a rude hand gesture. 

Jaskier gasps in mock offense. “Why don’t you go get me a wash rag?” he suggests. 

Geralt glares at him; this is taking the charade much too far, if you ask Geralt, but he follows Jaskier’s direction to the bathroom—where Jaskier’s mother is standing. Geralt suddenly becomes conscious of what a mess he must look like right now, thanks to Jaskier. “Hello again,” Marilla says. 

Geralt grunts and nods to her, before remembering he should probably say something, anything. “Hi.”

Geralt grabs a washcloth and flees. 

When he gets back to Jaskier, Jaskier is sitting on the bed with his knees drawn up to his chest, scribbling away in his notebook, the inkwell balancing precariously on the mattress. He still has his buttons undone, and Geralt curses himself for even noticing. 

“Did you run into anyone?” Jaskier asks. 

Geralt’s disgruntled expression must be answer enough, because Jaskier rubs his hands together in delight. “Excellent.”

-

Marilla scurries back to her room, completely scandalized. She can’t believe they would...defile her home like this. It’s bad enough that Julian couldn’t choose anyone they suggested for himself, and now he brings home a  witcher ? He’s trying to make her gray even faster. 

She shuts the bedroom door behind her and looks to Ethbert. Her expression must linger on her face, because he asks her, “What?”

“They—” She makes a floppy hand gesture. 

“Are you sure? What would a witcher want with Julian? There’s something not right about this.”

Marilla fans herself. “I know. They’re not even wed. It’s impropriety, is what it is.”

Ethbert squints doubtfully. 

-

Geralt is not a morning person. When Jaskier first discovered this, he was puzzled. Geralt is the only person who dictates his schedule, so no one would yell at  him  if he chose to sleep until midday. 

The more Jaskier thinks about it, though, the more it makes sense. Of course Geralt would wake up at the asscrack of dawn; he probably thinks of it as a punishment or some other such self loathing nonsense. 

It’s certainly more of a punishment for Jaskier, because he’s the one that has to put up with Geralt’s bearish attitude every morning. 

Geralt blinks awake and squints at the rising sun like it’s personally offended him, and Jaskier closes his eyes, not wanting to be caught staring. 

“Morning,” Geralt grates out. 

Jaskier’s lips twist into a wry smile. “Good morning.”

“I know you weren’t asleep,” Geralt says, sounding annoyed. “You could have woken me up.”

“Mm. And deal with a grumpy witcher first thing in the morning? I don’t think so.”

Geralt scoffs. “I’m not grumpy.”

“Right.”

Geralt swings his legs out of the bed and begins getting dressed. Jaskier stretches into the warmth Geralt left behind, tugging the blankets up over him. 

What? He never said  he was a morning person, either. “Where are you going?”

“Into town.”

“For what? Do you need things for potions? I’ll go with you.”

“No, no, I’m just going to see if there’s any contracts; you stay here.”

Jaskier gives a sly grin. “Does my family make you nervous?”

“ No .”

“Hmm,” Jaskier says. 

“Shut up.”

“Well, don’t go gallivanting off without telling me where. You know I worry.”

Geralt rolls his eyes. “No need.”

Jaskier adopts a high pitched voice. “Why, thank you, Jaskier, my dearest friend. I’m so touched to know someone is looking out for me.”

“It’s pretty sad if you have to imagine someone to be your friend.”

Jaskier splutters as Geralt walks out of the room, a smile tugging at his lips. 

Jaskier sighs as the door shuts behind him, wanting to bundle himself back in the blankets and Geralt’s scent, but he resists the urge and stumbles out of bed to pull on his clothes. 

He makes it down the stairs and to the kitchen, picking up a bowl of eggs and whisking them, the need to be helpful overriding his desire to collapse in a chair and go back to sleep. 

“Good morning, Julian,” his mother says stiffly. “Where’s your beau?”

Jaskier lets himself smile at the image of Geralt’s reaction to being heard of himself referred to as Jaskier’s  beau . 

“He’s out looking for a contract. He’ll be back for lunch, I’m sure.” 

He gives his mother a bright grin. He thinks he should have made Geralt suck a hickey on his neck, but, to be honest, he’s not sure if he could have beared that. Geralt had already been so unbearably close to Jaskier when he  straddled  him. Jaskier’s not sure what had possessed Geralt to do that, all the while expecting Jaskier to keep his hands to himself. 

He’s not sure Geralt’s looked in a mirror anytime in the past fifty years because of the whole monster-staring-back-at-him thing (complete horse shit, in Jaskier’s humble opinion, not that Geralt cares to listen to it), but Jaskier is forced to look at him every day, and he suffers. 

He suffers every time he trails behind Geralt atop Roach, watching the subtle shift of his back muscles as he rides, and he’s devastated when Geralt deems Roach too tired to carry him and leads her in his tight leather pants. If Geralt hadn’t been wearing just such a thing when Jaskier met him, Jaskier would be convinced Geralt does it just to personally spite Jaskier. 

To doom him to look but not touch for the rest of his life. As such, he had never expected Geralt to actually agree to this whole charade. But, he did, and now here they are. Here they are, with Jaskier knowing exactly what Geralt tastes like (less onion than one would expect), but still having to not just kiss the blank looks Geralt likes to give him right off his face. 

It’s enough to drive a man mad. 

-

Geralt looks at the pitiful notice board and sighs. He tugs down the one prospect to examine it more closely. Something is stealing a farmer’s sheep. There’s a few possibilities for what it could be, ranging from minor nuisances to things that he shouldn’t even mention to Jaskier because he’ll nag at Geralt until he lets him tag along, and those are always the kind of jobs that Jaskier should be nowhere near. 

Geralt’s not sure how someone with the survival instinct of a fly larva is still alive, especially when he insists on following Geralt around, but Geralt’s not going to let Jaskier get hurt on his watch. 

Geralt pockets the notice and goes to talk to the farmer who set the contract, but he has very little useful information to tell Geralt. All he offers is that the sheep have been disappearing without a trace. Geralt walks the edges of the property and a bit into the woods, doing a cursory inspection for the carcasses, but he doesn’t find them, either. 

Hmm. 

Geralt turns and heads back to Jaskier. 

-

Geralt’s acting out of sorts when he returns from town, so Jaskier tugs him aside. “What’s wrong?”

Geralt just grunts and shakes his head. 

Jaskier sighs. Typical. “Weren’t there any contracts?”

“There were, just—I don’t know what it is. But I’m sure it will be fine.”

Geralt even tries to give him a bracing smile, and even though it looks more like a grimace, Jaskier knows it’s not good if Geralt has stooped to trying to comfort him. 

Jaskier hums at him and leads him to the table where his family are waiting on them for lunch. Jaskier keeps a hand on Geralt’s knee, because he’s allowed to, at the moment. 

He delights in watching Geralt make awkward conversation with Nell, but it seems like they’re quickly warming up to each other. Jaskier’s mouth goes dry at the thought of them teaming up on him. They would truly be a menace. 

Jaskier’s mood is quickly soured when they finish eating and Geralt insists on heading back out. 

“Shouldn’t you wait until the morning? You know, be well rested?”

Geralt shrugs. “It’s been taking the animals at night. Better chance of finding it if I go now.”

“Geralt, we’re not exactly short on coin right now. Why even go?”

“If I don’t take care of this, who will?” Geralt huffs. “This farmer’s livelihood is at risk.”

Jaskier grins. “Geralt, you unbearable softie. You make me look callous.”

Jaskier darts a glance over to his family, who are pretending not to watch them. He takes that as license to tug Geralt in for a chaste kiss. Geralt stiffens against him, and Jaskier is just about ready to pull away, before Geralt starts kissing him back. He makes it  decidedly  less chaste, and Jaskier puts a hand on his chest. He lets himself savor it for one, two, three seconds before he takes a step back. 

“Geralt, there are children present!” he says in a scandalized tone, grinning at Nell. 

She glares, and he shoots her a wink. 

Geralt clears his throat, and Jaskier jerks his attention back to him. “Right. Well, if I’m not going to talk you out of it, be safe.”

“I always am.”

-

Ethbert watches as Julian paces back and forth as he waits for the witcher to return. “Sit down,” he says gruffly. 

Julian looks at the clock, then out the window, completely ignoring him. Ethbert snorts. Good to know nothing’s changed, then. 

“Surely it can’t take this long to murder one measly little thing,” Julian mutters. 

“He’s fine,” Ethbert says. “It’d take a lot to overpower a witcher, right?”

Jaskier sits down in a huff, and Ethbert starts to wonder if maybe their relationship is less of a farce than he thought. It’s certainly an odd one, and he’s still clueless as to what they could possibly have in common, but Julian is painting a convincing picture right now, especially as he tugs his cloak off the hook and settles it around his shoulders. 

“Where are you going?”

“To find him!”

Ethbert jerks out of his seat with a splutter. “You can’t be serious. You think you’re going to be able to handle whatever a witcher couldn’t?”

Julian pauses. “Well, no. He’s probably lying in a ditch somewhere, slowly bleeding to death. Oh gods, what if he’s out there bleeding to death?”

Julian becomes even more frantic and rushes out the door and to the stables. 

Ethbert resigns himself to a long night. 

-

Jaskier clambers onto one of the smaller mares. He doesn’t have the patience to go through the whole process of putting all the tack on, so he clings to the horse’s neck and prays he doesn’t fall off. He digs into her with his knees, and away they go. 

Jaskier has no idea which way Geralt went, but there’s some fairly fresh hoof tracks in the wet dirt of the road, so he follows them and hopes they’re Roach’s. Eventually, they go off the road, and Jaskier is left to squint at trampled grass. He wonders if Geralt would be proud of his tracking abilities, and he smiles thinking about the inevitable jab. Jaskier would respond with something about how Geralt was no better than a dog sniffing the air, and all would be well.

But first, he has to find him. Jaskier slows the horse to a walk as the trail becomes fainter, squinting as he looks at the ground. He comes to an outcrop of rocks with an opening just big enough to go inside, and he dismounts his horse cautiously. He certainly doesn’t want to deal with whatever calls this place its home. 

Jaskier notices blood, and his heart kicks up a notch. It’s a rust red color, so it’s not very recent. Jaskier follows the splatters, and as he goes, they get brighter and brighter, until Jaskier’s heart threatens to burst out of his chest with the panicked tap dance it’s doing. 

It certainly doesn’t help matters when he finds Roach wandering through the woods by herself. “Where’s Geralt?” he asks, and she snorts at him helpfully. 

Jaskier casts a look at the blood glistening under the leaves underfoot and knows Geralt has to be close. Roach gives an agitated whinny before she turns and trots off, and Jaskier rushes after her. 

In the end, Geralt’s not all that far away. Jaskier sees his hair before he sees anything else, and then he’s sprinting over to him with little thought for anything else. Jaskier drops to his knees beside Geralt. He looks paler than normal, even though Jaskier hadn’t known that was possible 

There’s so much blood, and he’s not moving. Jaskier sucks in a breath. “Geralt? Geralt?” he asks, his voice getting louder and more panicked. “Geralt?”

Jaskier resists the urge to shake him and jostle whatever injuries he has, but there’s bile rising in his throat, and he doesn’t know what he’s going to do—

His eyes latch on to the infinitesimal rise of Geralt’s chest, and the pressure on his own suddenly lifts. He shuts his eyes for a moment. Geralt isn’t dead, and he can work with that. 

Jaskier takes a closer look at Geralt and finds there’s a chunk missing from his side. It’s still bleeding freely, and Jaskier tries to resist the urge to be sick. He works Geralt free of his armor with shaky hands, so he can take a closer look. 

Geralt moans and starts to stir, and Jaskier plants his hands on Geralt’s chest. “Just stay still; you’re going to be fine.”

“Jask?” Geralt slurs. 

“Yes, yes, it’s me, and you know I’m far too stubborn to let you die.”

“My pack—”

Jaskier could slap himself for not thinking of that. “Right. Um, your potions.” 

He whistles for Roach, and she approaches skittishly. Jaskier glances back down at Geralt, and his eyes are slipping shut. Jaskier tightens his grip on Geralt’s shoulder. “Geralt! You have to stay awake. Do you hear me?”

Geralt murmurs something Jaskier doesn’t quite catch, but his eyes open wider. Geralt’s pupils are so dilated, there’s barely a ring of yellow left around the outsides. Jaskier clambers up to look through Roach’s saddlebags, and his heart clenches when Geralt’s hand comes up to clutch at him as he moves away. “I’m not going anywhere,” he soothes. 

He rustles through the saddlebag. “Fuck, Geralt, do you really need so many tiny bottles?”

Geralt gives him a weak chuckle before he hisses in pain. 

“Which one do you need?” Jaskier asks, hoping Geralt is coherent enough that he’s not about to poison himself. 

Jaskier pulls the pouch out of the saddle bag to show him the options. Geralt points to a few, and Jaskier eyes them doubtfully. He uncorks them anyway, sitting back down and settling Geralt’s head into his lap, helping him get the elixirs down, even when Geralt tries to bat his hands away. 

“Save your energy for something useful, would you?” Jaskier tuts. 

Jaskier prods at the wound in Geralt’s side, jerking his hand back when Geralt winces. “I forgot just how delicate you were, my apologies.”

Geralt barely manages a huff at that, and Jaskier furrows his brows in worry. He pulls Geralt’s shirt away from the wound, biting his lip as it pulls skin away. The wound looks a sickly green underneath all the blood, and Jaskier gasps a little. This is much worse than he thought. 

“Geralt, it’s—Geralt?”

Geralt’s eyes have slipped shut, and Jaskier scrabbles at him, trying to make him wake up again, but he stays stubbornly still. The only thing giving Jaskier even a tiny glimmer of peace is that his chest is still rising and falling. 

Tears are threatening to burst to Jaskier’s eyes, but he pushes them down and takes a deep breath. Somehow, he manages to heave Geralt across Roach. Roach snorts, disgruntled, and Jaskier runs a hand over her flank, trying to soothe her. 

He looks around, but he has no idea where the mare he rode out here went. Oops. Hopefully it will wander back to his parent’s estate, but if not, well, will they even miss it?

Jaskier gathers Roach’s reins in his hand and leads her back towards town at a steady trot. 

-

When Geralt comes to, he’s sweltering. He seems to be in a tomb of blankets, and the fire is roaring in the corner of the room. The room? He’s not quite sure how he got here; he would have expected to be lying on the cold ground instead of a soft and yielding bed. There’s even less lumps than he’s accustomed to.

He groans when he tries to move, and there’s a rustling from beside him. Geralt looks over to see Jaskier jerking from his chair to fuss over him. Jaskier’s eyes are red when he finally looks up.

“You promised me you were going to be safe, you terror,” Jaskier sniffs. 

Geralt doesn’t have his wits about him enough yet to be dealing with crying bards. “Hmm.”

“Geralt, you—What was it?”

“A cockatrice. It got me with its tail; spit a little poison at me just for fun.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “You wouldn’t know fun if it bit you in the ass.”

This makes Geralt look even grumpier, if possible. Jaskier’s glad; he much prefers that to the slack expression Geralt had had while he was sleeping, and Jaskier was terrified he wouldn’t wake up. 

Jaskier looks back at him, and Geralt can’t help himself when he reaches out to swipe away Jaskier’s tears with his thumb. “I’m fine,” he murmurs. 

Geralt tosses the covers off himself so he can see his wound. It’s wrapped rather nicely, and when Geralt pokes at it, it feels like there’s some kind of poultice under the bandages. He raises his eyebrows at Jaskier, waiting for an explanation. 

“A healer.”

Geralt’s surprised Jaskier found someone who would treat him; most people aren’t too keen on helping witchers. 

“I yelled at him until he helped you,” Jaskier admits. 

Geralt huffs a laugh. “I’m sure he was terrified.”

Jaskier finally cracks a grin. “Hey, you’re not the only scary one around here.”

Jaskier’s eyes drop to his hand, the one that was just on his face, and fuck, what was Geralt even thinking, but Jaskier reaches out and puts his hand over Geralt’s. 

“I was worried,” he says softly. And then, sharper, “Don’t you dare say  hmm .”

“Hmm.”

Geralt laughs, and there’s a warmth that settles in his chest when Jaskier does the same. 

“You’re incorrigible,” Jaskier finally says. 

There’s a lengthy silence, and when Geralt looks up, Jaskier is staring back at him.  

“You got the trophy, right?” 

“Geralt, my ears must be deceiving me. You cannot possibly be worried about that right now.”

“How else am I going to get paid? Last time I checked, you liked to eat. It needs done before something else drags the carcass away.”

Jaskier sighs and huffs and does everything short of stomping his feet before he gathers his cloak from the back of his chair. He glares at Geralt before he slams the door shut behind him. 

Geralt rubs a shaky hand down his face. 

He’s an idiot. 

-

Jaskier grumbles to himself as he makes his way back out into the chilly night. His advances are obviously unwelcome, if this is the kind of punishment Geralt is doling out to him. Well, that’s fine. Jaskier will just let him bleed out next time. 

Okay, he won’t, but that doesn’t mean he won’t consider it for a few seconds. 

Stupid emotionally repressed witchers. He can’t say he wasn’t hoping something would happen with Geralt while they were here, but he should have known better. 

Jaskier trudges all the way back to near where he found Geralt, pointedly not looking at the blood stain on the grass.  He’s fine , he reminds himself. Jaskier pokes around for a little bit until he remembers the cave he had seen earlier and some vague knowledge that cockatrices prefer them. 

He’s half expecting another to show up as he plucks some feathers and cuts off the head, for good measure. He almost gags as his knife goes roughly through the bone and sinew, but he manages to keep his supper. He looks around for any last creatures that are just waiting to murder him, but none appear. 

He sighs and makes the trek back. 

When he arrives, Geralt is sitting at the table, talking to his family, and Jaskier wonders for a moment if he should be concerned about a doppler. Nell is eating up every word Geralt says, and Jaskier hopes she has pried some good stories out of him that Jaskier can repurpose as songs later. 

For now, he swings the cockatrice head up onto the table, and silence falls. “There you go, love,” he says cheerfully. 

Geralt is looking back at him with a peculiar expression, and he rises from his chair stiffly. Jaskier rushes over to him to help, and Geralt reluctantly drapes an arm over his shoulder. Geralt leads him to the bathroom, and Jaskier makes sure to say loudly enough for the rest of his family to hear, “Well, if you needed help holding it you only had to ask.”

Geralt huffs in exasperation and shuts the door behind him. Jaskier raises his eyebrows in question. “Did you actually need help, or…” Jaskier trails off, and then Geralt’s lips are on his, warm and hungry, and anymore of Jaskier’s thoughts fly out of his brain. 

His arms automatically come up to wrap around Geralt’s waist, until he registers that this is  Geralt , and he puts a hand on his chest. “Um. Do you need your head checked out, as well? I thought it was your side, but I can go get the healer again.”

“I’m fine,” Geralt growls. 

Jaskier’s not convinced Geralt hasn’t sustained a lasting brain injury, but then Geralt is saying, “I should have done this a long time ago,” and kissing him again. 

What is Jaskier to do but kiss him back? It’d be terribly impolite not to, after all. When Geralt finally pulls away, Jaskier asks breathlessly, “What was that for?”

Geralt shrugs, considering. “You looked kind of hot carrying that cockatrice head. The trachea hanging down really got me going.”

Jaskier stares at him in disbelief for a beat before they both dissolve into laughter. 

“You’re an idiot,” Jaskier says. “You’re  my idiot.”

-

Ethbert looks across the table, where what his son is doing can only be called  terrorizing  his witcher, and harrumphs to himself. This is not exactly who he pictured Julian ending up with, to say the least. 

He wonders the etiquette for having a son in law older than he is. He supposes he’s going to have to find out. 

[plant-flwrs]

house unity // fred weasley

masterlist!

a/n: this story has taken me so long and i feel like i’ve poured my blood, sweat, and tears into it. i love it a lot and you can really tell what i was watching/ doing in each sections lol. for example, the dramatic ending is courtesy of the heart wrenching sylvia plath poems i was reading earlier today lol :’) also i made the reader a ravenclaw because im a ravenclaw and i felt like it hehe. n e way! hope you all like it and pls leave feedback if you have any! like, rb, follow <3

summary: Fred Weasley and you have a bit of a love hate relationship, however, on Fred’s behalf its more love than hate. Dating a Ravenclaw would be a great stride in house unity, wouldn’t it?

(disclaimer: when i describe the differences in the twins i mean the actors! especially since she who shall not be named did not give us much about their physical differences >:/ i found the info from fandom.com so it may be wrong, but i went with it. also, i made up a few things for this story, like the annual Christmas ball)

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You wished you could enjoy some things as easily as your peers could.

You didn’t like most sweets from Honeydukes, you didn’t care for Quidditch, but you especially hated the Weasley twin’s pranks.

In your first year, just weeks after arriving at Hogwarts, you had met Fred and George. You had been unable to answer the riddle to enter the Ravenclaw common room, so you decided to take a walk around the grounds.

You just turned the corner to the courtyard, when a hard snowball hit you square in the face. The sheer force of it made you stumble backyards, and you barely had time to wipe the snow off your face before another one hit you hard in the back. You were unable to keep your balance and tumbled forwards. Your hands braced your fall and scraped against the rough stone harshly. Your palms stained the snow red as they began to bleed. You barely had time to nurse them before another snowball, this time the size of a Quaffle, plummeted onto your head. It pushed you face-first into the snow, and you recovered quicker, not wanting to stay there for any longer. You whirled around, looking for anyone who could have seen who did that. You saw two boys with flaming red hair running away, and you followed them.

You caught them just before they entered the castle, all three of you winded. They were twins.

“Did you see who did that? Was it you?” you had pried, and both of them looked giddy.

“What’d you mean?” the shorter of the two answered immaturely.

The other looked down at your hands and robes, seeing blood still flowing from your palms, and your stained tights. He glanced at his brother, who was still laughing about it all and shoved his shoulder.

“You git,” he mumbled to his brother, “she’s bleeding,” he took your hands in his and tried to wipe some of the blood off, only for it to stain the sleeves of his sweater.

“Oh, gross!” the shorter one exclaimed, backing away from the two of you.

“How did you two do that?” you asked, pulling your hands away from the kinder one.

“Bewitched ‘em,” the short one said arrogantly before his brother could stop him.

“You bewitched them to attack me?” you felt tears stinging your eyes and hoped the taller one wouldn’t notice that too.

“Well, we didn’t mean ‘em to go after you,” the kind one said quickly, trying to rub the blood out of his shirt.

“Yeah, but it was still a laugh,” the shorter one said, nudging his brother’s shoulder good spiritedly.

“Shut up, Fred,” he mumbled, obviously annoyed, “we’re sorry about your hands, we didn’t mean for it to happen, honest.”

Fred watched you silently as you swallowed hard, only able to nod at them, accepting the boys’ apology. You turned on your heal and went to the infirmary, hoping Madam Pomfrey could mend your cuts. You had wiped your tears all the way there.

In your third year, you had been told there would be a Christmas ball. You had been stuffed in a large room with the Gryffindors, and you bumped shoulder to shoulder with a boy who had long dreadlocks.

Professor McGonagall and Flitwick stood in the center of the room, a large record player was next to them.

“As some of you may know, there is an annual Christmas Ball here at Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall explained, looking sharply at the Gryffindors.

“Professor McGonagall and I have a tradition,” Flitwick said, casting a glance at the Ravenclaws, “of holding a class on how to dance properly at these events.”

“Think of it as charity,” McGonagall said devilishly, “we wouldn’t want you to embarrass yourselves.”

Flitwick stifled a laugh and moved his wand to turn on the music. Loud, old-sounding music blared from the ancient device and you looked confused at your teachers.

“Everyone, pair up!”

An awkward haze fell over the room of third years. None of you knew how to talk to the opposite sex, let alone dance with them. You turned to look around you, accidentally making eye contact with the Gryffindor boy with dreads. His eyes widened when they saw yours, and his friends behind you noticed. You looked at his friends, only to see Fred and George Weasley. You rolled your eyes at the two, but their friend was jolted forwards.

He bumped into you, Fred having pushed him lightly on the back.

“Go on Lee!” Fred shouted, laughing loudly.

People were moving to the center of the room in pairs, and Lee looked at you nervously. He held his hand out to you.

“Want to dance?” He asked you shyly.

You took his hand with worry, nervous about the wicked grin the twins had. That grin always worried you.

You let Lee lead you out to the floor, falling in line with everyone else. You both watched McGonagall looking around for a partner for her to demonstrate with.

Fred’s obnoxious laugh cut through the room, and her eyes landed on him.

“Perfect! Mr. Weasley, come be my partner.”

He groaned and moved forwards, his brother laughing loudly. Beside you, Lee had a wide smile.

“Place your hand on my waist,” she said flatly.

“Your what?” he repeated, his eyes going wide.

“My waist, don’t be daft,” she replied, moving his hand to the right place.

It seemed everyone’s cheeks had gone red due to stifled laughter. Lee bumped into you as he doubled over, not trying to contain himself.

In your fifth year, you were made a prefect.

You were hesitant to accept the position, feeling a bit tied down by the prat status that came with the responsibility.

Wearing your slightly dusted badge, you had never polished it like you saw Percy doing every second of his life, you led a group of Ravenclaw first years up the stairs.

“Right this way,” you shouted over their heads, making sure no one got lost.

“Who had the sense to make you a prefect?” Fred taunted, coming up from behind you and flicking your ear.

You moved to swat his hand away, but he had already jumped back.

“Shove off, Fred,” you shot him a glare and turned back to the children, “the stairs can get a bit confusing, so watch your step!”

Fred watched you admirably, noticing the way your voice changed to a sweet sound when you spoke to anyone but him.

“Yeah, watch the stairs!” Fred shouted, pulling you by your elbow onto a new staircase.

The steps moved away from the first years, taking you and Fred to the opposite corridor you wanted to go down. You looked down and realized how close you were to the edge. Without thinking, you grabbed onto Fred’s robes, pulling him closer to you. He tilted forward and nearly lost his balance, which would have sent you both down. He flung his hand out and firmly held onto the railing, suspending the both of you over the edge for a moment before he pulled you back up. You were close to his chest, still holding onto him until the stairs stopped moving. You hadn’t meant to close your eyes, but when you finally opened them you saw your group of first-years looking at you from the other staircase, seeming absolutely terrified.

You leaped from Fred’s embrace, sending him stumbling back a bit. You marched up the stairs to loop back to the first years and heard Fred calling after you.

“Going so soon?” you heard his laugh echoing off the walls of the room.

For most of your life, your interactions with Fred Weasley were that simple. Maybe once a year you two would spit some insults at the other, and be on your way, not to speak to each other until next year.

However, when you walked into your Transfiguration class, late by a few minutes due to your prefect duties, you felt a punch in the gut when you saw flaming red hair.

The punch in the gut was increased tenfold when you saw that the only empty seat was next to the flaming red hair.

Breathing deeply and sending a fake smile his way, you sat uncomfortably next to Fred.

It would have been difficult to tell them apart, but your observant eye had always been able to. Besides a few odd growth spurts they were prone to, George usually came out the taller of the two. Fred also had a small scar on his left eyebrow.

“Oh hello, prefect,” Fred said lazily, drawing back in his chair and folding his hands behind his head.

The bottom of his shirt rose a little and you willed your eyes to not look at the toned bit of stomach that peeked through.

“Weasley,” you said, pulling your textbook out of your bag.

“Looking forward to your new prat duties?”

“More than I’m looking forward to sitting with you,” you pushed your hair behind your ear and out of your eyes, Fred stared at the side of your face.

“Always so charming,” he finally drawled, leaning forwards and tugging his sweater down.

Something about Fred always made you want the last word, the last laugh.

“Only for you, Fred.”

In professor McGonagall’s opinion, Fred Weasley had the littlest appreciation for time of all the students she had taught.

He wasted his time in the common room, in the Great Hall, and in the hallways.

Even during her Transfiguration class.

He was happy to spend his time with what he thought was shamelessly flirting with you, and McGonagall was happy to embarrass him while he did it.

“Mister Weasley?”

Fred turned to look at McGonagall’s severe face. Before he could say any excuse, insisting that you were talking too, she waved her wand at his desk. His book flew open to the right page, and a force that was not his own was pushing his head into the book. His hair fell in front of his face, and you could tell he was fighting against the spell McGonagall was using.

Fred seemed to be tamed by McGonagall after that and didn’t bother you for the rest of the class. On the way out, he held the door open for you. He called out to you in the hallway.

“Good luck with that weird rash, Y/n!” you felt your cheeks burn furiously as laughs sounded off in the hallway. You turned to see Fred watching you walk away, and lifted both of your middle fingers in the air to him.

“So classy!” he called back.

“Shove! OFF!” you yelled, shouting over the now deafening laughter in the hallway.

You were already dreading the upcoming months.

You were right to, for class with Fred did not get any easier.

You traded your thin tights for thicker ones and your light dress shirt for a heavy sweater. Your blue scarf was wrapped tightly around your neck, and you didn’t bother to pin your prefect badge on it these days.

“Miss, y/l/n, you must remember your badge,” McGonagall said as you came into class.

You looked down at your scarf, patting your robes until you felt the metal. Lifting up your scarf and showing the professor the badge underneath it, you gave her a reassuring smile.

She nodded approvingly and waved her hand, you moved to your seat.

Before you could put your things down, Fred was looking at you. You could hear the gears turning in his head, thinking of something presumably rude to say to you.

“Weasley,” you said first, hoping this would inspire him to stop looking at you.

He blinked at you, before smiling and turning back to his textbook.

“Today, we’re going to be learning a vanishing spell,” McGonagall started.

You had already turned to the page before she told it to you, you had read through the entire textbook over the summer.

You heard Fred scoff next to you, but ignored him.

Looking down at the directions in the book, you had remembered your successful attempt at making one of your father’s shoes disappear. He had been so proud of you, he didn’t care that he only had one brown Oxford instead of two.

“How did you do that?” Fred asked, watching as you easily made the rat in front of you vanish.

“Practice,” you said absently, turning your head to look back into the textbook.

Fred began to try the spell himself, his focus on the goblet he had taken from the great hall. He did the right wand movements, but his pronunciation was all wrong. You watched as the spell rebounded off the goblet and hit his tie, making the bottom half of it vanish. His hand flew to his chest, his mouth curved in a disbelieving grin when he didn’t feel the point of his tie.

“Well, bloody hell, that could have been much worse,” he gasped out, pushing his hair off his face and leaning back in his chair.

You couldn’t help the small nervous laugh that escaped your lips, but you were able to stifle it quickly. Fred had noticed your smile and glanced at you, happy to amuse you.

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, Fred regaining his composure after nearly vanishing himself. You pretended to read your book, but you had already read the page dozens of times. You wanted an excuse to not talk to Fred.

“Ever going to turn the page?” Fred asked from beside you, and you became very aware of his eyes on the side of your face.

“I’m absorbing the information,” you replied flatly, keeping your head in the book to hide your blush.

He laughed, sitting straight in his seat. He seemed to be attempting the spell again. You bit your lip as you watched him practice, wondering if you should correct him so he doesn’t hurt himself.

He had just begun to say the spell when you placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Wait!” he glanced at you and your hand on his shoulder, smirking at you.

“Yes, darling?”

You rolled your eyes and felt the urge to gag. Your face crinkled in disgust and Fred smiled.

“Your pronunciation is wrong.”

“Well go on then,” he said, urging you to continue.

“Evanesco,” you said simply, but Fred’s eyes wrinkled in confusion.

“That’s what I’m saying,” he said, turning back to the goblet but lowering his wand, “Evenesco.”

He had replaced the ‘a’ with an ‘e’ sound, but he hadn’t heard it, you supposed.

“It’s ev-an-es-co,” you said slowly, placing your pronunciation on the ‘an’, “you’re saying ev-en-es-co.”

His eyebrows raised, finally understanding. He repeated it to you slowly, and you nodded your head when he said it right.

He smiled confidently, casting the spell on his goblet. The goblet turned foggy, and Fred could wave his hand through it like it was a ghost.

He sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“This is miserable,” he groaned.

You waved your wand and said the verbal part of the spell, finishing off the goblet. It completely disappeared and Fred let out another groan, rolling his head back in annoyance.

“You’re miserable,” he said to you teasingly.

You looked at him through your lashes, your brows furrowed, “Whatever, Fred,” your face grimaced in annoyance, “I’m just trying to help, your welcome, by the way.”

You pulled your bag onto your lap and began to pack up your books.

Fred let out a sigh like he was going to say something. You turned to him, but he merely shook his head.

“Forget it,” he said, seeming to be at a loss of words.

You stood from your seat the second McGonagall dismissed class, leaving Fred at your shared desk.

“She’s totally into me!”

“She hates your guts, mate,” George said, pulling his lips into a thin-lined sympathy smile.

Fred scoffed and shook his head, his long hair falling over his forehead.

“You don’t get it,” he pressed, determined to make George see.

“She looks like she wants to throw herself into the Forbidden Forest every time she sees you,” George replied, determined to stop his brother from future heartbreak.

“Whatever, just you watch,” Fred said, tossing his Quidditch broom from hand to hand and looking at the massive stands above them, empty for the practice, “in a few weeks she’ll be in one of those seats, cheering me on.”

“He’s lost it,” Harry mumbled to George as he walked past, baffled by Fred’s dazed look.

George nodded hastily, following Harry away from his lovesick brother.

Fred was not often detoured by anyone’s cautionary guidance, so the endless warnings from George slid off his ego like melted butter.

Fred had spent so much time in the last Quidditch match with his eyes glued to the Ravenclaw student section, looking for you, that he had barely hit any bludgers the entire game. Oliver had some tasteful words for him in the changing rooms, but it was no worse than his mother’s screaming.

You were not at the Quidditch match, you never were. You had always used the advantage of the empty castle to go to the kitchens. The elves were the only ones left there, and you liked talking with them. Some times Luna would join you.

It seemed you and Fred were going opposite directions while searching for each other at the same time.

No matter how many cookies Dobby shoved towards you and Luna, you could not get Fred out of your head.

You thought about his arms wrapped around you on the stairs, you thought about the way he could always make your cheeks burn, and you thought of the way his eyes poured into your face like it was the only thing he’d ever seen. You hated him. He was rude, arrogant, and annoying. He ran around your head constantly.

McGonagall had some choice words for Fred that night after the match. The sulking from the loss had been toned down, but the hushed sounds of Oliver’s feet pounding against the floor in his bedroom could be heard all the way from the common room.

“Where is Wood?” she burst through the portrait hole, still in her robes she wore to the match.

“He’s upstairs, why?” Harry replied, looking nervous.

“I need to have a word with him,” she cast a glance at Fred, “and his methods of training his beaters.”

Fred and George both shot from where they sat on the couch.

“What?” George yelled.

“Don’t take that tone with me, Mister Weasley,” she squinted at them, “whichever one of you was looking around at the Rave-” she stopped before she could finish her sentence as if she had an epiphany.

Her pursed lips twisted into an evil looking smile.

“You know, Mister Weasley,” she took a step towards the boys and spoke to them only, “dating a Ravenclaw would show great strides in house unity,” Fred’s eyes bulged out of his head and George was already turning pink with laughter, “perhaps then you could focus on Quidditch again.”

George was nearly purple due to lack of air, and Harry’s mouth was agape in shock as McGonagall whisked her robes and swiftly climbed back out of the portrait hole.

“What is she on about?” Harry asked George.

Fred flopped onto the couch and covered his face with his hands. His life was over. If McGonagall could catch onto something like that, couldn’t you? You hadn’t started to flirt back, and Fred was beginning to wonder if George was right about your feelings towards him.

Soon enough, George was spouting everything McGonagall had said before he could catch his breath. He told anyone in the common room how much you hated Fred, and how much he desperately fancied you. Fred figured there was no use to stop him, because once again, if McGonagall could catch on, couldn’t everyone else?

Sunday morning was always rough for you. You pulled your heavy quilt closer to your cold cheeks, hoping for the sun to go back down and the weekend to restart. It never did.

You slipped on a pair of jeans and a tight turtle neck. Still feeling the cold air of the castle seeping through, you pulled on a sweater over the turtle neck. You tugged on some wool socks and pulled the fabric of the shirt as high up your neck as it would go.

You and Luna had plans to go to Hagrid’s hut today, he had promised her some magical flower seeds he had found in his garden. You liked to spend time with Luna, she was an easing presence and you always knew how to talk to her, even if most people didn’t.

You clutched an old muggle novel to your chest, hoping to trap some of your body heat. The hallways were surprisingly crowded for a Sunday morning, and you glanced at your watch, seeing breakfast had just ended.

You noticed that a lot of students with red ties were looking at you oddly. They would see you and smile widely, as if you were a new friend to them. You kept your head down until you met Luna in front of the great hall.

“Did you hear the news?” she asked before she even greeted you.

“What?”

“I just saw Harry, he said McGonagall told Fred to ask you out.”

You laughed, expecting her to do so as well. She didn’t and her face stayed stoic. She began to walk outside.

You were locked into place for a second before you jumped into line with her.

“What?” you repeated.

“Harry told me-” she began, but you waved your hands, cutting her off.

“No, I heard you, but what do you mean? What did McGonagall say?”

Luna had to have finally gone loony.

“He told me that after they lost Quidditch yesterday, she came in looking for Fred, she said he was quite distracted during the match,” she said, looking dreamily at you, “and she said something about how dating a Ravenclaw would be great for house unity,” Luna finished, toying with the tote bag at her side.

“Why did Harry think the Ravenclaw had to be me?” you asked, thinking there was a huge misunderstanding.

“Oh, well,” she said like she had forgotten a large part of the story, “after George heard what McGonagall said, he lost it. Harry said he laughed so hard he cried,” Luna giggled to herself while imagining the sight, “and he told everyone in the common room that Fred fancied you.”

Your face turned bright red with anger and embarrassment. The entire Gryffindor house had been laughing all night because George said Fred fancied you.

You were about to burst into protests, insist that it’s not true, but a gaggle of second years wearing red ties all pointed at you, talking among themselves.

You stepped towards them, making sure your prefect badge was visible. You watched their eyes flash down to the blue pin, and back up at your face, eyes wide. They scurried off and you fell back into place with Luna.

“That was rude of them,” Luna said, looping her arm with yours.

“Yeah,” you said quietly under your breath, your mind cloudy with thoughts.

You and Luna walked quietly out to Hagrid’s. You glanced up and saw the last person you had wanted to see.

Fred and George stood at the point where the path diverged to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid’s hut, throwing a little flame-like ball to each other, bouncing it off their arms, feet, and chests. A small group of some younger kids had huddled around them, ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ at each pass.

Fred had a large smile on his face, and the sight of it made your stomach churn with nerves.

You ducked your head down, hoping you and Luna would pass without a problem. You would not.

“Hi Fred,” Luna lifted a hand to wave at him, and the small light fell onto the ground as Fred saw you, “hi George.”

George smiled evilly at the sight of his brother nervously looking anywhere but you.

“Fun looking game your playing,” Luna said, trying to stop to talk, but you dragged her along.

“See you later Luna, Y/n!” George called out to the two of you, the laughter obvious in his voice.

“Why didn’t you want to talk to them? You could have asked Fred about what Harry said,” Luna asked you soothingly, looking at you curiously.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, feeling very overwhelmed, “it’s weird. I don’t even know what happened but the thought of it is so weird,” you paused, trying to grasp the words, “I mean, Fred can’t like me. We detest each other, its fun.”

“Well, do you like him?” she had asked the one question you were avoiding.

Fred had always been a thorn in your side. Ever since you met him he was rude. He never apologized for anything, he laughed, poked, and prodded at you for his own amusement. Yet, whenever you saw his soft-looking hair, you swallowed hard. When he inched closer to you, even just to whisper something rude, you felt your chest tighten. He looked at you, and you could swear he actually cared about what you were saying. Maybe detest was a little strong, perhaps just annoyed.

Granted, he was a teenage boy, and you are a teenage girl, mixed messages are bound to be sent. You thought you had been clear with your messages to Fred, though. “Leave me alone,” nothing bitter, nothing kind, just the wish to be left alone. Of course, Fred did not read your message that way. The enticing message he got was more along the lines of: “I’m going to pretend I want you to leave me alone, but please, don’t. Chase me through the hallways, confess undying love for me, kiss me passionately”. Now, it is entirely possible that Fred’s interpretation was a little clouded by his own wants and wishes, but this did not stop him.

The talk of the castle, for at least the following school week, was you and Fred.

You had never been whispered about, pointed at, or thought of like this. Fred seemed to be enjoying it.

In class Monday, Fred pretended nothing had happened. He swung his arm over the back of your chair and waited for the look of disgust to flash across your face, which it did, and he chuckled to himself.

Soon enough, the whispers and pointing had subsided, and they were replaced by odd looks as if they were disbelieving of something.

Luna found you in the courtyard sitting under a tree and skipped over to you.

“You hadn’t told me Fred asked you out,” she wiggled her eyebrows, “officially.”

Once again, you laughed, but she did not. She sat in front of you, crossing her legs.

“Oh my-” you trailed off, lifting your head to look at Luna, “what’s happened now?”

“Hermione told me that Fred has been raving to everyone about how you’re dating.”

Your eyes were wild with disbelief. You couldn’t have even comprehended what was going on at this school these days.

“Well, no one’s told me that we’re dating,” you said, your voice riddled with annoyance.

In perfect timing, Fred, George, and Lee bounded from the school and out to the courtyard. They were laughing and shoving each other, looking to be having a great time.

You stood from the ground, dusting off your pants and walking over to the three with fury.

“Fred!” you called out to him, and he stopped and turned to you.

A look of fear flashed on his face, but he covered it with something else, was it admiration? Love?

You clenched your jaw and narrowed your eyes, stepping close to him. He tilted his head down to look at you, a small smile on his lips.

Around you, George, Lee, and Luna stood with their arms crossed, watching intently.

Your bodies were almost touching, and your finger stabbed into his chest.

“Who do you think you are?” you said in a hushed tone through gritted teeth.

Once again, Fred’s face fell for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around your waist in some sort of embrace. You squirmed from his touch and backed away from him.

“Who do you think you are?” you repeated, this time louder. George and Lee flinched from behind you.

“What do you mean, sweetheart?” he asked sweetly.

Your face twisted with confusion, what is he on about?

“What?”

He continued, stepping closer to you.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked earnestly, moving to rub his hand on your arm.

He was trying to flip the script, make you feel crazy.

“Fred, you’ve lost it, really,” you replied, walking back to the tree to gather your books.

“Maybe when you’ve regained consciousness,” you walked back up to him, keeping your distance, “or the effects of whatever potion you took start to wear off, please try to explain what is going on.”

You walked away from them, leaving Fred with a wicked smile.

“Alright, see you later!” he called out to you.

You turned your head to look at him, your hair blew in front of your face but Fred could see your puzzled expression. His smirk grew wider and he turned to George, Lee, and Luna. They looked awfully concerned.

“Oh,” he placed his hands on his hips, “isn’t she great?”

You had gotten to Transfiguration early, your prefect duties switched for the week. You crossed your legs and placed a book on them, reading discretely while McGonagall was still in her office.

Just as she began to address the class, Fred strolled in, hands in his pockets. He slipped into the seat next to you and you bookmarked your page. You scooted your chair in and slipped the worn book into your bag, listening to McGonagall begin her lecture. Monday’s were often boring lecture days in Transfiguration.

You heard the screech of Fred’s chair on the floor, and in the corner of your eye saw him moving closer to you. He rested his elbow on the desk and placed his chin in his palm. He leaned close to you.

“Hello,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

You ignored him, dipping your quill into your ink in case McGonagall said something note-worthy.

“What’s ‘a matter,” he paused as if he was thinking of the most annoying thing to say to you, “darling?”

You audibly gagged, and his smile widened.

“What do you want?” you caved, asking him.

“Oh nothing,” he leaned back in his chair, still whispering to you, “just for you to be my girlfriend.”

You went rigid. Your face suddenly got very warm. You lost grip of your quill and it toppled over your ink, sending dark liquid across the desk and onto your white sleeve. You cursed loudly out of reflex and it caught McGonagall’s attention.

“Excuse me, Miss Y/l/n?”

Everyone turned to look at you and Fred in the back of the room, some people smirking. Fred stayed leaned back in his chair, watching you.

“I’m sorry Professor,” you stumbled out, wiping both the ink and your sleeve at the same time, making both things worse, “I just-”

Fred pulled his wand out from beside you and did a simple cleaning spell, you supposed. The ink receded back into its bottle and the stain on your sleeve disappeared. McGonagall watched him intently.

“Very resourceful Weasley, Miss Y/l/n, please don’t disrupt my class again,” she said curtly, returning to the lesson.

You heard a few snickers from your classmates, your face still a deep shade of red. You swallowed hard as you felt your heart beating in your ears.

Fred leaned forward again so his mouth was aligned with your ear.

“What do you say?” he whispered.

“What are you talking about Fred? Why are you doing all this?” you asked, straining to keep your desperate voice in a whisper.

“I’m only having some fun,” he replied as if he hadn’t been making your life a living hell for the past weeks.

You shot him a pleading look, and when he saw your flushed cheeks and watery eyes, his face softened.

“Hey,” he placed a hand on your knee, a knot formed in your throat and shivers went down your arms, “I didn’t mean to-” he trailed off and your jaw clenched. You returned your gaze to the front of the class.

“Listen, I’ve just been,” he paused, searching for the words, “I’ve been playing a sort of prank. On everyone but us.”

His tone was soft and playful as if he were letting you in on a secret. You supposed he was.

You raised your eyebrows, pressing him to continue.

“Well, George basically told everyone in our house that I fancy you, so I wanted to have some fun with it, switch it on them.”

You pressed your eyebrows together, still looking to the front of the room while Fred was inches away from your ear.

“I’ve told everyone we’re dating,” he said plainly, “house unity and all, as McGonagall said.”

“So that was true? What Harry told Luna?” you said before you could stop yourself, happy to finally get answers.

“Well, I don’t know exactly what Harry said, but I’m sure he didn’t leave anything out.”

“Why did George tell everyone that? That you,” you trailed off, feeling the words choking in your mouth, “that you fancy me?”

“Because I do,” he said quickly, and just as quickly moved on, “so what do you say? Want to be my girlfriend-” he paused, realizing what he had just said, “well, my girlfriend of sorts, not like my real girlfriend, because I’m sure you wouldn’t want to, and-” he stopped himself.

This time it was his turn for his cheeks to burn and his eyes to awkwardly avoid yours.

“Why do all this? Seems a lot for a joke that no one but us will laugh at,” you said, trying to ignore his confession.

“I’m willing to go to the ends of the Earth for a joke, my dear.”

Fred was dreadfully serious when saying that, and this became clear within hours.

Walking past the Dungeons and up the many stairs to your common room, you heard Fred call out to you.

“Wait up!” he was breaking away from a large group of Gryffindors, and all of them watched him with a keen eye,

“What, Fred?”

“Hey, that's not a very girlfriend-y tone,” he wrapped his arm easily around you.

You were sure it was meant to be sweet, but it felt a bit imprisoning.

“I never agreed to this,” you didn’t shake off his arm, but you felt inclined to. You were aware of the many eyes pouring into your back.

“I thought we had? Oh,” his arm left your shoulder, and you felt a little colder, “well then I suppose I could leave it all be, go back on my word, humiliate myself.”

His tone was a playful one, and you couldn’t help the bashful smile that reached your cheeks. You knew you had no obligation to Fred, but the whispers and gossip had seemed to subside during this new joke of his. You stopped at the landing, and the group of Gryffindors walked past you, staring at you both. Fred waved them off and nodded his head towards you, smiling.

“Why should I?” you clutched some textbooks to your chest, feeling grateful for the wall it put between you and Fred. He looked down at you, his hair falling into his forehead.

“Well,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, inching closer to you, “as I said, I just think it could be a bit of fun.”

“Fun for you. What’s in it for me?”

“What? Besides utter fame and popularity from being associated with me?”

“Oh shove off, Fred,” you rolled your eyes at him, but once again could not help the smile that spread across your face.

“See? I’m growing on you already.”

“I’m still seeing no benefit for me.”

“Well, I do see where your coming from, but I’d like to raise another point,” he slipped a hand from his pants and waved it casually while talking, “I will indeed pretend like we are dating even if you don’t.”

“So essentially, you would just be flirting with me while I hurl insults at you?”

He nodded enthusiastically.

“Is that the image you want, Fred?” you teased.

You moved to lean against the wall behind you, and Fred trailed after you.

“Any image is a good one,” he winked dramatically at you.

You shrunk away from him and gagged, sending him into a fit of laughter.

“I hate it already.”

“So you’ll do it?” he asked.

You breathed in, looking at him seriously. His hazel eyes were dark in this light, his hair had gone a deeper red in the lack of warm weather and sunshine. He towered over you slightly, and you looked at him through your lashes.

Shrugging your shoulders, you agreed weakly.

Fred saw the error of his thinking almost immediately. Walking through the hallways with you, he felt his heart soar higher and higher each time you laughed. When you would loosen up, or walk a little closer to him. He was being awfully unfair to himself, making himself think that you had something, some sort of relationship. It was like dangling a treat in front of a dog and wanking it away right when the dog drooled.

He saw the flaming house, and still walked in, looking for a place to sleep.

“Why, hello,” Fred drawled, coming up from behind you in the hall.

You felt his hand snake around your waist, and he pulled you. Your feet twisted from under you and you twirled, turning to face him. Your hair had skewed into your face, and he watched your delicate hand reach up to brush it away.

You looked dazed as if you had a lot on your mind. He smiled down at you and you did your best to reciprocate it.

“Are you alright?” he asked, dropping his hand from your hip.

“Yeah, just-” you took a deep breath in, “just got a lot of homework, been a bit busy with my prefect stuff.”

This was not what was bothering you. You felt a lot of inner conflicts these days, an endless moody and angsty monologue sounding off in your head day and night. You felt odd. You felt odd for agreeing to Fred’s stupid plan. You felt odd for toying with him and yourself. You had disliked him just last month, and now you let him wrap his arm around your shoulder, let him hold your waist. You felt like a traitor to yourself, letting him win you over with a few charming looks. You felt even worse when you thought of Fred’s confession. He had said he fancied you, and the idea of pretending to date him didn’t alarm you for some reason. You hated the feeling of toying with his emotions or allowing him to live out some sort of fantasy. Everything about it made you feel awful.

You didn’t feel as awful, though, when Fred would call out a comment from across the dining hall that would make your cheeks burn and all the other girls swoon. You didn’t feel as awful when he would sit in silence with you by the black lake, keeping you company among the chilling wind. You didn’t feel as awful when he slipped little notes into your bag when you left Transfiguration.

You had enough, one too many genuine looks of admiration. You needed to tell Fred how you felt.

You caught him on his way back from Quidditch practice. He was trailing near the end of the group, huddled with George and Harry. He had some dirt on his forehead, and his cheeks were tinted pink. He smelled of grass and sweat.

You pulled your cardigan tighter around you, wishing you had brought your scarf. Your hair whipped in the wind around you, and you rocked on your feet.

You began walking to him, and when he saw you he smiled widely.

“Hey!” he called out, walking faster to meet you.

“Hi,” you said nervously.

“I’ll meet you guys back in the common room,” he told George and Harry, who glanced over their shoulders at the two of you.

It was dusk and he looked strikingly handsome. You felt like you were seeing him as a different person. He wasn’t the boy who bewitched snowballs to attack you, he wasn’t the boy who laughed at your scraped hands. He wasn’t the boy who shoved Lee at you, and he wasn’t the boy who awkwardly danced with McGonagall. He was the boy who held you in his arms, stopping you from falling over the stairs. He was the boy who looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, he was the boy who held you above anything else.

Your mouth was agape as you looked at him, he stood awkwardly waiting for you to say something. You looked at the ground, licking your lips and feeling them dry as soon as the cold air grazed them again.

“I wanted to talk to you,” you said quietly, hoping your voice would fade into the wind and carry you away.

“What’s up?” he looked down at you nervously.

“Fred, I-” he cut you off, placing a hand on your arm.

“You can’t do this anymore?” he looked deeply at you but you couldn’t meet his eyes.

You didn’t want to have this talk anymore, you felt content, suddenly, in pretending. You could both pretend to love each other until it wasn’t pretending. The lines would blur and soon, his kisses would come easily and his hands would have their place on you. You would touch his soft hair and know his eyes only looked at you. But you had already said the words, or rather, he did.

“I just,” you kicked the dirt beneath you, hoping he would finish your sentence again, he didn’t.

“I don’t think its fair,” you looked up at him finally and felt surprised to feel tears in your eyes, you blinked, forcing them to subside, “to either of us.”

You heard him gulp, and his eyes moved to look at the castle behind you. The candles had been lit and the stone glowed from the inside.

“I get it,” he said, removing his hand from your arm.

You looked down at where his hand had been and felt a tear drip down your cheek.

“Fred-”

He shook his head, pulling his mouth into a line. You stopped talking, feeling the words stuck in your heart.

You really wished you hadn’t said anything. You wished you could pretend again.

He walked past you, leaving you in the dusk. You hadn’t meant to, but a sob escaped your mouth. You heard his feet shuffle for a moment, and stop. He walked back to you.

He had finally been able to fall asleep among the fire, and it seemed you had come to join him at some point. He didn’t know when, but looking at you now, it seemed you had been burning for a while.

“What’s got you so torn up about this?” he said gently, stopping a few paces away from you, “Didn’t fall in love with me, did ya?”

A laugh fell from your lips at the same time another sob did. Your shoulders hunched over more, and Fred’s heart hurt him. He walked to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned to face him, and you both moved at the same time. He pulled you close into his chest and your cheek pressed against him. He smelled, he was dirty, and he was tired, but he still held you tighter than you had ever been held before.

You pulled away from him after a while, coming to terms with yourself in the moment of affection. You wiped your tears from your face with your sleeve, taking a few deep breaths.

“I think,” you hiccuped, feeling it hard to speak, “I think that the pretending was too hard.”

Fred felt guilt wash over him. He felt guilty for himself, because you had said exactly what he was feeling. He couldn’t stand to pretend, to keep himself from gripping your hand, or from kissing you any chance he got. He wanted it all to be real, he wanted this wall between you to crumble into a genuine relationship. He felt guilty for making you feel this way. He felt guilty for pressuring you into this allusion of intimacy. He hadn’t stopped to consider if this would be negative for you, only insisting it would all work out for the best.

As he watched your uneven breathing and swollen nose and eyes, he knew this was not the best.

He breathed hard, forcing himself not to cry as he looked at you. George was supposed to be the sensitive one, but Fred had always been a sympathetic crier.

“Me too,” he replied, his voice sounding far, far away.

You looked at him, feeling terrified. The cold air was moving through you liked you were transparent. Tears kept flowing down your face, and no matter how fast you dried them, you only cried more. Your head felt miles away from your body, so you stepped closer to him, hoping to step closer to yourself too.

“I don’t think I want to pretend,” you croaked out.

He blinked at you, and you saw a single tear fall down his cheek. He didn’t move to brush it away, and it moved slowly. It left a clean mark on his dirt-stained face.

You took a step towards him, covering your hand with your sleeve. You cupped the back of his neck with one hand and brought your sleeved hand to his cheek. You wiped the tear and the dirt away, but your hand didn’t move. You peaked your fingers from your sleeve and they grazed his face. His eyes fluttered closed and your throat tightened as more tears poured from your eyes. Your vision was blurry as you traced his face, moving over his nose, eyebrows, and lips. You stopped to cup his cheek, and he leaned into your palm. You felt the wetness of more tears fall onto your hand, and you bit your lips, holding in a wretched noise.

“Fred?”

His eyes fluttered open, and you realized his hands had found their way onto your waist, he held you tightly.

“Do you want to pretend?” you asked him.

He moved his head from your cheek and kept his wet eyes locked with yours.

“I want you,” his voice was hoarse and sad, but that was all you needed to hear.

You buried your face into the crook of his neck and he wrapped his arms around you tightly.

The dusk had turned into the night, and you pulled away from Fred. You looked up at him and swallowed away the tears that remained. You began to walk past him and up to the castle. He followed you quickly.

You were scared. You had safety in pretending, knowing this was all something for fun. But as you looked at Fred now, you saw something deeper. You saw the threat of genuine love and connection, the threat of heartbreak.

Neither of you wanted to go without the other tonight, you had decided. You wordlessly followed him to his common room, and he slipped his hand into yours. You had both ducked into a prefect bathroom on the way there, looking at yourselves and covering your swollen eyes.

He said the password to a portrait of a large lady, and she looked suspiciously at you both.

“Are you two alright? You’ve just about missed curfew,” she said, her voice booming through the staircase.

“Yeah, we’re alright, just tired from practice, is all,” Fred reassured her, and the door swung open. He walked in first, and you followed.

You relished in the warmth of the spacious room, feeling drawn to the fireplace. You walked over to it and sat on a large couch. The room was relatively empty, a few kids hunched over books.

Fred sat next to you, still in his Quidditch robes. He grabbed your legs with his hand and guided them to rest on one of his legs, hanging over it. This angled your body to him, and he moved his arm to wrap around you.

“When did you realize?” he asked, his face lit by the fire.

“Just then, when you walked up to me after your practice.”

His chest moved with a chuckle and you moved your head to looked up at him.

“Well that's a little embarrassing for me,” he said, pushing a piece of your hair out of your face while you gazed up at him, “I've known since I met you.”

“Shut up, no you didn’t,” you said lightly, assuming he was trying to be some sort of romantic and inflating the truth.

“I did,” he said seriously, “I teased you for so long for a reason.”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

“Yes.”

You both laughed, pulling each other closer.

“And because I liked you.”

You rolled your eyes, sinking deeper into him. You felt yourself getting tired and you peered up at him. His eyes were half-closed and his face was drooping.

“Fred, you’re tired, why don’t you go to bed,” you began to move off of him, but he pulled you back.

“Only if you make me a deal,” he said mischievously.

“What?”

“I’ll go upstairs and take a quick shower, but only if you come with me,” he replied.

“I am not showering with you, pervert,” you smacked his arm and stood from the couch, blushing furiously.

He smiled and grabbed your hand, turning it to kiss your palm. You shivered at his touch.

“No, just come lay with me,” he looked up at you, suddenly serious, “I want to be with you tonight.”

Your heart sank to your stomach and you bit your lip. You couldn’t speak, so you nodded your head slowly.

Fred fished his wand from his robes and waved it towards the stairs, performing the counterspell for the stairs. You followed him up to his room, where he put his finger to his lips, signaling for you to be quiet. When he cracked open the door, it was dark and the curtains for the beds had been drawn. He crept over to a chest at the foot of his bed and looked at you before turning to its contents. He pulled out two large pajama pants, both plaid, and two heavy sweaters. He tossed one of each on his bed and took the others with him.

“Here, you can sleep in these,” he whispered to you, and it felt like you would blush forever.

He smiled softly at you before closing the curtains for you, leaving you to change.

“Oi, mate,” you heard someone’s annoyed and hoarse voice, “what took you so long? Practice ended an hour ago.”

“I was talking with Y/n,” you heard the bathroom door open, “I’ll talk to you about it tomorrow, I’m gonna shower. And don’t wake me up for breakfast tomorrow, I want to sleep in.”

You smiled to yourself, holding the soft sweater in your hands. It had a large ‘F’ on it, and you traced your fingers over it. You slid out of your jeans and folded them, placing them on the floor by the trunk. You slid on the pants he gave you and silently laughed as they easily ran past your feet and dragged on the floor. You folded them at the waist, and they were still too long. You had just slipped on the sweater when Fred slid open the curtain. He watched you fold your shirt and place it with your jeans. His eyes trailed from his sweater to the way his pants covered your feet. He smiled widely and drew you closer to him by grabbing your hips.

You looked up at him, your chests pressed together. He brought one hand up to your jaw, tilting it up to align with his face. His lips parted and so did yours, the air between you becoming a mixture of your breaths. His was minty, he must have just brushed his teeth.

His thumb grazed your bottom lip, and he finally closed the space between you. His neck craned down to you, but when you stood on your toes he was able to stand straight. You pressed as close to him as you could, and so did he. His lips were warm against your cold ones. He felt the many places that had been chapped and bitten, running his tongue over them slowly. You sighed and ran your chilled hands up his sweater, feeling him shiver beneath you. Your fingertips grazed the muscles on his back, tracing every line you could feel.

You pulled away first, sinking down to stand flat on your feet and rest your forehead on his chest.

“I’m so glad we didn’t pretend to do that,” Fred laughed out, pulling you close to him.

You smiled and hugged him, before moving to the other side of the small bed. You both slid under the covers silently, thinking that if either of you said something, things would suddenly be awkward.

The lack of bed only made him hold you tighter, and the two of you fell asleep relatively soon.

You were awoken by the sounds of laughter. The curtains were still drawn, and Fred’s arm was still wrapped around you. Your leg was resting on him as he laid on his back, hugging you close to him. Your head lifted from his chest as you squinted your eyes.

“No, he said he wanted to sleep in, mate,” you heard George say. The door opened and you heard footsteps walking towards it.

“You think they finally told each other?” Lee asked George, pulling on a wool hat.

“I hope so, bloody awful letting Fred think he tricked us,” George said before closing the door behind them.

You smiled and let your head sink back onto Fred. He stirred and pulled you closer to him. Through the fabric of his sweater, you swore you could hear the steady rhythm of his heart.

[hockeywhhores]

just friends?- m. tkachuk

Matthew Tkachuk x f!Reader

summary~ Matthew is your best friend, but you both want to be more. 

warnings~ friends to lovers, swearing, alcohol consumption, fight, implied sex 

genre~ friends to lovers, fluff with some angst 

word count~ 3.3K 

masterlist

Growing up next in the house next to the Tkacuk’s meant there were never any dull moments. You have been playing with Matthew, Brady, and Taryn since you could talk. Matthew was the one who taught you how to ice skate, Brady taught you how to understand American football, and you ended up teaching Taryn how to put on makeup.

Matthew was even there when your first date had stood you up. When he came you were so embarrassed about being stood up and wanted to leave, but he made you stay and ‘fixed’ your date. Really he just bought you some dinner, and then you guys went back to his house and watched a movie with his siblings. At night when you started overthinking about why your date had stood you up; he held you in his arms, and let you cry on his shoulder. Matthew made sure you knew it wasn’t because you were ugly, which you insisted that it was, by telling you how beautiful you looked. You wrote him off, because that’s what your best friend is supposed to say.

When Matthew was drafted, he insisted that you applied to colleges in Calgary. Just to ease his mind you applied to all different colleges around Calgary, and even got in. Matthew offered to share his apartment, but you decided to live in the dorms. You both knew that wasn’t really going to happen, and were right. You spent more time in his apartment than in your dorm. Your toothbrush was in his bathroom and your shampoo and conditioner were in his shower. You slept in the guest room, and whenever his family came to Canada you slept in his bed, with him. His parents would take the guest room.

You were just friends. You were reminded of that when girls would flirt with him in bars, and he would let them. You always pushed away every jealous thought. Matthew wasn’t yours, so that makes whoever is flirting with him not your problem. The team had no problem making little chirps at the two of you being in love, but at least they only did so when you were alone. Some random guy ended up on the stool next to you. He ordered a beer and started watching one of the TVs. “Come here often?” He asked you, as he looked back towards you.

“Do you ask every girl that?” you questioned him with a small chuckle.

“Only the pretty one’s,” He smirked at you, “My name’s Asher.” he said, extending his hand.

“y/n” you smiled at him and shook his hand. As corny as his introduction was, you couldn’t help but think he was cute. His blue eyes stood out, they weren’t like Matthew’s ,light blue eyes, they are a deep blue. His ashy brunette hair looked super soft, and fell slightly across his forehead. Asher looked tired, but interested in you.

“Well what do you do, Miss. y/n?” he asked you, his voice sounding deep.

“I’m a college student by day, and a mysterious girl that hangs out in bars by night.” You say so casually, wanting to mess with him a little bit. Purposely not telling him you were here with the few Flames’ players that were around.

“Well I think you're doing great at being the mysterious girl that hangs out in bars very well.” Asher's voice was smooth like honey. “I’m an editor for CalgarySun.” you could listen to him talk for hours.

“Wow, and I caught your eye?” you playfully asked him.

“How could you not have?” He asked you sounding serious. “Do you want another drink?” he noticed your drink was getting low.

“If you don’t mind. I would love another drink.” you smiled. You felt like an idiot with all the smiling you were doing. Asher ended up buying you two more drinks before you got a text that Matthew ordered himself an Uber and you could share with him if you wanted to. Deciding to save the money, and take a ride with him. You said goodbye to your new friend, Asher. Numbers were exchanged and with that you left.

When you got outside you found Matthew walking the girl to her Uber, but he didn’t get in with her. The girl’s Uber left with her in it, and Matthew turned around to find you watching him. He gestures for you to come stand by him, and you did.

“Why didn’t you go with her?” You were the first one to speak.

“She obviously only liked me, because she recognized me. Fucking groupie was what she was.” You heard the frustration in his voice. It struck you as odd, about how he never took girls back to his apartment. You always told him you would go back to your dorms for the night, but he refused. Those moments made you feel bad for being there all the time.

A red car pulled up to the curb, and Matthew seemed to recognize it. You heard the driver ask if he was Matthew, and when he got a ‘yes’, he unlocked the doors. Matthew opened the door for you, and you slightly crawled inside the backseat. Thankfully you were wearing jeans, so you didn’t flash anyone. The ride back was just like any other. Matthew and you would talk about little things, and when it got quiet you listened to the radio that was lightly playing in the background. It only got quiet in between new topics. But like a blink of an eye the ride was over, and you were in front of his apartment.

Matthew opened the door for you, and you both went your separate ways. You went to the bathroom to take off your makeup and he went to his bedroom to change his clothes. After you were both done you switched, and he went to the bathroom while you changed. Walking into the room you now occupy in his apartment, the first thing you noticed was the mess you had made while getting ready for a night out. You signed and started straightening up before you gave up, and just put on your pajamas, which was an old shirt Matthew gave to you and some sweatpants. You heard the TV turn on and knew Matthew wasn’t going to be going to bed anytimes soon. You decided to join him.

Matthew was watching some Avengers movie, and you just signed and laid on the couch. He let you put your legs on top of his; letting you lay down on the couch. You phone vibrated on the coffee table. The light makes it hard to ignore. It went off again, so you just got up to answer it. You smiled when you noticed that Asher had texted you. Matthew tried to pay you no mind, and continued to watch the movie he picked out, but he couldn’t stop thinking about who would be texting you at midnight on a Saturday.

Matthew knew he should make his feelings known, but there was so much going against how could you two ever work out? He got labeled a borderline dirty player, a fuckboy, and was told he didn’t know how to manage his anger, and he was okay with it. He didn’t let it bother him. But if he ever lost you, because of his stupid feelings, he would never forgive himself. You were too precious to lose, and he could never risk it, so he hid his feelings.

After the movie was over Matthew looked over and saw that you had fallen asleep with your phone next to you. He gently moved your legs, trying his hardest to not wake you up. When he successfully got up, without disturbing you, he picked you up and carried you bridal style. He quietly tucked you into your bed, and went back to the living room to grab your phone. All he was going to do was plug it in for you, but couldn't help himself when he saw that some guy named Asher had been the one texting you. Matthew felt jealous boil up inside him, but he just plugged your phone in and left. You weren’t his, and oh how he wanted that to change.

Both of you didn’t wake up until late into the afternoon, and by that time lunch was more socially acceptable than breakfast. Matthew ordered some chinese take out, to help with both your hangovers. They weren’t bad, but Chinese take could cure anything. You came out looking a slight mess, but Matthew thought you gorgeous anyway. Your hair was all knotted, your clothes were wrinkled, and you had no makeup on. If Matthew was being honest he would pick this version of you over any supermodel that DMed him.

“Good mornin’.”your raspy, just-woke-up voice rang out across the apartment. You smiled at him, and looked confused when he did answer you. All he could think of was, who was ‘Asher’ and why was he texting you last night?

“Morning. I ordered some take out.” Matthew said back to you when he came to his sinuses.

“You are my savior!” you giggled out. Before things could get too awkward there was a knock on the door.

“That’s probably it right now.” he stated as he walked to the door. It was in fact the food, and you went to grab some silverware, and plates to help out. You also made both of you water bottles. You heard Matthew say a quick ‘thank you’ before the door closed, and he held up the big paper bag of food out as a way of showing you. You giggled and took the silverware, plates, and water bottles to the coffee table. Matthew followed behind you with the food.  

“When is your next game?” you questioned him. You needed to know what night you weren’t really going to be sleeping.

“Tomorrow, we get to stay home for the next four game, I think.” Matthew got out between taking bites of the noodles he put on his plate. “What do you want to watch?” he questioned you back.

“Umm...want to watch ‘The Good Doctor’?” you threw out between your bites of chicken.

“Sounds good to me.” he smiled at you. You knew liking your best friend was cliche, but if you pretended there wasn’t anything there; there was nothing there, right?

After eating and watching hulu, you decided it would be a good idea to get some of the homework you didn’t want to actually do, done. Matthew kepting talking to you while you sat at the really dining room table, that you never actually used, typing away on your laptop. Then he would go back and continue on doing whatever he was doing. While he was sitting on the couch in the living room, you got a great view of his face. You looked at him, you mean you really looked at him. Your heart started beating a little bit faster and your cheeks got hot. When he smiled at his show, you felt yourself wanting to smile. You never realized how domesticated this really was. You never realized how you could live with him, like this, forever. You just noticed how much you were going to miss his soft singing when he was in the shower, and his little mannerisms that made your heart beat faster. How he held every door he could open for you.

You thought back to when you were stood up. You thought about how he wouldn't let you go home. How he made you stay so he could give you a ‘proper date’. How he insisted that it wasn’t because you were ugly, and you were actually the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. Did he just say that because that was what best friends said? Did he feel the same feelings towards the other, like you did?  No. There was no way he felt the same.

The lazy day ended and you both had to go back to your normal lives. Monday was upon you, and Matthew had a game, and you had class. You were dressed in black jeans, and a flames crewneck tha Matthew gave you to wear around Calgary so people knew you were on the right side of the ‘Battle of Alberta’. Matthew was gone before you had your coffee made. You saw the note he left stating that he was going to go do some laps, and hang out with the team. After your coffee was done you locked up his apartment, and left for class.

Class was boring, but you and Matthew texted so that made things better. Your plans for the night are to now attend his game, that was getting played against the Canucks. No complaints were going to be heard from you. You loved going to watch his games.

The night came quicker than expected, and you were rushing around his apartment trying to find your jersey, that of course had his last name on it, but it was nowhere to be seen. Looking at your watch you decided that if you didn’t leave now then you were never going to make it before puck drop. Last minute decision was made, and you just grabbed one of the many jerseys he had in his closet. The jersey was several sizes too big, but you didn’t mind.

Luck was on your side, because you were somehow able to make it to your seat in time before the game started. You only have to wait a minute before the lineup is being called. Matthew looked to where you always sat, with most of the wags, and smiled bigger when he saw you sitting there in his jersey. You smiled and gave him a slight wave. The game was brutal to say the least. Whenever the Flames were able to score, the Canucks scored right after them. Nevermind all the chirping going on between the two teams, especially Matthew and Jake Virtanen. They were going after each other, and no one was able to keep them apart long enough. You thought everything was going to blow over, but then the gloves were dropped. You stood up in shock, and you were also trying to get a better view. Whenever Matthew got in fights your blood ran cold, and your hands got sweaty.

The referees got everything sorted out, and they both got pentilites. The game stayed close, 3-3, and it was now going into overtime. You could tell how frustrated Matthew was. Overtime came and went, and then shootout time was up. After two misses, it was Matthew’s turn. Your hands got even more sweaty. Then in a blink-and-you’ll-miss it type of moment, Matthew scored for the Flames. You had to sit through the Canucks last shot, but thankfully Markstrom gloved it before it could go in. You could feel the energy that was put back into Saddledome.

As everyone leaves the stadium you stay in your seat, waiting for everything to clear out a little bit. When it looked clear enough you headed to the hallway where most of the wags were already there. You kept to yourself, and quietly waited for Matthew. When the team came out everyone was congratulating them. When Matthew saw you we went straight to you. You saw him a second before he was in front of you, and jumped forward engulfing Matthew in the biggest hug.

“Oh my god. You were amazing.” You smiled, so wide your cheeks hut, but he was smiling just as big. He was holding you from under your thighs, and you had your arms around his neck.

“I couldn’t have done it without you being here.” Matthew whispered in your ear. Neither of you want to let go, but you knew the guys wanted to go celebrate at some bar. So you pulled back, and you swear you saw Matthew frown, as he put you back on the ground.

Apparently the bar everyone wanted to go to was, where you went not even three days ago. Matthew bought you a shot, and you did one with him. Then he bought you one of your regular drinks. That was when you saw Asher sitting on one of the bar stools drinking a beer.

“We have got to stop meeting at this bar.” You stated when you were close enough he would be able to hear you.

“I am not going to disagree with you.” Asher tipped his beer at you and you slightly tripped your drink back at him. “Did you come in with the hockey team?” he questioned you sounding disgusted.

“Yeah. I did. Is that a problem?” you softly asked him

“I bet you’re just some groupie, who likes men that have money and a title.” He accused you. His words were slurred, and you knew he was drunk.

“What did you just say to her?” Matthew angrily spit out. ‘Oh shit’ was the only thing going through your head.

“Oh you both heard me. I saw her get into an Uber with your Saturday night. Right after she was done flirting with me and using me for drinks.” Asher spit out just as angrily but way more intoxicated.

“Both of you stop it!” you yelled out, “Well fuck. Matthew meet Asher, Asher meet Matthew, my friend.” you tried to get everything to settle down, but after you called Matthew your friend, you saw him get even more angry, if that was even possible.

“I don’t care what your relationship is to him. Why the hell did you leave flirting with a guy to get in some other guy’s Uber.” Asher was trying to dominate over you by standing tall and looking down at you. You hated this. You wish you and Matthew just went home instead of go to this stupid bar.

“Back the fuck up, Buddy.” Matthew spits out, “y/n come on. We are going home.” Matthew grabbed your arm and dragged you to his car. It wasn’t really a drag as you were willingly leaving with him, he was just holding your arm.

The car ride was completely silent, the radio not even playing, and no one wanted to speak. When you got back to his apartment was when all hell broke loose.

“So that was Asher? What an outstanding guy.” Matthew was enraged and couldn’t help with throwing out that comment.

“How the hell did you know about Asher?” you asked confused.

“I saw your phone, when I plugged it in for you, and made sure you were tucked into bed. Like a friend would do.” Matthew wrinkled his nose at you.

“Why do you care about the guys I’m texting! You can literally get any girl you want!” you protested.

“I care because I love you! Have you ever seen me take any of those girls back here? No, that's because I was trying to show you I’m not some asshole. I love you dammit.” Matthew professed everything in that one response. Everything was said, and neither of you could take it back. The pause that followed put both of you on edge.

“I love you too.” you whispered out. “I only want to be next to you, and when I’m in class I can’t wait to see you when we grab lunch together or when you hold my legs in your lap when we are watching movies. I love you. I love you so much.” your eyes were watering with all of the emotions coming out of you.  Matthew ran up and pulled up into his arms, holding you like he was at the stadium. Then he leaned in and kissed you. It felt like time stopped, everything was still, except for you and him. You couldn’t get enough of him, and he couldn’t get enough of you.

You woke up for the first time in his bed with no clothes on. Matthew was already up and was watching. His grip was firm like if he let you go, he would never see you again. Nothing felt better at that moment.

finished.

[missymurphy1985]

Chance Encounter (sequel to The Premiere)

What happens when y/n and Cillian bump into each other again off set? Will their little agreement still stand?

Warning : Smut

Taglist - @queenshelby @peakyscillian @margoo0 @being-worthy @noctvrnalmoth @janelongxox

Your hair was done, your makeup flawless (if you did say so yourself) and you were finally ready. Your former costar Natasha was getting married and she'd invited you to the reception. You'd booked your hotel room and silently prayed to the god of all that is holy that Cillian was invited too. You knew your agreement half a year ago was that if you "worked together" again, you'd hook up, but surely agreements could have the odd caveat here and there, right? You just hoped he was still single... There had been plenty of buzz about him and a girl from back home reconnecting a few months ago but you'd never plucked up the courage to ask him outright. Last thing you wanted was to look desperate but truth be told? You were. A little. Okay, a lot, but you hid it well - no one had any inkling anything had happened that night at the casino, and that's just how you liked it. The rumour mill had piped down, even after THAT interview. But deep down you wanted more of the man that had truly captivated you. It annoyed you that he wasn't on any social media - there was no way of keeping in touch other than via text/call but neither of you had made contact with the other after that night.

You smoothed down your dress and grabbed your handbag. One quick check on your hair, and you made your way to the lift. Pressing the 'down' button, you felt two strong hands suddenly clinch your waist, making you (and your heart) jump.

"Too easy, y/n..." You spun on your heels and came face to face with Cillian, praying your foundation covered your burning cheeks. Game face on, you slapped his arm playfully. The tickle and slap had been your 'thing' all the way through Peaky Blinders.

"Mr Murphy, how the devil are you?" He embraced you warmly, greeting you the same way on old friend would - had he moved on?

"I'm excited to be here with everyone again, can't wait to see Tash's dress!" You smiled breaking away from him, hoping he couldn't feel your heart practically exploding through your dress.

"She'll look beautiful I'm sure." You held eye contact for a little longer than you should have, before the lift door pinged. Inside were Finn and Joe Cole, obviously having caught the lift from a higher floor. It suddenly dawned on you that your room was on the same floor as Cillian's... Stop it y/n...

"Hey!!! Peaky Reunion in full swing now!" Your onscreen brother and cousin pulled you both in for hugs as Cillian pressed the button for the ground floor.

Entering the large foyer, the beauty of the hotel where the reception was being held was breathtaking. The wedding flowers, lilies and roses, lined the corridors, leading the way to the large reception hall at the bottom of the corridor. Entering the room, you found the other cast members on a table together in the corner, and saw 4 empty seats around the table. Approaching the table plan in the corner, you groaned inwardly to see Natasha had placed you and Cillian right next to each other.

"Should be a fun evening, y/n.. what you drinking?" Cillian nudged you with a wink. Why was he so damn hard to read??

"Gin and lemonade please," you smirked, and he made his way to the bar with Joe. Finn joined you at the table, smirking at you.

"That flame still burning there y/n?" He nudged you as you took your seats. Finn one side of you, Cillian the other.

Conversation flowed around the table easily, the group of you catching up on the last six months. Most of you having taken a break from any kind of work for a while out of choice.

"I hear your love life is improving there Cillian!" Joe laughed, playfully punching the top of Cillian's arm. He didn't respond, just smiled shyly and rolled his eyes. Your heart dropped, he HAD moved on then..

He caught your eye and went to speak to you, before the music kicked in and the DJ announced the arrival of Natasha and her husband into the room. You all stood, cheering and clapping as the beautiful bride and her dashing husband entered, grinning like Cheshire Cats. The conversation with Cillian would have to wait...

The end of the night drew close and you were stood at the bar with a tipsy Natasha talking about her father's embarrassing yet beautiful speech, when the music suddenly turned down a notch. You were so happy for her, she looked absolutely radiant.. but the feelings in your heart were almost painful. You'd avoided Cillian all night, much to his dismay. He'd tried talking to you but you were determined to keep your distance. He was clearly taken, and you wouldn't dream of getting in the way of that. You couldn't help but notice him watching you from a distance throughout the night though, and you regularly scanned the room to check he was still around somewhere. Occasionally your eyes met, and you looked away quickly every time.

Natasha's wedding song played again through the speakers for the second time, the DJ inviting all the couples in the room up to the dance floor. Natasha kissed you cheek and hugged you, before heading off to find her new husband.

You felt those familiar hands on your waist, but they didn't tickle like normal, they gently turned you round in a 180 degree turn.

"Stop avoiding me." Those blue eyes pierced into yours.

"Very sure of yourself there, aren't you?"

"Every time I've got within 2 feet of you, you've moved away. I've tried to talk to you and you suddenly need the toilet.. or a cigarette.. or just plain walked away. Forgive me for thinking you were keeping a deliberate distance from me y/n." He looked serious, a side you rarely saw in him. He almost looked hurt.

"Listen, Cill.. you're clearly with someone okay? And I'm.. I'm just.. it's okay.. It really is. I -" His lips suddenly fell onto yours, silencing you, taking you completely by surprise. Now that, you weren't prepared for. You suddenly no longer cared about anyone else in the room, you lost yourself in his embrace, your kiss quickly becoming heated as your tongues met.

"What are you doing..." You breathed, pulling away.

"I'm not seeing anyone y/n, I never was. That girl is my publicist - yes we dated but we were 16.. she's married now, to my best friend ironically.. I'm single."

"Well you've just kissed me in a room full of people.."

"I know.. and I'll deal with that later, but right now I really don't care. I've been wanting to do that ever since that night."

"Why didn't you call me?" His hands were caressing your arms lightly as he chuckled to himself.

"I chickened out." You stifled a laugh.

"Me too... I didn't want to be the first to text!"

"Thank god Tash got married eh? How long you reckon we'd have gone on without talking for?"

"Oh come on, did you think you two sitting together at the table was a coincidence?" Joe appeared suddenly behind you at the bar. You both turned to look at him. "You two have been like lovestruck teenagers since Peaky finished - frankly we were sick of hearing about it!" You were stunned.. nobody knew? Did they?

"We all bloody knew." Joe was a mind-reader now, apparently. Cillian's hand found yours, and led you to the dance floor. You followed, positively glowing now, as he pulled you close to him, gently swaying with you to the music.

"Which room are you staying in?" He whispered in your ear, a hand running up your spine.

"Yours..." Your hands ran up the length of his arms, over his shoulders. The navy blue suit bringing out the blue in his eyes perfectly as he pulled you close for another kiss.

"What do you say we head there now.." that voice would be the death of you, as it whispered in your ear again. You could feel his arousal through his trousers as you nodded, kissing him again. He took off his suit jacket and held it over his crotch as you both made your way quickly to the lift, luckily no one stopping you.

Your bodies met in the elevator again, your body being pushed against the wall as he lifted you up to wrap your legs round his waist. His core grinding into yours. Your fingers tugging his hair as he kissed a trail down your neck.

"Need to stop or I swear I'm gonna fuck you in this lift y/n.." you shuddered at the deepness of his voice, when the door to the elevator opened and he carried you to his hotel room. Opening the door, your legs still wrapped around him, he carried you to the large dresser by the window and sat you on it, hitching your dress up and over your waist, pulling your underwear down your long, slender legs.

"I never got to taste you last time..." You groaned from the pulsing feeling in your core as he parted your legs and kissed a trail up your thighs. Meeting your core, his tongue traced over your clit painfully slowly as your back arched.

"Oh god... Yes.." working a slow rhythm at first, he added more pressure as you started to rock against his mouth, needing more and needing it now. "Feels so good..."

"You taste perfect y/n..." His assault continued with fervour, he soon had your back arched as you came against his tongue. Coming down from your high he got back to his feet as you breathed heavily into another kiss, tasting yourself on his lips.

"I want you.. now Cillian..." The primal desire in his eyes was almost too much as you unbuckled his belt and trousers, letting them fall to the floor. Cupping his erection through his Calvin Kleins you felt him shudder slightly and gasp, standing you up to lift your dress over your head and unclasp your bra. His shirt was quickly removed as you pushed him backwards to fall onto the bed. Hooking your fingers in the waist band of his boxers shorts, you pulled them down allowing his hard cock to spring free. Giving it a gentle lick from the base to the tip, you sank your mouth down over it causing him to grip your hair and moan primally, never taking his eyes off you.

"Fuck.. your mouth feels good... Mm..." Your mouth was dancing over his shaft, a hand cupping his balls as you played with them.

Feeling his balls start to tighten, you lifted your mouth off him, bringing your body up the bed to meet his. His blue eyes were now almost black - you needed him inside you.. reading your mind he flipped you onto your front, opening your legs and lining himself up.

"Still on that coil thing?" He looked at you. You nodded, and he pushed into you slowly. You gasped at the invasion, he filled you up even better than he did before. Watching his eyes scrunch shut as he bottomed out, you smiled. He was perfect in every way, shape and form.. and after tonight's very public display, was he yours?

"I've wanted this for months... In fact I've wanted YOU for years..." You panted, lifting your hips to meet his gentle thrusts.

"You have me.. all of me.. you always have.." he thrusted between each sentence, sending shockwaves through you. He wasn't fucking you, he was making love to you.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapped round his waist as you moved together. Your lips met his as he ran his fingers smoothly down your spine, your arms wrapped over his shoulders as his thrusts met your hips perfectly. Your nails ran along his sculpted back, as he planted soft kisses over your collarbone. You had never felt anything like it - your bodies slotted together like jigsaw pieces, but you needed more. Turning your bodies, you pushed him onto his back and sank back onto his cock.

Rocking back and forth, building a steady rhythm you felt his hands roaming over your breasts causing you to ride a little harder.

"You're perfect, y/n, you know that? Absolutely perfect..." His eyes and hands were all over you. Pulling your waist up and down, he took over, lifting you slightly so he could thrust upwards, hitting that sweet spot inside easily. You brought a hand down to rub your clit as he began to pound harder into you from below, your orgasm drawing closer and closer.

"I'm gonna... Oh god Cillian I'm gonna cum..."

"Let me feel you... Let it happen baby I've got you..." You exploded over him, the most powerful orgasm you'd ever had. You felt your juices coat him, as your hand stopped rubbing his quickly took over, making you scream as he continued the pressure on your clit and your insides. You froze as you suddenly felt yourself lose complete control of your body, gushing over his chest as he made your pussy squirt hard over his chest and stomach.

He watched you, mesmerised as you cried his name, chest heaving from the force of your orgasm. Breathing heavily, trying to control himself and not end this too soon, he paused his thrusts as you came down from your high.

"Fuck... Jesus.. that's never happened before I'm sorry!" You gasped, coming back down to earth.

"Don't ever be sorry for that - I'm doing that to you every single time from now on.. fuck that felt incredible..." He growled and turned you over to lie on your back. He re-entered you, slipping in easily, and moved inside you again. You reached behind you to grab the bedframe.

"Give me everything... Everything you have..." He was like a wild animal, his hips pounding into you again. He was panting in your ear, sending you into heaven and back as you wrapped your legs round his waist, pulling him deep.

"Good girl... That's it... I'm gonna -" he lost the ability to speak as he came hard, deep inside you, his body collapsing on top of yours. You ran your nails over his shoulders, feeling his breathing calm.

You lay tangled together for a while, just enjoying the feel of each others skin, listening to each other breathe, placing soft, gentle kisses on each other. He pulled out slowly, and lay next to you.

The silence wasn't awkward, but you had to break it.. you had to know..

"Cill?"

"Hmm.." his eyes were closed, but he lifted an arm for you to move into. You didn't, you stayed where you were. He opened his eyes and looked at you. "What's wrong?"

"What is this? What are we doing? I mean, I'm not expecting anything.. I just.. listen.. don't be mad.. but I've thought about that night every single day and I don't think I can carry on doing this if you don't actually want me, okay?"

"I kissed you in a room FULL of people y/n, what does that tell you?"

"I don't -"

"I want you, okay? Not just as a fuck, but all of you. You and me - what do you say?" Your eyes gazed into his. Everything you'd ever wanted was waiting in them. You settled into his arms and allowed yourself to drift off in his arms. The safest, and most comfortable you'd ever felt.

*************************************************

More cameras flashing, more screams.. another premiere. This time for your latest movie - you'd been cast as the lead role in Danny Boyle's latest blockbuster and you were leading the rest of the cast on the red carpet. Your dress showing off your curves perfectly.

You stood in line with your castmates smiling, when a pair of ocean blue eyes caught your attention off to the left. You couldn't help but grin when he winked at you, you could feel how proud he was of you. You heard the event manager call for individual photos, and you stayed on the red carpet smiling for the cameras.

"Can we get one of you and Cillian, y/n?" One of the photographers asked, and the others all shouted in agreement. You shook your head, knowing how much he hated these events, and PDAs even more, but you were cut off by the man himself approaching you smiling.

"Why not, eh?" We wrapped his arms round your waist and stood happily having his photo taken. He was just too proud not to, he wanted the world to know.. taking your hand in his, he led it to your belly, suddenly the fans in the background went wild screaming, the photographers suddenly noticing the roundness of your stomach and catching onto the exclusive news.

You felt a warmth running through you - it truly didn't get better than this, as you gazed into your fiance's eyes and stole a kiss.

[in-my-feels-probably]

INEFFABLE - Kaz Brekker

Chapter Ten

If you would like to read this on Wattpad, it’s on there as well, my @ is in_my_feels_probably and there’s a few visuals and better descriptions and stuff on there. otherwise, enjoy, let me know what you think, and you can check out my masterlist for updates and more. don’t forget to read the prologue, it’s important to the story!

INEFFABLE – Kaz Brekker

ineffable (adj.) too great to be expressed in words, utterly indescribable; too sacred to speak of. 

Chapter Ten

The Crows quickly navigated the palace halls, trying to get to Jesper at the meeting point as quickly as they could. He was supposed to be waiting outside the escape route, standing watch, overlooking the carriages, which was their escape plan, and Elham was praying he was ok and waiting for them so she could get as far away from the Little Palace as possible.

She was cursing herself the whole way, punishing herself for not getting Alina away from the Darkling. She didn't have much time to ponder how colossally they had failed, or how pissed Kaz was going to be for her not telling him that she was an Inferni, although he would have plenty of time to sulk on the way home, because he had finally led them outside, spotting Jesper.

They trudged over to him, Kaz now very obviously limping, and Elham looked even more worried than Jesper did.

"Wow, Elham. I've never seen you in a dress. Interesting."

She sent a glare his way, and he immediately reeled back.

What happened, you ok?"

Inej's face lit up. "She's real, Jesper. She made the light sing."

Kaz grumbled next to Elham. "We lost her."

Jesper chuckled, turning towards the carriage, a smile on his face, his voice full of amusement.

"Did we?"

Kaz squinted his eyes, before speaking. "Well, we don't know where she is."

Jesper was still chuckling. "Don't we?"

Elham froze, before catching up to Jesper, spinning him around by his jacket.

"What can I do for you, love?"

"Jesper, very much not the time for you to be joking. What do you mean?"

"Just ask."

"Jesper!" Elham let a flame pool in her palm, and Jesper immediately gasped, taking a step back.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that."

Kaz stepped up as they began climbing into the carriage. "We don't have time for this, just get in, and you can give us all a very well deserved explanation."

His tone was menacing, and Elham sunk into her seat she had taken next to Inej.

"Do we have a fix on where the target is?"

Jesper glanced towards the back of the carriage, before smiling, snapping the reigns. The carriage jolted forward, and they began making their way off the palace grounds.

---

It had been a few minutes of riding in silence, and the air was thick with tension. Elham pretended not to notice Inej's glances toward her hands she had clenched in her lap. Jesper kept glancing over his shoulder at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes.

Kaz hadn't turned around once, eyes set straight ahead.

Jesper finally broke the silence. "So...do you want to tell me what the hell that was?"

Elham took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry. Through clenched teeth, she spoke. "I'm an Inferni."

"Well that's obvious, love. I think we all gathered that. Why the hell didn't any of us know? And why show us now?"

Elham thought back to the orphanage she grew up in, to being tested and taken to the Little Palace. Meeting Nina, training with Baghra, finding out about the Darkling. Escaping and coming to Ketterdam. Going through a year of pain, meeting Kaz and becoming part of the Dregs, then the Crows, part of a family.

Kaz still hadn't turned around, but she knew he was listening. Inej had turned to face her, contently listening.

"Ok, ok, alright. You all know I'm an orphan, I grew up in Karamzin until I was 10 or so. I don't know who my parents are, what happened to them, or why they didn't want me, I just know I was born in Novyi Zem and I was taken to the orphanage, and I lived there till the Grisha came to test the new children. They tested me, and took me to the Little Palace to become part of the Second Army, to start training."

Jesper turned around slightly, eyeing her. "You're telling me you lived here, and didn't wanna tell us any vital information to get us inside?"

"I didn't want you to know, ok! It wasn't exactly the best time of my life here."

"Why not?" Elham felt a tear roll down her cheek, and quickly wiped it away. "I'm an Inferni, but I'm not like the rest of them. They have to use something to create a spark, they can't just summon it like I can. The problem is, it's unpredictable. I never got a hold on it, so they would rarely let me use it in training. I had to learn physical combat skills instead, which did actually come in handy in the Barrel."

Inej had grabbed Elham's hand now, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Kaz had slightly turned in her direction.

"Anyways, everyone thought I was a freak, people were scared of me, they didn't want to be around me. Besides Nina."

Kaz fully turned around towards her at that, and you could almost detect a tone of hurt in his voice. What else hadn't she told him? "Really? You know Nina?"

"Knew. I haven't seen her since I was 13. She was one of my only friends in the Little Palace, and even then, I hardly saw her. Etherealki don't interact much with Corporalki, each type of Grisha generally sticks to their own order. Nina left before me though, she was quite skilled, and the Second Army needed new soldiers. I wasn't anywhere near ready, so I was left alone. Baghra took a liking to me, and made me her personal project."

Inej quipped up. "Who's Baghra?"

Elham's lips turned to a frown. "The Darkling's mother."

"What? Isn't the Darkling like a hundred years old?"

"Yes. And so is she. He just plays her off as an older mentor that had joined when he first came into service for the King. Which wasn't in the past hundred years, by the way."

Jesper sounded exasperated. "What does that mean?"

Elham almost laughed, and she would have if there wasn't a pit in her stomach and she felt like she could burst into tears at any moment.

"The Darkling, and the Black Heretic...they're the same person. He's been faking his death every few hundred years and coming into the service of a new King, now he serves the Lantsov line. I'm sure he was alive when the first Lantsov became King, he's that old, and so is Baghra."

Inej gasped, her face going pale. "The Black Heretic, the one who created the Fold...the Darkling did that?"

"Yes."

Kaz finally spoke up. "How the hell could you possibly know all of this? I find it hard to believe someone decided to tell all of this to a 13 year old girl."

Elham narrowed her eyes at him. "They didn't have a choice. Baghra had to tell me, it was the only way she could get me to leave."

Jesper was pinching the bridge of his nose. "Saints, Elham, alright, I'm gonna need you to explain a little bit better than that."

Elham nodded, sitting up straighter. "As I said earlier, Baghra started watching over me. She didn't like the idea of a Grisha not being able to defend themself. So she made me choose a weapon, and master it. She had me running drills, practicing sun up to sun down. Saints, I've never been as tired as I was training with her."

Elham chuckled, but it was pained, and her smile didn't meet her eyes. "She taught me some ways to try and control my powers, but I would never be as good with them as I was with a sword, and I think she knew that, so she let me master it before she started training me with my powers. We would practice away from the other Grisha, she didn't want me distracted. One day, the Darkling sat in on my training."

She took a deep breath, attempting to calm herself. "He never told me why he was there, and Baghra lied and said he just liked to check in on the training sessions every once in a while. It's awful to say, but Saints, I would have done anything to have people look at me like he did when he watched me use my powers. He didn't look at me like I was some freak of nature, he saw my potential. I was so naive, I should have known."

Kaz was intently staring at Elham, watching the emotions change in her face. "Know what?"

"That he wanted to use me. My powers are different, I can summon them whenever I want, and the more I used them, the stronger I got. I could blaze down a whole forest if I wanted to and not even break a sweat. He made sure Baghra was teaching me to control them, and then he started taking me to training sessions himself, asking me questions."

Kaz's jaw was clenched. "Like what?"

"Like if I was scared of his powers. Or if I was sick of people looking down on me. When I started getting a grip on my powers, he took me from training out into the forest to practice more. And then...he--"

Elham choked down a cry, rubbing her hand down her face. "He wanted to see if he could use my powers with his. He had me create a flame, and he would twist darkness into it, making the flame grow. He could pull the flame towards him, moving it without me having to. Saints only know what I could have done with an amplifier."

"What's an amplifier?"

"An object that a Grisha can use to enhance their power. The Darkling is one himself, he was by far the best method to me controlling my powers."

Inej squeezed Elham's hand again. "I don't understand, why'd he take such interest in you?"

Elham couldn't stop the tears from falling this time. "He wanted to use my powers and his in the Fold. He wanted to light the whole thing up. It would have been a mountain of fire and darkness. He never wanted to destroy the fold, he wanted to make it a weapon." She chuckled darkly. "I didn't want to believe Baghra when she told me. I was just beginning to feel like I belonged, and it felt like she was ripping that away from me. I'm not completely heartless, though, I never would have let him use me like that. I have no love for Ravka, but I could never add to his incessant need for destruction and power. I escaped, and never thought about coming back."

Jesper laid a hand on her knee. "I'm sorry you had to come back."

She gave him a small smile. "It's alright. I think I needed to. I needed to face this, I needed to face him. Besides, I had to at least try and get Alina out. When you all went into the palace, and I had to try and find another way in, I took the trail I used to escape. It led right to Baghra's hut, she's the one who helped me get inside the palace. I had to see if what everyone was saying was true, if the Sun Summoner was real, so I went to her."

Elham was actually smiling now, and Kaz's shoulders eased at the sight of it. "You know, she was the one who gave me the sword. The one I had all those years in Ketterdam."

The smile faded. "The one Pekka Rollins broke. I had almost forgotten about that."

Kaz watched her face fall, and despite himself, his heart clenched at the sight. She continued.

"Baghra told me that I needed to get Alina out, and I promised her I would. That kind of power in the hands of the Darkling, it would be catastrophic...oh, Saints!"

"What?"

"Baghra! If Alina escaped, the Darkling is going to find out who let her go, who told her about him. He's ruthless, he'd kill his own mother. If anything happens to her..."

Elham trailed off, unable to speak. Despite not knowing the right thing to say, Kaz couldn't bear to watch her in pain, and watch her sit there suffering. He hesitated then spoke.

"You know, she is the Darkling's mother. She's survived all of these years before him, I'm sure she'll long outlive him. If she's anything like how you talk about her, she has nothing to worry about."

Elham sniffed, nodding at him gratefully. "So...now you all know, I guess. About me, and everything. Surprise?"

Inej let out a laugh, and Jesper was grinning. "Hey, El...want to know another surprise?"

She eagerly nodded, directing her attention to him. He glanced around at the Crows, leaning in. "The Sun Summoner? She may or not be in the back of the carriage in the trunk. Allegedly, of course."

There was silence for a few moments, and nobody moved, stunned. Elham just stared at Jesper, who was grinning like a fool. Kaz relaxed against his seat, his lips curled into the smallest grin.

"Well. Maybe there are Saints after all."

---

A/N - hi guys, i'm really excited to get into the stuff i've had planned since before starting this story, i've got a lot of elham and kaz content coming, hope y'all are ready for it all. let me know what you thought, feel free to reach out, and thank you for the support!

[rattyoakenbitch]

karate kid: “because of you” ₊˚ ⸝  johnny x reader

❝but it can all get a lil’ crazy, unless there’s something to hold onto. for me, that was true love.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lana del rey - because of you

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: johnny lawrence (1984) x reader

warnings: angst, language, mentions of sex, themes of depression, the overuse of the word ‘baby’ lmfaooo

summary: despite johnny’s reputation, you still weren’t expecting him, your first and only, to be unfaithful. but you were only a blind fool in love, after all.

“.. What the hell is going on here?”

You stood back on the beach overlook with your friend, watching the scene unravel before your eyes.

Below you, there Johnny was, along with his little Cobra Kai gang. The small crowd of teenagers around him shouted and cheered as he brawled with a smaller kid in a red sweater, who was obviously getting his ass beat. 

“Dammit, Johnny, stop!” 

A familiar high pitched, girlish scream caught your attention. Your eyes scanned the crowd until they stopped on Ali, who you knew to be Johnny’s old flame. Despite them being over for a while now, you knew Johnny still had feelings for her. But it was something you buried in the back of your mind. You were too in love with Johnny to acknowledge or care about the fact that he hasn’t moved on. 

Now, watching what was happening, you didn’t know what to think or how to feel. You’ve barely talked to Johnny at all over the week, and now you find him here?

Instead of intervening and chasing after Johnny, you gestured for your friend to follow you back to the car and head elsewhere. She didn’t protest and based on the heartbroken expression on your face, she knew better than to question you. Now was not the time to talk it through. 

Since that night, things were not the same. You explained your situation to your parents who were aware of your relationship, or now former relationship with Johnny. Johnny would call a few times a day, but you never bothered to pick up. His calls started to get more and more frequent, so you ended up blocking his number. Because of this, you started to fall out with the Cobra Kais, who you made good friends with because of your relationship with Johnny. So knowing you’d run into them at school, you stopped attending and would spend the days locked up in your room, only going out to use the bathroom or get something from the kitchen. By now, Johnny knew something was up, and went as far as to pick a fight with your dad whenever he’d drop by your house, asking to see you.

“Come on! I just wanna see Y/N, dammit!”

“She’s none of your business anymore, young man. Now get the hell off my property!”

“Man, fuck you! Let me see her! I need to talk to her!”

“You have three seconds, Mr Lawrence!”

“Y/N, I know you’re in there! I know you can hear me!”

The days became gloomier and gloomier. Weeks had passed and you hadn’t talked to anybody. You shut everyone out and would spend the days alone in your bed, wallowing in your own self pity.

How could you be so foolish?

To think you could be the one to fix Johnny. 

To think he loved you as much as you loved him.

To think he would want a future with you as much as he wanted your clothes off.

But the reality hit you; you were just a rebound. And you let him use you. It was all your fault. 

An overwhelming feeling of nausea and anxiety overtook you. You jumped off your bed and ran to the bathroom, pushing open the toilet lid and vomiting. You flushed the contents down and got to your feet to straighten yourself up. You looked at yourself in the mirror, your eyes widening in disbelief. You didn’t even recognize your reflection.. The person looking back at you was a stranger.

You lifted your hand up to touch your face as you analyzed your appearance. You had dark bags under your bloodshot eyes, your hair disheveled, skin pale and dry. 

“That’s just great.”

Sighing, you stooped down to the sink to rinse your mouth out and splash water on your face. As soon as you were finished, you flicked the light switch and trailed back to your room. However, you were stopped in your tracks by the sound of your father’s voice. 

“Y/N..? Oh, wow.. Wow, girl, I haven’t seen you in days.. How are you feeling now?” He stared down at you, searching your empty face for answers. You avoided his gaze, crossing his arms and looking down at your feet. He sighed, “The school called. You need to return by this Monday.”

You felt your heart sink. You looked up at him, opening your mouth to speak until he cut you off.

“I know you’re still healing but... This isn’t good for you. When you get back to school, you’ll at least get to hang out with your friends again, right?” You weakly shrugged, causing him to let out another heavy sigh. He patted your shoulder. “It’ll get better and soon, you’ll be back to your normal self!”

“What day is it?” you asked.

“It’s Sunday..”

You groaned, “Oh, gosh.” 

“Hey, hey, hey, you’ll be fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, definitely. I’ll run into my ex and his little posse, who I ghosted, and then have to explain to my friends why I look and feel like shit. Great. Thanks dad,” you scoffed sarcastically, and stormed off into your room, slamming it shut.

Today was the today. Exasperatingly, you dragged yourself out of bed, showered, brushed your teeth, and tied up your hair into a long braid that cascaded down your back. You figured you’d put on a bit of concealer to hide your dark circles, and topped that off by applying dark red lipstick. You dressed yourself in a white shirt, the collar sticking out of the green sweater you layered on top of it. You matched that with a white pleated skirt that stopped mid thigh, and slipped on a pair of black knee high socks. 

Finished with your look, you shrugged on your backpack and headed downstairs, putting on your Mary Janes before pulling open the front door. You ignored your mom’s calls and ran out to the driveway, about to get into your vehicle to head to school. However, the plans seemed to change when a familiar red car idling on your street caught your attention. 

Your heart began to thump loudly in your chest when you met Johnny’s burning gaze as he waited for you in the car. Knowing how stubborn and persistent he was, you immediately gave up and got into the car, slamming the door shut. 

“All right, so you gonna explain where the hell you’ve been?” Anger and rancor dripped off his voice. You knew this would happen.

Turning to look him in the eye, you treated him with the same attitude. “Oh, that’s just golden! Where have I been? No, Johnny, where the hell have you been? I was trying to reach you for over a week until I found you at the beach with Ali.. Not to mention you were picking on that poor kid.”

As soon as you mentioned Ali, Johnny’s demeanor changed. He laid back into his seat, his jaw clenched. He was caught. 

“Did you seriously think I wouldn’t find out?”

When he wouldn’t reply, you broke the silence. “I don’t wanna argue with you right now, let alone talk to you. Now just drive me to school or I’ll be late.”

He scoffed. “Since when did you care about being late? You were absent for more than a week!”

“Jeez, wonder why,” you retorted. “You know what? This was a mistake.” You pushed open the car door, about to step out, when Johnny gripped your wrist, pulling you back. 

“Wait, don’t go,” he said softly, begging you to stay. Worry filled his big baby blue eyes as he waited on your decision. “Please, Y/N.” You could never say no to him, especially when he was giving you that look. You got back into the car and shut the door, but faced away from Johnny. You swatted away his hand, causing him to recoil and put both hands on the wheel. 

“If we’re gonna talk, let’s not do it here,” you said.

After that, you both stayed silent as he started the car, driving off to wherever. As you drew nearer to your destination, the surroundings started to look more and more familiar. It hit you; this is where you and Johnny had your first kiss, and maybe a little more than just that.. You found yourself smiling at the memories. Then again, maybe some things are just better as memories. 

You were laid beside Johnny on his car, watching the sunset. When the sun went down, instead of heading back home, you ended up stargazing together. You both entirely forgot about your surroundings and the time, getting lost in conversation. Conversation turned into kissing, which eventually lead to something much more heated. 

“You’re so damn beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’re all mine,” Johnny hummed, beaming and grinning widely. You giggled, continuing to pepper his pretty face with kisses.

“Well, you better believe it then, babe,” you said in between kisses. “Cause I’m not going anywhere.” 

Johnny sighed in satisfaction, pulling you closer to him. “Good, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Johnny managed to catch your lips, capturing you in a deep, passionate and loving kiss. He held you tightly against him as you straddled his lap like his life depended on it. 

Johnny pulled over, snapping you back into reality. You overlooked the city as he shut off the car engine with a heavy sigh, preparing himself for whatever was to come out of this conversation.

“So? You got anything to say for yourself, Lawrence?”

He took a moment to think, before opening his mouth to speak. 

“Y/N.. I’m sorry. I fucked up big time.” You scoffed at that, rolling your eyes and looking away from Johnny. “I’m sorry! I really am! I know I shouldn’t have gone after Ali when I had you.”

“Had,” you pointed out, chuckling.

“Oh, just listen to me, will ya? I told you I’m sorry and I admit to my mistakes!”

“And lemme guess; you’re telling me all this just now because Ali once again rejected you?” Johnny stayed silent, a sheepish and guilty look on his face. You groaned, “For fucks sake, Johnny. Do you ever mean the things you say? This was a complete waste of my time.”

“I didn’t wanna lose you, Y/N.”

“If you’re still loving Ali, then you’ve already lost me.”

“Yeah, thanks for stating the obvious. You ghosted me! At least I tried to make things right between us instead of running away!”

“You really are an awful person, Johnny Lawrence. My friends were right about you-” you blurted out. Your throat ached as you tried to keep yourself together. “You’re really nothing but a player! There is no ‘us’. You don’t give a damn about me. You never did. So just drop the act and take me to school,” you whispered the last part, not wanting Johnny to hear your voice break. But he could easily see through your anger and sense the sadness in your voice.

You faced the opposite direction from Johnny. 

“Please look at me,” Johnny said after a while. You refused to glance his way, your eyes fixed on your fingers as you anxiously twiddled them together. The rage built up inside of you and the thoughts fueled by heartbreak, you kept to yourself. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want to show Johnny how much he truly hurt you. But all that was gone when tears began to stream down your face. 

“Oh, Y/N, please don’t cry. I’m sorry, I-” Johnny trailed off, his voice cracking. He felt so lost. He had never been faced with a situation like this, even with Ali. And he’s never seen you cry before. You were always tough and strong in front of him, and to see you bawl like this, he thought it really must be that bad. 

“Don’t apologize unless you really mean it,” you sniffled. “Don’t make it worse than it already is.”

“Then I’m gonna keep apologizing because I mean it! With all my heart, Y/N, I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you cry. I can’t stand seeing you like this because of me.”

You turned your face slightly towards Johnny’s direction, curiosity and hope sparking inside of you. 

“I was told that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. And even if you leave after this, I’m not gonna hide the way I feel, Y/N. I’ve never felt this way about a girl. Even with Ali. That’s why I was confused at first, but I knew I wanted to make it work with you.” Johnny squeezes your hand in his significantly bigger ones. “I hated to admit it at first, but I was and am smitten with you. You cross my mind everyday, and every song reminds me of you. And- And even if you shut me out after this.. If you go, I’ll stay. Even when you fall out of love, I just want you to know I’ll always have feelings for you.”

You didn’t know what to say after Johnny’s confession. You had all these emotions; betrayal, heartbreak, anger, confusion. They clouded your mind. You didn’t know how to properly react. 

“Do you really mean that?”

Johnny chuckles sadly, “I may be a douche, but I’m not a liar.”

You leaned back into your seat, replaying everything that just happened in your head. Johnny’s confessions, his declaration of love for you. You knew Johnny had a rough life and wasn’t one to be open about his feelings. And you also knew you loved that boy, even after the pain he caused you. Did you really wanna risk it and be with him? 

After being silent for a while, the uncomfortable stillness in the air prompted Johnny to speak up. 

“You- I- I’ll just.. I can take you home. Wherever-”

“No! Wait, don’t,” you placed your hand over Johnny’s before he got the chance to start the car. You locked eyes with him, your heart beat beginning to speed up suddenly. You were stuck on what to do at that moment. 

“Oh, fuck it,” you thought to yourself, and cupped Johnny’s face, bringing him closer to you. Now without the support of your hands, you were caught off balance and ended up stumbling atop Johnny. And in the heat of the moment, you crashed your lips to his. Okay, that was totally intentional. 

Johnny didn’t waste a second and immediately kissed you back, holding you steady above him. You really didn’t want to, but you had to break the kiss for air, giving Johnny the chance to let out breathy words.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much, baby.”

You pressed your forehead to his and wrapped your arms around his shoulders while you tangled your fingers in his hair. He cupped your face, placing gentle little kisses on your nose.

“Nothing bad is gonna happen to us, baby, I promise.”

[iamdeku]

Strictly Business: ProHero!Deku x Reader

Pro hero!Izuku meeting his new personal assistant who is nervous and had previous terrible experiences with Proheros who treated her like a tool. (Reader is female) 

This was a really fun request to do! I loved the idea for this and definitely got a little carried away with the word count, haha. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault. Bad bosses. I did not proofread.

You had been nervous when you had started working for the #1 hero. You had worked hard to get here, but it had been a long road, and it hadn’t always been fun. In fact, up until now it had been terrible. When you walked into Deku’s office, you were seriously thinking about undoing years of work and changing your career path entirely.

Your dream had been to work with heroes. Not be harassed by them.

You first job had also been your first mistake. You should have known better than to work with the Fresh-Picked hero, Grape Juice, but you were new to the industry and no one had warned you off. So you became a personal assistant to your sleaziest boss to date.

Mineta had done his best to ruin your life. He sexually harassed you at ever turn, abused his power, kept you after hours and made you do ridiculous things. When you finally gathered the courage to quit, you never looked back.

When you were looking for your next job, you decided it was better to go with an established hero, one who had been in the game a long time. Endeavor, as the former #1 hero, seemed like a solid, safe choice. You were so wrong.

You worked for Endeavor for years, unwilling to quit the paycheck, but the experience was awful. Endeavor was arrogant, with a terrible temper and a hefty helping of sexism. By the time you were in a financially stable enough place to quit that job, you had lost all faith in the heroes around you.

So now, starting your first day working for Deku, you were prepared for the worst. You were sure you were about to be introduced to some fresh torture, but you were ready for whatever he would level at you. Heroes could sink no lower in your eyes.

So naturally, you were surprised on your first day when he seemed…nice. Sweet even.

You knocked on his office door, a combination of dread and resignation swirling in your stomach. You expected a wait, but he answered it almost immediately.

“Hi! You’re my new personal assistant, right? It’s so nice to meet you. I’m sorry I wasn’t at your interview. I meant to be there but there was a crisis downtown I got called in for. I hope you got the gift basket I sent to your house to apologize. I really am so sorry, it’s terrible policy not to have met you before now.”

You had gotten that gift basket, actually, but you hadn’t thought he was aware of it. You definitely hadn’t thought it was his idea, but from the sounds of his speech it definitely had been. You blinked at him a couple of times, trying to gather your wits after that rapid speech.

“Yes,” you said. “I’m your new personal assistant. It’s very nice to meet you. What can I do for you today sir?”

He seemed confused, as though he hadn’t expected a personal assistant to be ready to work. That couldn’t be right though. He was an experienced pro.

“Didn’t they tell you when you got here? I thought we could start with lunch together, so I can get to know you since I missed your interview. I’m sorry, I should have sent you an email.”

Your heart sank at his words, all of your hopes for his kindness to be genuine crashing with it. So, it was to be the hopelessly flirtatious boss who thought you existed to fulfill his fantasies again. You had seen that before.

“I’m really not sure that would be wise, sir. I like to maintain a strict level of professionalism,” you said, making your refusal as polite as you could.

He blinked, as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that might not be professional.

“Oh. I suppose you have a point. Well, why don’t we eat here while we work then? I can ask you a few of the questions I didn’t get to for your interview while you settle in.”

You sighed internally. There was really no way you could politely turn that down, so you forced your face into a smile.

“That sounds like it could work well.”

You were pleasantly surprised when your lunch actually went well. Deku never made a move on you, other than his request for you to call him Izuku, which seemed to apply to all the employees. It could have just been a ploy to get you to let your guard down, but all the same, you wanted to believe he really was this kind.

You two worked together in his office the whole day, and you became familiar with his schedule. He never did anything to make you uncomfortable, and as the day wore on you decided cautious optimism was the way to go. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad after all.

 You smiled fondly at the memory, chopping carrots on the counter. Across the room from you, the man you had come to know well was pacing, mumbling frantically as he analyzed some old battle playing on his TV.

“Izuku, you’re going to throw off my cooking with all that racket, and then we’ll have nothing to eat.” You laughed lightly.

He nearly jumped 10 feet in the air. “Sorry, sorry! I guess I just got a little lost in thought. Although I guess I wasn’t the only one lost. I asked you about my schedule earlier and you didn’t seem to hear me at all.”

You blushed in shame. “Sorry.”

Izuku shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. Happens to me all the time. Obviously. What were you thinking about?”

“I was just remembering my first day working for you and how terrified I was.”

It seemed silly to you now, but back then you never could have predicted you would be best friends with your boss, let alone cooking dinner for him while working unofficial overtime as a passion project. You never thought that working for Izuku would be what you always wanted.

“Why were you terrified? Just because I’m #1? You’d worked with famous heroes before. I’m no one special.”

Oh, how wrong he was.

“You are special. You were the first hero I’d worked with who didn’t make me miserable. Every boss I had before you either sexually harassed me, overworked me or was just plain unpleasant. Usually all of those. I had given up on heroes before I met you,” you confessed casually.

Izuku blanched at you.

“What?” The word was breathless, barely audible.

“Yeah. I thought you knew my work history. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but anyone with any experience working with heroes will tell you Endeavor is not a super cuddly guy.”

“I…had no idea.” You looked up and found, to your surprise, that Izuku’s eyes were swimming with tears. “I never knew you were treated like that. I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“It’s okay. I have you now.” You froze at your misstep.

He would probably never notice it, but you had. It really hadn’t been your intention to fall in love with your boss, but he had been so sweet and kind to you that it had happened naturally. The way his eyes lit up when he smiled, the energy he had for the things he loved, his strength and dedication had all lead you here.

“I’m not going to let anything like that happen to you again. Or anyone. I’ll make sure your past employers get investigated.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly.

There was silence in Izuku’s house as you stared down at the carrot you had been cutting. In an effort to lighten the mood, you tried to make another joke.

“You know, that first day when you invited me to lunch, I thought you were hitting on me.” You laughed a little bit at the absurdity of it. “I know now that you would never do that, obviously.”

You heard the crash when Izuku dropped the mug of tea he had been holding. Before you could move, he was scrambling to pick it up, cheeks bright red and flaming.

“I-Oh, this is terribly awkward.” Izuku mumbled, no doubt thinking you couldn’t hear him.

“Wait. Were you flirting with me?” You asked, breathless.

“No! I mean…not…not then,” he stammered.

“Are you-” You stopped, taking a moment to gather your courage as Izuku stood, effectively giving up on the shards of pottery at his feet. “Are you flirting with me now?”

He stiffened, looking deeply uncomfortable as he met your gaze.

“Yes. I mean, not intentionally! It’s just that I have feelings with you, but I would never act on them. I would never want to make you uncomfortable and if you feel like you need to resign now because of that, I understand. I would be happy to recommend you to any of the other pro-heroes I know, and I can assure you they would make excellent bosses.”

You crossed the room to stand in front of him, taking one of his awkwardly flailing hands in your own.

“I think I am going to have to resign, unfortunately.” You watched his face fall before quickly correcting yourself. “It seems like it would be inappropriate to date my boss. I have feelings for you too, Izuku.”

Rising up on your tiptoes, you dared to kiss his cheek, hot from his blush and scattered with freckles.

“You do?”

The question is quiet, but you hear it clearly with his breath in your ear, faces still close from where you haven’t dared to move. You pull back now, surveying his awestruck face.

“Yes. You’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met. I guess it was sort of inevitable that I would fall for you.”

You smiled, biting your lip and staring down at your feet. Izuku’s warm, calloused hand reached up to your cheek, pulling your gaze up to his.

“So does this mean you want to be with me?”

The words seemed too good to be true, striking somewhere deep in your chest and knocking you breathless. Yes. Please, yes, let it be true.

“I would like that very much. If you would, I mean.”

Izuku nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! That was never my intention with this, but after getting to know you, I really do like you. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but I think you’re beautiful and clever and funny and I would love to take you out on a date, if that’s something you would want.”

You smiled, leaning gently into the palm of his hand that cupped your face, bringing your own hand up to twine your fingers together.

“I think that sounds perfect.”

Izuku laughed softly, and you could hear the emotion in the sound.

“You know, I was so lonely before you. I was really just hoping for a friend when I hired you. I thought maybe we would get along okay and I could have someone to keep me company. I was crushed when you said you liked to keep it professional, but I vowed to myself I would honor your wishes.”

“Yeah. We both did a great job of keeping it professional.” You gestured to your surroundings, snickering to yourself.

“I seem to recall you inviting me into your home first,” he teased.

“Hey! I was having a home decorating crisis! I could not build that shelf myself.”

“Or, as it turns out, with my help.”

You snorted at the memory of your backwards shelf, which you had eventually decided to just make do with. As it turned out, Izuku was terrible at building furniture. He was great at making you happy though.

“Well, it all turned out for the best.”

“It sure did. But I think we can both agree that you’re the one who’s not professional here.”

You rolled your eyes, rising up on your tiptoes.

“How’s this for professional?” You breathed.

Izuku seemed like he might ask questions, but before he could, you kissed him gently. When you pulled away, you were both smiling. Your hands had moved to wrap around his neck, and his hand had fallen to your waist.

“I think I’m really starting to like professionalism.”